Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

A herd of huge wild boars made its home in the thicket of reeds between the Eurot and the Hellas. Their nighttime outings often inflicted significant damage upon the nearby fields and even in the sacred grove. The grove had been plowed through and through by the hungry pigs.

Hunting boars in the reeds was considered to be particularly dangerous. Because of the height of the reeds, a hunter couldn’t see anything except for the narrow paths made by the animals. The reeds stood like tall walls, seven elbows high, covering half the sky. At any time the reeds could part, admitting an enraged male boar with fangs sharp as daggers, or a furious female. The animals moved lightning fast. Frequently a dismayed hunter found himself on the ground, his legs cut by a strike of those fangs before he even realized what was happening. But a male boar wasn’t the worst. It struck and kept on running. A female pig was far more terrifying. Having overturned a hunter, she trampled him with sharp hooves and tore at him with teeth, pulling out pieces of flesh and skin. The wounds took years to heal. But something about the short, violent struggle, the unexpected excitement attracted many a brave man wishing to test his courage.

The soldiers became so carried away while discussing the hunt that both hetaerae felt abandoned. Egesikhora decided she would take the opportunity to remind them of her splendid self. Eositeus, distracted by her efforts, interrupted the discussion, pondered briefly, then made up his mind.

“Let our guests take part in the hunt,” he said “Let us be together everywhere, be it Egypt or the reeds of the Eurot.”

Menedem supported him with ardor, but the older soldiers laughed.

“It is impossible, master,” a Messenian objected. “We will only put the beautiful women at deadly risk.”

“Wait.” Eositeus lifted his hand. “You are saying that here,” he said, pointing at the map of their hunting site which had been drawn on the ground, “there is an ancient Eurot temple. It would be set on a hill, would it not?”

“It is a small bump with only a few rocks and columns left over from the temple,” the hunter said.

“Even better. And here, there is a clearing because the reeds do not grow on hills?”

The Messenian nodded and the captain immediately ordered them to change the direction of the hunt. The main hunting party would now hide at the edge of the reed thicket in front of the clearing, while both hetaerae hid in the ruins of the temple. The other group of soldiers would accompany the chasers in case the animals decided to attack. The brave men were armed with nothing more than small shields and spears. The more experienced hunters also took long daggers.

Clutching pale, reed colored himations around them, Egesikhora and Thais did their best to get comfortable. The two friends lay on the broad slabs of crossbeams which still sat upon the six low columns of the Eurot temple, with a perfect view of the clearing. They had been told in no uncertain terms that they were not to get up, not to even move when the chasers drove the boars toward the river.

They spied Eositeus, Menedem and two more hunters hiding behind bunches of dry reeds, clearly visible near the tall wall of reeds to the west of the clearing. To show their disdain for danger, the Lacedemonians were without clothes, as they would be during military exercises, and only wore greaves. Death held no fear for a professional soldier. Every Helenian was brought up with a wise and calm attitude toward death. Tombstones in Attica, in Laconia, and in Boeotia spoke of thoughtful parting, of sweet and sad memories of the departed without protest, desperation or fear. Injury, however, was worse than death to a Spartan warrior, as it deprived him of the ability to fight alongside his compatriots, the only thing a free Lacedemonian would ever want.

They heard the reeds crackle, and a huge male boar appeared in the clearing. The two women froze, reflexively pressing themselves into the stone. The beast sniffed suspiciously, turning its thick body this way and that. The boar’s inflexible neck made it impossible for him to turn his head. It was this peculiarity that had saved many hunters’ lives.

Menedem rose slowly from behind a reed-covered hummock. Lowering his left arm so that his shield covered the bottom portion of his stomach and hip, he gave a quiet whistle. The boar turned instantly and received a spear strike deep in its right side. The spear shaft snapped with a loud crack, and the boar charged. Its wicked yellow fangs snapped over the shield, and Menedem lost his balance. Stumbling backward, the Spartan fell over his head into a shallow pit. Eositeus shouted and the boar turned its left side toward him. All was over in seconds. Menedem, embarrassed and confused, reproached his commander for interfering. It would have been much more interesting to finish the animal off on his own.

Within a few minutes, the yells and clattering from the chasers attracted no fewer than a dozen large boars. The animals burst into the clearing and overturned two soldiers standing near the right corner of the clearing. They rushed toward the river, then turned and attacked Eositeus and Menedem. Menedem beat away an enraged pig; Eositeus was knocked down by a particularly large male. Gray hair bristled along its spine, spit and foam flew from its snapping, footlong fangs. Eositeus, whose shield had been knocked out of his hands by the animal’s strike, had tossed down his spear and now pressed himself into the ground, clutching a long Persian knife in his hand. The boar’s next move would be to try and toss him up with its snout in order to gore him. He pressing his huge head over the Spartan’s back and, bending its front legs, attempted to hook him with fangs. Eositeus kept shifting back, watching the monster carefully, but not getting an opportunity to deal the deadly blow.

Egesikhora and Thais watched the struggle with bated breath, having forgotten about Menedem, who was still fighting off the old, experienced pig. Suddenly Egesikhora clutched at Thais’ shoulder. The boar was pushing Eositeus toward a bump in the hummocky soil, and there was only a small distance left. Then the strategist would have nowhere to go …

“Ai-i-i-i-i-i-i!” Thais screeched, her voice piercing like that of a witch. She clapping her hands and leaned forward from the stone slab.

The boar dashed to the side to seek out its new enemy. That instant was sufficient for Eositeus to grab the boar’s rear leg and bury the knife in its side. The boar broke free — only Hercules or Theseus could have held such giant in place — and charged Thais.

The famous dancer possessed the reaction of an Amazon and managed to roll backward, falling on the other side of the stone slab. The boar slammed against the stone, making two deep, bloody tracks in the colorful lichen. Eositeus picked up his spear and hopped over to the beast, already dying from the wound. He struck one more blow, finishing the fight.

Victorious shouts came from the left. Eositeus’ and Menedem’s comrades had finally subdued their animals, and Menedem had managed to kill the pig. The Spartans gathered together, wiping off sweat and dirt, and praising Thais, who had escaped with nothing more than two large bruises after her rocky fall.

The chasers had already passed the thicket in front of the clearing, and the drive headed to the north, toward the junior officers. Four hunters from the group in the clearing decided to go toward the Eurot in order to wash up and swim after the battle while the servants pared the meat and cooked it for the evening feast. Eositeus lifted Thais onto his broad and scratched shoulder and carried her to the river, accompanied by a playfully jealous Egesikhora and a sincerely glum Menedem.

“Watch out, Eositeus. Have you warned our beauties of the Eurot’s dangerous properties?” Menedem shouted to his captain, as the latter walked briskly with his lovely cargo. Helenians loved to carry women they admired. It was a sign of respect and noble intentions. The strategist didn’t reply until he had lowered Thais to the ground at the riverbank.