The priests and priestesses of Athena came out to stand before the packed crowd. Others of the different temples bowed to them, giving Athena the honour of the day. The priest of Hades knelt in the dust. Even death would give way to her.

Her acolytes wore robes of white and bore daggers and sickles, as befitted the goddess of defence and the home. Xanthippus closed his eyes as they began to chant together, raising branches of amaranthus blossom. He felt his son Ariphron at his side, as tall as his father. Xanthippus put his free arm around him. Pericles and Eleni gathered in close and they stood, as one family, in simple awe and prayer as the appeal went on. Around them were his people, in hope and desperation, in faith.

A ram was sacrificed, its blood spilling onto gold plates. The service ended with Athena’s own words to them, her promise to protect the people of her city. She had vowed to arm them and teach them war. Her shield was in their will and strength. Xanthippus felt his breath come sharply at the power of it, until silence fell again and the people began to drift down to their lives and the city below.

When the service was over, he felt a weight lift and he found himself smiling at his children. He had tried not to look at the sea as he stood there. Pericles was already pointing to the dark line. Yet at such a distance, even the boy’s sharp eyes could not make out the shapes of Greek galleys waiting. Those ships were there at anchor, in the strait between Piraeus and the island of Salamis, waiting for their crews to return, waiting to be brought to life.

On the way down, Xanthippus pressed his wife’s hand, making her look at him.

‘Do you remember what I said to you on the morning before Marathon?’ he murmured. He saw Epikleos look up and then away rather than intrude on a private moment.

Agariste bit her lip as she considered her reply. He had asked her to kill the children, to save them from capture and slavery.

‘I do,’ she said. ‘They are no longer so young.’

‘I know,’ he replied, leaning close, so that their heads touched like two lovers walking together. ‘But if we fail, you must run.’

Her face hardened as she understood. Xanthippus felt his anger return as she shook her head.

‘You said nowhere would be safe if they come,’ she replied.

‘Go west, with the house slaves to protect you. I have left a list in my study of Greek cities that refused our call. The Persians will favour them, I think. You and the children could begin again, far from here.’

She stopped suddenly, so that he stumbled on the dusty slope.

‘Do you think this place is yours alone, Xan? These people are mine as well. I love them, in all their talk and prayers and chaos. I love Athens, in my bones, in my womb. I cannot just … go somewhere else. Whatever happens, we’ll return here, to rebuild.’