Free Lion of Macedon by David Gemmell

it. Good men have died unmourned and unnoticed, while some of consummate evil have had thousands of mourners at their funerals. It is pleasant to believe that the gods are a little more discerning than men.”
    “Do you believe that?”
    “I believe there are powers that govern our lives. We give them many names.”
    “She will live again, then, you think?”
    “I like to believe so. Come, we will walk awhile. The day is not too hot.”
    Together they strolled back to the monument to Pausanius and Leonidas. It was a huge marble cube, topped with a statue of a Spartan
hoplite
, the base engraved with the story of the mighty battle at Plataea, where the invading Persian army had been crushed by the power of the Spartan phalanx. Xenophon removed his white cloak and sat in the shade. An elderly widow approached them, offering fresh pomegranates.Xenophon dropped a coin in her palm and bought three. He tossed one to Parmenion.
    “What was the lesson of Plataea?” asked Xenophon, taking a dagger from his belt and quartering his fruit.
    “The lesson?” queried Parmenion. He shrugged. “They advanced on the Persian center, which broke and ran. What should we learn?”
    “Why did they run?”
    Parmenion sat beside the general. Peeling the skin from his fruit, he ate swiftly, spitting the pips to the ground. “I don’t know. They were frightened?”
    “Of course they were frightened,” snapped Xenophon. “Think!”
    Parmenion felt embarrassed, his face reddening. “I do not know enough of the battle,” he admitted. “I can’t answer you.”
    Xenophon seemed to relax. He finished the pomegranate and leaned back against the cool marble. “Examine the evidence, Parmenion.”
    “I don’t know what you want!”
    “If you can answer me this question, then I will do what you asked of me—I will teach you. If not … there would be no point. Think about it and come to me this evening.” Xenophon rose and walked away.
    Parmenion sat for a long time, puzzling at the question, but the answer eluded him. He wandered down to the marketplace, crept behind a stall, and stole two pies. He was spotted by the stallholder, but he ducked into an alley and sped along Leaving Street before the man could catch him. Spartan youths were encouraged to supplement their meager meals by theft. If caught, they were punished severely—not for the theft itself but for the crime of being caught.
    In Leaving Street he saw two elderly men sitting close to the palace of Agisaleus. He walked over to them and bowed. One of the men looked up after a while, acknowledging his presence. “Well?” he asked.
    “Sir,” said Parmenion, “what was the lesson of Plataea?”
    “Lesson?” answered the man. “What lesson? The only lesson handed out was to the Persians and the world. You don’t take on a Spartan army and expect to win. What a foolish question to ask!”
    “Thank you, sir,” said Parmenion, bowing and moving away.
    What kind of a riddle had Xenophon set him? Was the answer so obvious? If so, why did the Athenian put it in the first place? Parmenion ran to the acropolis, where he ate his pies and stared out over the Taygetus mountains.
    “Examine the evidence,”
Xenophon had said. What evidence? Five thousand Spartan warriors had met with Xerxes’ great army on the field of Plataea. The Persians were crushed, the war won. Pausanius had been the Spartan general.
    What lesson?
    Parmenion rose and loped down the hill to the monument. There he read the description of the battle engraved on the marble, but it told him nothing he did not know. Where, then, was the evidence?
    He began to get angry. The Athenian did not want to train him and had found this clever excuse. Set him a problem that had no answer, then turn him away. But even through his rage Parmenion dismissed the thought. Xenophon needed no excuses. A simple no would have been sufficient.
    The monument to Pausanius and Leonidas …
    It loomed above him, its secret hidden in