Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

Thais immediately remembered where she had seen something like that. “It’s Crete, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, her eyes shining.

Nearchus replied with a wide pleased smile. “There are ruins further down. See? That looks like a column.”

“I want to see that,” Thais said. She looked down at the water, considering. “The water is not cold, despite winter time, unlike in Hellas …”

“The locals wouldn’t be caught dead swimming this time of year,” Nearchus said with a chuckle, then grew suddenly glum.

Thais realized that he remembered Egesikhora and gently patted his arm.

“I’ll go for a dive,” she said, and ran toward the sea.

Hesiona dashed after her, but both were passed by Nearchus. “In that case,” he yelled over his shoulder, “I am going first. A-e-o …” he yelled, clearing his lungs, the way sea sponge divers did.

The Cretan shed his clothes, then dove, followed by Thais and, much to Thais’ surprise, Hesiona, who ended up close by. Thais knew the Theban was a decent swimmer, but had never considered her capable of more. Concerned, she signed to Hesiona to go back to the surface, but the girl shook her head stubbornly and went even deeper into the dusky shadow, to where Nearchus was beckoning.

A large image of an octopus was clearly visible, the fanciful curves of his tentacles illuminated by a ray of light on the flat surface of a large stone slab. A fallen column with a wide top narrowed toward the bottom, after a Cretan fashion. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough breath to examine it.

Thais went up, but Hesiona suddenly fell behind. The movements of her arms slowed. Nearchus dashed to her aid, shoving the Theban up and catching her at the surface just in time. As she recovered, Hesiona lowered her eyes sheepishly. She no longer tried competing with swimmers like Nearchus and Thais, who kept diving until they grew cold.

Climbing out onto a dry slab warmed by the sun, Thais was surprised for the second time. Hesiona didn’t rush to get dressed, but was taking her time to dry her hair. She was not heeding Nearchus, who jumped and walked on his arms to get warm, glancing at his companions discreetly, as was appropriate for a polite hymnophile.

Thais’ deep tan, that had scandalized Athenian fashionistas, had grown paler in Egypt, her coppery skin becoming lighter. Hesiona, barely gilded by the sun, looked charming even next to the famous hetaera. Her legs, which were as strong as Thais’, could have looked too muscular, had they not been so beautifully outlined. Her hair became fluffed by the wind and surrounded her head in a thick mane, seemingly too heavy for the delicate, maidenly neck.

Hesiona tipped her head to the side. Deep shadows hid her large eyes and gave the girl’s face an expression of tired sadness. She rested one hand on a prominent curve of her hip and used the other to brush the sand off her body with slow, smooth movements. A brief sigh of a shore wind tossed Hesiona’s hair over her forehead. She started with chill and lifted her head. Suddenly embarrassed, she covered herself with her hair and ran away under the questionable protection of the tall clumps of dry grass.

Nearchus felt a strange sense of pity and attraction to the tragic, gentle and passionate Hesiona. This girl, in whom he sensed a bright and delicate spirit, seemed akin to him, a former hostage and exile since childhood.

From the glint in his eyes Thais understood the Cretan’s emotions. While she dressed, Thais said quietly, “Do not rush, seafarer, and she will make a good companion for you.”

“I will not rush. I understand that she needs to be awakened. Will you give Hesiona away?”

“How can I not? She is not a slave, but a free, educated woman. I love her and will be glad of her happiness. But you must watch out. One wrong step and you will be dealing with an unusual destiny and you will not be able to take her, like the others who have tried.”

“Will you help me?”

“First of all, I will not interfere.”

Nearchus pulled Thais to him and kissed her bare shoulder.

“Do not rush with your thanks,” Thais said, laughing. Then she remembered something and pushed Nearchus away.

Calling Hesiona, Thais pulled apart the bracelet on her left arm, the sign of a slave, with one swift movement. She pulled it off and tossed it into the sea. The Theban had no time to say anything, and Nearchus clapped his hands thrice, expressing his approval.

They crossed the strait, steering at the tall pillar which marked the spot for a future breakwater, and found more remains of Cretan structures near the west end of the strait.

Nearchus said that he was repeatedly surprised by Alexander’s unmistakable instinct. A port, constructed so substantially thousands of years ago, undoubtedly was an important harbor along the trade routes of the great Cretan sea state. And now it was to serve the state of Philip’s son.

Thais stayed in the future Alexandria till new moon, swimming in the sea even during windy days.

Part of the Macedonian detachment, which had accompanied Alexander to the Ammon’s oasis, arrived without him. Much to everyone’s surprise, Alexander went from the oasis straight to Memphis, taking a difficult and dangerous path across the Libyan desert. He was accompanied by Ptolemy, Hephaestion and Cleitus, the brother of Alexander’s wet nurse, and an incredibly powerful giant, nicknamed Black. The trip to Ammon’s sanctuary turned out to be not hard in the winter time. They were able to find water in every large hollow. The way to the east, to Memphis, however, was more dangerous and difficult. Huge mountains of sand fumed and rustled under the wind, obstructing the entire four thousand stadiums with an endless series of hills.

It was unclear why Alexander had decided to undertake this trip, since it contributed little to his glory.

Nearchus shrugged. “It is clear to me.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“Alexander needs to follow Darius into the depths of Asia, across deserts and heat-filled plains. He wants to test and strengthen himself.”

“What did the oracle of Ammon say?”

“Nobody knows. The oracle’s priests and garamants, the keepers of the oak, met Alexander with the greatest of honors. In the morning, he entered the temple alone. His companions waited for him the entire day and the following night. At dawn Alexander left Ammon’s sanctuary, saying that he’d found out everything he wanted, and everything he needed from the god.”

“Then what are we to do?”

“Sail to Memphis. Today. Or do you want to spend more time with the sea?”

“No. I miss Salmaakh.”

Again the endless plains of the Delta stretched before them, looking even more dull after the open spaces of the sea. The Cretan continued telling tales about Alexander’s campaigns, except now Thais frequently went to the bow deck, leaving him alone with the Theban. She noticed that Hesiona’s glances directed at Nearchus were becoming increasingly tender and dreamy. One evening Hesiona quietly slipped into their shared quarters where Thais had retired earlier, but still lay awake. Hearing that the girl could barely contain her laughter, Thais asked what had happened.

“Look,” Hesiona said, and held an enormous sea sponge to the light of a lucnos.

“A gift from Nearchus,” Thais said, admiring the sponge. “It is a rare thing, to match this basin.”

A shallow, silver lined cleansing basin stood in the corner of their quarters, so large and heavy it could only be moved by two strong slaves.

“Shall we try it?” Hesiona suggested with a laugh. She rolled the basin out like a wheel and dropped it to the floor.

The ship shook from the basin’s thunderous fall, and the helmsman’s assistant ran into the room in a panic. Charmed by the women’s smiles, he immediately sent two sailors to fill the basin with fresh water.