Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

“Most likely I was waiting for my own demise, considering that Set’s wind always blows with all the stubbornness of its god,” the old man said.

Three pairs of strong female hands managed to get him into the carriage, Hesiona mounted Salmaakh behind Thais, and all four made it to Memphis safely.

The old man asked them to take him to the temple of Neit near the large park on the river bank.

“Are you a priest at the temple?” Egesikhora asked. “But you are a Helenian, despite your Egyptian garb.”

“I am a guest here,” the old man said and beckoned Thais to him with an imperious gesture. The Athenian obediently rode up to the steps.

“Are you the Athenian hetaera who was thrown to the crocodiles but escaped? What are you looking for in the temples of Black Earth?”

“Nothing. Not anymore. I was hoping to find wisdom, much more satisfying to the soul than philosophizing about politics, war and knowledge of things. I heard all that back in Attica, but I am not seeking to wage war or found a polis.”

“And you found nothing here?”

Thais laughed disdainfully. “They revere animals. What can one expect from people whose gods have yet to become human?”

The old man suddenly straightened his back and the expression in his eyes changed. Thais felt as if the stranger’s gaze penetrated the depths of her soul, ruthlessly uncovering secret thoughts, hopes and dreams she had thought to be well hidden. But though she was startled, the Athenian was not afraid. Despite the multitude of impressions and acquaintances, there was nothing shameful or unworthy in her short life, no underhanded actions or mean thoughts. There was only Eros, the joy of knowing she was always beautiful and desirable, and an acute curiosity.

She returned the old man’s piercing gaze, her gray eyes fearless. He smiled for the first time.

“According to your own understanding, you deserve a little more knowledge than Egyptian priests could give you. Be thankful to your name that they even stooped to talking with you.”

“My name?” the hetaera exclaimed, “Why?”

“Do you not know that you bear an ancient name for a daughter of Hellas? It is Egyptian and means ‘the land of Isis’, but came by way of ancient Crete. Have you heard of Britomartis, the daughter of Zeus and Karma? You remind me of her portrait.”

“You speak so well, Father. Who are you and where are you from?”

“I am from Delos, a Helenian, a philosopher. But look, your friend is barely holding back the horses, and Salmaakh is dancing on the spot.”

“You even know the name of my horse?”

“Do not be naïve, child. I have not yet lost my hearing, and you have addressed her at least twenty times.”

Thais blushed, laughed and said, “I would like to see you again.”

“I also feel that is necessary. Come any day early in the morning, when Set’s ferocity weakens. Come in under the portico, clap your hands thrice, and I shall come to meet you. Haire!”

Gold and white horses raced along the endless palm alley toward the north part of the city. Salmaakh, relieved of her double load, galloped merrily along. Thais gazed upon the lead colored water of the great river, sensing that the meeting with the old philosopher would be an important one for her.”

Egesikhora was curious as to why her friend had become so interested in a weak and insignificant old man. Hearing of Thais’ intentions to resume her “temple wandering”, as the Spartan called it, she stated that Thais was asking for trouble and would get it eventually. She asked Thais if she should complain to Menedem to keep her from going to the temples, or ask him to stop rescuing her the next time she is thrown to a lion, a hippopotamus, a giant hyena or some other deified monster? But that wouldn’t help. Despite his menacing appearance, the athlete was but soft clay in the hands of his beautiful lover.

Egesikhora was right, but meeting the philosopher peaked Thais’ curiosity. She went to the temple of Neit the next day, as soon as the red tinges of dawn appeared in the lead colored sky.

The philosopher, or priest as may be, appeared as soon as the claps of her little hands sounded in the shade of the portico. He was dressed in the same white linen garment that distinguished Egyptian men and women from all other city dwellers.

For some reason, he was glad of Thais’ visit. He signaled for her to follow him, and she did without question. They headed down a passageway on the left, the thick wall of which was made of enormous stone slabs and lit by no more than a narrow crack up above. The tiresome howling of the wind was inaudible here, and Thais walked amidst calm and seclusion. She noticed bright light ahead, and eventually they entered a square room with window openings as narrow as slits. There wasn’t even a taste of dust in the air, as there was in the rest of the city. The high ceiling was painted with dark colors, creating an impression of a night sky.

Thais looked around. “Egyptians build so strangely,” she said.

“Built,” the philosopher said, correcting her. “It was a long time ago. They weren’t aiming for perfection, but took great pains to create the mystery of seclusion, the enigma of silence and the secret of the unexpected.”

“Our temples, wide open and bright, are a hundred times more beautiful,” the Athenian objected.

“You are mistaken. There is a mystery there too, but not the same as the one that descends into the dark of past pages. That is the one of being one with heaven. It is with the sun during the day, and with stars and moon at night. Have you never felt enlightenment and joy among the columns of Parthenon or under the porticos of Delphi and Corinth?”

“Yes, yes.”

Rolls of papyrus and parchment sat atop massive boxes, along with writing slates. The center of the room was occupied by a large, wide table. Five point stars and spirals were painted in bright blue against the gray stone table top. The Delos philosopher led the Athenian to the table and sat her down on an uncomfortable Egyptian stool across from himself. The philosopher was silent for awhile, his intense gaze focused upon Thais. Strangely, a sense of calm filled her entire body. Thais felt so well that her entire heart was drawn to the serious, unsmiling and reticent old man.

“You surprised me by your remarks about the animal gods of Egypt,” the philosopher said. ‘What do you know of religion? Have you been initiated into any mysteries?”

“Never. I don’t know anything,” Thais said, wanting to be modest before this man. “I have been a hetaera since I was young and haven’t served at any temple other than that of Corinthian Aphrodite.”

“Then how do you know that gods become elevated along with man? That means that one searches for the divine within himself, and such statements could put you into much danger.”

“You shouldn’t consider me so smart, wise man. I am simply…”

“Continue, my daughter. I do not have children, but I feel drawn to call you that. This means there is closeness between our souls.”

“As I studied the myths, I noticed how the gods of Hellas gradually became kinder and better from the ancient times through to our days. Artemis, the huntress and assassin, became a healer. Her brother Apollo, who began as a ruthless executioner, a jealous killer and a greedy man, is now a glorious giver of life, revered in gladness. My goddess, Aphrodite, used to stand with a spear in ancient temples, like in Athena. Now Urania brings sacred, heavenly love to people,” Thais said and her cheeks flushed.

The philosopher-priest gazed upon her even more gently, and Thais grew bold.

“I have also read Anaxagoras: his teachings about Nus, the universal intelligence, the eternal struggle between the two opposing forces of evil and good, the closeness and the enmity. And Antiphontus, who taught that all people were equal and warned Helenians against disdain toward other people …” Thais hesitated, recalling her own mistakes, for which she had nearly paid with her life.