War pushed them all too far, she knew. It stole away all the rules and laws her own uncle had helped create. Or revealed them for what they were, perhaps. Even a city like Athens was an artificial thing, fragile as a pot, where men and women pretended there were no wolves and that justice was real. She could not speak. She clung to Xanthippus and he wrapped his arms around her. After a while, her daughter Eleni nuzzled up under an arm and she too was held, safe.

Agariste sensed Themistocles coming closer when Xanthippus raised his head from where he had bowed, pressing his lips to her hair. She stood apart from her husband then, knowing the kohl had run around her eyes and that she was puffy-faced and wild-looking. She smoothed her dress with her hands, wiping tears in quick, rough gestures as Themistocles stopped before her. His hand fluttered at his side, his usual manner dark at what he had seen.

‘It’s not their fault,’ Themistocles murmured. ‘They are afraid and angry, but the fault lies with those who forced us out, who brought war to us. These crimes lie at the feet of Persians, with all the drowned men.’

He spoke to her husband, Agariste saw, though his sweeping gaze took in both her sons. Aristides too had come, wearing a ragged robe. He bowed to her and offered a greeting, as if they met in the Agora on a market day. Yet he was strained and pale, she saw.

Around Agariste, with Xanthippus as the central point, a quorum of the council gathered. It was just a few dozen, but they were grim with purpose. Between them, the senior men represented authority in Athens.

While the rain dripped and drummed on the roof, Themistocles addressed them, his voice lower than usual.

‘When the Persians go back to their winter camp, I’ll send word to Sparta. An ultimatum. At the same time, Xanthippus, I want you to take the fleet out. Find and sink every Persian ship they still have, wherever they have found refuge. Raid their ports, make them pay at home. Perhaps you can raise enough of a fire there to call their soldiers back.’

Agariste looked up at her husband, seeing only certainty in him as he nodded. Her heart sank. Of course he would be part of it. She had married him for his strength, after all. She saw Pericles and Ariphron were at his shoulder. In that moment, she knew they had been taken from her, that they would be going with him. She thought for an instant that she might be sick. Themistocles was speaking once more, his voice low and clipped.

‘For the rest, we follow through. Stay the path. We’ll bring Sparta out, even if we have to make an enemy of them.’