‘There is a growing faction who want to see you censured for taking their possessions on the quays of Piraeus.’

‘To pay the rowers,’ Themistocles snapped. ‘And to pay the slaves Xanthippus freed. Or perhaps they would have found the fortune we needed somewhere else, with a Persian army marching on Athens and the mines at Laurium closed!’

‘Still, there was some story about a missing cup …’

Themistocles waved a hand in frustration.

‘Yes. I spread that rumour, to have their bags searched.’ He slumped then. ‘If I could go back and undo it, I would, in all honesty. It was the idea of a moment and there was no need. I saw a sack of silver coins being taken over to Salamis, held like a lover. I just thought – the rowers could use that. I made a quick decision.’

‘It has proven … unpopular. In one instant, you angered every wealthy family in Athens. You made enemies there. It will certainly come up tomorrow. You should prepare yourself to be questioned on that.

‘Perhaps I will remind them that without me, they would all be slaves, or already dead. That is a fine answer!’

Aristides rubbed his face, wearily.

‘I would not say it like that, Themistocles, if I were you. There is a great deal of anger in the city and nowhere for it to go. Thousands of our people are grieving, or still furious. They lost everything, but who can they blame? The Persians are gone! Life must return to normal, but businesses are ruined, homes are burned, families have been broken apart. They … lash about, Themistocles, looking for someone, anyone , to punish. I do not want to see you become the object of their frustrations.’

They fell silent again for a time, walking across the empty mouths of streets, right around the edge of the Agora. Above them, the Acropolis blocked the moon, untouched by the petty lives and fears of those below.

‘I have given my entire life to this city, to these people,’ Themistocles said at last. ‘My mother was not Athenian, did you know? She was a little blonde woman from Thrace. She worked her hands raw to earn enough just to buy food when I was a boy. We were not rich, Aristides, from a long line of archons. My father left us when I was just eleven. So as soon as I could stand, I worked. I earned coins boxing and wrestling, training others. I spent all I had with tutors to learn my letters. I remade myself, even to the way I speak, so no man could hear me and say “foreigner” or “unschooled”. Do you understand? I became a name in this city, a man of wealth and influence, rising step by step. I had a year named for me – and men called me “archon”.’