The funeral of Cleombrotus had been a simple thing, the grave marked with just his name. Pausanias had maintained his dignity, as was expected. Though Tisamenus had a memory of waking to the sounds of weeping, later that night, he had not mentioned it. There were lines their friendship did not cross. Even there, alone and in the morning silence, he would not ask how it felt to be the son of a great man, nephew to a great king.

Pausanias had not answered him, he realised. He was considering a different opening when the Spartan suddenly broke his silence.

‘Pleistarchus is a fine young man,’ Pausanias said. His voice was gentle, almost a breath. ‘I sometimes wish he had been born a year earlier. He would not need me then. He would be the one to lead us all in war.’

No answer was called for, but Tisamenus replied even so. He was not Spartan, after all. He preferred talk to silence.

‘The ephors will never let a son of Leonidas leave Sparta, not before he is counted as a man and has fathered a son. That is what you said. I’m afraid the decision is yours alone, my friend. Is it truly such a burden?’

Pausanias glanced at him, before looking back.

‘No. I am glad of it. It frightens me, Tisamenus, how this has been dropped into my lap! A year ago, Sparta had a battle king in Leonidas, as great as any we have known. My father was in good health and I was destined for a life of service, twenty-one to sixty – as a soldier, or perhaps in command of ships. The sea called me, calls me still. Yet in just a season, the lion is dead, my father is dead – and a Persian army sits on our land and mocks us. And who will make the decision? It falls to me! I am filled with wonder, Tisamenus … but I am also afraid. This is what I wanted, when I asked you to remain at my side. You will win five great contests – five battles! That was what you were told. When I heard that, I knew they could be my victories. I prayed to Apollo to make it so, Tisamenus.’

Pausanias shook his head, as if he had been stung or some muscle had cramped.

‘And now I wonder if my pride will bring us all to destruction. The history of Sparta is long, Tisamenus. We have lived in this valley for more than three hundred years and we have never seen an enemy. Not here. Will I be the one to end that history? What if I bring the army out …?’