Xanthippus felt his leg go and sagged to one knee. He did not know if it was a wound or his heart giving out. The young man facing him wasted strength trying to batter the shield he held up, rather than just heaving it aside. More spears gathered on his left and right as the phalanx pressed forward, mindless in its roar. Xanthippus heard Pericles call in fear.

The sound drew him up, like a thread around his heart, so that he could somehow stand again. He breathed, trying to stay alive long enough for strength to find him. He just needed a few moments. Pericles gave a great howl then and Xanthippus risked a glance across as he ducked beneath his shield in the hoplite crouch. The man pounding at him would see only the helmet, shield and greaves in bronze, with no flesh. Yet each blow rang and sapped his strength.

Pericles had not shouted for his father. Xanthippus suddenly understood, his confusion clearing. He saw Ariphron clutching his side and breathing badly. Something had beaten his defence and hurt him.

Xanthippus felt a flash of cold as his son staggered. Blood sheeted from the wound and of course the enemy did not let him recover. They pressed in, made bold by the hesitation they sensed in that line.

Xanthippus was forced to defend himself or die. He had carried a sword, spear and shield for thirty years and his instincts surged back, though he felt grief twist his face. For a time, he fought mindlessly. His arms worked as if they were made of iron, heavy, sodden things that rose and fell and stabbed and pulled back. The Persian he faced dropped when Xanthippus cut him in the groin, severing the great artery there. Blood rushed out with the man’s life and the next slipped and fell, so that Xanthippus killed him on the ground, a savage downwards blow that pinned him to the earth.

Along the lines, only that small group had held. On the right flank, Spartans had torn into Persian ranks. King Leotychides and his guard had gone through and over them at a fast walk, red cloaks flying as they covered the distance. The rest broke like a summer squall, turning their backs on Greeks and struggling to get away, to save their lives. The fear spread like plague amongst them, with eyes rolling and men calling out frustration in one breath. In just moments, the will to stand and fight had crumbled to dust.