There was a slick of blood down his front that had already dried brown. He had held one man while two of his hoplites stabbed the fellow. He had not died well, that one. Some did, to their credit, though they were just as dead in the end. It was grim work and the Greeks were all exhausted as the sun reached the horizon. Even the long summer day was not enough. The slaughter was terrible and men just sat and knelt when they could not go on, panting in pain, swords slipping from numb hands.

Pausanias called for torches to be lit, standing in the centre of the Persian camp. His soothsayer Tisamenus stood at his side and Pausanias clapped him on the back at intervals, delighted. He had his first contest, his victory.

The camp was vast and empty around them, though Persian tents were being searched in all directions. In theory, it was to look for men hiding, but half the Greeks seemed to be adorned in gold. Only the Spartans stood apart, as they didn’t use coins. Their scorn did not seem to dampen the enthusiasm of their allies, however.

Aristides had to identify himself twice to Spartan officers before he was allowed through. He imagined he did not look much like the man he had been that morning. His skin was thick with dust and he was filthy with the blood of others, wiped with oil and muck across his face. Still, he represented Athens in that camp. More importantly, it would not do to let Pausanias claim it as a victory for Sparta alone.

By the time he was let through, he discovered he was not the only leader to have gathered there. It rankled just a little that Pausanias had become the centre, but Aristides knew he had earned it.

‘I give thanks to the gods for the victory,’ Aristides said.

Pausanias turned to see who spoke and smiled.

‘We were blessed indeed,’ he said. The man was too pious to put himself before the honour due, but Aristides could see his pride.

‘Regent Pausanias,’ he said formally, ‘it was the honour of Athens to fight alongside you. I hope it will be the beginning of a great friendship. I honour our allies. Alone, we could not prevail. Together, we broke an empire.’

Pausanias did not seem to find those words quite to his liking. His eyebrow raised a little higher and his smile vanished.

‘I do not believe Sparta would have sent me out if those in Athens had not threatened to stand with the very enemy we defeated. Think on that, if you have a moment for reflection.’

Aristides blinked at the anger in the younger man. He supposed it was one way to look at it, but he could not allow the Spartan to define the terms, not when the new day would bring a world without an enemy in Greece.