‘Such things do not concern you, Majesty?’

Xerxes looked down the hill to the port and the far coast disappearing into the haze.

‘I have brought a million men to this place, general, as well as warships of Phoenicia and Egypt. I have not stinted in their training or their weapons, or food to keep them strong. I have done all this because the Greeks will know we are coming. On my order, our people have begun a canal across part of the route, so our fleet can avoid a treacherous piece of coast – and sail in safety where there was once only land! Nothing has been spared for this, not gold or men or blood. I have made preparations since my father’s death – while he drove the empire to this great action before.’

Xerxes paused and bowed his head at the mention of his father, before going on.

‘It is eight years since Marathon, general. My father’s illness robbed him of the vengeance he deserved. I will put that right, in honour of his shade. After all, they’ve known we would come since then, if they had the sense of a child. No, there is no way to keep an army of this size a secret. Yet that is my greatest joy.’ He showed his teeth then, like a wolf. ‘They will know we are coming and they will try to resist – until they understand we are the wave that will break their walls, no matter what they do. We are the tide coming in, the end of all their dreams and ambitions. We are the fire that will burn them to ash!’

His voice had risen with each phrase, until it was almost a battle shout. On instinct, the general chose to prostrate himself once again, his hands touching his ears. Mardonius was a man of great personal and physical strength, who had served Xerxes’ father with distinction. The sight of him lying in the dust cooled the ardour that surged in the young king.

He reached and took Mardonius by the arm, raising him up. It was an honour to be touched in such a way and Mardonius flushed like a bride, overcome.

‘I shall not fail, Majesty. It will be as you say.’

The attention of the king was on the strait below, where ships and men swarmed.

‘Look there, Mardonius, at the banks. Do you see?’

Far below, a ship had come down the strait and been lashed to the wooden quayside with great ropes of papyrus and white flax, thick as a man’s arm. As both general and king watched, another approached, looking like a child’s model at that distance. It came alongside the first, sculling closer until they touched. Both ships dropped anchor at prow and stern, then more ropes were flung over, rising like threads. Men scurried everywhere, busy in the heat as they joined the ships.

Sails came down and were removed and piled on the shore. Spars and ropes followed and then the great wooden beam of a balance crane was heaved over, with dozens of men working to unship the mast. A net of stones as counterweight helped them to lift out the great bole of pine, swinging it round.