Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

The Finikian eventually admitted that Lykophon, the young soldier from Leontiscus’ detachment, wanted to buy her from the mistress as soon as war ended and he was able to go home. Then they would marry. Thais questioned whether there was epigamy between Finikia and Thessaly and was surprised to discover that marriage was now lawful between all Helenian polises in Alexander’s new empire. The great army leader still called himself the chief strategist, but was, in fact, the king.

“You dream of leaving me,” Thais reproached her slave half-jokingly. “But why are you angry at Eris?”

“I would have never thought of parting with you, Mistress, but Lykophon is beautiful and he loves me. And you have always let your slave girls go for marriage.”

“I have,” Thais agreed, frowning slightly. “Aphrodite won’t let me keep them. It is a pity because I become attached to people.”

“To me, Mistress?” Eris asked suddenly, in the midst of picking over the flowers brought in by the gardener.

“To you too, Eris.”

Blue eyes suddenly lit up under the frowning eyebrows. The unusual expression completely altered the face of the black priestess, flickered and vanished.

“And you too shall abandon me for love and family.” Thais smiled, wanting to tease her strange slave girl.

“No,” Eris said indifferently. “I became tired of men at the temple. You are all I have in the world, Mistress. I shall not go running after love, like Za-Asht.”

“I’ve heard that before,” the Finikian said, and her black eyes flashed.

Eris shrugged her shoulders imperiously and left.

During one particularly hot night, Thais decided to take a swim in the Euphrates. She followed a path that led from the garden, through a narrow gap between clay walls to a small pier. Thais let Eris accompany her, but forbade her to swim. She feared the daughter of a southern country could catch a severe cold. Eris splashed her feet around a little, then climbed out obediently and patiently waited for her mistress. The night was silent in the sleeping city, broken only by the barking of dogs and voices of some merry party, carried by the humid river air.

When the slightly cool water took away the stupor of the hot night, Thais felt her usual energy return. She swam against the current toward the Old City and climbed out near a forgotten temple or small palace. She sat on the steps, enjoying her loneliness, securely hidden by the moonless night. She thought of Alexander, living somewhere nearby in a south palace of the Old City, and of Ptolemy, probably sleeping peacefully somewhere on his journey. Three thousand stadiums of sand and swamps separated the mysterious Susa from Babylon. Ptolemy would return soon. Thais knew from Leontiscus that the entire army was ordered to get ready for another march to somewhere.

The Athenian dreamed of getting to know Babylon, the ancient city so unlike Athens and Memphis. Soon the army would travel to the east, taking with them the soldiers who now filled Babylon. They greeted her everywhere, recognizing her as the friend of their leader, as well as Ptolemy’s lover and Leontiscus’ favorite “goddess”. On the second day after her arrival to Babylon, when Thais was walking down the Road of Processions to the temple of Ishtar, she ran into a detachment of Argiroaspides, or Silver Shields. Their chief recognized the Athenian as did some other soldiers, who remembered her from Alexander’s camp at Tyre. Before Thais could say anything, she was surrounded, lifted onto their shields and carried triumphantly down the Road of Processions, toward the temple.

The Babylonians were astonished. Eris, alarmed, dashed after them. The soldiers, singing a celebratory anthem, carried the laughing Thais to the entrance of Ishtar’s sanctuary, then let her go before the frightened servants of the goddess were able to shut the gate.

Naturally, that visit to the temple turned out to be in vain. The hetaera wondered whether the goddess had become angry with her.

The next day, through sacrifices and prayers, she did her best to convince the goddess that she was not trying to compete with her. She told the goddess that men’s admiration of women was customary in Hellas, where female beauty was valued above all things.

“The hilly Phtia of Hellas, glorious with the women’s beauty …” she murmured, remembering the beloved poem from distant Athens.

Argest, the eastern wind, rushed over the roofs of the Old City. Nearby alleys rustled and water splashed lightly at the bottom step of the staircase.

Thais dove into the dark water of the night river. Suddenly she heard clear, measured splashes of someone who was strong and a capable swimmer. The hetaera dove, hoping to get into the middle of the river underwater, then take another dive to get to the pool with the reed pier, where she was expected by the patient and predatory Eris. The deep water turned out to be cooler. Thais swam less than she had thought, then rose to the surface.

She heard a quiet, “Stop. Who are you?”

Thais froze. The voice was quiet but deep and powerful, like a subdued roar of a lion. It couldn’t be.

“Why are you quiet? Do not dare dive again.”

“Is that you, Majesty? You alone in the river, in the middle of the night? That is dangerous.”

“Is it not just as dangerous for you, fearless Athenian?” Alexander said.

“Who needs me? Who would look for me in the river?”

“Nobody needs you in the river, that much is true,” the great Macedonian said, then laughed. “Swim here. Are we the only ones who invented this method for relaxing? It seems that way.”

“Perhaps the others can’t swim as well,” Thais said, following the king’s voice. “Or are afraid of the night demons in the strange country.”

“Babylon was a city of ancient magic long before the coming of Persian kings.” Alexander reached out and touched the hetaera’s cool shoulder. “The last time I saw you nude was at the symposium, where you impressed everyone with the Amazon dance.”

Thais rolled over onto her back and gazed at the king, barely moving her spread arms, the mass of her black hair tossed onto her chest. Alexander put his hand over her hair and it was like he emitted a warm power.

“Set herself free at least once, my king,” Thais said after a pause as the current carried them toward the bridge.

“With you?” Alexander asked quickly.

“Only with me. You will understand later, why…”

“You know how to inspire curiosity,” the conqueror of Asia replied with a kiss, making them both sink underwater.

“Let’s swim to me,” Alexander ordered.

“No, King. To me. I am a woman and must greet you dressed and coiffed. Besides, too many eyes follow you at the palace, and not all of them are kind. What I have is mystery.”

“You are a mystery yourself, Athenian. You turn out to be right so often, as if you are a wise pithier and not a conqueror of men.”

They pulled away from the current just in time to avoid the bridge and arrived at the quiet pool where Eris, who had been dreaming and stargazing moments before, jumped up with the speed and a hiss of a wild cat.

“Eris, this is the victorious king himself,” the hetaera said quickly. The girl knelt in a respectful bow.

Alexander declined an offered cape, walked through the gap between walls and the garden, and stepped into the faintly lit front room in all the splendor of his mighty body, akin to Achilles or another beautiful ancient hero. Comfortable benches were built into the walls according to the Babylonian tradition. Thais ordered both her servants to dry and oil the king, and brush his hair, which was carried out with much anxiety.

The Athenian went into her bedroom, tossed her most precious coverlet of the soft blue wool of Taurus goats onto the wide bed, and soon appeared before the king in all the glory of her remarkable beauty. She had dressed in a transparent blue chiton, with a turquoise tiara in her tall coif, and the beryllium necklace from the temple of Kibela.