Scythian archers were present to glower at the crowd and keep order when tempers frayed. Though they were public slaves and owned in common by the people of Athens, they also had the authority to lay about them with clubs if a riot began. Sixty of them stood at the edge of the Pnyx that day, though only as a threat. The crowd grew unruly at times, either in cheering or muttering in anger. Yet the Scythians no longer needed a rope dipped in red paint to gather unwilling crowds to their duty. Since the Assembly had first announced a great inquiry of all conduct during the war, jurors had gathered before dawn each day, desperate to take part.

The process had some of the trappings of a great trial, though many of the speakers merely added to the public record of events. For all the threat of punishments, it was also a chance to tell what they had seen, to have scribes record clashes and alarms they could hardly believe they had survived. Playwrights too were there, scribbling down the details they liked best, fingers and lips black with charcoal or ink.

On the first day of the previous week, Aristides had been the first archon to be questioned. Formally, he’d placed his fate in the hands of the Assembly, accepting their authority over him. Even the crowds on the slopes had been silent then. After all, the oath he gave that day was from a man who had been sent into exile – and then been called home.

In his dry way, Aristides had described his dealings with Sparta, as well as the entire battle of Plataea and his part in it. He’d endured a spiky interrogation by three of his own officers as to his choices on the battlefield and his recollection of the chaos around the helots at Plataea. The crowd was rapt as he described those last, that slave state within a state, outnumbering their masters. Yet Aristides had remained unruffled, answering each question with his habitual calm, offering details and insights that had the crowd straining for every word. He’d spoken from dawn until evening and at the end, his voice was hoarse. As the sun had touched the horizon, the epistates waved off any more questions. Aristides had been given permission to stand down. By show of hands, the Assembly agreed he should be added to the list of honoured men and held immune from further criticism. There might be greater honours in his future, or at his death, but nothing then, while the city was still being rebuilt.