Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

“You are right. For thousands of future years Hellas will remain a beautiful dream for at least somewhat worthy people, despite all our shortcomings and mistakes. Here we are.”

The Delos philosopher stopped and turned to Thais. The hetaera froze. The philosopher smiled encouragement to her and took her hand, having whispered something to the poet. The latter vanished in a side passageway, while the philosopher led Thais into a high, round space lit by smoking torches and made of aromatic wood. He raised his arm, and invisible drums thundered from somewhere. They beat loudly, increasing the tempo, and soon the thundering cascades of sounds crashing over Thais made her entire body shiver, drawing her into the rhythm and power.

The philosopher leaned toward the Athenian and, raising his voice, ordered, “Take off everything. Sandals too.”

Thais obeyed without question. The Delos philosopher patted her hair approvingly and told her to take out the comb and ribbons.

“The blood of the Great Goddess is obvious in you. Stand in the center of the circle.”

Thais stood in the center, still shuddering from the thunder, and the Delos philosopher disappeared. Suddenly, nine women appeared, seeming to come out of walls themselves. They wore wreaths over their hair, and were otherwise nude, like Thais. They were not Egyptians but not Helenians, either. She thought they belonged to some people unknown to Thais. One of them, she appeared to be the eldest, was stout and broad-chested, with dark bronze skin. An entire mane of fine curly hair surrounded her face. She ran up to Thais while the rest formed a circle.

“Do as we do,” she ordered in good Greek, taking the Athenian by the hand.

The women moved in a line, lifting their knees high and holding each other’s long hair. The tempo increased and transformed into a run. Disconnecting, they spun like a top, strobilus, then froze and began undulating in a wild dance of the Trojan goddess, rotating their hips madly. They ran again, tossing back their heads and spreading their arms, as if they were ready to hug the entire Ecumene. The thunder of the drums turned into solid roar, the dancers performed complex moves, sometimes shouting something out with dry mouths. One after another, the women fell on the floor and rolled to the wall, away from the other dancers’ feet.

Thais, having given herself up to the wild ritual, didn’t notice that she was alone with the eldest dancer. The other eight lay on the floor, exhausted. The eldest continued to dance, sheathed in sweat, looking at Thais in amazement, as the latter kept up with her and only flushed brighter and brighter.

Suddenly the dancer stopped, her arms raised high. The music, if one could call the deafening thunder music, stopped just as silently. The eldest dancer bowed to Thais, then wailed sharply, summoning the other dancers up from the floor. The Athenian remained alone, still fluttering with excitement.

The voice of the Delos philosopher sounded from somewhere above. “Wake up. Go to the right.”

Thais noticed a narrow, crack-like exit from the round hall and went that way, weaving slightly, as if she were in a fog. A door clanged closed behind her and she found herself in complete darkness. Thais reached out with her arms and took several cautious steps.

Suddenly, a mass of sea water washed over her from above. The stunned Athenian stepped back, but remembered the closed door behind her and went forward instead. The passage turned at a right angle once, then again. After the second turn, a barely noticeable light flickered in the corner. Wet from head to toe, but still not completely cooled from the dance, Thais rushed forward with relief, then stopped in terror.

She stood in a tall hall without a roof, its walls rising into the starry night sky like those of a well. The entire floor was taken up by a pool of water. A narrow strip of beach pebbles sloped toward the water from where Thais stood and water splashed carefully over the pebbles. A breeze came from somewhere, trying to put out the only torch, throwing red glints over the black water. Thais’ teeth chattered and she moved her shoulders trying to stop shivering, but the oppressive feeling of strange and mysterious fear refused to go away.

“Do not be afraid, my daughter. I am with you,” the Delos philosopher said, appearing on the opposite side of the pool. She waited as he walked slowly along the granite edge toward her.

“According to the ritual, we must chain you to the rock to be devoured by a sea monster. But you have already undergone a much more frightening test at the Labyrinth, and we decided to drop the first stage. I shall spread the coal from three sacred trees here: oak, walnut and willow. They are used for burial pyres and symbolize power, wisdom and charm. You shall spend the night on the coals, like on a death bed.” The philosopher turned and gathered an armful of black sheep fleece from a niche in the wall which he handed it to Thais. “Take this,” he said. “You shall spend the night here, lying prone till the first signs of dawn. At dawn, go back to the gallery, turn left to follow the light of a luminary, and enter the dark cave, where you shall spend the day. When you hear a bell, go back to the pebbles till the next dawn. This time, lie on your back, look at the sky and recite the ancient anthem to Gaea. You will pass two more nights in this manner. Then I shall come for you. You will have to fast. The drinking water is in the cave, in an amphora near the bed. Haire!”

Thais, shivering from the chill, spread some of the fleece over the rocks. She tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable on this unusual bed, tried to cover herself with the other half. Fortunately, the barely audible splash of the waves soothed her and she drifted to sleep.

She woke up shaking from the cold and hurting from the pain of the pebbles sticking to her body. The fleece smelled of sheep, the dark water in the pool seemed unclean, and her hair was in disarray, stuck together from the salt water shower the night before. Thais raised her head and saw the sky had lost its velvety blackness and was turning gray. Recalling the teacher’s orders, she gathered the fleece in a pile, rubbed her numb limbs and went into the underground passage.

She felt hungry, her mouth was dry and she felt dirty. Thais was puzzled. Could it be that such simple inconveniences constituted the trials of initiation? And what kind of initiation was this? Suddenly, the Athenian remembered that the philosopher had never said anything about it, and she hadn’t asked, having felt childlike trust toward the strange old man. If he considered it necessary to initiate her, then she assumed that’s what was needed. But the night’s inconveniences, followed by nothing but discomfort made her skeptical. She had simply slept, albeit on a dreadful bed, in an odd gloomy well. Why? What had changed about her if anything?

To her surprise, in the cave the Athenian found a wash basin and everything necessary to complete her toilette. Having washed and brushed out her thick hair, Thais drank some water and felt much better, despite the hunger. The luminary faded and went out, leaving the cave completely dark. Thais found the bed, which was covered with soft cloth, by touch and lay there deep in thought until sleep came upon her. She woke at the ringing strike of a copper bell, went back to the pool, spread the fleece to make it as comfortable as possible, then settled down on the crackling pebbles, gazing into the bright starry sky.

Having gotten plenty of sleep during the day, she didn’t sleep all night, and never took her eyes away from the stars. She didn’t notice the strange sensation of flight when it came to her. Along with Thais, Earth itself was reaching for the sky, ready to embrace it.