The great plan had been to remind Xerxes of a debt owed, at least as the king might have seen it. There had been risk, but Themistocles had few friends and nowhere else to turn. If things had gone well, he’d intended to bring his family out as well. He looked around him. The last governor of that city had lived in the same palatial home. No doubt he had learned the names of all his slaves. Perhaps his children had laughed and run in the courtyards and cloisters. Yet the man had been plucked out and made to disappear on a whim of the king. Themistocles wondered how long he would remain a novelty in that court, before someone else caught the king’s attention. The thought chilled him. He was a world away from home and he was certain of one thing. For all his new titles and wealth, he could not leave.

He heard someone clear their throat behind him and looked over his shoulder. His seneschal was there, another he had inherited. The fellow seemed to treat the house as if he owned it and Themistocles was just a troublesome guest. That evening, the man stood to attention, so that Themistocles felt his heart sink.

‘Satrap Themistocles, your presence is required …’

‘Yes, at the palace, by the king …’ Themistocles interrupted, standing up.

He gripped the chair for a moment, aware that he was a little drunk. It had been a few days since Xerxes had last paraded him, that wonder of Athens and the west, believer in democracy and other strange things. No doubt another group of royal relatives and hangers-on had come to see and hear his strange tongue. He sighed. The last group had brought out a dory spear and demanded to be shown how a hoplite used it. It had been … He shuddered.

‘Your presence …’ the seneschal began again, his mouth twisting in distaste. He didn’t seem to approve of wine.

Themistocles nodded to him, waving his hand and shutting one eye, to be sure he had the right one.

‘I am coming !’ he roared.

He felt suddenly foolish, shouting at servants, but there was no taking it back. He strode out. It didn’t matter. The king’s palace was a day’s ride from the first of his new cities. Xerxes had kept him close – a great honour, as it had been explained to him. Yet it was not freedom. Themistocles found his horse in the courtyard, saddled and ready. It was strange to see the six guards waiting for him, stone-faced in patience. There were no thieves on Persian roads, after all. The king’s men had hunted them all down and hanged them.