He looked down as something moved beneath the surface, then gasped at the sight of dolphins. The creatures raced along with them, sleek and grey, like shaped sky moving through the water. The messengers of Poseidon had come, a wondrous good omen for all that lay ahead. It was a moment of absolute perfection that somehow went on and on. Why they chose to shadow the ship, Xanthippus did not know. It could only be the god’s blessing.

He did not look up even to call a warning as Epikleos leaned out beside him in awed silence, holding on to the prow with just one arm. There had to be a dozen of them, with two much smaller than the rest. As Xanthippus turned to say something, one of the largest leapt right out of the water, leaving him speechless.

Epikleos was yelling something over the noise of the crashing prow. Xanthippus dragged his attention back and looked up, shaking his head at having witnessed something divine, a message of the god’s protection. For those who faced war, it was … His stomach dropped away as the trireme cleared the headland.

Xanthippus leaned back, holding tightly to the high prow. At his feet, dolphins still played and swam, but he no longer had eyes for them. Ahead, the sea filled with a fleet, wider and wider, in such profusion they seemed to sweep across the great strait like a wooden wall. He put a foot on the lookout’s step and raised himself up on the prow, his mouth too dry to call warning. The strait had to be thirty stades across there, but it sparkled white with oars beating time, stretching from one coast to another. Even as he gaped, horns began to sound on both sides, warning of an enemy in sight. Xanthippus heard Epikleos roar new orders, sending the crew to their battle posts and to ready weapons. The sound of running feet was loud as everything loose was cleared away in short order.

Xanthippus swallowed, still overwhelmed as a slow fury began to build in him. These were despoilers, come to steal and burn everything he valued, come to take the freedoms of Athens, the temples of the gods, the children who trusted them for safety and peace.

As he jumped down to the deck, the dolphins vanished, going deep. It did not matter then. The warning had been given.

‘Trierarch Ereius!’ Xanthippus called.

The captain was coming up from the hold, looking pale at the sound of horns. He bustled to the prow. Xanthippus waited only a moment for the older man to take stock and understand.

‘Prepare for battle, trierarch. Signal “form line” and “engage” to all ships, if you would.’

The captain blinked nervously as he understood.

Above them, the sail yard came crashing down, allowed to drop harder than it ever had in drills. Ropes skipped and whirred across the deck, making a helmsman jump aside. Xanthippus frowned. He had trained the crews and practised with them a thousand times. Yet the reality of battle, with drowning and death rushing down upon them, was always something different. Half the training had been to just keep them moving in an emergency rather than freeze. They had not imagined facing such a vast enemy in the confines of the strait, except perhaps in nightmares. He prayed to Poseidon to bring them safely through, thanking him for his messengers.