Pericles squinted against the setting sun. To one who hadn’t crawled over every inch of the ships, the answer might have been that they were all the same, or so close it made no difference. Yet he had known the answer in an instant. The prow above his head stood over a great warship ram, of course. It would be their chief weapon against an enemy at sea. Two eyes were painted down there, almost at the level of the waters that fell back from oiled wood – that would rise to white froth at ram speed. The prows of the other two were clean and polished, the upright beam strong enough for a helmsman to grip as he leaned out. Yet this one was carved in a tracery of lines, an image of a woman coiled about with vines. Pericles had watched the carpenter complete the work, tapping away with mallet and chisel when his long shift was over. The man had not been one of theirs but a craftsman hired out of the city. He had embellished everything he touched in some way or another, adding tiny swirls and flourishes in joints and tracery. The woman who looked out on the dark sea was a siren, perhaps, one men would always follow. For Pericles, she made his choice an easy one.

‘This one,’ he said. ‘She is my favourite.’

Cimon glanced at him and smiled at the honest pleasure he saw there.

He nodded.

‘She is. I think so too.’

‘And … are we strong enough to seek out Persian camps?’

Cimon looked over, judging him. He seemed satisfied.

‘They have come back to the coast of Ionia, did you know that? Imperial merchants already trade there, with their … stamps and taxes. They have come back like flies.’

Cimon frowned for a moment. Heavy-browed, it made him look thunderous.

‘But the sea is ours. The islands are ours. That’s what I learned at Salamis, Pericles. Athens owns the sea. There are said to be a dozen islands still infested with them, all along that Ionian coast. Garrisons, watching the sea. Persia uses them as stepping stones, controlling the waters all around. Well, I am a free man of Athens and I say no. Our three ships – our three crews – will smoke them out. The sea is for Athens.’

Cimon looked once again at Pericles, his expression suddenly wary. Once more, whatever he saw seemed to reassure him.

‘There is something else. I haven’t mentioned it to any of the others …’

Pericles inclined his head, wanting to be trusted.

‘My father …’ Cimon began, ‘he believed the bones of Theseus were out there still. My hope is to search for them.’

Pericles sat straighter, his mouth opening.

‘Do you know where?’

Cimon shook his head.