Thais of Athens

  Ivan Yefremov

  Thais of Athens

  Translated by Maria K.

  Illustrations by Halina Boyko and Igor Shalito.

  Dedication

  To my Mom for introducing me to this book. To all incredible women in my life who represent the living proof that our era can produce strong female characters.

  Maria Kuroshchepova

  Contents

  Dedication

  Contents

  Reader’s Reference

  Chapter One. Earth and Stars

  Chapter Two. Egesikhoras Heroics

  Chapter Three: Escape to the South

  Chapter Four. The Power of Animal Gods

  Chapter Five. The Muse of the Neit Temple

  Chapter Six. The Thread of Laconian Fate

  Chapter Seven: Hesiona’s Awakening

  Chapter Eight: The Chestnut Pacer

  Chapter Nine. Visiting Mother of Gods

  Chapter Ten. Waters of the Euphrates

  Chapter Eleven. The Doom of Persepolis

  Chapter Twelve. The Heirs of Crete

  Chapter Thirteen. Keoss Ritual

  Chapter Fourteen. Wisdom of Eridu

  Chapter Fifteen: Unfulfilled Dream

  Chapter Sixteen. The Queen of Memphis

  Chapter Seventeen. Aphrodite Ambologera

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Translator

  Acknowledgments

  Reader’s Reference

  I. All ancient Greek words and names, with a few exceptions, should be pronounced with an emphasis on a one-before-last syllable. In two syllable words and names, the emphasis is on the first syllable: Thais, Eris. The exceptions are, for the most part, of artificial origin — they appear in Latinized words: goplit (from goplitos), Alexander (Alexandros), Menedem (Menedemos), Nearch (Nearchus), where Greek endings were removed.

  II. Hellenic New Year occurs during the first full moon after the summer solstice, during the first ten days of July. The Olympic calendar begins from the first Olympiad (776 B. C.) with four years per each: the first year of the 75th Olympiad is 480 B. C. To convert the Olympic calendar to ours, one must remember that each Greek year corresponds to the second half of the same year in our system and the first half of the following year. One must multiply the number of Olympiads by 4, add the number of years of the current Olympiad minus one, and subtract the obtained number from 776, if the event occurs in the fall or winter, and from 775 if it occurs in spring or summer.

  III. Greek months:

  Summer

  1. Hekatombeon (mid-July — mid-August)

  2. Metageytnion (August — first half of September)

  3. Boedromion (September — first half of October)

  Fall

  4. Puanepsion (October — first half of November)

  5. Maymakterion (November — first half of December)

  6. Posideon (December — first half of January)

  Winter

  7. Gamelion (January — first half of February)

  8. Antesterion (February — first half of March)

  9. Elafebolion (Mart — second half of April)

  Spring

  10. Munikhion (April — first half of May)

  11. Targelion (May — first half of June)

  12. Skyrophorion (June — first half of July)

  IV. Some unit measures and currency.

  • Long stadium: 178 meters / 584 feet

  • Olympic stadium: 185 meters / 607 feet

  • Egyptian skhen (equal to Persian parsang): 30 stadiums, approximately 5 kilometers / 3.1 miles

  • plethor: 31 meters / 101.7 feet

  • orgy: 185 centimeters / 74.8 inches

  • pekis (elbow): 0.46 meter / 1.5 feet

  • podes (foot): 0.3 meter / 0.93 feet

  • palysta (palm): approximately 7 centimeters / 2.75 inches

  • epydama (equal to three palystas): 23 centimeters / 9 inches

  • condilos (equal to two dactyls — fingers): approximately 4 centimeters / 1.57 inches.

  • Talant: a measure of weight approximately 26 kilograms / 57.32 pounds

  • Mina: 437 grams / 0.96 pounds

  • Currency units: talant — 100 minas, mina — 60 drachmas.

  • Popular Greek coins: silver didrachma (2 drachmas) equal to a gold Persian daric. Tetradrachm (four drachmas) with the image of Athena’s own was the main Greek silver currency (gold went into circulation during the era of Alexander the Great, when the value of talant and drachma fell steeply).

  • Liquid measures — khoes (jug) — just over 3 liters — 0.79 liquid gallons; cotile (small pot) — approximately 0.3 liters — just over 10 fluid ounces.

  V. Greek greeting, “Haire!” (“Rejoice!”) corresponds to our “Hello!” When parting people said either “Haire!” or, when expecting a lengthy separation, “Geliaine!” (“Be well!”)

  Chapter One. Earth and Stars

  From out of the west came the wind, strengthening with every gust. Heavy waves, oily under the evening sky, thundered against the shore. Ptolemy was heavier than the others, his swimming skills less. He tired, especially when Cape Colnad no longer protected him against the wind, and struggled behind his friends, Nearchus, Alexander and Hephaestion. He didn’t dare venture farther from the shore and yet he feared the white fountains of surf spraying off the gloomy dark rocks. His friends had abandoned him, and his anger at them sucked his strength further.

  Nearchus, the quiet and taciturn Cretan, was an unbeatable swimmer. He had absolutely no fear of the storm and simply could not fathom the idea that crossing the Faleron Bay from one cape to the next, especially in this weather, was dangerous for the Macedonians, who weren’t quite as close to the sea. But Alexander and his faithful Athenian, Hephaestion, were both desperately stubborn, so they followed Nearchus and forgot their comrade, assuming him lost among the waves.

  ‘Poseidon’s bull’, a huge wave, lifted Ptolemy on its ‘horns’, raising him high over the sea. From its height the Macedonian noticed a tiny lagoon nearby, surrounded by sharp boulders. At the sight of it, Ptolemy quit struggling. He lowered his tiring shoulders, covered his head with his arms and slipped under the wave, praying to Zeus the Protector to direct him into the gap between the rocks and keep him safe.

  The wave scattered with a deafening roar, tossing him farther onto the sand than an ordinary wave would have. Temporarily blinded and deafened, Ptolemy wiggled and crawled a few pekises, carefully struggled to his knees, then finally stood. He rocked back and forth on unsteady legs and rubbed his aching head. The waves seemed to pummel him even here on earth.

  He stood straighter, hearing a sound that did not belong. He listened carefully and heard a brief giggle needle through the noise of the surf. Ptolemy turned around so quickly that he lost his balance and fell to his knees again. The laughter rang again, quite nearby.

  He looked up and saw a slender young girl of no great height standing before him. She had obviously just emerged from the sea. Water still sluiced down her smooth body, dark with a coppery tan, running in rivers off the mass of her raven black hair. The swimmer tipped her head to the side as she squeezed water out of her wavy tresses.

  Ptolemy rose to his full height and set his feet firmly in the sand. He looked the girl straight in her brave and merry gray eyes, which appeared dark blue in reflection of the sea and the sky. Her long black lashes did not lower or flutter under the passionate and imperious gaze of the son of Lag, even though, at only twenty-four years of age, he was already a well known heartbreaker in Pella, the capital of Macedonia.

  Ptolemy could not take his eyes off the girl. She had appeared from the foam and thunder of the sea like a goddess and her coppery face, gray eyes and r
aven black hair were unusual for an Athenian. Later he realized the girl’s copper skin meant she did not fear the sun, the rays of which were the bane of so many Athenian ladies of fashion. Athenian women tanned too thickly, turning purplish bronze like the Ethiopians. For that reason they avoided appearing outdoors without cover. But this girl was like the copper-bodied Circe, or one of the legendary daughters of Minos with blood of sunlight, and she stood before him with all the dignity of a priestess.

  No, of course she was not a goddess or a priestess, this small, young girl. In Attica, as in most of Hellas, priestesses were chosen from the tallest, fair-haired beauties. But from where did this girl’s calm assurance come? She stood regally, as if she were in a temple and not standing naked before him on an empty shore. He wondered vaguely if she, too, had left her clothing at the distant Phoont Cape. Kharitas, who bestowed magical allure upon women, frequently appeared as girls, but they were an inseparable threesome. This girl was alone.

  Before Ptolemy could guess any longer, a female slave in a red chiton[1] appeared, emerging from behind a rock. She deftly wrapped the girl in a sheet of coarse fabric and started drying her body and hair.

  Ptolemy shivered. He had warmed up while struggling against the waves, but now he had cooled off. The wind was brisk even for a Macedonian who was hardened by stern physical upbringing.

  The girl tossed the hair away from her face and suddenly whistled through her teeth as if she were a boy. The whistle surprised Ptolemy and he frowned. The sound appeared both disdainful and obnoxious, completely unfit for her feminine beauty.

  Apparently in response to the whistle, a small boy appeared and glanced cautiously at Ptolemy. The Macedonian, who was observant by nature and had developed this ability further while studying under Aristotle, returned his inquiring stare. He noticed the boy’s fingers clutched the hilt of a short dagger which was hidden in the folds of his clothing.

  The girl said something in a voice too quiet for Ptolemy to hear over the splash of the waves, and the boy ran off. He returned and approached Ptolemy with greater trust this time, handing him a short cape. Ptolemy wrapped it around himself, then, obeying the girl’s silent request, turned so he faced the sea.

  As he turned, he heard the farewell “Haire!” called from behind his back. Ptolemy spun on his heel and rushed toward the stranger, who was fastening her sash after a Cretan fashion, around her waist instead of beneath her breasts. The cinched waist was just as impossibly slender as those of the ancient women of the legendary island.

  He shouted, “Who are you?”

  The merry gray eyes squinted with restrained laughter. “I recognized you right away, even though you looked like a wet bird. You are a servant of the Macedonian prince. Where did you lose him and the other companions?”

  “I am not his servant, but his friend,” Ptolemy said proudly, but held back from revealing anything more and possibly giving away a dangerous secret. “But how could you have seen us?”

  “I saw the four of you standing in front of the wall, reading meeting requests at Ceramic. You didn’t even notice me. I am Thais.”

  Ptolemy caught his breath. “Thais? You?”

  “That surprises you so?”

  “I read that one Philopatros offered Thais a talant, a cost of an entire trireme, and she still didn’t inscribe the time for their meeting. I started looking for this goddess …”

  She chuckled. “Tall, golden-haired, with blue eyes of a Tritonid[2], she who takes away one’s heart …”

  “Yes, yes. How did you know?”

  “You are not the first, not at all. But farewell again, my horses are anxious to go.”

  “Wait!” Ptolemy exclaimed, feeling suddenly that he couldn’t stand to part with the girl. “Where do you live? Can I come to you? Can I bring my friends?”

  Thais studied the Macedonian. Her eyes lost their twinkle and grew darker.

  “Come,” she said after a pause. “You said that you know Ceramic and the Royal Market. There are big gardens between Ceramic and the Hill of Nymphs, to the east of Gamaxitos. You’ll find my house at the outskirts, clearly marked by two olive trees and two cypresses.” She stopped speaking abruptly and gave him a farewell nod. Then, just as suddenly, she disappeared among the rocks, following a well-defined path that wove its way to the top.

  Ptolemy leaned forward, shook sand out of his hair and slowly made his way to the road. He shortly found himself not far from the Long Walls of Munikhion. The long trail of dust from Thais’ carriage floated toward the tree-covered mountain slopes, already blue with twilight. Her two-horse equipage traveled quickly; the young hetaera must have had splendid horses.

  A rude exclamation from behind made Ptolemy leap to the side. Another carriage rushed past him, driven by a huge Boeotian. A fashionably dressed young man with long strands of curled hair stood next to the driver, grinning unpleasantly. He lashed Ptolemy with a long handled whip, scorching the Macedonian’s barely clad body.

  The offender obviously didn’t know he was dealing with an experienced warrior. In a flash, Ptolemy grabbed one stone from the many on both sides of the road and tossed it after the carriage. The stone hit the Athenian in the neck just below the back of his head, and it was only the speed of the departing carriage that allowed the impact to soften. Still, the man fell and would have rolled out had his driver not grabbed him and slowed the horses.

  The driver showered Ptolemy with curses, yelling that he had killed the wealthy citizen, Philopatros, and ought to be executed. The enraged Macedonian tossed away his cape and reached for a boulder. The one he chose weighed at least a talant, and he lifted it over his head and started toward the carriage. The driver, taking stock of the Macedonian’s powerful muscles, lost his desire to fight and drove away, still supporting his master, who was coming around. While he drove he yelled back at Ptolemy, cursing and threatening as loudly as his booming voice would allow.

  Ptolemy calmed down and tossed the boulder away. With an exasperated sigh, he picked up the cape and resumed walking along the shore path. He followed it up an overhang where it took a shortcut across a wide loop of the carriage road. As he walked, he thought about the man on the carriage. Something in his memory kept bringing back the name ‘Philopatros’. That was what the driver had shouted out. Was Philopatros the one who had written an offer to Thais at Ceramic? Ptolemy grinned. Apparently he had acquired a rival in his offender.

  The Macedonian could not offer a talant of silver to the hetaera for a brief liaison, that much was true. A few minas, perhaps. He had heard too much about Thais to simply give her up. Despite her seventeen years of age, Thais was considered to be an Athenian celebrity. For her skill as a dancer, her superior education and particular attractiveness, she was nicknamed ‘a fourth Kharita’.

  The proud Macedonian would never have asked for money from relatives. Alexander, being the son of King Philip’s rejected wife, couldn’t help his friend either. The trophies after the battle at Chaeronea hadn’t amounted to much. Philip, who took great care of his soldiers, had split everything in such a manner that the prince’s friends got no more than the last infantryman. Then Philip had sent Ptolemy and Nearchus into exile, separating them from his son. The three had only managed to meet here, in Athens, when Alexander had called them. That was after Philip dispatched him and Hephaestion to explore Athens and establish themselves there. And while the Athenian wits said “a wolf can only produce a cub”, Alexander’s true Hellenic beauty and remarkable intelligence made an impression with the experienced citizens of Athens, “The Eye of Hellas”, “The Mother of Arts and Eloquence”.

  Ptolemy considered himself to be Alexander’s half-brother. His mother, the famous hetaera Arsinoa, was once close to Philip, and was then married off to the tribal leader, Lag, or Hare. Lag was a man with no great accomplishments but was of noble origin. Ptolemy had remained in the Lagid family and was envious of Alexander for some time, competing with him in both childish games and military training. Once he’d gr
own up he couldn’t help but appreciate the prince’s remarkable abilities. He became even more proud of their secret blood relation, which his mother had told him about, but only after a terrible vow had been made.

  And what of Thais? Well, Alexander had long since given Ptolemy supremacy in matters of Eros. As much as Ptolemy was flattered by it, he could not help but admit that had Alexander wanted, Alexander could rule among the countless swarms of Aphrodite’s admirers. But Alexander wasn’t at all interested in women, which worried his mother, Olympias. She was a divinely beautiful priestess of Demeter, and was considered a sorceress, a seductress and a wise ruler of sacred snakes. Despite his courage, daring and constant philandering with all manner of women, Philip had always been wary of his splendid wife, and joked that he was afraid he might someday discover a terrible serpent in bed between himself and his wife. There were persistent rumors, no doubt sustained by Olympias herself, that Alexander wasn’t even a son of one-eyed Philip, but that of a deity, to whom she gave herself in a temple one night.

  Philip felt stronger after his victory at Chaeronea. On the eve of his being elected a military leader of the union of all Hellenic states in Corinth, he divorced Olympias and married young Cleopatra, the niece of an important tribal leader in Macedonia. Olympias, for all her foresight and cunning, managed to make a mistake after all, and was now dealing with the consequences.

  Alexander’s first love occurred at sixteen, when masculinity first arose in him. She was an unknown slave from the shores of the Black Sea. The young man was a dreamer, enraptured by the adventures of Achilles and the heroic deeds of the Argonauts and Theseus. The fair-haired Amazon girl who captured his attention was barely covered by a short ecsomida, and carried her baskets proudly, as if she were not a slave but a warrior princess striding through the vast royal gardens in Pella.

  Alexander’s meetings could not have remained secret. Spies watched his every step on Olympias’ orders. His mother, imperious and dreaming of greater power, could not allow her only son to pick his own lover. Especially when he chose one from the disobedient, barbaric Black Sea people. No. She would give him a girl who would be an obedient executor of Olympias’ will, so that she could influence her son even through love of another woman. She ordered the slave caught, her long braids cut short, and had her taken to the slave market in the distant city of Meliboa in Thessaly.