‘Where is Ariphron?’ he asked them.

Eleni answered, her voice low. The pony at her side pressed its muzzle into her armpit and she patted it without looking up.

‘With his tutor, father,’ she said. ‘Is he in trouble?’

‘What? Not at all … I just saw you two playing and I wondered where he was.’

‘We weren’t playing,’ Pericles said, instantly defensive. ‘Eleni is going to let me jump. I’ve been practising and I haven’t fallen off for weeks now.’

The little boy was scuffed and bruised, giving him the lie. Without hesitation, Xanthippus pressed the point.

‘Is that true?’

He caught the slight shake of the head from Eleni, but ignored it, wanting Pericles to speak. The boy said nothing for a moment, just staring at the dusty earth.

‘No, I fell off this morning,’ he said at last.

‘Then why did you lie to me?’

‘I thought you wouldn’t let me try the jump … I don’t know.’

Xanthippus found himself wanting to clip the boy’s ear. He had strolled over, just wanting to enjoy a little of the laughter and life he saw between them. His mood had been golden, and yet in a few moments, there he was, forced to be a father and the judge of their actions. It was infuriating and he felt his own face growing red. He took a deep breath through his nose, determined to be calm as he studied his son. Boys could not raise themselves.

‘Show me,’ Xanthippus said.

Pericles looked up at him with wild hope, not quite daring to believe.

‘A jump?’

‘If you say you are ready,’ Xanthippus said, grinning at his expression. ‘Yes, a jump!’

His son gave a whoop and took the reins from Eleni as she tossed them to him. The little pony gave a surprised snort, mouthing the iron bit as it drew taut. Pericles would have been thrown from his feet if the animal hadn’t gone along with him, but it did, whinnying in indignation.

‘I’ll set up the blocks,’ Eleni said, squinting after him. She began to lift a lower one and her father waved her off.

‘Leave it as it is, Eleni. Your pony can manage it. If he stays on, it will mean more to him.’

To his surprise, his daughter hesitated. In that moment, she reminded him of Agariste.

‘This isn’t … to punish him, is it?’ she asked. ‘You’re not teaching him a lesson?’

Xanthippus sighed. He had feared his own father in his youth. The old bastard had been terrifying, somehow more of a man than he could ever hope to be. Yet time and experience had made them the same, it seemed. He shook his head. Some things were too much trouble to explain to children.

‘Just leave the jump as it is,’ he said.

She nodded curtly, clearly worried as Pericles made the turn at the far end of the field. As they watched, the boy yelled and dug in his heels, moving the pony to a canter, then a gallop. It was too fast. The boy perched like a flea on the beast’s neck, gripping the mane and reins with his knees up around his ears. He would surely fall. Xanthippus suffered a pang of fear that he would see his son killed. Did age bring worry? Some weakening of the spirit that made it harder to shrug away risk? He couldn’t … And Pericles was over, flying past in a thunder of hooves and wild yelling.