The fishing boat might have passed them by if Epikleos had not waved him in. The trireme crew threw ropes and tied the little vessel on. A small sail came down in folds of salt-stiff cloth and the man himself came on board. He was white-haired and very dark from sea and sun. Wide of shoulder and barefoot, he wore loose clothing secured by a leather belt and clasp. He looked around in something like satisfaction at the sheer size of the warship, nodding his approval.

‘Who is the master of this wondrous vessel?’ Xanthippus heard him ask.

Pointing hands directed the man to him and Xanthippus found his hand taken in a callused grip rather like a glove.

‘I heard you were offering silver for news of Persians,’ the man said without preamble.

Xanthippus nodded, amused. He thought it likely the fellow was willing to say whatever he wanted in return for good Athenian drachms. Xanthippus was not expecting sightings then, not truly. The Persian king had taken part of his fleet home to secure his bridge of ships across the Hellespont. The rest had been scattered far and wide in their defeat at Salamis. Perhaps a few had made their way back to the empire in the months since, while others still roamed like sharks in that sea, raiding and burning. They were the reason for the fleet that had come hunting them. Yet he had no idea how many there were.

The fisherman smelled of sun, wine and fish. There was a warmth to him that was instantly friendly, though whether he could be trusted or not was hard to say. Persian gold could smother Athenian silver easily enough.

‘We’ll certainly pay for a true sighting,’ Xanthippus said slowly. ‘Sixty drachms to a loyal Greek.’

The man peered at him, so that Xanthippus could see one of his eyes had a slight cast to it, a milky sheen deep within.

‘Yes? Well, fetch out your coins, kurios,’ he said. ‘I know where they are.’

21

There were Persian scouts in the hills. It was an odd experience for Greeks to be observed as they marched – especially for men of Athens, who knew those mountains well. The range marked the boundary of Attica and the beginning of Boeotia, where the city of Thebes had its temples and markets. More, the high passes led down onto the central plains, where vines and barley grew and horsemen could gallop. It made perfect sense that Mardonius had placed his camp there for the winter, a nest of worms deep in the good flesh.

All through the morning, lone figures had appeared ahead and above them, high on the crags and peaks. Some were on horseback, dark-skinned men in turbans and cloaks, well wrapped against the mountain cold. Others watched from spots where only a boy or a goat could stand, judging their numbers before vanishing back down the paths to report.