“Plato,” we all said, almost in time, like a stuttering chorus.

Sokrates shook his head and laughed.

“I surrendered to emotion too, I rocked more than once,” Hilfa said to Thetis, consolingly.

“It’s natural you were upset, Thee. I was upset when I first heard,” Marsilia said. “And when I found out who Jathery really was, I threw up.”

“I did the same,” Ikaros said.

“You’re shivering with cold. Would you all like to come and eat soup?” Hilfa asked.

“No, I’m absolutely exhausted,” Marsilia said. “I want to sleep.”

“Come on, then,” Thetis said. “Time for bed.”

We all wished each other joy of the night for one last time, then the sisters put their arms around each other. It made me smile to see them supporting each other that way as they walked up the hill with Ikaros.

“Are you coming, Jason?” Hilfa asked.

I was tired too, but the Temple of Amphitrite was close, round the corner, down on the harbor. It was always open and always offering soup. It was supposed to be for people whose boats had come in late and who needed it, at times when the eating halls were closed. The thought of hot soup was enticing, and I knew they wouldn’t mind giving it to us now. Amphitrite is the goddess of the plenty of the ocean. “I’ll come,” I said.

We started walking towards the water and the temple.

“This is a cold world,” Sokrates said, clutching his kiton round himself as a gust caught it.

“It can be warm in summer, but everyone who remembers Greece is always saying how much warmer it was there,” I said. “My friend Dion is always saying so. I’m used to it here.”

“Is this winter?” Sokrates asked, as we came out onto the exposed quayside and the wind tried to blow the flesh off our bones.

“This is autumn,” I said. The light from the temple shone out warm and friendly ahead.

“This is as cold as it might ever be in Greece on the coldest winter night,” Sokrates said.

“You need proper clothes. I can help you get some tomorrow if you like.” He was barefoot, which really wouldn’t do for Plato, he’d get frostbite once it really was winter. My friend Prodikos, who had lived in my sleeping house when we were ephebes, was a cobbler.

“Your clothes seem very practical,” he said.

Inside the temple was warm. I paused by the statue and murmured a prayer to Amphitrite for good catches and safety for everyone out on the water. Hilfa and Sokrates stood behind in polite silence. Then we went around to the side room, where a mother and daughter I knew slightly from the boats were drinking soup, and a pod of Saeli kelp-gatherers were eating oatmeal. A sleepy girl came and asked what we wanted. “Two soups and an oatmeal, and it’s so wonderful that you do this.”