For luck, Xanthippus tossed a single silver tetradrachm to the two men: four drachms and wages for a full day. It was only when the coin was in the air that he saw how hard a catch it was – a glint of silver, all while the boat rocked underfoot. Somehow, the closest oarsman snatched the silver piece, though he almost went over backwards to do it. He and his mate beamed then, raising a hand in salute and triumph, then rowing away at an even faster pace than before.

Themistocles patted him on the shoulder as Xanthippus picked up his sea bag.

‘I chose you for how you lead men, Xanthippus. Not your seamanship.’ Themistocles thought for a moment. ‘Though, yes, you have a great deal to learn and little time to do it. You will need to know the limits and the strengths of these ships – and their crews. We have developed tactics, but it is hard to know what will work until we meet the Persian fleet at sea. Here, let me introduce you to my esteemed colleague, Eurybiades of Sparta.’

Xanthippus watched as Themistocles leapt the open part of the deck to cross to the other side. He did it as easily as walking across, though it must have been as wide as a man was tall. In truth, it was not hard to make that long step, though Xanthippus had an uncomfortable sense of faces below turning up to see him. Someone was hammering down there, Xanthippus thought, and swearing while he did it. The ship’s carpenter and his lads, presumably. Xanthippus followed Themistocles across, wondering if he would ever make the leap so casually.

On the other side stood a Spartan, resplendent in red cloak and white tunic, moving subtly with the motion of the ship as it rose and fell beneath their feet. The man’s legs were bare, but his cloak reached down past his knees, far enough to protect him from the chill of the sea wind. Xanthippus felt himself shiver at the prospect of weeks or months at sea. Just the thought brought a sense of loss. His reunion with Agariste had stolen almost all the night and any chance of sleep. He still smelled her perfume and could only pray the wind would whip the scent away as he grasped the hand Eurybiades offered and felt an iron grip come to bear.

On all sides, ships began to pick up the pace. Xanthippus could hear waves smacking against their hull as the trireme somehow came alive. He wanted to rush to the side and drink it all in. Instead, he did his duty, bowing to the Spartan.

‘Ah, the exile, returned!’ Eurybiades said. His voice was softly hoarse, reminding Xanthippus of a cat, purring.

‘My name has gone before me, then,’ Xanthippus said lightly.

Though the man gave him back the hand he had tried and failed to crush, he was still testing. In truth, Xanthippus did not resent it. They needed to know and trust one another, in just a short time. It could be no other way. The words followed the thought.