‘You have no idea how my heart fills to hear that! I get no plays or poems here, not one – Apollo would consider it a desert, I swear. A man needs more than fish and bread …’

He tailed off, staring into an unseen distance, clearly considering Cimon’s grim news once again. The young man belted on his weapons and stood there, uncertain.

‘What will you do now?’ Cimon asked, strangely unsatisfied.

‘What I must,’ Themistocles replied with some firmness. ‘As always. I will do what I must, to survive.’

He watched as Cimon walked back to the horse he had left at the gate. The ground was dark in spots, already drying in the sun. The animal had clearly been given water while he was inside, as if by invisible spirits. The animal gleamed, all the sweat dust brushed from its coat. Cimon looked around, but he could see no sign of whoever had done it. Even so, he was grateful. He felt a great weight leave him, perhaps because he had completed the task he had been given, or just because he had passed the weight onto the shoulders of another.

When Cimon was gone, Themistocles returned to the shade and cool of the house. His daughters and sons came down into the main room, filling it with life and sound. His wife Nicomache was there, her eyes bright with tears. Of course, they had heard everything.

‘We’ll have to leave this place,’ she said. ‘After all the work we’ve done.’

‘I’m afraid so,’ he replied softly, looking round. ‘I am sorry. It has been a happy time in my life. But if I run alone, I can’t trust the soldiers they send not to hurt you.’

‘Where will we go this time?’ his youngest son said.

Themistocles ruffled the lad’s hair. He had already made his decision, though he was not sure how to say it to them.

‘You will accompany your mother to find safe lodgings, in … Argos, I think?’

His wife nodded and Themistocles felt relief. The city was barely a day’s ride away and they were not well known there. He looked at his sons and daughters. He had spent more time with them in the previous year than the dozen before that. Though the little house had been crowded, he’d grown quite attached to them all.

‘What about you?’ his wife asked, knowing him well.

He smiled and pressed his hand against her face. Nicomache needed to be embraced, he could sense it.

‘There is one place I might be welcome – a place far out of the reach of all my enemies. I’ll go there and see if my name is worth anything. If it suits me, I’ll call for you all to come out and join me! If not, I’ll wait a year and find you in Argos.’