The soothsayer seemed the most approachable of the Spartan group, perhaps because he was of them but not of their blood. He had not suffered the three stages of the agoge, the brutal education every Spartan boy endured from the age of seven to manhood at twenty-nine. Though Tisamenus was fit and strong, he had not forced his body through agony to perfection every day of his adult life. Many failed and left the city of Sparta. Those who had promised much were allowed to take a wife and father children as perioikoi, ‘those-who-lived-around’. They were not Spartiates; they could never be part of the elite. Tisamenus occupied some middle ground, almost a unique position. Spartans treated him with respect. Certainly, Pausanias did. Yet he was not one of them, and he could smile where they only glowered.

After a time spent deciding if he should speak, Tisamenus shrugged.

‘He visits his father, Cleombrotus, brother to Leonidas,’ he said quietly.

One of the other Spartans turned round to glare, but Tisamenus ignored him. He knew his status.

‘The one who will rule while Pausanias is with us,’ Xanthippus said.

Tisamenus raised his eyebrows at the frowning Spartan until the man looked away.

‘Perhaps. He is very ill. It may be that the son of Leonidas is the battle king before we return. Though he is young, there are many who would welcome such a thing.’

‘We should not be discussing our affairs in front of strangers,’ the Spartan hissed at Tisamenus.

The soothsayer sighed and nodded. He did not speak again and Xanthippus asked no more questions.

Pausanias returned and the party passed through the wall and its gates in short order. On the other side, the Spartans all remounted and readied themselves to ride on. Xanthippus heard Relas clear his throat.

‘A moment, kurios, if you will,’ he called to Xanthippus.

‘What is it?’ Xanthippus replied.

Relas did not answer him. He tossed the reins to Cimon and dismounted, walking back to look up at the wall. It was not long before the one they knew from before was lowered down, his foot in a loop of rope.

‘What is this delay, Athenian?’ Pausanias called.

Xanthippus was a little weary of his high-handed ways by then.

‘A debt owed, I believe,’ he said. He sent a brief prayer that Relas knew what he was doing.

The Spartan wall officer removed his cloak and rolled it, putting it down before he stood to face Relas. The two came together then in a sudden burst of speed. Xanthippus and Cimon winced at the thumping sound of bone on flesh. Both men used their knees and elbows, while Relas scored a great strike with the brow of his head. It left him with a smear of blood across his face, but it knocked the Spartan down.