The translator was skilled and spoke in an undertone just a beat behind, so that Alexander could understand almost in the instant. Mardonius saw the Macedonian nod warily in response. He waved a hand as if it was of no concern.

‘I do not hold you responsible. Be assured. There is no more to say on that.’

‘I did try. I could not move them,’ Alexander said.

A little of the hurt he had felt could be heard in his tone. Mardonius reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, almost paternally.

‘Some men … cannot change,’ the general said. ‘Will not. Even if you burn their house down.’

Artabazus laughed at that and added something more that the translator did not render into Greek. It seemed the comments of Persian officers would remain private, a distinction that helped Alexander remember he was an outsider in that place. Though he wore a royal brooch on his shoulder, he was still the least of them, in their eyes.

‘If I may, general … if you truly believed they would not accept your offer, why was I sent, to be humiliated? Why ask at all?’

Mardonius looked up with interest as the translator worked his words into court Persian. The general raised a hand and two servants drifted in with new cups and a jug of wine, dark as blood in that gloom. Even as Alexander had the thought, lamps were lit, illuminating the deepest corners.

‘In this land,’ Mardonius said softly, ‘I speak for King Xerxes, eternal glory to his name and line. For this year alone, I am the voice of the throne of Persia – and that means more than merely commanding a great host. I wonder if you can understand? Artabazus here does not believe Greeks capable of subtlety.’

Artabazus snorted and shrugged, holding out his cup to be filled. Mardonius smiled.

‘He thinks they respect a spear-thrust, or a club breaking a skull – but all the rest is just wind.’

‘I am, however, a Macedonian,’ Alexander said, somewhat stiffly.

Artabazus muttered something that clearly tugged at the corners of Mardonius’ mouth. It was not translated. Alexander was really beginning to hate that short bastard.

‘Of course!’ Mardonius replied. ‘My apologies.’

It was obviously insincere. The man and his companions saw no difference between the nations of the west. Alexander wondered if they considered Medes or Lydians just the same as Persians. He decided to keep that question to himself. Men rarely enjoyed having their own hypocrisy exposed.