The evening was fading into night as he came outside, finding a group of soldiers standing in the yard of the governor’s home, or wherever it was he had been taken. The estate and its gardens lay further into the city, but he had no idea of the layout, or even the size of Persepolis. They left with soldiers taking up positions around him, the studs of their sandals loud on the stone roads.

As he passed through the city, he saw long streets on either side, with traders and passers-by halting at the sight of armed men. Themistocles matched the stride of the governor. The man was sweating already, though the air was growing cooler. Themistocles was grateful for that. There was no sign of the brother-in-law from Sardis, his sullen companion for over three months. Themistocles hoped the man had been sent back without so much as a coin.

He felt his own perspiration start as the guards lit torches, the better to see their way. The streets were dark by then and it seemed most of the city was going to their beds, so that the roads emptied. Or perhaps they just knew better than to get in the way of soldiers. Themistocles swallowed, nervously. He still didn’t know if Xerxes would want to see him killed or not. He had never met the young king and his entire judgement of him was from one or two actions in the midst of a war. Themistocles murmured prayers to Athena and then wondered if she could possibly hear him, so far from home.

He passed through gates, each column a building in its own right, looming white in the darkness. Themistocles heard voices calling in challenge and the answers given. His companions did not seem to slow, but loped up a flight of wide steps, then on and on through the night, past layers of guards and through cloisters of green marble. At intervals, part of the group would peel off. Some were replaced by others in a different coat, or no uniform at all. Servants? Members of the royal household? It was all a blur to him. At least Omid … He had forgotten the rest of the man’s name. At least the governor was still at his side, for all the man looked strained and nervous.

Huge doors opened ahead, timed so that the group would not have to halt or even slow. Light spilled across a stone floor so polished Themistocles could see reflections of their torches in it, like sparks moving. He went through into a hall lined with men and women, all standing perfectly still. He flashed glances to the sides, taking in faces and strange garb as he was made to keep walking. The governor slowed and Themistocles found he was panting. How had he become so unfit?