Xanthippus nodded. The words were like a knife under his ribs. He didn’t want to go either.

‘The law is the law, son. I have my life – they have not harmed me. I can live anywhere but Athens and the region of Attica. It’s not so hard, not really. Except that it takes me from you. That is …’

He could not continue. Xanthippus knew very well that there was no appeal. If he returned to Athens during the ten years, he would be executed. The law was iron and he could not stay a single day longer. He had told himself he would show only a quiet dignity in the face of that implacable truth. There was nothing to be gained by tears and wailing, so a man could only go well to his fate.

It was still hard to embrace his children one by one, to see their confusion and tears tug at something deep in him. He touched a finger to his eye, wiping weakness. Then he knelt and drew all three into an embrace, all arms and bowed heads and tears, wordless in his grief.

‘You look after your mother and sister now,’ he said to Ariphron and Pericles. ‘Understand me? You are my representatives in the family. You will be grown men before I cross this gate again. You must be ready to take your place in the Assembly then.’

‘I will destroy it,’ Pericles muttered.

His father laughed.

‘No. You’ll know by then that there is nothing like it in the world. The rule of intelligent men, of lawful, decent men. Accepting no superiors, so that we are all equal before the law. It is not without flaw … but in all my life, I’ve seen nothing better.’

Pericles nodded, though he could not accept it. The children stood back and Xanthippus turned towards Agariste. His young wife had twisted a fold of her dress to rope in her hands. She too was red-eyed, but it was different from simple loss. Her gaze accused.

They had argued until they were hoarse the night before. She was too used to power to meekly accept her husband being exiled. Even then, Xanthippus could see the stubborn set to her jaw. Her uncle would never have accepted such a result, she had told him. If he loved her at all, if he forgave her as he said he did, Xanthippus would not accept it either.

He had told her it would mean his life to stay one day more. The Assembly would not be denied, not once it had voted.

‘Please stay,’ she said.

He took the hands she held out to him.

‘I cannot, Agariste,’ he replied wearily.

‘Stay and fight the decision.’

‘It would mean civil war, my love.’

The last two words caught her, so that she froze. He had not used the term of affection since the night he had found her with blood staining the sheet.

‘Well? What of that? It would be worth it for you,’ she said.