Xanthippus shook his head at the thought. He did not need allies who looked to Sparta for leadership. He had come to that coast to bring vengeance, for all the Persians had done, for their arrogance, for the murders and rapes and the slaves they had taken. He had seen too many bodies. There were times when he thought he would never sleep again without rising up in the dark, sweating and thrashing.

The governor who knelt on stones with his hands bound in his lap spoke perfect Greek, as so many did on that Ionian coast of empire. They were the descendants of Hellenes, after all, just one or two generations back. The children of men and women who had come to that place to grow crops and build new lives, to seed cities like Athens. Instead of freedom, they had been gathered into the Persian realm.

Xanthippus saw the man was weeping. He bent down to stare at him. The governor’s face crumpled.

‘Please, kurios. Let my son live. Let me swear allegiance to you, to Greece. Whatever you want. Just let my boy go. He has done nothing.’

Xanthippus looked around. There was blood on the street, bright red. He had chosen to make an example of this town, one that might reach the ears of the emperor himself, as Xanthippus himself could not. The empire was vast, with too many men under arms to march to its heart. Instead, he had burned that coast, a host of villages and towns. He had let free Greeks run before the flames grew too fierce, but when he found Persian tax collectors or their officials cowering from him, he had hanged them in the town squares.

Xanthippus could not remember when he had last known peace. His eyes were red as he looked over the kneeling crowd. They trembled with bowed heads, awaiting their fate.

‘You people,’ Xanthippus said. ‘You welcome Persians into your homes, raising their children as your own. You forget our gods, our tongue. You pay taxes to a foreign king and you forget who you are, who you were …’ He trailed off, skirting a pit of grief so vast he dared not look into it.

‘Please, kurios. Archon …’ the governor said. ‘Let my son go. He is innocent. Will you take payment for his life? I have twenty talents in silver, all I own. I will show you where, kurios. Please.’

Xanthippus shook his head.

‘You cannot buy me. You cannot buy his life …’

‘Father …’

Xanthippus jerked around at the sound. Pericles stood there and Xanthippus felt rage suffuse him, darkening his skin.

‘I told you to remain with the ships!’ he shouted. He grabbed the young man and wrenched at him, his fist twisting the cloth of his tunic. ‘How many times will you disobey me?’

‘It is enough !’ Pericles replied. ‘Ariphron is gone. Let’s just go home.’