Themistocles had been careful to choose a merchant ship with a cargo to deliver further east. He had wanted to keep as far from Athenian waters as possible. Yet when the wind freshened and rolled in from the south, the captain turned away from his first course. He crept along the Greek coast, always keeping land in sight. It seemed he was no deep-water sailor. He spent part of each day praying at a little shrine to Poseidon on deck. Themistocles made no comment about that. The city of Argos had been neutral in the war, sending no one. As a veteran, he found the obvious wealth and comfort of their people somehow distasteful. They had been saved by everything Athens and Sparta had done, but had paid no part of the price.

Themistocles looked back to the helmsman as the ship turned. Two of the crew were up the mast, adjusting the heavy pine yard that held the sail. To Themistocles’ dawning horror, the captain was clearly heading for the Piraeus, south of Athens.

Themistocles felt a cold hand clutch at him. This was how gods interfered in the lives of men. He didn’t know how to protest in a way that would not immediately raise the captain’s suspicions, perhaps enough to have him put ashore. Themistocles had rebuilt that port! With thousands of slaves and the labour of free men, he had dredged it deeper and built new docks and berths ready to maintain a fleet of war. Since Salamis, the Piraeus had become a vital centre of trade for a thousand small cities and towns, on islands all over the Aegean. Even as he drew closer, with storm clouds filling the sky behind him, Themistocles found he was proud of the busy crowds, bustling along quays he had helped to design. Three great triremes were being refitted there, the wood shining with new oil. Unfortunately, it was also the one place in the world where Themistocles would be recognised in an instant and hailed by his true name – a name he had not actually given the captain of his ship.

He held his stomach, groaning as he crossed the deck and went down to the hold. Merchant captains feared plague as much as anyone else and it was not long before the man himself was told of his passenger’s sudden illness and came down to see. Themistocles knew he had to walk a fine line. If there was any sign of fever in him, the captain would turn him out onto the very docks he was trying to avoid. His hand was dry as he held it out. The captain took it warily, but did not recoil from some unnatural heat.

‘My men say you have fallen ill,’ the man of Argos said.

Themistocles shook his head.