Mardonius thought for a moment, knowing the lives of nations might hang on his words.

‘I believe … His Majesty King Darius would have desired a show of force and punishment, so that he never had to come so far west again. After that, I believe he would not have thought long on them. With Persian governors to rule in his name, with garrisons to keep the peace, with taxes paid to the royal treasury, I think His Majesty would have been satisfied. Your father conquered many nations. In time, they came to number amongst the most loyal provinces of the greater empire. They send soldiers to fight in our army and they bear the colours and symbols of your house over theirs with pride. Perhaps your father would smile on that course today. Though the decision is yours, Majesty, his judgement lives in you. I know you honour him with every breath.’

Xerxes smiled and gripped his general by the shoulder.

‘Very well. Signal to my flagship to put down a boat for new orders. Have Captain Isvant lead … three hundred warships around the island of Salamis. It will do them good to row a little after a morning of idleness! They are to enter the strait and approach from the west, but they are not to engage. Wait for this Themistocles to keep his word and surrender. Perhaps I will even meet the man.’

Mardonius dropped to the sandy ground.

‘Majesty, what of the women and children on the island itself? Will you show mercy to them?’

Xerxes shrugged. He needed no prisoners and his appetite for personal slaves had grown jaded over years. The wild days were long behind. Still, he knew that was not the case with many of his young officers.

‘Take up one in … ten. Have them executed, but swiftly.’ He smiled and wagged a finger. ‘Very well. You may also select the most beautiful to save, Mardonius – as gifts for those who have served well, with courage. Yes, that will do. Make a few of their most comely women and children the reward for unusual service or valour. The rest will be reunited with their husbands and parents – so that they may bless my name in a glad shout. But no walls in Athens. Never again. Let that be the symbol of my victory.’

Mardonius deliberately prostrated himself again, tears showing under his lashes, his face shining with new purpose. The son was his father reborn. At the very moment of victory, Xerxes had rediscovered the mercy of his line.

‘Majesty, you have turned the day to gold. I will have the scribes record every detail.’