As lamps were lit across the camp, Aristides drank cold water, washing the dust of a long march from his throat. The first day had been a little chaotic in places. He had volunteered his men to patrol and keep guard in shifts that night, just to be sure the job was done and done well. He also had scouts out far, competing with a group of Spartan boys and some men of Potidaea from the far north – it was hard to surprise a coalition army. There would be a great deal of confusion and duplication as they learned the tasks ahead. Yet it kept the men busy and he trusted no one as much as his own people, not then.

As they camped that first night, the forces still coming in were practically strangers, despite the common enemy. Different factions sat well apart, or in groups formed from those who knew each other well. Aristides had seen soldiers of Corinth camped alongside those of Sparta and Sicyon, more comfortable with peoples of the Peloponnese. In a similar way, Plataea and Megara sat near the hoplites of Athens. Thebes was the great absence among them. Men from Troezen or the island of Aegina would spit when the name came up. In that year, they declared a special hatred for those who had taken gold in exchange for honour, to serve a Persian king. It had not mattered so much when Persia was a distant empire. The invasion had changed what they would tolerate from their own.

After a long day spent marching north, it was perhaps not too bad a showing, Aristides thought. He was pleased Pausanias had summoned the senior officers and strategoi to drink and eat in his own tent. There was no question who led them, even if Pausanias had not demanded an oath from every senior man. This was not the fleet, where Athens held the balance of power and, when it mattered, every captain acted alone. Sparta had brought ten thousand of its best – and over thirty thousand helots. They were by far the greatest force present. They knew that well enough.

Aristides sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling weary. He had marched all day alongside younger men. It had not been too hard, but he knew the next day would be worse, when he woke aching. Fighting would be an entirely different challenge again. He looked around him, seeing strained conversation and drooping shoulders. They needed to know one another, to trust those on their own side. In such a disparate group, that would be its own challenge. To his surprise, he found himself wishing Themistocles were there. The man’s irrepressible brand of optimism was valuable, for all Aristides found it irritating.