‘These ships are ours,’ Themistocles said. ‘If the Persians threaten our city, we can take to these wooden walls to escape them! We did it before. It’s not as if they have a fleet of their own now, is it?’

The idea seemed to liven him up once more. He put Xanthippus in mind of a guttering wick on its last drops of oil, flaring back to life at intervals.

Xanthippus nodded. Perhaps because Themistocles was almost out on his feet, he saw they were all looking to him to make the decision. Some men had authority running in them, deep in the bone. For some, it came from a family name or bloodline. Others built it through hard work, age and experience, but also through being right when it mattered, a few more times than they were wrong. However it had come, the fleet strategoi all looked to him.

‘We’ll take the people home,’ Xanthippus said. ‘As soon as I have checked the city is safe, the ships should return our people to the Piraeus. The city is not walls, or even temples. The city is in the lives we saved. They will rebuild – and we still have ships to take them clear if the Persians return. I will not forget what you have done, all of you.’

One by one, he took the hands of each of the others, even going so far as to drag Themistocles two steps by the arm so that he and Eurybiades shook hands once more. It was not done in friendship, however.

‘Don’t forget our little discussion,’ Themistocles said.

‘I won’t,’ Eurybiades replied, showing his teeth. ‘I look forward to continuing it.’

10

From the moment Xerxes had left, Mardonius had known the year was over, as far as campaigning went. Neither he nor the Great King had expected to end the conflict in a single season. He reminded himself of that as he rode north, heading into lands his Greek allies swore were rich and fertile, with fields of wheat and herds of goats and sheep. He hoped it was so. His army remained on half-rations, with sour looks and grumbling bellies. Though his men had slaughtered every living thing for a day’s march, it was barely enough for one meal a day, never mind three. As importantly, two hundred thousand soldiers needed cooks, smiths and leatherworkers just to remain in the field. Kit wore out and horses grew thin, in just a few days of hard labour and poor food. The army of Persia had descended on Attica like locusts, snatching at all that moved or grew until there was nothing left. Mardonius had hopes of the plains of Thessaly, not least for the animals. The general reached forward and patted his own gelding on the neck. It was a fine and sturdy mount, yet one that needed to crop sweet grass each morning, or better still, grain, if he wished to ride all day.