He gestured his son closer and Xerxes leaned in, as the slave had done before him. He saw no dishonour in that. All men were slaves to his father, even the heir. If Darius gave the order, Xerxes knew he would not leave that room alive. The Great King’s authority was absolute and he shuddered at the thought of inheriting such power.

‘The Greeks talk, my son. They have told the world of their victory at the fennel field, at the place they call Marathon. Every one of our kingdoms has heard how my army was broken there! It cannot go unanswered, Xerxes, do you understand? They were once the edge of empire. I would have left them in peace as satraps and vassals. Yet they chose to resist – and the world saw them resist. I have no choice now. If God is willing, I will live long enough to see the Greek cities burn. I will see Athens burn, and Sparta and Thebes and Corinth and all the rest.’ He paused to gasp for breath, staring off into the distance until the great heaves became less. ‘They call their land the dance floor of Ares, have you heard that? The one they call the god of war. They have not seen the god of war, Xerxes. But they will …’

The king winced, his breathing growing tight. He pressed a hand into his side, under the ribs. Xerxes began to speak his concern, but Darius waved him away.

‘It is nothing, just a passing pain. Tell those doctors to prepare more infusions and the smoke of poppy seeds. It all helps a little, but nothing works for long. I must endure dreams of terror and strangeness.’

He saw his son’s worry and smiled once more, though the pain was growing in him and the yellow tinge to his skin seemed to have deepened.

‘Go and rest, Xerxes. You rode far and fast to come to me. You are my heir, my beloved son. You will be at my side when I return to Greece, I give you my word.’

16

Every trial day started some time before dawn. Officials of the courts began a laborious process of choosing juries and magistrates by lot, then allocating individual court spaces around the centre of the city. Xanthippus was not surprised to be given the Areopagus. Three other courts were in use for the most serious crimes, but the great rock of Ares still had a sacred position in the laws of the city. Before the new democracy of Cleisthenes, the Areopagus had been the site of a council with almost unlimited power. Those noble archons existed still, as the reforms had not quite dared to cut them out completely. They hung on as a remnant, with all the authority of ancient tradition, but no clear role in the new order.

The rock itself was a massive outcropping that rose above the lower city. It could hold a jury of four or five hundred with ease, though the day would bake them all on the white stone. As the sun rose, Xanthippus paced from one edge of the Areopagus to the other, with Epikleos watching him. The magistrate who would preside over the trial had been chosen by lot and was a butcher by trade. He seemed delighted at the appointment and had warmly shaken Xanthippus by the hand at their first meeting. As seemed true of all butchers, the man was well fed and solid, with a crushing grip. Xanthippus did not have to ask to know he was Marathonomachos.