‘I don’t think so. I am well known here. If he did lash out, there are a dozen carpenters and slaves who would restrain him. Thank you for your concern, Xanthippus. You are a good man.’

Xanthippus felt himself flush again as Aristides turned and walked down to the docks. It was tempting to go with him. He sensed Themistocles watching with raised eyebrows. The atmosphere was different, as if they had both stepped off the stage and could be themselves. Aristides had done that, Xanthippus realised. Or his admiration for the man had.

‘I have spent the morning with our new archon,’ Themistocles said. ‘A morning I will not get back.’

Xanthippus glowered, unwilling to be drawn in and wary of criticising Aristides in any way.

‘He is the best of us,’ he said firmly, ignoring a snort from the other.

‘For some, perhaps,’ Themistocles said. He shrugged when Xanthippus looked over to him. ‘Some men are ruled by greed and stupidity and lust. They would steal a drachm from their own mother, or stamp on the fingers of another man to stop them rising. They are like children in their spite.’

‘You are not talking about Aristides!’ Xanthippus said, turning to face him in his astonishment.

‘No, of course not. Men like those need men like Aristides. They need to see that there are those who could be left guarding a room of gold coins and not steal a single one. More, they would starve to death and not lift a crust of bread that was not theirs. Aristides is such a man, I know it. You know it as well. His will … his honour – it is like iron. He could run this port of Piraeus, or the whole city, and it would work like a phalanx in perfect formation.’

Xanthippus looked suspiciously at him.

‘You admire him then …’ he said. ‘As do I. We need men like …’

‘But it would be a dead city, with men like Aristides in charge of the laws,’ Themistocles went on. He turned to watch the small, slight man making his way to the dockmaster’s office. ‘Oh, it would run well enough, as a ship can be made to move against the wind. The rowers give their labour and the entire vessel cuts the waves, carrying us all. Aristides can make that happen.’

‘Why then a “dead city”?’ Xanthippus demanded, growing angry. How was it that every conversation with Themistocles seemed to go this way? The man had the most extraordinary ability to prick at him.

Themistocles shrugged again.

‘Men need more than bread and wine, more than lovers, more than gold.’

‘You mean the gods?’

To his surprise, Themistocles chuckled.

‘I do not. How interesting your mind is, Xanthippus of Cholargos! No, men need ambition. Those like Aristides would be content to maintain, to conserve what we have.’

‘That does not seem such an ill thing,’ Xanthippus replied.

‘The world changes. If you merely repaint and rebuild, the cracks will show eventually. You have seen ruins, my friend, of temples and gates. There are peoples gone before us, who would not change. Who did not have the ambition to stand up and say, “We will make a mark that will never be forgotten.”’