‘I know you will be my right hand, Artabazus, that whatever orders I give will be carried out quickly and well. I thank God and the angels to have such men as you, Hydarnes and Masistius. Give me your best and I will raise you all.’

For one with ears to hear, it was not a particularly reassuring message. Mardonius was making it clear he would lay responsibility – or blame – on the necks of his subordinates. It was always that way and Artabazus was not surprised. His mouth twisted as he uncurled and lay flat, making obeisance with his hands up about his head.

‘I am honoured indeed, general,’ he said as Mardonius bade him rise. ‘In truth, I think there is no other choice. There is nothing left in the city we burned. Whoever lives there will surely starve this winter. I will tell Masistius we are headed for the plains of Thessaly. Our master of horse thinks more of those animals than his men, so he will be pleased.’

For a moment, the same hooded look returned, the political consideration surfacing. Mardonius watched the change of expression with a sigh. All men in authority had to appease those above, while intimidating the ones below. Artabazus was obsequious and willing in his presence, but a cruel tyrant with those he commanded. It introduced an element of deceit into every level of authority, as each officer chose the path that best maintained his status. Still, it was important to be clear. Mardonius waited for the question he saw bubbling to the surface.

‘General … our march north … will it not take us past the Spartans? I recall I saw a map that puts them to the west of such a route, but not so far they could not come out.’

Thermopylae had wormed its way into the fears of his entire army, Mardonius knew, not just his own. None of them had ever seen a fighting force like those red-cloaked maniacs. The death toll alone had been horrific. The thought of facing thousands of them was enough to put a cold clench into the bravest of men.

‘According to our tame Greeks, the Spartans have built a wall and cower behind it. They will not come out – and if they do, we will overwhelm them.’ Mardonius waved a hand, directing the attention of his second in command to the landscape and hills around them, marked in scattered regiments as far as either of them could see. ‘There has never been a host like this in the world, Artabazus. I do not fear the few Sparta can put in the field, not against these.’

It was said with a fine confidence. Artabazus bowed his head once more, choosing to dip down and kiss the general’s sandal rather than speak. It was only when he had left that Mardonius wondered if that meant he agreed, or not.

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