The acropolis of Sparta lay alongside the city rather than at its heart, as it did in Athens. A stream of people seemed to be heading uphill in that direction. Among them, a dozen horsemen cantered past, red cloaks flying. They expected helots to lurch out of their way or be trampled. Most of them did, though one old woman was buffeted and knocked against a wall. She did not raise her fist or shout after them, as she might have in Athens. Instead, she stood with head bowed, panting in fear and pain.

Cimon had come out with Xanthippus. He looked after the riders as they passed, his face shining with oil.

‘What news?’ he said.

Xanthippus shook his head.

‘Come on,’ he said, setting off down the road.

‘Is there no food in this place?’ Cimon asked at his back. ‘I didn’t eat last night and I thought there would be something this morning.’

‘Not until the first period of work is at an end. That will not be until late morning.’

He gave a quick grin at Cimon’s dismay. Relas and Onesimos came out then, falling in alongside as he and Cimon set out, joining the crowds heading to the acropolis.

The four Athenians stayed in a tight group as they climbed, passing hundreds of silent men and almost as many women. Xanthippus kept his gaze from lingering on anyone, though Onesimos whispered and gaped in astonishment, nudging Relas. Free women did walk the streets in Athens, though much more rarely and usually with house guards. These were also rather different from Athenian mothers, being both young and lithe, with earnest expressions. Some wore little more than a single strip of white cloth wrapped and pinned at the shoulder. It hid neither shape nor the gleam of health. Their hair too shone like otter pelts, sparking a memory in Xanthippus. He saw Relas smiling at one woman, seeing only her beauty and not her rising anger.

‘If the hair is short, they are married, Relas,’ Xanthippus muttered. ‘You will ruin everything I am trying to do here, just by speaking to one. Understand? Answer if they talk to you, but otherwise, I do not wish to be accused of corrupting their women.’

‘The long-haired ones are unpledged?’ Relas replied.

Xanthippus eyed him. The sun had not yet showed itself over the mountains of the east, over Mount Parnon. Yet there was light, a grey and calming gleam before the gold. Relas was grinning shyly at a young Spartan woman jogging along beside them. She did not seem too upset by his attention, Xanthippus noticed.

‘Unpledged daughters of Spartan warriors, yes,’ Xanthippus reminded. ‘Nor am I willing to explain to their fathers why one of my men wandered into the wrong garden!’

Relas dipped his head, flushing at the rebuke. He looked steadily forward as they reached the peak of the acropolis.