‘I know where to start. He is said to have been killed on the island of Scyros. The legend is that his body was taken away, but my father heard there was an old tomb there, in the hills. He always meant to search for it, but … he ran out of time. And here we are, Pericles, with three ships, with hoplites with spear and shield. If there is a Persian garrison on Scyros, I will take the island back for Athens and search every cliff and cave and field.’

He fell silent for a time, staring out at the sea. When he spoke again, his voice was a breath.

‘Theseus was a hero of mine. He had a palace on the Acropolis and ruled in Athens as a great king, but he gave up his power to the people. Everything that came later – Solon, Cleisthenes, the Assembly – all began with that first step. A man of power, who saw it all for what it was and stepped aside.’

Pericles smiled at the thought. He knew Cimon wanted to be a hero, like Achilles, Theseus or Heracles. He did not mind that – whoever found the bones of Theseus would be part of his story. He rubbed his hands together, his fingers sticky with oil, sweat and dirt.

‘He made a mark,’ Pericles said.

Cimon looked at him with more than a little understanding.

‘He did,’ Cimon said. ‘And so will we.’

37

Themistocles looked out on the landscape passing by. He had spent time on the Ionian coast in his youth. He hadn’t known then how far the land had stretched beyond it. He still flushed to think of the amusement in his hosts when he’d travelled just fourteen days inland and asked if the city of Ancyra was Persepolis, where the Great King of Persia had his seat. They had made him wait there for an age while a caravan was prepared, a serious undertaking. Two dozen carts were drawn by mules and oxen. Eighty guards had been hired to ride alongside and see off any desert tribes who might seek to steal or murder. They carried food and water almost like a great expedition or a fleet going out, as if they would have no opportunity to replenish their stocks. They called Themistocles ‘honoured guest’ and ‘archon’ in the Persian accent, but they did not answer his questions. Jaavan of the market passed him into the care of a brother-in-law in Sardis, a gift that had earned him kisses on both cheeks and great respect, as far as Themistocles could make out. It seemed the Athenian was a valuable piece to play, a marker on debts or a chance at greater wealth and higher status. He did not think he was a prisoner, exactly, but there was also no question of him changing his mind and turning back.