When the ships came closer to the shore, he saw they both bore banners of an owl, symbol of Athena. That brought a pang, almost a nervousness. He had not thought of the terms of his exile for a long time. Yet some part of him had counted the years. They had not come for him.

One of the ships dropped anchor further out. The other dipped her oars with superb precision, surging for the beach. It seemed they were intent on making a landing. Aristides glanced back at the kiln he had built against the wall of his little house. If the glaze was to develop, he knew he would have to pump more air in, working leather bellows to drive up the heat. Temperature seemed to affect the final colour, though he had not yet understood how.

The galley drove up and up the beach, seemingly unstoppable, like a knife blade cutting through the sand. It slowed at last and only the twin rudders still rested in the surf. Aristides watched as hoplites threw rope ladders and walkways down to the sand, clambering out. Some local lads had been mending their nets and stood with mouths open, not yet sure if they should run or cheer.

Aristides shot another glance at his forge. He could hear the plinking sound of stone growing cool. He needed to get back there and build it up. A forge had to be tended, everyone knew that. Yet he stood rooted, unable to turn away from Athenians after so long.

The trierarch himself, the captain of the galley, climbed down and called something to the fishermen. They pointed to the dirt track that led up the hill, though the town was visible from the coast. A sacred place to Greeks, with red roofs, white walls and a wide shore. Aristides wondered … His thoughts were interrupted by the trierarch himself.

‘You, sir, we seek the Athenian, Aristides. He is said to reside on this island. Do you know him?’

‘I am Aristides,’ he replied.

The captain blinked, but recovered quickly, as befitted a military man.

‘It is an honour to meet you, kurios. It is my duty to tell you that your exile has been ended by order of the Assembly.’

Aristides put down his cup and took a long breath. Without another word, he walked past the captain and his men. After a moment of confusion, the captain shrugged and followed him. In a short time, the ship was towed out into deep water. Behind, on the shore, the kiln Aristides had built was left to grow cold, his pretty blue pots forgotten.

32

The council building had been built around a meeting chamber. Open to the Agora along one edge, it held the five hundred Athenians chosen by lot each year from the ten tribes. For a few days each month, they sat on white stone benches to discuss the administration of the city, from the fleet and mines to murder cases. The most pressing matters would then be presented to the Assembly for a public discussion and vote.