Aristides waved a hand, showing some of the frustration of the previous few days.

‘We came close. It is a chance to speak through him to the leader of the Persians, to choose the words this Macedonian will pour into his ear. I have thought long on it, Xanthippus. Having the Spartan regent here has to be an opportunity, one we cannot afford to lose … Should we keep them apart? Or let them see one another? Too late, they come.’ He took a long breath, squaring his shoulders as he made a decision. ‘There is no more time. We’ll play this out.’

Pausanias had appeared at the end of a corridor, stepping out of a curtained alcove and striding towards them. The Spartan regent wore a clean robe and sandals and his hair was wet. He looked healthy and yet his arms were marked with white scars. As he approached, it was hard not to take a step back, the instinct of all men in the presence of lions.

Pausanias was the nephew of Leonidas and the current battle king of Sparta. In comparison, Xanthippus felt the grime of the road on his skin, as well as the odours of unwashed sweat and horses still rising from him. He and his companions had given up their chance to eat and bathe in order to speak to Aristides. Xanthippus showed no resentment, however. He saw Cimon licking sore lips and shook his head when he felt the young man’s eyes flicker over him. There was a war on. Nothing else mattered. Xanthippus would endure a thousand days of thirst and soreness – if it brought Sparta to the field.

‘Honoured regent!’ Aristides called in greeting, his voice rising to the overjoyed tone from before. He saw the Spartan guards gathering, beginning to crowd around Pausanias. Aristides frowned. ‘Gentlemen, you are guests, protected by custom and the law. I give you my personal oath, my word. You are protected, on my honour. I have gathered the council of Athens to listen to what you have to say. There is no need for guards, for swords, not in this place. You are among friends.’

Pausanias stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

‘Tisamenus will accompany me,’ he told his men. ‘Remain here. Come if I call.’

The message was clear enough to all that heard it. If he roared for them, a dozen Spartan warriors would split the heads of anyone in their way to reach his side. Xanthippus wondered if Aristides had brought enough hoplites to stop them if they did. As the man himself went through to the council chamber, Xanthippus took a moment to knuckle away weariness from his eyes, so that he saw flashes of green. If it came to that, they would already have lost.