‘Regent Pausanias. Look east and you will see a long caravan of carts, heading this way. The Persians haven’t spotted it yet, but they will, any moment.’

He waited a beat, just long enough for Pausanias to squint against the rising sun. That dawn glare would help to hide the caravan from those on the plain, but Aristides was pleased to see the Spartan nod.

‘My supply line is through the mountains behind us – land we control. I do not know who sent this one …’ Pausanias trailed off, thinking.

Aristides cut the air with his palm, suddenly impatient.

‘If it is one of theirs, we should deny it to them. I think, though, it has to be for us. Some gift from Plataea, or Leuctra.’

‘Plataea was sacked …’ Pausanias murmured. He shaded his eyes.

Aristides waited. The younger man wanted to command. This was his opportunity. Yet for all his training, a new situation could make any man pause. Aristides stood still, breathing slowly, waiting for the Spartan to catch up with his plan.

‘It could be a ruse, a false trail to draw us off the mountain,’ Pausanias said.

Aristides blinked slowly. He had considered that, but he paused as if it was a new thought. After a moment, he shook his head.

‘It would be the first, from them. The Persians brought a hammer to Greece, not a dagger. I have not seen much sign of subtlety. Of course, it is always possible …’

He made himself trail off, hating the seed of doubt that had grown in him. Aristides had spoken confidently, sensing the Spartan needed to be persuaded. Of course, if he was wrong, it would be a Persian masterstroke.

Life or death, success or failure. Command was a lonely business, when so much rode on the outcome. The thought made the morning air seem chill. Aristides could smell his own sweat as he stood there and waited for a decision. No part of their army would move without Pausanias giving the order. That was the reality of standing with Sparta. Aristides accepted it as a fair price.

Tisamenus reached them then, the soothsayer breathing hard and skidding the last steps on loose earth. That part of the slope was steep, so that all three men stood at a sharp angle to the ground. Word of the sighting was spreading amongst those on the mountain. Hoplites waited for orders around them, their lives in the hands of a few.

‘The caravan there, on the plain …’ Pausanias said, stalling for time.

Aristides felt his patience fray. He was twice the age of the Spartan regent. Everything hurt that morning, but he would not miss an opportunity in idle conversation! If it was food and water, they had to secure those carts. He cleared his throat, but Pausanias spoke before he could. The Spartan had made his decision.