Themistocles signalled his servants and a table was brought out, with two chairs. The sun was bright as they took seats. Eurybiades watched as the wine was poured from a single jug, a beautiful piece in black and brown. Warriors danced or fought on the sides, the work of a master. He found his gaze drawn to it.

Themistocles mixed in a little water from a smaller jug, then took a long draught and smacked his lips.

‘There, that is joy. Please drink. I think you know I would not poison a guest, even a Spartan.’

Eurybiades smiled tightly, but with his courage questioned, he drained his cup and held it out for a servant to refill. Warmth and flavour spread through him, making his senses swim.

‘Very good. You were always quick with a barb, Themistocles. There are times when I regret what passed between us.’

‘I see,’ Themistocles said thoughtfully. ‘Well, have you considered, at least for a moment, that you might have been in the wrong?’

The Spartan only looked at him and Themistocles shrugged, his hands moving through the air as he spoke.

‘We pulled back and back – war at sea was new to all of us, you know that! We’d only had a fleet for a few years and never fought in large formation. The Persians had so many ships, there was no end to them. I think you and I came to the same conclusion, at around the same time. We could not win, not there, not against that fleet. All we could do was fight a rear action to slow them down while we retreated. It was … yes, the worst day of the war for me.’

Eurybiades blinked slowly. Themistocles spoke with his eyes distant. Without warning, his gaze snapped back to sharpness, then he grinned and shrugged. This was not a man who worried about old decisions, Eurybiades realised. The past was dead for him. It was possible that Themistocles had no real understanding of why Eurybiades was there, that even then he did not believe only one of them would walk out.

‘In that moment of despair and disaster, as navarch,’ Themistocles continued grimly, ‘you gave an order I could not follow – to pull back the entire fleet, abandoning Athens completely to the Persian army. You told me we could blockade the Peloponnese, where Sparta and Corinth lay, but not my wife or my children, who would be left for the sport of soldiers.’

The gaze he turned on the Spartan had more than a little anger in it. Eurybiades nodded, as if the point had merit. He had known scorn before. He had seen it in Pausanias, in the ephors of home. Yet he had always acted with discipline and honour.