Aristides shrugged.

‘Nor I with you. It does not change the truth, or the past. Themistocles called us back early from our exile. I imagine the world is about to end, which is why I am here, waiting for him to tell me what he wants. You? Who are you?’

‘I am the son of Miltiades!’ Cimon retorted.

‘Were you at Marathon, with us?’ Aristides asked. ‘We were, we three. We fought alongside your father. Either way, Miltiades died of his wounds – almost ten years ago. So be wary, boy. You have lost much. So have I. So has Xanthippus.’

Cimon stared at him. He had imagined great drama, with Xanthippus forced to repent, to admit he had been wrong. Instead, a man he respected had rattled his plan, throwing him off as he built to a climax. He turned back to Xanthippus, but the moment had lost much of its power.

‘I cannot change the past,’ Xanthippus said.

It sounded weak to him, so he forced himself to speak again. If Cimon drew his sword, perhaps they could grapple with him before he killed anyone. He took a deep breath.

‘I was not wrong, Cimon. I did my duty – a duty that exists because Athens is worth more than us. Our freedom is worth more than our lives, certainly our labours! Can you understand? It has never been clearer to me than today, setting foot in the Agora once again. There is nothing like our Assembly in the world, Cimon. Outside our bounds, there is just men telling others what to do – tyranny. I spent my years of exile in Corinth, on the Peloponnese. It took me a while to see what was different there, but when I understood, it was a hammer’s blow. Nothing changed! In Athens, we talk, we trade, we innovate. There is change every day, but always with the consent of the people. Always. I saw a man hanged when he criticised a nobleman of Corinth. There was no outcry from the people, as there would be here. Beyond blasphemy, we can say anything. We are free to praise Sparta, but the Spartans are not free to praise us! That is the difference between Athens and the world. Our law comes from the people, not at the whim of judges or kings. By Athena, I swear I loved them for it, even in exile, even cast out.’

There was awe in Cimon’s eyes as he realised he understood a man he had hated. Aristides too looked moved, as if he could weep at what he heard.

Xanthippus breathed out slowly.

‘That is why Themistocles called me here today, though he knows I would strangle him in a heartbeat. What freedom we have won is worth my life – sweeter today than in seven years.’

Both Cimon and Xanthippus glanced at Themistocles. Under that twin gaze, he nodded confirmation. Xanthippus chuckled, though there was bitterness in it.

‘I’ll work to preserve all that is good. That is all any of us can ask. No matter what it costs. So in the end, we can say, “We did the best we could, with what we knew.”’