Eurybiades had tried to explain the concept to a group of working men just that morning. They had offered him water from a ladle and refused to accept a single coin in exchange. All they wanted was his memory of Plataea. They had grown quite cold by the time he had finished explaining. Two of them had even followed him for a time, until he’d shown them his kopis blade and challenged them in the street, flinging back his red cloak. They’d slunk off then, quickly enough! Whores and cowards, all of them. Even to be among them left him feeling less than clean. Well, he’d come to fulfil an obligation. When that was done, he could go home, to retirement and peace.

Eurybiades was not challenged at the entrance of the gymnasium, though two burly slaves bowed to him and another went racing off, no doubt to inform their master. The walk out of the city had loosened Eurybiades up, which was a relief at his age. Still, he wondered if he should use the stone weights or take a lap around the running track. His left hip grew stiff at times, though it could be stretched out. He stood in thought, casting his eye over two men swimming and a dozen others exercising in the morning sun. There was a calm there that soothed his spirits, a place more like a training ground of Sparta than the drunk-houses and fleshpits of the city he had just left. Eurybiades had been taught a fine contempt for pleasure, for the weakness it brought. At times, he almost wished Persia could have swallowed these people up. Yet the fate of Sparta had been entwined with them for a time. Apollo grant it never would be again.

He felt a strange twinge of pleasure when he recognised Themistocles coming out to see him. The man wore a simple belted robe, wiping his mouth on a cloth as he came. Like Eurybiades, he bore no armour, carried no shield. Eurybiades had not come for war, after all, but to repay a disgrace. He was not sure if it was a compliment or insult that Themistocles had appeared unarmed, without even a sword.

‘Navarch Eurybiades,’ Themistocles said by way of greeting.

The Spartan bowed his head.

‘Themistocles,’ he said stiffly. ‘The war is over. I said I would come.’

‘And you are a man of your word,’ Themistocles said. To Eurybiades’ surprise, the Athenian clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend. ‘You have walked far. Are you staying in the city, or did you come straight from home? Please, you are my guest. Take wine with me.’

Eurybiades understood there was no rush to begin. He appreciated a man who showed such a fine lack of fear, with death so close. It was worth rewarding and the truth was, his throat was rather dry. Eurybiades dipped his head.

‘That would be welcome, thank you.’