Xanthippus heard another boat bump against the side. He hesitated as Themistocles went forward, leaning out to see who it was, then lending an arm. He held it steady as Cimon grasped his hand and sprang up, so lithe and fit Xanthippus felt like an old man in his presence.

Half a dozen senior officers had been called to the Spartan flagship. Xanthippus followed Themistocles down to a cabin in the bowels of the trireme. Two benches lay alongside a narrow table and a small lamp had been lit, swinging from the timbers above and casting the dimmest of golden glows on their faces. Xanthippus stifled a yawn as he took a seat. He had fought for hours that day and truly lost count of the number of ship actions. He thought if he tried to remember them one by one, he would drift into sleep.

He bit his lip hard enough to cause him pain, needing to be alert, caught between the desire to check on his crew and his duty there. The truth was, Epikleos and his ship’s captains could see to binding wounds and repairing broken timbers. His role was more than a fighting ship officer. Even so, he felt torn. He had formed bonds with his crew that day and he had felt their confusion as the boat came to take him away.

‘Gentlemen, I congratulate you,’ Eurybiades said. He stood before them, wide-shouldered and stern as any tutor.

‘Is there wine, Eurybiades?’ Themistocles asked suddenly, perhaps just to be difficult.

‘We used the last of it to wash wounds,’ Eurybiades said with a shrug. He opened his mouth to continue, but Themistocles went on immediately.

‘What? My dear boy, you should have let me know! I would have brought you some, if only for me to enjoy now. The thought of going in again without a skin or two tomorrow … I won’t be able to enjoy it if I think of you Spartans without even a drop of wine, I tell you.’

Eurybiades blinked slowly as Themistocles rattled on. The Spartan had never understood his Athenian counterpart. On that night, it was no more than a token effort. Themistocles was almost too weary to argue. Xanthippus saw him smother a yawn when he stopped talking. The Spartan navarch only stared, considering.

‘If you have an excess … I would welcome a few skins,’ Eurybiades said slowly. ‘Perhaps you can send your boat back before morning. That is not why I called you here, however.’

Xanthippus saw Cimon lean forward like a hunting hound as the Spartan went on. He sat straighter himself, while sleep washed along the shore of him, threatening to pull him under. The little cabin was too warm, that was the trouble … He came awake when Themistocles reached across and tapped him hard on the forearm without looking round. The Spartan went on.

‘I have had word from my own people. King Leonidas has taken position in the only pass through the mountains. He will hold it against the Persians as they come.’