‘You will,’ Themistocles said softly. ‘It bought your father an honourable death, instead of a knife, or worse. The gods gave him that much.’ He thought for a moment before going on. ‘If you wish, I will send men for it this evening – officials of the Assembly. We’ll have it counted in the Agora and, yes … we’ll bless your father’s name aloud, so that every man and woman in Athens will know your family provided the silver.’

‘That is … all right, that is a kind thing. That would please my father’s shade, I think.’

‘And you will not have to sell your properties? Miltiades was wealthier than I knew.’

‘We have a new seam – and he dealt with some merchants. There are debts, but we will survive …’

Cimon broke off and looked up at Themistocles. Instead of going on, he took another draught and held out the wineskin. As Themistocles drank, Cimon leaned in close and whispered to his ear.

‘I am going to kill Xanthippus.’

Themistocles sighed. He made a show of replacing the leather tip over the spigot, sealing the wine and placing it to one side.

‘No. You’re not. If you did, you would be held in the same cell as your father. The next trial day is in a week. You would be dragged over to the Areopagus and your fate put to a vote. Xanthippus is a popular man. His wife’s family are both wealthy and well loved. You would not be able to pay a fine great enough to survive that trial. That is the wine speaking, I understand. I heard nothing and if I had, the words are just anger and wind.’

‘He is responsible,’ Cimon said mulishly. ‘My father’s heart failed with the strain, with the shame of being taken up like a common criminal, of having to endure a trial, being p-put in a hole to rot! I swear …’

His voice had risen and Themistocles stepped in closer, blocking the doorway to the outer room with his broad back.

‘Son, you must not make threats. There are other ears around, not just mine. Please. Don’t say anything I will have to repeat in front of a jury. Xanthippus …’ He waited while the young man hissed pain and fury at the name. ‘Xanthippus brought a case for loss, for disaster. Your father’s captains told the tale well enough. You have no cause for vengeance against him. He does not deserve death any more than your father did, can you understand that? Nor exile. We ostracise men who have grown too arrogant, who command too much power. That does not apply here, nor could you find the six thousand votes. Xanthippus is a name in Athens. More, he is a friend of mine and a good man, though I admit he seems to favour Aristides. Such men are beyond your reach, Cimon. You must see that.’

‘I do not see that. I will find a way,’ Cimon said. ‘It does not concern you, kurios. It is for me and for my father, who was a good man. Who died in shame and pain, when he should have been tended by his slaves at home. I will find a way …’