Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

“You are right, Menedem. Dancing and riding demand constant exercise, otherwise I’ll turn as bulky as Tueris.”

“Tueris!”

Menedem imagined Tueris, an obese Egyptian goddess, sitting on her fat hind legs with an impossibly huge flabby belly and an ugly hippopotamus head. He laughed for a long time, wiping tears from his face with the back side of his bandaged hand.

In Memphis Thais was greeted by news from the east. A battle between Alexander and Darius had taken place at the Issus River on the Finikian side, and the Macedonians had emerged victorious. The great king of the Persians turned out to be a coward, running away from the front lines, leaving behind all his possessions, his tents and his wives.

Alexander continued to head south across Finikia, taking one city after another. Everything and everyone fell before the victorious hero, the son of gods.

Rumors flew ahead of the Macedonian army. Wealthy merchants who escaped the seaside cities appeared in Lower Egypt. They formed a union and bought ships to sail to the distant Carthage. The Egyptian envoy, Mazakhes, is terrified, and the impostor pharaoh, Hababash, ordered the Spartan mercenaries to be ready. A squadron was dispatched to Bubastis, where there was unrest among the Syrian soldiers.

The admirers of the young Macedonian king saw in him deliverance from the Persian rule. They hoped he would offer his powerful arm to support the weak son of the rightful pharaoh, Nektaneb, who had been crushed by Darius some years prior.

Egesikhora, flushed with excitement, told Thais in secret that Nearchus was in charge of Alexander’s fleet, and that his ships were at Tyre. The ancient Byblos, with its famous temple of Lebanese Aphrodite or Anachita, gave up almost without delay, as did Sidon. Everyone said Alexander was bound for Egypt. Eositeus was glum and held long meetings with his associates, after which he dispatched a messenger to Sparta.

Thais glanced at her friend inquiringly.

“Yes, I love Nearchus,” Egesikhora answered the unspoken question. “He is one of a kind, the only one among others.”

“And what of Eositeus?”

Egesikhora formed a finger gesture, used by hetaerae to indicate indifference toward an admirer. “This one is no better than others.”

“Are you waiting for him?”

“Yes,” Egesikhora admitted.

Thais thought about that. Alexander would be accompanied by Ptolemy. According to the rumors, Ptolemy was now among the best army commanders of the Macedonian king, and nearly the closest of his associates, save for Hephaestion. Ptolemy! Thais’ heart beat faster. Her friend, watching her expression, was no less observant.

“What of Menedem?”

Thais didn’t answer, trying to understand her own feelings. She was bewildered by memories of the past, the confusion of the last year in Athens, and something altogether new that came with the selfless love of the Laconian athlete, trusting as a child and courageous as a mythical hero.

“You can’t decide?” Egesikhora teased.

“I can’t. I know only one thing: it’s either one or the other. I could never lie.”

“You have always been that way. That is why you shall never have great wealth, like Frina or Thero. You don’t need it anyway. You simply don’t know how to spend money. You don’t have enough whims or imagination.”

“That much is true. I can’t seem to come up with things to impress my competitors or admirers. But it’s easier when…”

“Yes, Menedem is not rich. As a matter of fact, to put it simply, he is poor.”

Thais was faced with her lack of wealth and its difficulties, when she decided to buy a horse. A rare dappled gray mare was up for sale. She was from Azira, and of a Libyan horse breed supposedly brought in by the Hicsos. The horses from Azira were renowned for their stamina against heat and lack of water. The horse’s name was Salmaakh and no one could claim she was beautiful. Her coat was ash gray and while her front pasterns were overly long, her hind quarters sagged. However, that would mean a softer gait for a rider. Not even a hint of white in the corners of her eyes — a sign of mean temper — deterred the prospective buyers. When it became known that Salmaakh was a triabema, meaning she possessed a peculiar “three footed” trot, she was immediately purchased by a Tanisian merchant for a good price.

Thais liked the slightly wild Libyan, and Salmaakh must have recognized in the Athenian woman that strong, calm and kind will to which animals are so sensitive, especially horses. Thais was able to get the horse in exchange for the chrysolite, the very same that was intended for Aristotle to help fine Hesiona’s father.

Menedem found a panther’s hide to cover up the horse’s flanks, blanketing the small sweat pad used by the riders who wore greaves, or narrow Asian pants. This she rode barelegged, like ancient women of Thermodont. Without the hide, riding Salmaakh would have inevitably ruined her calves. When riding in hot weather, horse sweat could cause inflammation and ulcers on human skin.

The soft hide of a predatory cat was pleasant to the touch but made riding difficult. Thais’ Amazonian posture, riding with bent knees and heels resting nearly over the horse’s kidneys, demanded great knee strength. The rider stayed in the saddle by squeezing the upper portion of the horse’s torso between her legs.

The slippery panther hide forced her to double her efforts during a gallop, but Thais didn’t mind that. In fact she was rather pleased about it. After two weeks of agony, the iron grip of her knees had returned, for which her Paphlagonian riding teacher called her a true daughter of Thermodont.

While it was true that Salmaakh’s trot was soft, Thais preferred to dash about at a gallop, competing against Egesikhora’s frenzied foursome, flourishing in the dry Egyptian climate. The main roads around Memphis were always crowded by slow donkeys, carts, processions of pilgrims, and slaves carrying heavy baskets. The women were fortunate enough to discover a sacred road leading south along the Nile, only barely covered by sand here and there. The sand-free sections stretched for hundreds of stadiums, and Egesikhora reveled in mad speed rides. When Thais opted to ride her Salmaakh, Egesikhora took Hesiona into the carriage with her.

The fourth year of the hundred and tenth Olympiad was drawing to a close. The season of fifty day west wind came to Egypt, the breath of ferocious Set, drying the earth and alienating the people.

Previously unfamiliar with the wind of Set, the Helenians continued their rides. Once they were caught in a red cloud, as hot as a furnace. Sand devils twirled and danced around them. When it grew dark, Egesikhora’s frightened horses reared up against the wind. The women barely managed to subdue the stallions. It was only after Hesiona jumped off the carriage and bravely grabbed the two pole horses by the reins, helping Egesikhora turn them north toward the city that they were all right. Salmaakh remained completely calm, obediently turning her back to the storm and trotting softly next to the carriage, its bushing screeching from the sand.

The horses gradually calmed and ran more smoothly. Egesikhora rode amidst the noise and whistling of the wind, passing through dust clouds like Athena the warrior maiden. They reached the spot where they frequently stopped, by a half-ruined memorial temple, where the road went around a dark chasm. Thais was the first to notice an elderly man lying against the white steps, wearing a long, linen Egyptian garment. He hid his face within the bend of his right elbow and covered his head with his left arm, breathing heavily. The Athenian hopped off her horse and leaned over the old man with concern. They gave him a bit of wine with water, and he was able to sit up. Much to the two friends’ surprise, the old man explained in a perfect Attic dialect that he became ill from the dust storm and, not knowing where to get help, he decided to wait it out.