She snatched her arm from him without looking away from Xanthippus. Instead, her face twisted, but to weep rather than rage. Without replying, she turned and went back into the house.

Xanthippus raised a hand to his cheek, that side of his face already swelling. He nodded grimly, shifting his pack. Pericles took that moment to lay down the sack of armour that had chafed and pinched him all the way from the coast. He supposed the set would be his to wear, unless he inherited his father’s. In that moment, he didn’t feel worthy of either one.

Eleni came out at a run. She had become a young woman, tall and slim. She held out her hand to her father, embracing him awkwardly. Xanthippus said nothing. The silence was uncomfortable and Pericles shook his head when she looked at him, trying to excuse his father for his coldness. He tried to think what Ariphron would have done in his place. That was not such a bad thing, he thought. His brother could be his example, perhaps for the rest of his life.

Pericles stepped forward and put his arms around his sister.

‘I’m sorry …’ he said. His voice choked and for a time, nothing more came.

His father looked past them both, his gaze taking in the changes to the house.

Epikleos took up the sack Pericles had laid down, hefting the weight easily.

‘This will all need to be cleaned, repaired and polished. I’ll have your brother’s name inscribed on the shield.’

Pericles wiped his eyes as he stood apart from his sister.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I don’t want to give his armour to anyone else.’

Epikleos hesitated only a moment before he handed it over. Pericles breathed deeply, smelling new wood and oil on the air, new crops sown and growing. His mother must have worked day and night to remake the house for their return. He saw new fence posts on the field where he had learned to ride, not yet joined to one another. It brought him a sense of hope, even in the midst of loss.

‘Will you stay here tonight?’ Epikleos asked his father.

Xanthippus glanced at the door where his wife had gone inside. He grimaced and nodded.

‘I think so. You are welcome of course, Epikleos, as always. Nothing changes that.’

‘No … I’ll find rooms in the city. I’d like to hear the details of the victory from those who were there. I’ll buy them drinks – and have a few myself.’

Xanthippus looked at his daughter and Pericles. He ran a tongue over his lower lip. His knee throbbed in time with his heart. He was tired, to the bone. Yet his duty was done. The thought of spending a night with Agariste’s grief was a different kind of pain.