Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

They rode through the crowded streets at a mad gallop, accompanied by the frightened screams and threats of the scattering pedestrians and porters. The foursome flew up to the gates of stratopedon like a storm.

The soldier on guard, sleepy from the heat, didn’t move initially, having recognized Egesikhora’s foursome. Then he noticed that something was wrong and reluctantly tipped his spear, blocking their way. Thais didn’t even bother slowing down the enraged horses. The shield flew to the side with a thud, the spear crunched under the wheels. The Spartan was tossed toward a pillar. He screamed, raising the alarm.

The carriage barreled through the wide yard for military exercises, heading toward a tent, which was surrounded by a grated barrier. This is where strategist Eositeus usually sat. His house was located further back, under the tent. Attracted by the shouts, Eositeus ran out from under the tent. Thais wasn’t strong enough to stop the tetrippa, so she made it swerve and hooked an axle through the grate. Pieces of dry wood flew everywhere as the carriage destroyed the fence. Having run the tetrippa into a pillar, the horses were stopped. They reared up, swinging their front hooves and tossing their heads.

Worried captains ran in from everywhere. A group of goplits, the soldiers in metal armor, rushed out of the barracks and lined up. Hesiona snuck through the gates, following the carriage, and rode up to Thais’ aid.

The Athenian jumped off the carriage, landing at the shocked strategist’s feet.

“Murderer! Miserable coward!” she shouted, straightening as tall as she could. She stood in front of the giant, pointing her finger at him. “Go, look at your handiwork,” Thais snarled, then pointed at the carriage.

After hitting the pillar, Egesikhora’s body had rolled back and slid toward the carriage step. With her head resting over the mass of golden hair and her arms spread wide, the Spartan appeared asleep after a long trip, albeit in an awkward pose. Her life path had turned out to be short, only twenty-five years, so her incredible beauty hadn’t been able to delight people for long.

“How dare you accuse me, the descendant of Spartan kings, the famous warrior?”

“Have you heard this hyena’s deceitful words?” Thais turned to the shocked soldiers who had gathered near the broken grate. She let out a disdainful laugh. “The assassins he sent have already been caught and admitted everything.”

Thais spoke with such unshakable conviction that Eositeus turned gray with anger.

“Be quiet, you vile whore!” he roared, covering Thais’ mouth with his huge hand.

Hetaera bit his fingers, and the strategist screamed in pain, yanking away his hand.

“The gold-haired one didn’t want to be with him anymore, and you were leaving Egypt,” Thais explained hurriedly. “So he bribed three …”

The Athenian barely managed to dodge an enormous fist. Then Hesiona, half-naked, jumped over Eositeus’ shoulders with a scream.

“I am a witness!” she screamed, clawing at his eyes.

The strategist pulled her off as if she were a cat, tossing her into a corner. He bore down upon Thais, pulling out a broad Kilian knife. Thais realized in that moment that she was about to be killed. Feeling no fear, she stood before the giant, looking him straight in the eye.

At the last moment Thais was defended by Menedem, who appeared out of nowhere.

Eositeus roared at him. “Away with you, cub, slave of a slut. Hey, someone grab the damn woman!”

None of the soldiers moved, despite the famous Spartan discipline. Everyone loved Egesikhora and Thais, and the accusation sounded too much like truth.

Eositeus realized hesitation would mean his downfall. Pushing Menedem aside, he grabbed Thais by her chiton and pulled her toward him, tearing the fabric. That was when Menedem struck him so hard in the chest that the strategist flew off by several steps and fell, hitting his head on the wall. When Eositeus jumped up, there was neither fear nor anger in his face, just determination. He was a skillful fighter, and deceived the unarmed young warrior with a side swipe of a knife. Then he turned suddenly, leaned over a bent knee and dealt a terrible blow into Menedem’s liver from underneath.

As if in a terrible dream, Thais saw the powerful muscles of her faithful athlete sag. As if he broke in half. Clasping his hands over the wound, Menedem fell to his knees, dark blood rushing out of his mouth. Eositeus leaned forward, trying to free the deeply set weapon, and at that moment, Menedem gathered the last of his strength and struck Eositeus over the top of the head with the edges of both hands. There was enough power left in the dying athlete to make the strategist’s neck crunch, causing him to fall at Thais’ feet with his arm reaching out, as for one last strike, still clutching the bloody knife.

Thais leaned over Menedem and the warrior managed to smile at her. Every true Helenian died with a smile, which always struck foreigners. Menedem’s lips moved, but Thais could not hear him. Light went out for her and she fainted over Menedem’s broad chest.

The Spartan captains silently lifted Thais, leaving her in the care of Hesiona. Menedem was dead, and Eositeus hummed dully, turning his head, unable to move his paralyzed arms and legs.

The strategist’s second in command, a Spartan of a noble family, approached Eositeus. He pulled out a sword and showed it to Eositeus. According to the sacred tradition, Laconians always finished off their deadly wounded with their consent, if they were conscious. The strategist asked for death with his eyes, and in a moment he was no more.

Hesiona managed to wake up her mistress. She begged her to wait till the strategist’s second provided a cart. The hetaera pushed the Theban away and jumped up.

“We must go. Bring Salmaakh,” she replied, ignoring Hesiona’s frightened gaze. “I must bury Egesikhora and Menedem, like ancient heroes of Hellas. And I must do it immediately, while they are still beautiful.” Thais looked around, then whispered, “Where is Archimachus, the strategist’s second?”

Hesiona managed to delay her mistress just long enough that she could brush out her hair a little bit and pin up her chiton.

Thais knew Archimachus well. She sought him out in the crowd of excited captains, seeking the stern, elderly warrior, and arranged the burial with him. Then she went back to the city with two junior officers, having sent Hesiona to Egesikhora’s house with a covered cart. Inside it, Egesikhora’s and Menedem’s bodies had been placed on a pile of capes. Archimachus provided an entire detachment, and a lumber merchant sent thirty slaves with sixty carts of fragrant cedar logs. Thais paid for the logs as well as for five trunks of fragrant Arabian trees with all of her remaining money, half of her jewelry and her bed of iron wood with ivory.

When the Athenian’s two most beloved people lay dressed in holiday garments, united in death on a giant pyre, decomposition hadn’t yet touched them. Their heads pointed north, and the golden red horses, killed, like in ancient times, to accompany Egesikhora on her way across the asphodel fields of Hades, lay on the left. Their manes and bright hides matched the Spartan hetaera’s long braids, flowing almost to her bare feet. The white pole horses were laid out on the right side, and the carriage was set at their feet.

The pyre towered on the ledge under the wall of the western cliff, almost exactly across from Egesikhora’s house. Thais climbed up to the corner of the pyre at the height of five elbows, and paused in her farewell grief, gazing for the last time at the beautiful faces of the two people most precious to her, taken away too soon.

Menedem’s comrades stood around in full armor, silent and glum, their spears tipped forward. Only an hour prior they had buried their strategist behind the wall of a small Helenian cemetery on the eastern bank of the Nile. Slaves of both hetaerae wept, but did not scream, as was appropriate in Hellas. Two servants who started wailing after the Egyptian fashion were quickly asked to leave. Only the sharp screams of the wooden burial gingras (flutes) violated the heavy silence.