‘Tell your mistress, the kurios is home,’ Xanthippus snapped.

The man vanished and the door was pulled open just moments later.

He had come back with Agariste in the small hours of the morning, drowsing together on the cart. The children had come out by lamplight to greet their father, standing in a row like any other group of strangers, until Conis bounded over, wagging his entire body and slobbering over them. Xanthippus had not known then how much their faces would have changed. His daughter Eleni had grown. Her brown eyes were watchful and wary of him, where before there had been smiles and easy laughter. His two sons had patted the dog with more enthusiasm than when they took their father’s hand. They had allowed him to embrace them, but it had felt like duty. Xanthippus had never felt less comfortable than in those moments.

The sun was setting as he entered his home, at once so familiar and so subtly strange. The door to the road was closed behind him, securing the estate for the night. Conis came skittering out, skidding on the tiles and making little sounds of happiness as he wove in and out of Xanthippus’ feet in clumsy adoration. A dog was good for a man, Xanthippus thought.

Lamps had been lit in the house and the gleam beckoned him, warm and secure, everything he had dreamed a thousand times in his years away. He had hardly noticed it in the dark the previous night. Now, he stood and gazed on his past. Agariste would be waiting for him to enter. In that moment, he could not. He heard the soft sound of hooves on turf and turned to make his way around the house to the field, Conis trotting at his side.

In the soft grey twilight, he saw Pericles put a horse to a jump as high as any Xanthippus had ever seen. The beast he rode was powerful and lunged at it, tucking in its front legs as it flew over. They seemed to hang for a time in the air, then landed, front feet and back, his son patting the horse’s neck and turning him in place.

Eleni was there – and Ariphron too, watching. They were oblivious as he and Conis walked out of the shadows. Xanthippus had not been part of their lives for so long, he wondered if he ever could be again. Themistocles had taken that from him, but it was an old pain, long scarred and gone cold. He was home, with war coming. He loved them, but not in a way that clutched at his heart, not in that moment. He loved them as he loved Athens. He would give his life for them even so.

They turned without alarm as he approached them, though he saw a stillness return to their manner. Ariphron and Eleni took a step alongside one another, as if they thought to line up once again. Pericles watched him from horseback without dismounting, a certain hostility in the clear gaze. Xanthippus’ smile tightened. He had felt a simple joy as he approached them. It seemed to curdle as it met the reality. They did not know him.