Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

As always, Egesikhora didn’t just enter, but burst in, spreading the scent of rose oil and sweet Arabian resin.

“You’ve been to the Neit temple again,” she challenged her friend. “When will it end? I can’t wait for the Macedonians to get here and straighten you out.”

“Why? Because the Spartans failed?” Thais teased.

“Helenian artists and poets of Memphis are having a symposium tonight,” Egesikhora announced, ignoring her friend’s jibe. “I dare you not to be there.”

“Then what?”

“Then I don’t envy you. They can embarrass you in songs and drawings. You won’t forget it.”

Thais grew serious. “You are right. I’ll go.” “Good for you. And we’ll have to dance, so we’d better rest.” Egesikhora stretched out next to Thais and beckoned Hesiona. The latter perked up, tossed away the linen dress and started massaging the Spartan thoroughly, pouring generous doses of oil over her. Both friends relaxed became drowsy under the caring hands. They fell asleep, covered by a blanket of soft Cappadocian yarn.

The symposium took place in a large house with a sprawling garden, owned by the wealthiest Greek merchant in Memphis. Considering this was not the best time of year, the number of guests was unprecedented. Haughty Persian nobles, who had despised Helenians until recently, stayed away from them after Alexander’s invasion and the battle of Granic. Now they sought the company of influential Greeks after the king of kings had sustained a brutal defeat at Issus. Thais and Egisikhora had earned the nicknames Chrisosphira and Argiropesa (“Gold-footed” and “Silver-legged”), by their poetic admirers, and their arrival caused shouts of admiration. Both friends showed up accompanied by Spartan captains, led by the strategist Eositeus himself.

The wine servers diluted both the thick purple wine from the Upper Egypt vineyards and the bright pink one from Syria using water from glass goblets decorated with fanciful spirals of various colors. Music played quietly, combining the sadness of Helenian double flutes and the sharp moans of the Egyptian ones, the seemingly distant ringing of sistras, the humming of sitar, lyre and a large harp. A choir of Egyptian mandolins with long necks and bells joined in from time to time, overpowered by tambourines. Following a skillful conductor, the collection of such different instruments created a sad rhythmic chorus interspersed with bright, lively splashes of high notes and slightly rough ringing strikes. To all of this, the dancers of Hellas, Egypt and Finikia danced well.

Both famous hetaerae wore transparent silvery white chitons. They were identical except for the different jewelry emphasizing Thais’ tanned darkness and Egesikhora’s divinely gold coif. A necklace of fiery red garnets (pyrope or Nophek), the stone of spring equinox, circled the Athenian’s long neck. The dangling earrings of large amethysts, amulets against intoxication, glittered on each side of her lively round face. Egesikhora had the same earrings but made of beryllium, the sea stone, while her wide Egyptian necklace of lapis lazuli and white Syrian agate signified the coming of summer to those who understood the language of jewels.

The Symposium started, as was customary in Hellas, with a light dinner, followed by dancing, performances by singers, poets and storytellers, eventually deteriorating into drunkenness and debauchery. That was when respectable hetaerae and actresses left the overly enthusiastic male company.

However, for now there was still a long way to go before the crossing of limits and loss of the sense of beauty. The enraptured guests listened and watched, forgetting to drain their goblets. Helenians despised gluttony, and considered themselves to be above barbarians, which included all foreigners. The Greeks considered it uncivilized and ridiculous to follow the Syrian and Persian customs of constantly eating or drinking something, snacking on nuts or seeds, making coarse jokes, talking incessantly, and hugging strange women. They preferred calm contemplation, self-pondering and joyous admiration of beauty.

A star dance performed by Egyptian girls unraveled slowly, accompanied by the ringing of bells and sistras. The girls were draped in long garments of the finest linen and wore red wreaths over their wavy hair. They walked in a line, slender like blades of grass, focused and haughty. Their row turned to the right, by the sun or strophe, showing the movement of stars. Breaking the line, a group of swifter girls moved antistrophe, or to the left. Their entire outfit consisted of a belt made of colorful glass beads. The dancers in white leaned forward, touching the floor with outstretched hands, while the dark-skinned bodies undulated between them in smooth, snakelike movements, their clasped hands raised above their heads. The Egyptian dances were performed carefully and reverently with no unattractive, awkward or unfitting movements. Nothing violated the charm of these streaming and bending young bodies. The Helenians froze in numb and respectful admiration.

Then the Egyptian girls were replaced by auletridae, accompanied by the fast trills of strings and beat of tambourines. They twirled, spun and shook their hips in the movements of apokinnis, the hetaerae’s favorite dance of erotic courage and bravery. The Helenians were set on fire by the power of Eros. Delighted shouts were heard, goblets were raised higher and wine was splashed to honor Aphrodite.

“The Greek girls dance wonderfully here,” Eositeus exclaimed. “But I am waiting for your performance,” he said, and put his arm possessively around Egesikhora.

She obligingly leaned against his shoulder. “Thais has to go first. And you are mistaken thinking the auletridae dance well. Look, along with the perfect movement they have quite a few coarse, unattractive poses. The pattern of the dance is disorderly and excessively varied. It is not the highest art, like the Egyptians showed. Those were beyond all praise.”

“I don’t know,” Eositeus grumbled. “I just don’t like dance if there is no Eros in it.”

“There was Eros, just not in the form you understand,” Thais interrupted.

A group of male poets appeared before the guests, their garb flamboyant. Eositeus reclined on his settee and covered his eyes with his hand. Thais and Egesikhora left their seats and moved to the outer edge of the table. The poets belonged to kikliks, dedicated to the circle of Homer-like epic tellers. They gathered in a circular choir and sang a poem of Nauzikaya, accompanied by two lyres. Akin to Leskh of Mitilena, the poets strictly followed the smooth flow of hexametric form and drew the listeners in with the power of the poem. They told about Odyssey’s heroics, something every autochthon, or natural-born Helenian, could relate to as they’d heard the stories since childhood.

As soon as the last verse of the rhythmic declamation was sung, a jolly young man stepped before the audience. He was dressed in gray blue garb and his black sandals sported high, ‘feminine’ crisscrossing of straps around his ankles. He turned out to be a rhapsody poet or an improvisational singer, accompanying himself on a sitar.

The poet approached Thais, then bowed, touching her knees. Afterwards he straightened solemnly. A thickly-bearded lyre player in a dark chiton came to stand behind him. After the young man’s nod, he struck the strings. The rhapsodian’s strong voice sounded through the banquet hall, constructed with the knowledge of laws of acoustics. The poem, the anthem to Thais’ charms, caused a humorous excitement among the guests. People started singing along with the rhapsodian, and the kiklik poets gathered into a circle again, serving as a vocal accompaniment. New epithets placed at the end of each verse of the improvised anthem was picked up by dozens of strong throats and thundered through the hall. Anaitis, the fiery one; Targotelea, Anedomasta, the proud-breasted one; Kiklotomerion, round-hipped one; Telgorion, the charmer; Panthorpa, she who gives the greatest bliss; Tolmeropis, daring-eyed one …