It seemed a grand claim for just a few days, but Themistocles did not object.

‘I have hundreds pledged in support to me – more than you would believe, but not six thousand, not yet.’

Themistocles narrowed his eyes as he considered. He looked away for a moment and Cimon thought he was losing him.

‘The laws are clear enough,’ he went on. ‘Any man may be ostracised, sent into exile for ten years. There does not have to be a formal reason, there is no appeal. It is just the will of the people, expressed in a single vote, like a summer storm. I am an Athenian, Themistocles. My father was Miltiades of Marathon.’

‘I know it,’ Themistocles said. ‘But Xanthippus is a name. He will have support – and if I help you and fail, I think I would risk another vote on my fate.’

‘Then you will not help me?’ Cimon asked.

Themistocles grimaced, clearly caught. Then as Cimon watched, his expression settled.

‘You have not asked, lad,’ Themistocles said.

‘Then I ask now! Will you help me? Will you add your supporters to mine? I will pay whatever you want.’

Themistocles stayed very still, though the cold was stealing into them both and they shivered even in the sun. Cimon saw a fish swim out of the river pool and across the lowest step, a flicker of brown trout.

‘Very well,’ Themistocles said at last.

‘Name your price,’ Cimon said, weak with relief. ‘And I will match it, I swear.’

‘I do have a price, it seems,’ Themistocles said softly. ‘Though in this case, it is not silver.’

23

It had rained the night before. Xanthippus could smell it in the dust, in the air, both thicker and sweeter somehow than when it was dry.

He had risen before the sun in his own room on the estate outside the city. Returning to visit Agariste had been for the children more than her. Perhaps for his own comfort as well, when he had the good humour to admit it. Xanthippus found the town-house rather cramped compared to the estate. Here, he was master – with all the facilities of a first-rate gymnasium if he chose to use them. He bit his lip, thinking of the brothel Themistocles had bought. Not all the facilities.

His son Ariphron had adopted a coldness with him that matched his mother, even in the set of the mouth and glowering expression. Xanthippus wondered how Agariste had explained his absence. He had not said a word to them about it himself. Such matters between husband and wife were not the concern of children.

He and Agariste maintained a coolly respectful distance whenever they met, even going so far as to speak of matters in the city and the family holdings. Yet he felt the strain of it, while the children seemed to as well, looking from father to mother with wide eyes.