‘They think this great rock is a deck still,’ he replied. ‘What of it? They have a vote – and more reason than most to be here. Don’t mind them, Xan. They have all seen friends drown because of Miltiades. It does not mean they will vote for him today.’

Xanthippus bit his lip. He watched sweating slaves bring the voting baskets to the top. No one was allowed to influence a jury as they gave their verdicts. There would be no holding up of hands, or standing on one side or the other, not in a trial. Instead, each man was given two bronze rods and a disc with a hole in the centre. The choice of rod was solid or hollow, representing guilty or innocent. No one could see which rod had been chosen when fingers were pressed over the ends. It meant votes could not be influenced or bought, at least with any certainty. In that way, the results of a trial were as clean and true as they could possibly be. Xanthippus eyed the men of the galleys and wondered how they would vote.

Four hundred was the number he and Miltiades had agreed for the jury. It could have been a thousand or as few as a hundred, but the number was a reasonable compromise. The last of them found a spot to sit or stand as the sun rose and the long shadows shrank. The day seemed peaceful at that height above the city, though a dozen trials would be taking place at the same time, with courts all over the heart of Athens. The law would be applied by juries and magistrates with no more expertise than the man accused. There were always some who argued for more expert judges, or juries trained for the task. Just a generation before, trials had been decided by the archons of the Areopagus council. Yet corruption had been rife and the judgments often tainted. Still, Xanthippus had been one of those who argued against putting the lives of men into the hands of the uneducated, the damaged, the spiteful, the poor. Themistocles had spoken in favour, which made a little more sense now that he knew more of his youth. Yet the truth was it worked as well as any other system – and it bound them together as Athenians. Xanthippus could not deny that. It was written in every face before him, in their keen interest and serious expressions. They would decide the fate of Miltiades that very day, in solemn dignity, passing judgement on one of their own.

Xanthippus breathed in relief when he saw the two galley officers arrive to take seats by him. It had been a scramble to find and interview both captain and hoplite, getting the story direct from their lips. It helped that they were both furious with Miltiades. Xanthippus met their gaze as they came and shook his hand, then sat down on wooden chairs facing the jury, ready to be called. Neither had looked away, Xanthippus noted in relief. Miltiades and his people took chairs on the other side of the magistrate, all facing the jury – seated or standing on the bare rock. Xanthippus and Epikleos, as his second, sat looking out across the jurors and the city beyond, lit gold in the morning sun.