Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

“We are just back from the market,” the slave girl rushed to tell her, “and all anyone can speak of is the murder of the messenger who arrived yesterday from Delta. He was found at dawn near the station gates.”

“Go get Hesiona,” the Athenian said, interrupting Clonaria.

Hesiona ran in from the garden and was immediately dispatched with the order to bring Egesikhora. Thais ordered them to prepare broad white Egyptian capes and to saddle Salmaakh. Having put on a short chiton for horseback riding, she paced impatiently in front of her terrace, waiting for her friend. Finally, alarmed by the delay, she told Clonaria to run and check on Egesikhora. A distance of a quarter skhen was nothing for the healthy girl. When the slave girl returned, out of breath but alone, Thais realized that her concerns were coming true.

“Chrisocoma and the ‘Daughter of the Snake’ rode off together on the tetrippa,” Clonaria said.

“Where?”

“Nobody knows. Down that road.” The slave girl pointed south.

Thais realized Egesikhora must have decided to hide her precious horses in the gardens, near the tombs of the ancient kings by the Blunt Pyramid. The owner of the gardens was a Helenian on his father’s side, and one of the most fervent of Egesikhora’s admirers.

Thais jumped into the saddle and disappeared in a cloud of dust before the slave girl could say another word. The western cliffs ran close to the river. Having circled them, Thais reined in Salmaakh. Egesikhora’s tetrippa appeared from behind the shrubs, approaching slowly. One glance was enough to confirm that something terrible had happened.

Hesiona stood leaning against arbila, the front wall of the carriage, with her head bowed. Her hair was tangled by the wind, her chiton slid off one shoulder. Pressing Salmaakh forward, Thais realized with piercing clarity that the fan of dusty golden strands fluttering in the wind through the cutouts in the right side of the carriage was her friend’s hair. Riding closer, she saw Hesiona’s bloodstained chiton, the dark stains on the yellow paint and slow terrible drops falling into dust behind the horses.

Hesiona, who was whiter than the walls of Athens, wrapped the reins around the ledge in the arbila, supporting the top harness pole. The girl was not guiding the horses, but rather holding them back. Salmaakh backed away from the carriage, sensing blood and death.

Thais jumped off her mare, tossed the reins to the side and caught up with the carriage at a run. Egesikhora leaned on the arbila sideways, her lifeless head hanging low under the burden of heavy hair. Stepping over the Spartan’s legs, Thais put her arms around the semiconscious Hesiona, took the reins away from her and stopped the tetrippa.

Hesiona came to her senses. Opening her mouth with difficulty, she whispered, “We can’t. There are murderers behind.”

Thais didn’t answer, but leaned over her beloved friend. She lifted her head and saw the gray lips and the whites of her eyes visible through half-closed lids. A wide wound below her left collarbone, inflicted from above with a military dart, had been deadly. Thais turned the still warm and flexible body of her friend to the side and settled it at the bottom of the carriage.

For a moment she imagined that Egesikhora, alive and well, had simply curled up and fallen asleep along the way, but reality brought Thais back to the moment. A sob shook the Athenian’s entire body. Trying to overcome her grief, Thais busied herself with Hesiona. There was a long wound along the girl’s right side from yet another strike. The killer had missed and only sliced through the skin and the surface muscles; however, blood still flowed in a wide band over her hip. Thais used her head wrap to bind the wound, then started the horses, whistling to Salmaakh, who trotted nearby.

She reached a small clear creek, still not saying a word to Hesiona. After giving the girl some water to drink and washing her face and blood-covered hands, Thais froze in thought. Hesiona, kept quiet. She had tried to say something but the hetaera’s expression frightened her into silence. It was distorted by grief and desperation, and turned increasingly menacing, yet was strangely filled with light at the same time.

Suddenly Thais dashed toward the carriage and examined it, fixing the crooked krinon, a ring on the harness pole. Hesiona followed her, but Thais shook her head and silently pointed at Salmaakh. Hesiona came out of her bewildered state and hopped into saddle with unexpected ease. As she sorted out the reins, Thais observed the Theban and felt confident the girl could stay in the saddle.

Suspicious figures in white Egyptian capes trotted up the straight portion of the road behind them. Thais smiled ominously, then emitted a piercing screech that sent the horses dashing forward like mad. The startled Salmaakh leaped sideways, almost tossing Hesiona off the saddle, but the Theban spread out on the horse’s back, clutching at her mane. Thais rushed forward headlong, driving the four horses as her friend had taught her. She have never before done that, not even with Egesikhora by her side.

Egesikhora, the gold-haired one, the silver-legged one, she of the beautiful shoulders … her inseparable friend, the confidant of all secrets, the companion of all travels … Thais shook with sobs. But the thought of the murderer and revenge, anger and rage overcame all other feelings. She flew forward like an Erinia herself, focused on nothing but reaching her goal.

She hadn’t had enough time to learn from Egesikhora the musical work of the fingers required to coordinate all four horses, but remembered that reins of the pole pair were held between the thumbs and the index fingers of the right and left hands, whereas the middle and ring fingers held the reins woven through the harness rings at the withers of the outrunners. The turns of tetrippa at her hands were awkward, so Thais rode in a straight line as much as she could, barely avoiding obstacles.

Thais’ urge transferred to Hesiona, who rode Salmaakh next to the carriage. The mare caught up with the carriage, rode ahead, then lagged behind when the road became straight and even, like a stadium field.

Whenever she caught up with Thais, Hesiona tried telling her what had happened. Thais didn’t need any explanations. What had happened was the one thing she had been most afraid of, and she rushed at full speed to the one she knew to be guilty of Egesikhora’s death.

From Hesiona’s halting, unconnected exclamations Thais understood that her friend was trapped on the way to the gardens, which were three skhens away from the center of Memphis. Egesikhora had asked Hesiona to accompany her and help handle the horses, in case her friend wasn’t home. Thais realized that Egesikhora must have sensed the approaching danger and didn’t want to be alone.

After covering more than two skhens, they reached a small grove, its trees leaning over the road. Two men with spears blocked their way. Egesikhora rode straight at them. The men jumped to the side, but someone hiding in the branches of a large tree threw a spear at Egesikhora. She collapsed instantly, dead on the spot.

Hesiona had no clear memory of what happened next. She could think of only one thing: to take Egesikhora to the city, to the mistress. She must have been forced to stop the running foursome and turn around on the narrow road when the murderers appeared again. That was when someone had thrown a knife and wounded her.

She rode away despite her bleeding wound. Having left her pursuers far behind, she slowed the horses and wrapped the reins around the arbila ledge in order to pull the spear out of Egesikhora’s body. With great effort she managed to yank the weapon out before she felt faint.

That was when Thais had found her. She claimed the gods themselves must have brought the mistress there, otherwise the assassins would have caught up with the carriage.