Ivan Yefremov - Thais of Athens

According to the preliminary count, Alexander now had over a hundred and fifty thousand talants at his disposal. All of Hellas couldn’t dream of such wealth. If all this treasure were transferred to Hellas, Macedonia and Ionia, it would devalue all fortunes and bankrupt all wealthy citizens. Alexander decided to keep his loot behind the seven walls of Ecbatana.

There was more good news. Spies reported that Darius had been unable to gather a large army. Two thousand mercenaries and three or four thousand light cavalry presented no threat to Alexander’s victorious army. Finishing off the enemy and getting rid of the former “king of kings” for good was now a relatively simple task.

Intoxicated by the unprecedented victories, delighted by the giant haul of loot, the multitude of slaves and the sheer size of the country now at their feet, the young soldiers and middle-aged veterans of the Macedonian army raised their goblets, endlessly praising the great Alexander, boasting of their victories and shedding tears for their fallen comrades.

The twenty-six year old hero, ruler of Egypt, Finikia, Syria, Minor and Greater Asia, was drunk with more than wine. He was inebriated by his glory, his success, and even more with his plans for the future. He gazed upon his raucous friends with love, resting his mighty arms upon the gold armrests of the throne. It was decorated with blue enamel, the throne of the menacing conqueror of Hellas. Alexander leaned toward Thais with a carefree smile and asked the meaning of her simple outfit.

“Did you not understand? I have only just buried…”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“The queen of Amazons and her love,” the Athenian whispered.

Alexander frowned and sat back in his seat. Ptolemy thought the king was displeased and, in an attempt to interrupt the conversation, asked Thais to dance.

“There is no room. I would rather sing,” the hetaera replied.

“Sing! Sing! Thais shall sing!” everyone shouted.

The noise subsided, and those who were most rambunctious were subdued by their neighbors. Thais borrowed a seven string sitar with bells from one of the musicians and started singing, in a measured hexameter, an old anthem about the first Persian war. She sang about the scorched Athens and the oath to serve nothing but war until the last of the Persians was tossed into the sea. Thais sang the raging melody with such vicious temperament that many guests jumped up from their seats, stomping their feet in rhythm with the song, and tossing precious goblets against the columns.

Soon the entire hall thundered with the war hymn. Alexander himself rose from the throne to participate. With the last appeal to remember the viciousness of their enemies, and especially the envoy Mardonius, Thais tossed the sitar to the musicians and sat down, covering her face with her hands. Alexander lifted her by the elbow so that she was even with his face. After he kissed her, he addressed the guests. “How shall we reward the beautiful Thais?”

Interrupting each other, the army officers started offering various gifts, ranging from a goblet filled with silver to a war elephant.

Thais raised her hand and addressed Alexander loudly. “You know I never ask for gifts or rewards. But if you wish, allow me to make a speech and do not be angry if you don’t like it.”

“Speech! Speech! Thais, speech!” the soldiers yelled in unison.

Alexander nodded merrily, drank some undiluted wine and settled back onto the throne. Leontiscus and Hephaestion cleared a spot on the table, but Thais refused.

“A man must not put his feet where he eats,” she said. “It is a habit of barbarians. Give me a bench.”

Obliging hands immediately placed a heavy bench, decorated with ivory, in front of her. Thais jumped onto it and clapped her hands for attention. She hardly needed to do that, as all eyes were riveted to her.

The hetaera started by thanking Alexander for inviting her, and Ptolemy and Leontiscus for aiding her along the journey, as well as for the magnificent horse. That horse had not only made it possible for her to travel ten thousand stadiums through Syria and Finikia to Babylon, but also allowed her to be the only Helenian woman to participate in the five thousand stadium march to Persepolis.

“This city,” Thais continued, “is heart and soul of Persia. To my great surprise, aside from treasure and splendid palaces, there are no temples here, no gathering places for scientists or philosophers, no theaters, no gymnasiums. There are no statues or paintings glorifying beauty or heroic deeds of gods in human guise and godlike heroes. There is nothing here except the arrogant, fat-faced royal bulls accepting gifts and processions of humble subjects. There are multitudes of columns forty elbows tall on a platform thirty elbows tall. All that just to elevate the rulers by humiliating the subjects.

“Is that why the crippled Helenians, Ionians, Macedonians and Frakians were brought to labor here? Is that why Xerxes and his vicious envoy brought blood and death to Hellas, twice burned down my native Athens, and enslaved thousands upon thousands of skilled artists of our country? I am here alone with you, victorious heroes who crushed the might of evil rulers. I serve the goddess of beauty and know that there is no crime worse than raising one’s hand at beauty created by others. But what if it is used to serve evil powers? Then it is only a deception, for there is no beauty without kindness and light.”

Thais held out her arms as if beseeching the entire assembly. The soldiers hummed approvingly, but with menace. The hetaera straightened.

“You are leaving north tomorrow, leaving untouched the dwelling of tyranny you crushed. Am I the only one to carry the fire of Athens in my heart? And what of the torment of enslaved Helenians that lasts till this day, and the tears shed by mothers even though it’s been eighty years? Does divine Alexander truly find pleasure in sitting on the throne of the destroyer of Hellas, like a servant who snuck into his master’s room?”

The Athenian’s voice, high and ringing, struck hard. Alexander jumped from his seat as if stung. The others froze.

Alexander stared at Thais silently, his head tipped forward as if expecting to be struck. Then he raised his face slowly to hers.

“What do you want then, Athenian?” the king asked. His tone was akin to a lion’s roar, making his seasoned warriors shudder.

Thais realized the great impact of the king over people, the magical power of his voice that ordered enormous crowds. Gathering all her willpower, she lifted her enormous, luminous eyes to meet Alexander’s and held out her hand.

“Fire!” she shouted.

Alexander grabbed her around the waist, pulled her off the bench and led her to the wall.

“Take it,” he said. He picked up a torch and handed it to the hetaera, then took another.

Thais stepped back in a respectful bow. “I should not be the first. The one whose divine mind and strength has brought us here must begin.”

Alexander turned and pulled Thais along the walls with him. Their two torches instantly set fire to window drapes, rugs and silk pulls, as well as to light wood trellises for flowers.

The insanity of destruction overcame Alexander’s comrades. The soldiers grabbed torches, mingling screams of delight with war cries, and scattered around the palaces, burning everything, shattering the lanterns and overturning pails of burning fat and oil.

Within a few minutes, the hall of Xerxes, the empty treasury and the other premises were engulfed in flames. Apadana caught up as well, after fire spread to the residential palaces of Darius and Xerxes at the southwest corner of the platform.

It was no longer possible to remain there. Alexander, still holding Thais’ hand, ran down the northern staircase until they reached the city square. There he stood, surrounded by his officers, entranced by the titanic flames rising into the black sky. Roof and ceiling supports that had sustained for hundreds of years in dry heat, burst into flames as if they’d been dipped in oil. Silver sheets covering the roof melted, falling in rivers of liquid metal onto staircases and platform tiles, then solidified into hot metal discs and bounced into the dust of the city square. Flames whistled and roared louder than the screams of local citizens who all crowded at the edge of the square, too afraid to come closer.