Against the vastness of the mountains, they seemed almost to be children’s toys, shining like glass. Mardonius breathed dust, felt it dry his lips. His army was the gale, the desert wind! Even the Spartans were made small against them. Mardonius saw their red cloaks for a time, until they reached the plain and formed up as part of a greater host. He nodded sharply, pleased. They had come down from the heights, just as he’d hoped. He’d moved against their slaves – and they had been forced to respond. Mardonius lost sight of them as dust thickened in a great cloud. He filled his lungs even so, tasting it.

The Persian general gave a war shout, a triumphant bellow that cracked across the regiments. His one fear had been that the Spartans might tear into his flank as he went for the Athenian force on the plain. He cared little for slaves who marched like soldiers! His men could march through those and hardly slow down. No, it had been Athens and Sparta who had defied Kings Darius and Xerxes. They were the foundation stones of the rebellion, who led all the rest. The other Greeks would fall when the men of those cities lay broken, he was certain.

As he moved forward, the last of the Greeks came down to the plain. Dust rushed and grew like a great tree ahead, making it hard to see. Mardonius felt his heart swell with pride as one of his own sons cantered past. They were men of empire, a good bloodline. King Xerxes had promised him a city of his very own once he had brought Greece to heel. Mardonius shook his head in wonder as he recalled the offer. Perhaps one of his sons would rule there after him, a dynasty begun on this very day. It was a golden thought.

Ahead of him, his foot regiments blew horns to attack. The ranks of Greek slaves were swallowed up in their own dust as both sides rushed at one another. His heart raced faster and faster as spears flew, blows were struck and the first men died. This was the weapon he had come to wield. The Greeks had met him on a dry plain and he was pleased.

The wonder was that they did not break in the first moments. As the dust swelled thicker around them, Aristides saw helots surge forward, smashing against armoured lines. He had a sudden flash of awe as he saw hundreds punch through like trident tines, killing in a frenzy. How many had practised Spartan drills and stances in the darkness of their sleeping rooms, learning in the shadows? They knew the Spartans valued courage and skill more than anything else in the world. Perhaps some of them had sought to steal just a little for themselves. Or perhaps it was just because they did not fear death.