‘I am familiar with slaves,’ Aristides said. He was impatient, nervous Pausanias would send a man back for the soothsayer. If that was even a term he could use after what he had heard.

‘Not like these,’ Tisamenus said, shaking his head. ‘Slaves are bought and sold everywhere, yes, for debts, for work – sometimes for pleasure. The helots inherit their condition. They are born slaves, generation on generation. And there are some who resent it bitterly. They watch their daughters and sons grow and understand they will never be free … There is great anger there. I have seen it.’

‘I don’t understand …’ Aristides said. He saw a flicker of red in the distance. No doubt Pausanias was wondering why his talisman had not reappeared.

‘The Spartan army does not like to go far from home – ever. They know the helots could revolt and slaughter their women and children. It is as if everyone in Sparta stands with a knife at their throat!’

Unless he looked over his shoulder, Tisamenus could not see the single Spartan soldier making his way back down the hill. Aristides had never heard so much about the politics of Sparta in all his years. He struggled for the right question to ask.

‘They have come out before, though! Leonidas himself, or the two thousand who came to relieve Athens from a tyrant in a previous generation. How is that possible, if the situation is as you describe?’

‘They always leave a force of warriors great enough to keep the helots submissive,’ Tisamenus said. ‘But this time … if they send every Spartiate, every one of the perioikoi …? Against the army of Persia, they will need every soldier. But who will protect their families then, when the helots see all the masters have gone? They would come back to ashes and bones.’

The Spartan who approached was frowning at the earnest conversation going on between them. Tisamenus understood the import of the footsteps and Aristides’ expression. He closed his mouth.

‘The answer is obvious enough,’ Aristides murmured.

Tisamenus paused in the act of turning away.

‘What is it?’

‘Bring the helots out with you. All of them.’

Tisamenus opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

‘But …’

Aristides shrugged.

‘You are the soothsayer. Persuade Pausanias.’

The soldier halted, suspicion writ clear on his face.

‘Regent Pausanias sent me to check you had not been delayed by idle talk,’ he said.

Aristides hid his frustration and smiled.

‘I apologise. I have kept him here. It is a fault of my people.’

The Spartan nodded, sarcasm in his expression. Tisamenus went with him without looking back.

8