‘We have held this place,’ he called to them all, ‘against unrelenting attacks. Your honour is proven, all of you. You have my thanks. You see those above, on the high paths? It will not be long before they are marching in behind – and there will be no escape then. Even so, our work is complete. Know that. We gave the armies of Sparta and Athens – and yes, Megara and Sicyon and all the rest – time to form up. We won that for them.’

He glanced ahead and his heart sank when he saw a new line of soldiers making ready, coming in. He looked left and right and caught the nods of his personal guard. They would not leave, not while the battle king remained. He had known that from the start.

‘Go now, quickly!’ Leonidas called to the rest. ‘I will stay to give you time to get clear. Go home – and carry the news of what we did here. Go!’

Some of those at the rear turned and trotted into the gathering gloom, hundreds of them. A few wept as they went, though whether it was in relief or at his sacrifice, they could not have said themselves.

‘Well?’ Leonidas asked those who had stayed.

His personal guard raised their swords and shields as if he had not spoken. He’d known they would not show their backs to anyone, not even the army of Xerxes. Yet the perioikoi remained as well, another seven hundred or so.

‘You do not need to stand with me,’ Leonidas said. He heard his voice choke and break and thought it was surely weariness.

The men of the perioikoi saluted him with raised swords. Ahead, the marching lines of Persians exchanged worried glances, unsure what this meant.

‘Yes, we do,’ one of the perioikoi said.

Leonidas saw his helots too were still there. They would not, could not, leave until he released them.

‘By my word as king of Sparta, I free all helots who stood in this place with me today. Let no man call you slave from this moment. Now, go.’

‘If we are not slaves, you cannot order us away,’ one of them pointed out.

It was Dromeas, the runner. The young man carried a Spartan shield, taken from one of the fallen perioikoi. As Leonidas watched, the man picked up a sword and jammed a kopis dagger into his belt. The battle king smiled, though his heart broke to see it.

Around half the men he had brought to that place left as he had asked them to do. Almost two thousand stayed at his side. Xerxes sent men against them and when darkness came, he allowed no respite. His men lit torches in the pass. Those with Leonidas fought on in mindless weariness, cut down one by one. Helots – free men all – were killed when they became too slow to stand against fresh soldiers. The perioikoi went hard, slashing and growling, wounding with every blow. Yet they did fall.