Ivan Yefremov: Thais of Athens

Ptolemy considered himself to be Alexander’s half-brother. His mother, the famous hetaera Arsinoa, was once close to Philip, and was then married off to the tribal leader, Lag, or Hare. Lag was a man with no great accomplishments but was of noble origin. Ptolemy had remained in the Lagid family and was envious of Alexander for some time, competing with him in both childish games and military training. Once he’d grown up he couldn’t help but appreciate the prince’s remarkable abilities. He became even more proud of their secret blood relation, which his mother had told him about, but only after a terrible vow had been made.

And what of Thais? Well, Alexander had long since given Ptolemy supremacy in matters of Eros. As much as Ptolemy was flattered by it, he could not help but admit that had Alexander wanted, Alexander could rule among the countless swarms of Aphrodite’s admirers. But Alexander wasn’t at all interested in women, which worried his mother, Olympias. She was a divinely beautiful priestess of Demeter, and was considered a sorceress, a seductress and a wise ruler of sacred snakes. Despite his courage, daring and constant philandering with all manner of women, Philip had always been wary of his splendid wife, and joked that he was afraid he might someday discover a terrible serpent in bed between himself and his wife. There were persistent rumors, no doubt sustained by Olympias herself, that Alexander wasn’t even a son of one-eyed Philip, but that of a deity, to whom she gave herself in a temple one night.

Philip felt stronger after his victory at Chaeronea. On the eve of his being elected a military leader of the union of all Hellenic states in Corinth, he divorced Olympias and married young Cleopatra, the niece of an important tribal leader in Macedonia. Olympias, for all her foresight and cunning, managed to make a mistake after all, and was now dealing with the consequences.

Alexander’s first love occurred at sixteen, when masculinity first arose in him. She was an unknown slave from the shores of the Black Sea. The young man was a dreamer, enraptured by the adventures of Achilles and the heroic deeds of the Argonauts and Theseus. The fair-haired Amazon girl who captured his attention was barely covered by a short ecsomida, and carried her baskets proudly, as if she were not a slave but a warrior princess striding through the vast royal gardens in Pella.

Alexander’s meetings could not have remained secret. Spies watched his every step on Olympias’ orders. His mother, imperious and dreaming of greater power, could not allow her only son to pick his own lover. Especially when he chose one from the disobedient, barbaric Black Sea people. No. She would give him a girl who would be an obedient executor of Olympias’ will, so that she could influence her son even through love of another woman. She ordered the slave caught, her long braids cut short, and had her taken to the slave market in the distant city of Meliboa in Thessaly.

Olympias did not know her son well enough. This heavy blow destroyed the temple of the dreamer’s first love. The termination of that dream was far more serious than the simple first affair of a boy with an obliging slave. Alexander understood everything and asked no questions, but his mother had forever lost that opportunity for which she had ruined both his love and the girl. Her son didn’t speak a single word of it to her, but ever since then neither the beautiful slaves, nor hetaerae, nor the daughters of nobility attracted the prince’s attention. Olympias received no word of any partiality on her son’s behalf.

Ptolemy, unafraid of Alexander’s competition, decided he would come to visit Thais with his friends, including the mischievous Hephaestion, who knew all Athenian hetaerae. For Hephaestion, gambling and good wine surpassed the games of Eros. That game no longer held the former intensity of appeal for him.

It was not so for Ptolemy. Every meeting with a beautiful woman bore the desire of closeness, promising the yet unknown shades of passion, mysteries of beauty, in reality an entire world of bright and novel sensations. His expectations were not usually fulfilled, but tireless Eros pulled him into the arms of merry women again and again.

Not the talant of silver promised by Philopatros, but Ptolemy decided that he would win the contest for the famous hetaera’s heart. Let Philopatros set out ten talants, he thought. Pathetic coward.

The Macedonian patted the tender mark from the lash strike, swelling across his shoulder, and looked around.

A short cape, bordered by a sandbar, swung to the left from the shore and into the troubled, white-maned sea. This was the spot to which the four Macedonians had been swimming. No, he thought, correcting himself. Only three, since he had given up the competition, but ended up arriving earlier. A good walker would always cross the same distance faster on dry ground than a swimmer at sea, especially if the waves and the wind held back the ones in their power.

Slaves had been waiting for the swimmers, holding their clothes. They were surprised by the sight of Ptolemy as he came down from the steep shore toward them. He’d rinsed off sand and dust, gotten dressed, and carefully folded the woman’s cape, which had been given to him by Thais’ boy servant.

Two old olive trees stood silvery under the hill, shading a small, blindingly white house. It looked small under the giant tall cypresses. The Macedonians took a short flight of stairs and entered a miniature garden filled only with roses. On a blue sign over the door were painted the three usual letters, dark in vibrant crimson: omega, ksi, and epsilon. Below them was painted the word cochleon, or spiral seashell.

Unlike at other hetaerae’s houses, Thais’ name was not written over the entrance, nor was there the usual fragrant dusk in the front room. Wide open shutters displayed the view of the mass of Ceramic’s white houses. Mountain Licabett, shaped like a woman’s breast and overgrown by wolf-infested woods, rose in the distance behind the Acropolis. Pyrean road circled the hill and descended toward the Athenian harbor like a yellow stream among the cypresses.

Thais welcomed the four friends with a pleasant smile. Nearchus, who was slender and of average height for a Helenian or a Cretan, seemed small and fragile beside the two tall Macedonian and Hephaestion, the giant.

The guests settled in fragile armchairs with legs shaped like long horns of Cretan bulls. The huge Hephaestion, fearing he might shatter the chair, opted for a massive stool, and the quiet Nearchus chose a bench with a head rest.

Thais sat next to her friend, Nannion, who was slender and dark-skinned like an Egyptian woman. Nannion’s delicate Ionian chiton was covered by a blue himation [3] A heavier piece of cloth worn over a chiton as an overdress or a cloak. embroidered in gold with the traditional trim of stylized, hook-shaped waves at the bottom. After the eastern fashion, the hetaera’s himation was tossed over her right shoulder, over the back and pinned with a brooch at her left side.

Thais was dressed in a chiton of pink transparent cloth from either Persia or India, gathered into soft pleats and pinned at the shoulders with five silver pins. Gray himation with a trim of blue daffodils covered her from her waist to the ankles of her small feet, which were dressed in sandals with narrow silver straps. Unlike Nannion, Thais’ mouth and eyes were not made up. Her face, unafraid of tan, wore no traces of powder.

She listened to Alexander with interest, objecting or agreeing from time to time. Ptolemy was surprised to find that he felt slightly jealous, as this was the first time he’d seen his friend, the prince, this enraptured.

Hephaestion took hold of Nannion’s thin hands, teaching her the Khalkidykian finger game: three and five. Ptolemy had trouble focusing on the conversation, so taken was he by watching Thais. He twice shrugged impatiently. Noticing that, Thais smiled and observed him with narrowed, mocking eyes.