As Cimon and Xanthippus greeted the Spartan navarch, Themistocles saw others coming in. The leaders of the Corinthians, the Megarans, the Aeginetans – half a dozen others were making their way to that flotilla, some of them limping and baling water as they came. Themistocles had not expected a conference of all the allies. He’d called the leaders of Athens, but it seemed that was an oversight. These were all men who had fought. They had ferried Athenian women and children, and risked their lives over days of exhaustion and pain. Themistocles nodded, to himself as much as Xanthippus and Cimon. His people were Athenians first, yes, but if there was any truth in that great fleet, they were all Greeks as well. Even so, he felt too weary to welcome so many, to be the easing oil between them, the salt to lend flavour! He thought he might never enjoy salt again, he had swallowed so much of it over the previous days. It coated his skin as well as the deck and rimed oars like a winter frost. As each of them came on board, Themistocles pasted on a smile. He accepted every outstretched hand, gripping arm to arm.

‘I give thanks to Athena and to Poseidon – and to you all,’ Themistocles said. They had come to his ship, after all. He was the host and they would hear him speak. ‘We fought well together – and those of us who were here will always remember how it was done. The formations, the spear tactic. I give thanks for Xanthippus – a man I brought home, whose value was clear to me.’ He ignored the spasm of irritation that crossed Xanthippus’ face at that. ‘I give honour to the men of Corinth, who fought like wolves and did not give way. I give honour to the trierarchs of Sparta, who lost half their ships in savage fighting and yet did not break.’

Eurybiades bowed his head, his lips moving in silent prayer. Themistocles paused. There was a time for politics, for subtle persuasion and pressure. A true leader would name each man, each contingent. He would record all their victories and raise them up with praise. On that day, he was damned if he could bring himself to do it.

‘I sent two letters to the Persian king,’ Themistocles said.

Eurybiades blinked at the sudden change of subject. He too knew the rituals after a battle.

Themistocles looked at their frowning faces. They were so serious!