Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

“Can you find me a jeweler to take off the stars, except the last one?” the hetaera asked.

“Let me. I am the daughter of a jeweler and know a thing or two.”

The Finikian took the belt, went into the corner of the room and pulled out tiny tweezers from her bag. She worked her magic with them, then returned. She triumphantly fastened the chain with one star around Thais’ waist.

“Now the balance is in the middle,” she said, fixing the former necklace. She handed Thais the remaining stars.

“Put them in the jewelry box,” Thais said. “You are quite a skilled woman. How can I bear to part with you?”

The Finikian’s face fell, but then she realized Thais was teasing her. With a smile, she ran to get the box.

“Would you like to come with me tomorrow?” the hetaera asked, snuggling lazily into the cushions. “There is a little blue lake nearby in the shape of the moon. I bathed there today and enjoyed it more than I have enjoyed anything in a long time.”

“What did you do, Mistress?” Za-Asht demanded. Her expression was filled with terror.

Thais lifted herself on one elbow and frowned. “Why are you yelling as if you are at the Syrian market? What is the matter?”

“I was told there is a sacred lake of Ishtar to the east of the temple, shaped like the moon. Cleansing of Ashtoreth takes place there in secret on the days of celebration. I think Helenians call her Artemis. Anyone who gets a glimpse of the sacred ritual is killed on the spot by the priests with long spears. I am afraid for you, Mistress. Ashtoreth is vengeful, and her servants are just as bad.”

Thais pondered this. “I think I’ll keep quiet about this. And I won’t take you with me, although I will go swimming there again.”

“Oh, Mistress …” Za-Asht began, then she dashed to the terrace door, hearing the clanking of armor. Thais pulled a silvery throw over herself. Lykophon entered shortly.

“Forgive me, Mistress, for disturbing you at a bad time,” he said with a bow.

“Is something wrong? With Boanergos or Salmaakh?”

“No, the horses are alive and well. It is only that an army messenger arrived and brought you a letter from Ptolemy the strategist. Here,” the soldier said. He handed her a packet of thin leather tied with a rope. A deltorion was attached, a small slate bearing Thais’ name and instructions to deliver immediately.

Thais placed the packet on a pillow and asked the soldier to sit down and have some wine. The Finikian, who had long since been enchanted by Lykophon’s beauty, instantly diluted and served some pink wine, wiggling her hips and throwing brief and pointed glances at the Thessalian. The young warrior straightened and drank a goblet, and Za-Asht poured him another. Lykophon waved his hand to decline, but accidentally as he did so he knocked the bronze disk from the edge of the table to the floor.

The bronze disk rung loudly as it struck the floor tiles. Soon someone knocked on the door to the corridor leading into the temple. A priestess in black net entered the room. Raising her hand to her forehead, she straightened up and gazed at everyone present with indifference.

“Ah! What have you done?” Thais asked the soldier, frowning. “Now I have to go.”

Lykophon didn’t notice her reproach. He slowly rose from his seat, gazing at the black priestess as if Aphrodite herself had magically appeared before him, taking shape from sea foam and starlight.

Thais was disturbed by the feeling of alien power emitted by the incredible woman. It felt like something not altogether human. It was as if she were an oread, a mountain nymph, or a mythical changeling, a titanide. The priestess was not indifferent toward the Thessalian’s admiration. She tipped her head slightly, and it was as if lightning flew out of her enormous eyes, finishing the victim. The young man blushed and lowered his eyes, pausing to look with awe upon her muscular legs and her amazingly sculpted feet. The priestess, glittering with her mirror nails, moved a strand of black hair to reveal her glum and beautiful face, as if before a battle.

Thais, who was normally far from jealous, couldn’t stand seeing one of her soldiers being bent in half like a thin branch.

“Za-Asht, won’t you offer Lykophon more wine? Perhaps he would like something to eat? Come,” she said dismissively to the black priestess, who smiled briefly and condescendingly, but not before sending the young soldier one more long, promising glance.

Thais wanted to walk ahead, but the priestess slipped silently forward and walked along the passage without a backward glance. She paused to wait for the hetaera near the grate, blocking the corridor. She summoned the chained gatekeeper, who huddled on a pile of dry grass in a barely lit niche. The guide did not go straight into the sanctuary, but turned right into the side passage, which was brightly lit and ended in a staircase leading up. They entered the upper floor, went up another staircase, and found themselves on a verandah. Behind them was the topmost structure. It had no windows and only one single bronze door of tremendous weight and strength. Cone-shaped protrusions covered the walls and the top floor. Thais guessed that it was a treasury and thought it was rather careless to keep valuables at such a height. What if there were a fire?

“What are you looking at, my daughter?” the high priestess asked.

Thais turned and saw her sitting in an ivory armchair next to a man, probably the high priest. The Athenian walked up to her, sat down on a bench decorated with ivory, and shared her concern.

“I know that you are smart, servant of Aphrodite. But those who built this sacred place weren’t fools either. The entire temple consists only of bricks, frescoes, and tiles of granite and marble that cover the ceilings. The builders made it so that even if fire were set intentionally, nothing would be lost save a few curtains and armchairs.

Thais was interested. She told them she had seen such methods of longterm construction in Egypt. The high priestess asked her several questions, then grew silent. Thais enjoyed the artful setting of the temple. In Hellas, the temples were built atop natural high points, like the tops of hills, along the edges of tall river banks, or on the crests of mountain ranges. When someone physically ascended to the temple, he also ascended spiritually, preparing to commune with the gods.

This temple, the priestess explained, was constructed according to the canons of the most ancient sanctuaries of Mesopotamia. It stood in the center of a round valley, walled by mountains on the south, west and north, leaving the east side open to the Euphrates. The treasury structure on the top and the pedestal on the bottom made the total height of the temple quite impressive. People who approached it from the valley could see the sanctuary from far away. As they came nearer, the building appeared to hang or loom over people, oppressing them so that they felt small before the mighty goddess and her servants.

Thais particularly enjoyed the view of the surrounding lands, perhaps seeing for the first time how the influence of height affected a person’s consciousness. The reality of being separate from everything that was taking place down below, the feeling of one’s own inaccessibility, the ability to cover great areas with one glance, all were different from just being in the mountains. A mountain climber conquering great heights was still a part of the surrounding nature. But this artificial structure protruded arrogantly in the middle of the valley, separating itself from the natural soil and bestowing feelings of superiority, purity and independence upon those who lived at the temple. Far in the east, beyond the dusty fog, lay the valley of the Euphrates. Its tributary flowed through the dark canyon in the north. The range above was home to a small temple to the Ishtar of Persia.