Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

But she didn’t like that dream. With time, the contrast grew sharper between the pure serenity of love emitted by Urania, and the frenzied art and labor of the kind of life for which Thais became famous. She was an educated hetaera and a famous dancer among the most knowledgeable Athenians in the world. The same joyous serenity Thais had experienced in those half-childish dreams of Urania had returned to Thais during her meeting with the philosopher.

Rumors of the godlike son of Philip, the Macedonian king, continued to spread through Memphis. Alexander laid siege to Tyre.

Its citizens were stubborn, but the skilled Macedonian mechanics decided to create a link between the island upon which the city stood, and the mainland. The demise of the ancient Finikian port was inevitable. When Tyre fell, there would be nothing but Giza left to resist the victorious Alexander.

After that, he could be expected in Egypt any day.

Alexander’s fleet cut off Tyre, then continued further and further south. A Hellenic ship traveling to Naucratis had recently met five ships which had supposedly been commanded by Nearchus himself.

Egesikhora became belligerent and restless, which had never happened to the Lacedemonian before. Perhaps it was the unrelenting hot Libyan wind that penetrated people’s souls, making them impatient, quick to punish, insensitive and rude. Thais had long since noticed that she tolerated the heat better than Egesikhora did. The wind of Set influenced Thais less, and she tried to meet with her friend less frequently to avoid arguments. Instead, Thais went to the river bank with her faithful Hesiona or with Menedem. There she sat on a floating pier for a long time. The slow flowing water hypnotized the Helenians and each became absorbed in his or her own thoughts: deep, secret, and vague.

One day Thais received an invitation from the Delos priest, delivered to her verbally by a boy, a servant from the Neit temple. Thais dressed modestly and was ready at dawn of the following day, anxious for the meeting.

The Delos philosopher sat on the temple steps which descended toward the Nile. He was absorbed in contemplation of the surprisingly quiet dawn.

“Have you been to the Thebes we Helenians call Diospolis?” he asked, meeting the Athenian with a question. He continued in response to her affirmative nod. “Have you seen the base of a golden circle, stolen by Kambis two centuries ago during the invasion of Egypt?”

‘I have. It was explained to me that the original circle was made of pure gold and was thirty elbows across and one elbow thick. Could that be?”

“Yes. The circle weighed approximately thirty thousand talants. Kambis used five thousand camels to transport it to Persia, after cutting it into ten thousand pieces.”

“Why would anyone cast such a senseless mass of gold?”

“It was silly, but not senseless. The greatest pharaoh-conqueror wanted to prove to the entire Ecumene the eternity of Egypt, his power, and his faith in the great circle of things. The ascent to power of male rulers brought on a desperate desire to be eternalized. Women know how fragile life is, how near death can be, but men dream of immortality. They kill endlessly, and for any reason. Such ancient contradiction has no solution. And if a man can create a closed circle for himself, for others and for an entire country, it would be with him in the center and an omnipotent and menacing god above.”

“What would be the purpose of this?”

“Solidity of power and wellbeing for kings and nobles, strength of faith for priests, stability of thinking among people, and unquestioning obedience of slaves.”

“Is that why Egypt carried its faith through millennia?”

“Not only Egypt. There are countries completely closed upon themselves for the purpose of preserving their kings, gods, traditions and way of life for millennia. I call them circular. Such is Egypt, as well as Persia and Syria. There is Rome in the west, and far to the west there is the Middle country of yellow — skinned, slant-eyed people.”

“And what of us Hellas? Do we not have the understanding that everything flows?”

“Starting with Crete, the entire Hellas, Ionia, and Finikia are open countries. There is no life-locking circle for us. It is replaced by a spiral.”

“I have heard of a silver spiral.”

“You have? It is not time to speak of that yet. The heritage of the vanished children of Minos covers a vast territory. It spreads to the west, into Libya and even further to the east, where ancient cities stand tens of thousands of stadiums beyond Hircania. It continues all the way beyond Parapamizes, beyond the desert Arakhozia to the river called the Ind. They say there is not much left of them but ruins, akin to Crete, but the open spirit of these people lives in others thousands of years later.”

“Why do you open this knowledge to me, Father? How can I, a servant of Aphroditem, help you?”

“You serve Eros, and there is no mightier force in our Hellenic world. Meetings, conversations, secret exchanges are in your power. You are intelligent, strong, curious, and dream of spiritual enlightenment.”

“How do you know that, Father?”

“Much is open to me in the hearts of people. And I think you will soon follow Alexander to the east, into the vast expanses of the Asian plain. Every intelligent woman is a poet in her heart. You are not a philosopher, or a historian, or an artist. Each of them is blinded by his own purpose. And you are not a woman-warrior, for all you have from an Amazon is the art of horseback riding and courage. You are not a killer by your nature. That is why you are more free than any other person in Alexander’s army, and I choose you to be my eyes. You shall see that which I never will. Near death awaits me.”

“Then how will I tell you?”

“Not me. The others. Intelligent, important people will always be near you. Poets and artists will be attracted to your essence. And it will be even better than if I could tell them. If it comes from your mouth it will remain in the memory of people, become a part of the poets’ songs and the writings of historians, will spread through Ecumene in legends and reach those who need to know.”

Thais regarded him anxiously. “I am afraid you are making a mistake, Father. I am not the one you need. I am not wise, I am ignorant. Eros turns my head, as do dance, song, admiration of men, envy of women and a fast ride.”

He held up his hands as if to hold her back. “Those are only transitional signs of your power. I shall initiate you, teach you the inner meaning of things. I shall free you from fear.”

“What must I do?”

“Come tomorrow in the evening, dressed in a new linostolia, accompanied by the one I send. Wait on the steps until Niktur, the Guardian of Heaven, is reflected in the waters of the Nile. Arrange your affairs so you could be absent for nine days.”

“Yes, Father. But who will you send?”

“He will appear at the appointed time. Are your periods in correspondence with the Moon?”

“Yes,” Thais admitted, suddenly shy.

“Do not be ashamed. There is no mystery or anything unworthy about a woman’s healthy body. Give me your left hand.”

Thais obeyed. The Delos philosopher placed it on the table, spread her fingers and ruffled through a small ivory box for a few seconds. He produced a ring made of electron with a red hyacinth of incredible deep pink shade. An isosceles triangle, one with a broad base and its tip pointing down, was carved into the flat stone.

Slipping it on Thais’ index finger, the philosopher said, “This is the sign of power of the great female goddess. Now go.”

Having returned from the temple early, Thais sprawled out, facedown, on her wide bed. Her arms were under her head, and she swung her heels in the air while Clonaria rubbed walnut oil into her back. Hesiona, offended it had not been she given the honor, rustled in the corner, fitting the newly purchased linen garment, the linostolia.