Xanthippus forced himself to smile at the archers growing red-faced around them, yet not quite daring to move Marathonomachoi on with a touch.

‘I am for a little lunch – ripe figs, perhaps a few anchovies – something light: my stomach is churning still.’

Epikleos clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You should go home. You should see Agariste, Xan.’ He saw the sullen refusal in his friend, though Xanthippus would not explain what had happened. ‘Xan, you won! She will want to know.’

There was a strange stubbornness in the set of Xanthippus’ jaw as they walked. With a sigh, Epikleos gave up. He liked the young woman Xanthippus had married. It took some of the shine out of the day to see something had come between them.

‘Did you see Themistocles leave?’ Epikleos asked.

His friend shook his head as they left the Areopagus behind. They walked the street to the Agora, where the market rush would be lessening. Juries from across the city would be heading there, to discuss their trials and find something to eat.

‘He did not look too pleased, though some of that silver might go to crew the ships we’re building. He should be delighted. After all, Miltiades is no longer the favourite son of the Assembly. His star has fallen – with his loss at Paros, his wound, the trial. He is no threat to Themistocles, not now.’

‘You think that is why I did it?’ Xanthippus said. ‘I told you the reason. I owe Themistocles no favours.’

Epikleos shrugged rather than continue to argue, though he suspected it was subtler than that. The reasons for any action were rarely simple, any more than men and women were simple. Even so, his friend remained angry and halted at the edge of the Agora.

‘Go on without me, would you?’ Xanthippus said.

‘Xan, I didn’t mean to suggest you were one of his people …’ Epikleos said.

‘No. You are right. I haven’t seen Agariste for some time. I should go to her – and my children.’

There was no arguing with him in this mood. Epikleos knew when he needed time away from the crowds, so he nodded. They shook hands with a brief grip, each man subtly reassured by the strength of the other. Epikleos watched him go before he headed into the market, to the smells of fried fish and olive paste.

18

Xanthippus walked the road to the estate outside the city, feeling his muscles and back loosen as he strode along. His knee felt strong, hardly hurting at all. No one turned to watch him, at least as far as he could see. He was able to vanish into the traders heading in and out of the city, looking to sell their goods or apply for citizenship. Athens took in the children of its citizens by right. As long as just one parent had been Athenian born, it did not matter where the sons and daughters had come into the world. Since the threat of a Persian attack in Ionia, there had been a steady stream of families arriving on merchant ships, all their possessions on their backs. They would find a new life in the city, or they would starve and be enslaved. Many would serve new masters before the year was out, but for those who worked hard and had skill, there was still nowhere else like it in the world.