He went downstairs then, steps creaking on the wood. He saw the fire was indeed lit, with water heating there. A helot barber was already at work, oiling the skin of a guest and wielding a razor with the skill of long practice. Xanthippus considered filling a bowl of hot water and taking it back to his room, but he preferred to be shaved and the man was almost done. There was still no sign of light outside, though the sun rose later every day. He could hear the noise of a city waking, the tramp of feet, voices calling in the distance. Deliveries were being made, food cooked, shops opening. Sparta was a small place compared to Athens, but over a hundred thousand souls lived within its bounds, surrounded by mountains and crossed on one edge by the Eurotas river. Xanthippus wondered how many helots called Sparta home – and how many would travel with the Spartan soldiers, if they ever took the field. Aristides had reported his conversations with Pausanias, the Spartan regent. The news had not been good there. Xanthippus still hoped to persuade the man that honouring his father’s oath was the only way Sparta could survive.

As he took a seat and felt strong fingers slather oil over his chin and cheeks, he frowned to himself. One way or the other, they had to have Sparta’s army. No one could stand against Persia without them. All he had to do was convince the Spartans it was in their interest to stand against the largest army the world had ever known.

The barber was short, with powerful forearms and a fine, steady hand with a blade. Xanthippus tossed him a silver coin when he was finished. The man blinked and handed it straight back, his gaze on the floor. Xanthippus flushed. In his distraction, he had forgotten helots were not allowed to own anything. He might have paid a slave barber in Athens, perhaps as a contribution to the fellow’s savings. He felt a fool. No helot ever dreamed of buying himself free, not in Sparta. They were captives until they died.

Cimon came down in a clatter, his eyes lighting up when he saw the barber. Relas and Onesimos were close behind him, looking around in interest. As Cimon sat and the helot applied oil, there was a growing noise from the street outside and raised voices. Xanthippus was first to the door, looking out.