Themistocles had found time to bathe and change into a white robe that left his right shoulder bare. His hair was still wet. Most of the other men still wore ship tunics, cloaks and sandals, though the air was thicker and warmer in the city. In comparison, Eurybiades and his sixteen Spartans still wore breastplates over long tunics and the famous red cloaks, bare thighs revealed as they sat together. Facing them, Xanthippus wrapped and unwrapped his hand in a fold of the robe Agariste had found for him, dyed a pale blue. It would be torn up and distributed the following day. He had not intended her to come herself, but his runner had brought her to the council building. They had stolen a kiss there, while some of the other men whistled and made her blush. She still waited outside, with Epikleos to guarantee her safety. Xanthippus knew his friend would defend her honour with his life. There would be no trouble for a woman out after dark, not that night.

‘Navarch, archons, trierarchs …’ Themistocles began, looking around until he was sure he had their complete attention. ‘It is my honour to play host tonight in Athens. Would you address them, Eurybiades?’

The Spartan had obviously expected the invitation. He stood and nodded to the fleet captains as Themistocles sat down. Xanthippus looked over in surprise, but it seemed Themistocles was determined to treat the man with honour.

‘The Persians have not sprung our crews waiting for their advance, not yet,’ Eurybiades began. ‘When word does come, we will have three or four days – at most – to sail north and hit them. Each dawn before then is a gift of the gods, to train, to grow fit.’

He half-turned to Xanthippus, considering his words. Xanthippus stared back as if carved from stone and Themistocles moved uncomfortably.

‘I have seen new flag signals of red and white being used today. These are to cease. They are a distraction in battle – and I will not allow my captains to be distracted.’

Xanthippus stood up quickly.

‘Navarch, the results have been …’

The Spartan talked over him as if he had remained silent.

‘There is only one order in battle, at least for us. When the Persian fleet is sighted, we must approach and engage. Our task is to sink, board or burn. I will not play the battlefield at sea. In fact …’

‘In fact, Eurybiades, you command the fleet,’ Themistocles said, the richness of his best Assembly voice filling that place. He patted the air near Xanthippus, who sat down reluctantly, fuming. ‘Though I think this is an internal matter for the ships of Athens. I witnessed a dozen small group actions today – one ship caught by three, a clear “kill” as they worked together. I believe you were involved in one or two yourself.’

He bit his lip for a moment as the Spartan glared at him. Xanthippus knew Themistocles would choose his words carefully. In that, he was the veteran and the Spartan was just a newborn. Even so, Eurybiades was as stubborn as all the men of his city.