‘I thought there was an intruder in the gardens,’ he said, watching her reaction, hardly trying to make it sound like truth. Nonetheless she gasped.

‘I have seen no one. Is that why you are here with such a look?’

‘That … and the news that Miltiades has returned. His fleet has been sighted.’

‘Then we should give thanks to Poseidon for his delivery! That is only good news, Xanthippus. I will get up and see to the children.’

When he didn’t move, she clutched her knees tighter.

‘I certainly won’t sleep now. Leave me to dress, please. I’ll join you for a little porridge, or pancakes? Shall I have the cook make them? There is honey, or cheese if you prefer.’

As she babbled, he saw light moving outside the room. The house was waking all around them, with a dozen slaves already busy baking bread and rising to eat before the family. Even news of an invasion would not have prevented their day starting. Xanthippus went into the corridor and called out. The slave who came was a young boy from the stables, being trained to work in the kitchen. He carried an oil lamp with exaggerated care under the master’s eye.

‘I’ll take that,’ Xanthippus said. ‘Return to your work now.’

The boy dipped right down in reply as Xanthippus took the lamp back to his wife’s room. He lit two more from the wick of the first and deep golden light bloomed there.

Agariste had not moved from the bed. That was odd in itself. She sat with her knees outlined under the sheet and shadows pooling around her. Her eyes were huge and dark as she watched him, as a mother hen might watch a fox creeping through a sleeping barn, helpless and silent.

‘What is it?’ Xanthippus demanded. ‘Something is wrong.’

He sat down more firmly on the edge of the bed and leaned towards her. She did not pull away a second time, almost as if she knew it would reveal guilt. In that moment, he wished he could just reach inside and pluck the truth from her. If she had betrayed him, he needed proof. With nothing more than his own rage and suspicion, if he killed her, her family would destroy him. That was the truth of it.

He sat back.

‘I will go out and search for that intruder, my love. I sent Manias to the children. Perhaps you should remain in your rooms until I am sure there is no threat.’

She did look pale, even in the lamplight. Sweat shone on her brow and, as he watched, a bead of it shone along her neck. The night had not been as warm as that, he realised. Suspicion hardened into a ball that swelled in his chest, choking him.

She stared, actually trembling. On impulse, he raised his hand to brush aside a curl of her hair that had fallen forward. His finger left a red smear on her forehead. He froze as he saw his palm was wet.