Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

Alexander laughed merrily, and Ptolemy couldn’t find anything with which to object. Lysippus asked Thais, “Tell me, what made you think of performing hippoginnes in the nude?”

“First of all, the desire to match the legends. True Amazons, the girls of Thermodont dedicated to Artemis, who lived a thousand years before us, always fought in the nude and rode horses without sweat blankets. The story that they burned out one breast in order to use the bow is a ridiculous lie, because there is not a single ancient image of a single-breasted Amazon. The stiganorae shot directly in front of themselves above the horse’s ears, or, as they rode by an enemy, they turned and struck over the horse’s croup. True Amazons can be found on the old Clamezone vases and basins. They are shown as muscular, even stout nude girls, riding strong horses, and accompanied by bearded stablemen and dogs. Ionian and Carian women, who were accustomed to freedom, could not live with the crass Dorian invaders. The bravest, strongest and youngest of them went north to the Black Sea, where they founded the polis of Temiskira. They were not a nationality, but a group of sacred maidens of Artemis and, later, Hecate. Ignorant historians and artists confused them with Scythian women, who were also wonderful warriors and riders. That is why Amazons are frequently portrayed either fully clad in Scythian garb or in the short Cappadocian ecsomidae.”

“You should teach history at the Lyceum or at the Academy,” Lysippus exclaimed in amazement.

Thais’ eyes twinkled merrily. “I barely got out of the Lyceum alive, after having met Aristotle.”

“He never told me anything about it,” Alexander interrupted.

“And he won’t. For the same reason the Amazons are always portrayed defeated. But tell me, sculptor, have you ever heard of a woman teaching grown people anything but love? Only Sappho perhaps, but look what men did to her. We hetaerae-friends not only entertain and console, but also educate men so that they could see beauty in life.”

Thais paused in her excitement, calming her breath. The men watched her with sincere interest, each pondering her words in his own way.

“Also,” Thais said, addressing the sculptor, “You, whose name is ‘he who frees horses’ for a reason, will understand me. As will they,” the hetaera indicated Leontiscus and the Macedonians, “who are rulers of horses. When you navigate a dangerous road on horseback or fly forward in a gallop, do you not feel as if the Persian sweat blanket or any other padding gets in the way? What if there is nothing between you and the horse? Do your muscles not merge with those of the horse, as they work together in agreement? You can respond to the smallest change in the rhythm and sense the horse’s hesitation or daring, understanding what it needs. And what can hold you in place better than horse hide if there is a sudden stumble or slowing down. How in tune it is with the order of your toes or the turn of your knees.”

“Praise the true Amazon!” Leontiscus exclaimed. “Hey, some wine to her health and beauty!” He lifted Thais in the crook of his arm and raised a goblet, holding the precious rose wine to her lips with his other hand. The hetaera took a sip and ran her fingers thought his closely cropped hair.

Ptolemy laughed forcefully, barely restraining his jealousy. “I speak well, I know,” he said. “But you get too carried away to be truthful. I would like to know how a steed can feel these little toes at full speed,” he said, carelessly touching the hetaera’s foot within a light sandal.

“Take off my sandal,” Thais demanded.

A puzzled Ptolemy obeyed.

“And now, Leontiscus lower me to the floor,” she said, and Thais flexed her foot on the smooth floor, causing her to spin on her big toe.

“Do you understand now?” she challenged Ptolemy.

“With proper aim, she could deprive you of descendants with a toe like that,” Leontiscus said. He laughed, then finished his wine.

The symposium went on till morning. The Macedonians became increasingly noisy and mannerless. Alexander sat motionless in the pharaoh’s precious armchair, constructed of iron wood with gold and ivory. He gazed above the guests’ heads, seeming to dream of something.

Ptolemy kept reaching for Thais with lusty arms, but the hetaera moved away from him, sliding along the bench toward Alexander’s armchair until the great ruler put his heavy, protective hand on her shoulder.

“You are tired. You may go home. Lysippus shall take you.”

“What about you?” Thais asked.

“I must be here, just as I must do many other things regardless of whether I love them or not,” Alexander replied quietly, his voice tinged with vexation. “Though I wish for something else.”

“For a queen of Amazons, for instance,” Lysippus said.

“I think the Amazons, who dedicated themselves to Artemis and the sole purpose of defending their independence must have been poor lovers. And you, my king, would have found nothing but grief,” the hetaera said.

“Not like if I were with you?” Alexander leaned toward Thais, who blushed like a teenage girl.

“I am not for you either. You need a queen, a female ruler, if a woman can be near you at all.”

The conqueror of Persians peered at Thais and, saying nothing, dismissed her with a wave.

As soon as they were in the shadow of trees, Lysippus asked quietly, “Are you initiated in the Orphic religion? What is your initiated name? How much was disclosed to you?”

“Very little,” the hetaera admitted. “My Orphic name is Tiu …”

Once she told him about the Delos philosopher, Lysippus lost his suspicions and started telling her about the Orphic-like cult of Zoroaster he had discovered in the heart of Persia. Supporters of

Zoroaster revered kindness in the guise of the male deity, Ormuzd, who constantly struggled against the evil, Ariman. Ormuzd wore the same three colors of Muse: white, red and blue. Lysippus suggested that, should she go to Persia, she should wear three colored ribbons there as well.

“I must see you again, as soon as Darius is completely crushed and I have a permanent studio in Persia. You are not an easy model for an artist. There is something rare about you.”

“Won’t I grow old by then?” Thais teased.

“You don’t know Alexander, silly,” Lysippus replied. He was convinced that the final victory over the Persians would happen soon. That Alexander would be undeterred in reaching this giant goal.

Hesiona and Nearchus waited for her at home. The delighted Cretan congratulated Thais for her unprecedented success.

“The captain of cavalry is completely struck by Eros,” Hesiona said, remembering with a laugh. “You have conquered the famous hero akin to Hippolita.”

Thais asked Nearchus to tell her how Leontiscus had become famous. He said that during the battle at Issus, Alexander’s army had ended up squeezed in a shoreside valley by the numerous Persian troops. Their cavalry, which was several times greater in number than that of the Macedonians, rushed from the hills to the shore, crossed the river and attacked Alexander’s left wing, which consisted of the Thessalians’ horsemen. Alexander sent the Frakian riders and the splendid Cretan archers to help them, under the leadership of Parmenius, an experienced army man.

The Thessalian cavalry managed to hold the seashore until Alexander’s guard, the heavy cavalry of getaerosi-comrades and shield bearers, dealt a terrible blow at the center of the Persian troops, causing Darius to flee and securing the victory.

For their heroic battle at the seashore, the Thessalian horsemen were rewarded with the right to pillage Damascus. Damascus turned out to contain all of the equipment of the Persian army: carts, slaves, money and treasure. Thus, Leontiscus was now in possession of substantial wealth. Alexander rewarded him personally, along with the others who had distinguished themselves in that battle, splitting three thousand talants between them, which they took on the battlefield and to the Persian camp.