At the far end, a man rose from a throne of gold and descended a flight of steps. Themistocles understood as the governor whispered a prayer. A moment later, every one of them halted and dropped to their stomachs on the marble. They were in the presence of Xerxes, Great King of Persia.

Themistocles hesitated, then lay down with them. He had sworn he would, though he was grateful Aristides was not there to comment on it. Yet he was far from home and he still hoped for something like mercy.

The king approached with another man at his side. Xerxes spoke in Persian and his translator repeated the words.

‘Up, please. You may stand. I heard this evening that you had come far to see me,’ Xerxes said.

The young king was smiling, but as Themistocles rose, he did not know if it was an expression of innocent joy or some darker delight.

‘I could not wait until tomorrow!’ Xerxes said. ‘You, the man who saved me from destruction! Who offered to surrender the great fleet to me at Salamis. You, the first in Athens! I honour you, Themistocles.’

Themistocles felt his eyes widen as the translator repeated words he had longed to hear. He’d thought to make the same argument in a thousand different ways on his journey into the heart of Persia. All Xerxes knew of him was the two letters he had sent. With the right emphasis, Themistocles had saved the king’s life. He felt relief rush through him as if he stood under a mountain stream. He staggered and Xerxes himself reached out, taking him by the arm. The action caused a ripple of astonishment to pass across the hall. The king had touched a Greek, in his own palace. Themistocles hoped it was not some great crime. He was like a child there, until he learned more of the language and customs.

‘Majesty,’ he said, ‘you honour me in your mercy. I have been cast out by my own people. I thought … I hoped I would find a place, a welcome in this court.’

Xerxes nodded continuously as the translator repeated the words.

‘Of all men, I owe you … more than I can say. I will give three cities to you, Themistocles of Athens, to rule as your own. You will have gold, gems, slaves by the tens of thousand. I will make you a satrap of my throne, Athenian, to honour you for all you have done. If I had known just a few more like you, I would not have lost poor Mardonius.’