It felt strange to wear only a chiton, to leave his thorax and greaves behind in the camp. He did not like the feeling, and his eyes scanned the mist before him where dots of orange torch and campfire glowed, the raucous voices of men and boys everywhere around him. The sun was dipping red in the distance beyond the river Kladeos, and Stefanos wondered briefly when he would catch up with Xenophon again, his friend encamped with the Spartans to the west of the sanctuary. He smiled at the thought. It had been a long time.
Stefanos walked through the stoa and around the back of the bouleuterion until he reached the sanctuary of Hestia and the entrance into the Altis where he paused before setting foot in the Olympic sanctuary. In the dim light, the statue of the goddess Nike soared atop her
