Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

The singer sang in Aeolian dialect, addressing Thais as if perceiving her as someone who had arrived at the Threshold and stood before it in noble and fearless contemplation.

The song struck a chord with the young ones as well, despite the fact they were still far from the Threshold of Destiny. Its shadow subdued the passionate joy of the symposium, providing a sign to end the celebration. The guests vanished into the night in pairs and groups. Luminaries between the portico of the entrance and the feasting hall were put out. Thais and Eris rose, thanking their hosts.

“You are guests of our city,” the master of the house said. “You would do us an honor if you agreed to rest here, under our roof. The inn is far away from the Sacred Road, and it is late.”

“Worthy host, you do not even know who we are,” the Athenian replied. “And we arrived without invitation. We were brought here by your friends. They were sweet and we did not wish to offend them.”

“You are wrong to think that citizens of Pathos do not know Thais,” the host said with a chuckle. “Even if we’d never heard of you, your beauty and conduct at the symposium would have been sufficient. The visit to my house by you and your royal friend is a holiday. Please make it last by staying overnight.”

Thais stayed with nary an inkling of a great change in her destiny. It would transpire after her visit to the house on the shore of Cypredae.

The next day, while swimming with the wife and daughters of the host, the Athenian learned of the sanctuary of Aphrodite Ambologera. Until then, she and many other Athenians had believed that the incarnation of Aphrodite Averting Old Age was but one of symbols of the many-faced goddess. Perhaps it was the youngest of her images, akin to the statues of a barely-blossoming girl made of transparent pink Rhodes marble. It was much loved by sculptors and forbidden at temples by the strict censors of old tradition.

Here on Cyprus, Aphrodite’s birthplace, there was an ancient temple of Ambologera Averting Old Age. It was visited by the goddess’ favorites, men and women who were approaching the Great Threshold of the Mother. They made offerings, listened to prophecies, selected a new path and went home either encouraged, or with their heads lowered in sadness, seeing nothing but the dust of the road under their sandals.

The temple of Aphrodite Ambologera was located three days away on foot from Pathos, at the border of an ancient Finikian colony at the southeast of the island. It was said that the temple had been built by Helenians and Finikians together, as they both worshiped the Averter of Old Age. Thais set her mind on visiting it.

“This will not bring you serenity or happiness,” Eris said with certainty, warning her friend.

Thais replied that she presently did not possess either of the two, and would not until she found another path. “Do you not feel that way yourself?”

“No. I never parted from sorrow, and thus never lost the guiding light in my life,” Eris replied mysteriously.

The Athenian did not listen. Accompanied by her new friends, they rode up a twisting stone road, ascending into the mountains through pine groves and dark cedar woods. After the silence and the dry resin-scented air at the southern slope of the mountain range, the travelers emerged onto a vast plateau. Bluish rocks protruded through the surface among silvery grasses rippling in the wind. A peak towered ahead, split in half by a wide road with the temple at the top. The entrance to the valley had once been marked by structures that were presently in ruins. All that was left were broad, even levels, surrounded by enormous stone slabs and covered with trees. Walnuts, chestnuts and sycamores that were centuries old stood in their crimson autumn attire, followed by two giant cedars whose clear outlines formed a kind of gate and whose sprawling horizontal branches were so thick they screened away small rocks that fell from above.

An alley, framed by flaming gold trees, led deep into the valley. A sense of incredible light and serenity descended upon Thais. Other visitors grew quiet and spoke in whispers, trying not to interrupt the rustling of autumn leaves and the bubbling of a spring that flowed along the bottom of the valley, pouring over the edges of terraced pools in small cascades among the flat, moss-covered stones.

Mountains rose in the gaps among trees, covered with the moss of centuries and wrapped in a mysterious enchantment of ages past.

Further into the valley the rows of dark cypresses intersected with crimson pyramid poplars. The smell of heated autumn foliage and needles was simultaneously fresh, bitter and dry without any tinge of road dust. Behind them the valley broadened and spread in a pool of evening sunlight, filled with peace and warmth. Reddening crowns of oaks, elms and maples foamed among the spread of flat pine tops.

The temple of Aphrodite Ambologera resembled a fortress. The walls of gray stone protruded into the gorge, closing off the mountain peak from the west. The façade of the sanctuary with its colonnade faced the east, soaring above the plateau. It was planted generously with grapes and fruit trees. Their Pathos friends asked them to wait, then struck a bronze sheet hanging on a short chain three times and stepped through a dark narrow entrance. They soon returned with two priestesses of unquestionably high rank. They examined Thais and Eris sternly and seriously, then one of them, who was dressed in a pale gray garment, suddenly smiled. She placed her hands on their shoulders and nodded lightly to their hosts, then led the two women into the temple.

The usual silent rituals followed: evening fasting, cleansing and nighttime watch on the floor at the sanctuary’s door.

At dawn the high priestess appeared, ordered them each to eat an apple and take off their clothes, then led the two friends to the Goddess Averting Old Age, Aphrodite Ambologera. Neither the Athenian nor the black priestess had ever seen the likes of this temple.

A triangular skylight in the roof directed the bright glow of the sky towards two walls the color of helianthus petals which converged ahead in the direction of the east.

Upon the walls, bronze nails held up enormous sheets of wood at least ten elbows wide, cut from whole tree trunks. Only thousand year old trees like Lebanese cedars could possess such girth. Two goddesses were painted on them in pure mineral colors used for eternal frescoes by an artist who must have been a greater genius than Apelles himself.

The left painting, in hot shades of red earth and flaming sunset, portrayed a woman at the height of earthly fertility and health. Her full lips, breasts and hips were so filled with desire, they seemed ready to burst from wild broiling passion, pouring forth the dark blood of the Great Mother, the Queen of the Abyss. Her hands reached toward the viewer with an irresistible yearning and held a dark rose, which was a symbol of feminine essence, and a square vessel with a star with which Thais was familiar.

“Lilith,” Thais said, barely moving her lips, unable to take her eyes off the painting.

“No,” Eris replied. “Lilith is kind. This one is death.”

The priestess raised her eyebrows when she heard them, and pointed at the right wall with agitation. The Athenian sighed in relief as she saw the embodiment of her dream.

The blue color scheme blended together the sea, the sky and the low horizon. Against this backdrop the goddess’ body assumed a pearly tinge of early dawn, when large stars still shone above and the opal sea splashed against rose-colored sand. Urania walked, barely touching the ground with her bare toes, reaching up to the morning sky, wind and clouds. The face of the goddess half-turned over her shoulder, looked both into the distance and at the viewer, promising comfort with the gaze of her eyes. These were gray, like Thais’. Light shone over her forehead and between her eyebrows, emphasizing, rather than competing with, the light in her eyes.