Aristides paused. He hardly needed to say his fear out loud. The leaders of Sparta were famously reticent on the subject of their own internal politics and divisions. For all Aristides knew, the ephors of Sparta were engaged in a civil war. Pausanias would tell him nothing – and he would not know whether their army would march until they did. Or until the forces of Persia slaughtered the last man of the Assembly and all was lost.

‘I have heard you, Aristides,’ Pausanias said. ‘And I have answered. When the moment is right, we will be there. Not before.’

The Spartan regent gestured to Tisamenus, so that the soothsayer halted. Pausanias walked on, leaving them both behind. Aristides watched the Spartans march away, just seven men, but in that place, unstoppable. He could not make them listen, or understand. He found himself trembling with the frustration of it.

‘He is a good man,’ Tisamenus said. There was affection in his voice and Aristides wondered if they were lovers.

‘Will he bring his people out? That is all that matters.’

‘There are … difficulties at home. I fear I would betray a trust to discuss them. I’m sure Pausanias will find a way through. He wants to honour his father’s word, be sure of that.’

Aristides turned to the young man, his patience unravelling.

‘Who are you, really? Tisamenus is not a Spartan name.’

‘No, that is true. I am a Greek, however. That is all that matters.’

Aristides chuckled.

‘You don’t agree with Pausanias, then? He sees only Sparta – and all the rest as slaves or enemies. In Athens, we see Greeks – people who know the same gods, who speak with one language! I have more in common with the meanest Spartan than a Persian king.’

‘It is a fine dream, I think,’ Tisamenus said, inclining his head.

‘And you can tell the future?’ Aristides asked. ‘Can you say then whether we will win, or be destroyed?’

‘I am not an oracle …’ Tisamenus said with a sigh. ‘Though …’ He paused, clearly deciding whether to go on or not. After a moment, he nodded. ‘When I was still a boy, I went to Delphi, to ask the Pythia what my life would hold. She told me I would win five contests. In my youth, I thought she meant the Olympics – the pentathlon. So I began to train, to run, jump and wrestle, to throw shield and spear.’

‘I … remember you!’ Aristides said in dawning amazement. ‘I was there, that day. By Athena, you were … you are, a fine athlete. But you did not win, did you? Unless my memory has failed me.’

‘No. I came second, to a Spartan. My entire life had been devoted to that single moment and I … lost. He saw my dismay and as he was a fine man, he took me to get drunk. I told him about the oracle …’