‘You are! You are twice the man I am, I swear it. You remind me of my father, Ari. You have earned honour.’ Xanthippus felt his own will coalesce, though his voice shook like a child’s. ‘Know this, beloved boy. We will see each other again. I swear it, by all the gods. We will.’

In that moment, Ariphron was gone. His head sagged slightly to the side and Xanthippus felt his weight as he had not before. He slumped over his son as Pericles began to sob. They sat together, with Epikleos, as a knot of grief on the field.

28

In the shadow of Mount Cithaeron, Mardonius felt the land reach down deep into his lungs and choke him. It was an unfortunate thought. He was the one who had called two hundred thousand soldiers a great storm – and that was true, but a storm of dust and earth until the air itself tasted of metal. Though he rode a fine Persian stallion, Mardonius could barely see a hundred paces either side before clouds swirled across his vision. In glimpses, he saw his army surging out, heading to crush their enemies at last. On the wings, somewhere further, his cavalry would surely be riding. He could no longer see them.

Mardonius looked for his Immortals. Hydarnes would be in command there. The danger was he would be too rash, that his Immortals would be made fools by their courage. Yet such anger could be harnessed. Mardonius had given them a chance to win back all their honour. Hydarnes had promised he would wear a red cloak tomorrow, that he would make it the official uniform of the Immortals in recognition of this victory. Mardonius set his jaw, squinting against the dust. He did not like vainglory. Trophies had to be won before they could be enjoyed.

Messengers kept pace with him, trotting their wiry ponies just a length behind. Yet he had no new orders to give, not then. A good commander brought his men to the field when it was the right time, when the enemy was weakest. That he had surely done. Yet his regiments had their own officers. They knew who the enemy were.

The thought made him glance to where the Thebans marched on his right. They wore the same bronze greaves and helmets of the Greeks, though their spears were shorter than the ones the Athenians bore. They carried no banners, no long streamers as some of his regiments did. They looked just like the enemy. He wondered if they would stand or run when the time came.