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In this selection from The Battle of Salamis: The Naval Encounter that Saved Greece – and Western Civilization (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), Barry Strauss tells the dramatic story of the clash of triremes with which the battle began. The place was the Salamis Straits, near the city of Athens; the time was morning, on or about September 25, 480 B.C.

The Admiral Ariabignes, commander of the Ionian and Carian squadrons in the Persian fleet, son of Darius and half-brother of His Majesty the Great King Xerxes, sits in the stern of his flagship. The ship, which is unusually large, has a towering stern and high bulwarks. We may imagine Ariabignes in the stern, shortly after dawn on September 25, pondering his uncertainty. Perhaps he absent-mindedly fingers the twists of the gold torque that hangs heavily around his neck. The noble blood of Gobryas, a Persian of great courage, runs in Ariabignes’ veins, and it is too rich for seawater. But battle is battle, wherever it takes place, and the admiral is a seasoned warrior. He knows that confusion gets in the way of victory, and he has reason to be confused.

He had expected to catch the cowardly Greeks in the act of sneaking out of their harbors on Salamis during the night, which is why the entire Persian fleet has been deployed in darkness in the Straits. Yet not a Greek ship has budged all night except for a trireme that rowed into rather than out of the Straits; unbeknown to Ariabignes, it was Aristides’s ship. If indeed the 40 Corinthian ships had hoisted sail at dawn and fled, then Ariabignes might have been reassured: how like the Greeks to be so paralyzed by talk that they could not even turn tail in a timely manner. But still, he might wonder why the other Greek triremes had not followed the first to flee.

It is unlikely that Ariabignes suspects that the Persian fleet had blundered into a trap. Royal admirals do not like to admit mistakes, especially not mistakes that might discredit their brother on the throne. Xerxes himself had ordered the navy into the Straits and, Xerxes himself was there at Salamis. Aeschylus writes of the king:

He had a seat in full view of the army,

A high hill beside the broad sea.

Xerxes observed the battle from the slopes of Mount Aegaleos on the mainland. The Great King sat on a golden throne, looking down like a god from Olympus on the men who were about to die for the sake of his ambition.

Ariabignes might have comforted himself with the thought that his men would fight well regardless of what awaited them. If the sight of Xerxes on high were not enough to ensure their loyalty, then the presence of Iranian and Sacae marines on every ship should make up for it. Since crossing the Hellespont in June, only six triremes, all Greek, had defected from the Persian navy to the enemy side. So Ariabignes might have reasoned, and yet, it is doubtful that he had an inkling of what lay ahead.
Meanwhile, about a mile away on the other side of the Straits, the Greeks made full use of the advantage that they had over the Persians: the knowledge of the truth. They prepared to shock the enemy with an attack.

Surprise is a weapon. Often underestimated, it is one of the most effective and cheapest of all force multipliers as well as one of the most versatile. It is possible to surprise an enemy not only in the time or place of battle but in the manner of fighting. Ariabignes and his other commanders knew that the entire Greek navy faced them. What they did not know, and what they could perhaps hardly fathom, was that the Greeks were ready to do battle. And yet, around seven a.m. if not earlier, events would force Ariabignes into admitting the truth. The Persians had been swindled.

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