Straining joint and sinew, Pericles dragged the huge dog out of the surf. Further along the beach, Agariste half-raised her hand to stop him, but refrained. She did not think he would have listened anyway. Her husband’s mastiff was clearly dead. The beast’s entire head had been underwater. Even so, Pericles heaved it out, pulling on flopping limbs in desperation. With his brother and sister gripping folds of wet flesh, they lifted Conis onto dry sand. Eleni was weeping as she stroked the animal’s side.

Agariste looked beyond them, to where ships moved and fought. Some of them passed so close she could see the individual expressions of men at the oars and on deck. She saw archers among them and wondered if they would bend their bows for sport or cruelty. To have the thought was to fear it, with her children so exposed. There was already too much death in that place. Agariste tried not to look at the bodies in their horrible mockery of life, seawater spilling from their open mouths. Some of them wore Greek tunics, while others had Persian beards curled and dark, oiled locks proof even against the salt sea.

‘I think we should come away from here,’ Agariste said. ‘The Persians have archers on those ships. I do not want them seeing you down on the shore and trying to hit you – or rushing in under oars to land on the beach.’

That was a new thought and one to send a thrill of fear through her. Xanthippus had left a small force of hoplites behind on Salamis, men he could hardly spare. She did not know if they would be enough if one of the Persian crews landed.

Pericles was peering into the dog’s eyes, ignoring his mother and her worries.

‘Come away, Pericles. Now! ’

He always ignored the first calls, as if it took a few repetitions for his ears to open. Honestly, the boy was infuriating.

‘Come on, Peri,’ Ariphron said.

Pericles muttered something back that made Ariphron flush in anger. No one else in the world could annoy her oldest son as easily as Pericles, when he was of a mind. His lack of courtesy to their mother seemed to offend Ariphron on her behalf, as if he was another parent, almost. Agariste spoke to head off another argument, or worse, a fight between them, with the women of Athens watching from the dunes and cliffs.

‘Conis is dead, Pericles. I’m sorry. Come away, before you tempt one of those ships to land.’

Her son looked balefully up at that, his gaze utterly feral.

‘I wanted to stop. I told you he would drown. I told Dad! Conis didn’t give up and now …’

To her surprise, her son suddenly sobbed, burying his face in the wet folds of flesh around the dog’s muzzle. Agariste had not understood how much he had loved the animal.