Leaning against a column, Xanthippus stared over the paddocks, his eye caught by the moving figure on the far side. His daughter Eleni was growing up strong and lithe, her skin deeply tanned from so much time spent out of doors with the horses. She was in love with risk and would delight herself trying to ride two at once, with a foot on each broad back while she balanced and hallooed a hunting call. She had picked up bruises and scratches as well, though strangely it was little Pericles who matched her, more than Ariphron. Perhaps that was the burden of the oldest son, Xanthippus thought. First sons were often leaders; he knew that. The role came with a weight of responsibility they could not shed. Their younger brothers seemed not even to feel it. They tended to be wilder, to have more trouble bending their will to learning or discipline. Certainly it was Pericles who had developed a backwards dive into the river and then taught it to Eleni. The boy’s tutors complained he missed half their lessons and yet he could rattle off verbs and declensions as if he’d heard them a thousand times. They beat him anyway, of course, Xanthippus thought with satisfaction. It would not do to let a boy think he had won, not at that age. If Pericles spent less time throwing himself into the air, he would be a prodigy. Xanthippus sighed. Ariphron disliked the river. His oldest son had been frightened by something in the deepest part, clambering out halfway between panic and rage. It did not matter. Men did not always learn to swim.

Xanthippus watched Pericles set up the blocks for a jump out on the field, always his daughter’s willing helper. There was a part of him that wished for sons with half Pericles’ nerve and half Ariphron’s duty. Instead, they had too much of one or too little of the other.

The little boy struggled with a beam longer than he was tall, placing it on two baulks of sun-bleached pine just moments before Eleni came galloping at it. Xanthippus hissed in a sharp breath when he saw Pericles had placed himself behind the pole. If she struck it, it would hit him like a hammer.

They were too far off to hear a shout and it was too late anyway. Xanthippus watched with a sick feeling of helplessness while his daughter cleared the pole without even a clatter of hooves. Pericles cheered her, jumping up and down and waving his hands. It made Xanthippus chuckle weakly, relief flooding him. He left the column of the house and walked across the dusty field towards his children.

Eleni was first to see him coming. She tapped Pericles on the shoulder to halt his chatter and laughter. He turned in confusion to where she pointed, then grew serious, standing straighter. Xanthippus felt his heart break a little. Somehow, their reaction forced him to be stern. He wanted to laugh and spin them round, but they stood almost to attention and he frowned and clasped his hands behind his back.