Lion of Macedon by David Gemmell Page B

an iron-haired disciplinarian, a veteran of a score of battles. The old man glared at him.
    “What do you have to say?” he asked, his voice rasping like a sword dragged from its sheath.
    “Five hooded men attacked a friend of mine,” said Parmenion. “What would you have me do? I went to his aid.”
    “You killed a fellow Spartan—a youth of good family.”
    “I killed a cowardly attacker who with a group of friends, armed with clubs, attacked an unarmed youth.”
    “Do not be insolent with me, boy!”
    “Then do not patronize me, sir!”
    The general blinked. His powerful fists clenched, and Parmenion felt he was about to rise and strike him down, but the old man took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Describe tome all that happened.” Parmenion did so without including his final conversation with Learchus.
    “Is it true,” asked the general, “that you are unpopular with the other boys?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is it also true that you have been a victim of their … sport before now?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then you knew when you attacked them that they were probably hunting you, that your friend was struck by mistake?”
    “Of course. Hermias is very well liked.”
    “So, then, had you waited until they recognized their error, there would have been no battle. They would have left. You agree?”
    “I did not think of that then, though I can see you are correct, General. But I saw my friend struck, and I went to his aid.”
    “You leapt upon one boy, breaking his shoulder, hit another with a club, breaking his arm, and stabbed the last, killing him. It is your fault, half-breed. You understand that? A fine boy lies dead because you did not think. Only a savage can use the excuse of lack of thought. Left to me, I would see you die for this. Now get out of my sight.”
    Lepidus waited until they could hear the boy padding down the stairs. Then he rose and walked to the door, pushing it closed.
    “He is a disgrace,” said the old man.
    “No, General,” said Lepidus sadly. “What happened in this room tonight was a disgrace.”
    “You dare to criticize me?”
    Lepidus stared at the man. “As a Spartan it is my right. He went to the aid of a friend, risking himself. But he did not hesitate. You, of all men, should see that. There will be no judgment against him tomorrow. If there is, I shall speak out.”
    Lepidus turned and left the room. He walked out into thenight and found himself drawn back to the scene of the fight. A lamp was burning in the window of Parmenion’s house, and Lepidus tapped at the gatepost.
    Parmenion opened the grilled gate and stepped aside for the officer. Lepidus walked into the small building and sat on the narrow bed. Parmenion offered him a goblet of water, but he waved it away.
    “I want you to put from your mind what happened tonight at the barracks,” said Lepidus. “And I would like you to forgive the general. Learchus was his nephew, and he loved the boy. What you did was admirable. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes, sir, admirable.”
    “Sit down, Parmenion. Here, beside me.” The boy did so. “Now give me your hand and look me in the eyes.” Parmenion did as he was bade. He felt the strength in the older man’s grip and saw the concern in his face. “Listen to me, boy. There are few left, it seems, who understand what being a Spartan is about. When we fight, we fight to win. We stand by our friends, we kill our enemies. The attack on Hermias was cowardly. You did well. I am proud of you.”
    “I did not have to kill Learchus,” said Parmenion.
    “Do not admit that to anyone. You understand me?”
    “Yes,” answered Parmenion wearily, all the events of the last few days rearing up in his mind and threatening to overwhelm him: the death of his mother, the victory at the games, the loss of Derae, and now the murder of Learchus. “I understand you.”
    “Listen to me. You were worried about your friend, and you took on a gang. That was courageous. And yes, you