Thais of Athens

Chapter Seven: Hesiona’s Awakening

Thais spent five days locked away indoors. She lay face down in the gloom of her bedroom and allowed no one to see her but Hesiona, who tried to convince her mistress to eat something. Thais’ strong feelings of friendship toward the Theban had strengthened gradually, despite Hesiona’s persistent attempts to keep to the role of a servant. Now, during these bitter days, these feelings increased and developed into true attachment. It was hard not to love the courageous, pure and beautiful daughter of Boeotia.

On the sixth evening Thais finally left her home to go to the Neit temple. Much to her disappointment, she discovered that the Delos philosopher and his student the poet had left for Hellas before the last full moon. The Spartans were gone, too. Memphis, excited by the triple murder for a time, had already forgotten it all. New events related to Alexander’s approach occupied Helenians and Egyptians alike.

Thais hired a horse for Hesiona, and every day after that the two of them took long rides together. Thais was training Salmaakh, and Hesiona marveled. She had never thought such stunts were possible or that such a complete understanding could be possible between a rider and a horse.

Thais discovered she liked to descend down the impossibly steep, sandy slopes of the Nile shores. Salmaakh would slide with her hind legs bent while her rider leaned back, the back of Thais’ head touching the horse’s croup, her knees closed over the high withers. It seemed as if the horse would flip over at any moment and go crashing down, breaking her rider’s bones.

Going along with Hesiona’s pleas for safety, Thais found a smooth, comfortable clearing and used it for dancing. Hesiona secured her own horse’s reins around a rock, then stood at the edge of the clearing, singing a flowing Thessalian melody, accompanying her voice with a small tambourine. Salmaakh was stubborn at first, until a few days later, when she finally figured out what was required of her. All thoroughbred horses have an innate sense of rhythm, the result of millions of years of keeping a proper pace. No horse can trot for any length of time without a clear sense of rhythm. Hoofbeats of a good runner are expected to be akin to the measured drops of water in a clepsydra, a water clock. A good, well-defined rhythm is required for human runners as well. It is necessary whenever a living creature has to sustain longterm strain and demonstrate endurance.

Soon enough, Salmaakh tapped away to Hesiona’s tambourine like a real dancer, which was no great surprise. After all, she was being educated by the “fourth Kharita” of Hellas herself. According to legend, the ancient dance of a woman on a horse, hippoginnes, was created by the Amazons. The legendary women of Thermodont performed in the valley of Temiskira^[17] at the Paphlagonian coast of the Black Sea. It always happened on a full moon, under its bright light, during the days of ellotias, celebrations in honor of Artemis. Presently, hippoginnes was nearly gone, performed only rarely by the brave Thessalian women, who were professional horse acrobats and performed it in Attica or in Sparta when invited by the wealthy feast hosts.

Through doing these exercises, Thais unsuccessfully tried to find oblivion and fill the emptiness in her life, which not only remained but seemed to grow bigger each day. Helenians had no faith in the trouble-free life after death that filled meager lives of people of other faiths, who expected rewards and meetings with the loved ones on the other side of death. The dignity with which sons and daughters of Hellas met their end was founded on the feeling of a fully drunk cup of one’s own life, the passionate love of land and sea, body and passion, beauty and intelligence.

The Spartans’ incredible courage and physical perfection, the Cretan’s amazingly sophisticated connection with the sea, the Athenian’s inventiveness, initiative and eternal thirst to discover new things became legendary in all of Ecumene.

But Thais no longer possessed either joy or fulfillment. Her formerly lively spirit had faded, giving way to the sad thoughts of her future path. Hesiona too started thinking of how to heal her mistress’ and friend’s heart-deep wound. She even regretted the departure of Thais’ mysterious teacher, of whom she used to be so jealous. The Delos philosopher would have done something to speed up the mistress’ recovery after having been wounded so badly by the unseen weapon of fate and gods.

But Hesiona, with her feminine intuition, sensed the inevitability of Thais’ rebirth. There was too much strength in that young body, and too much active interest toward everything in the world, inherited from her Athenian ancestors.

Waters of the great river receded, and the Nile became slow and transparent as it would be in winter. Thais shared her time between Salmaakh and a light narrow boat, boating with Clonaria and “the Daughter of the Snake”. She did not respond to any of her increasingly persistent admirers. Hesiona still rejected all things male, and when Clonaria fell in love with a middle-aged Greek merchant who offered to buy her from Thais, the slave girl herself refused out of fear of leaving Thais’ home, where she felt safe and was used to gentle treatment.

Thais invited the merchant to come over and stated that she would release Clonaria without a payment, but only under the condition of legal marriage. The merchant promised to think about it. He was a widower, but there was not epigamy between his native Lydia and Rhodes, where Clonaria was from. However, there was nothing to prevent an arrangement of a special agreement for Clonaria’s “taking”, and Thais decided to insist.

Thais had to let go of her house. Its owner wanted to raise the already unaffordable rent. Only the uncertain situation in Egypt on the eve of Alexander’s arrival kept the landlord from trading Thais for wealthier tenants.

Hesiona watched anxiously as the mistress’ jewels disappeared from the large box one after another. Even during her wealthiest times

Thais had lived modestly compared to the unguarded spending of other famous hetaerae.

Egesikhora’s death had taken half of her heart and Menedem’s demise had deprived her of love and safe haven. Thais lost sight of her path, like a horse that stumbled at full gallop, and now twirled in a circle of slow days, having lost all aspirations. She saw no sense to living in Egypt and had no idea where to go in order to fill the emptiness in her soul. Only the horse races and dangerous feats with Salmaakh managed to bring back the old Thais, the flushed cheeks and shining eyes that were mischievous and serious at the same time, the combination of inspired dignity and girlish liveliness which gave Thais irresistible allure.

During the last three days of the month, the days of the dead, also known as the “heavy days” of Puanepsion, Thais felt particularly lost. The calm and trouble-free life, her confident expectation of better and more beautiful things, the divine certainty of her own beauty, those things were gone, never to return. Along with those went the feeling of health and the hope for a fortunate future that only happens at the height of one’s youth. Thais turned twenty-three years old, full prime for a Helenian woman, yet she felt her beauty was leaving along with her youth. She believed she was losing her irresistible charms and had no desire to try them on anyone again. This absence of desires frightened Thais. It was like a ghost of the future aging most of all. If only the scholar from Delos were here. She would have found herself sooner and revived, sought a new life. How much she needed her teacher-friend.

Thais left the house in Hesiona’s care and went back into the seclusion of the Neit temple. The priests accepted her benevolently, probably informed in advance by the Delos philosopher.

The hetaera settled in a library-like room in the top story of the pylon and sought out Plato’s Gorgius among the Greek books. She remembered the ironic chuckle of the Delos teacher in response to her dismissive attitude toward Plato. She felt that she may have made a mistake and decided right away to reread the works of the great philosopher. Indeed, in his dialogs Thais discovered his deep concern about the people of Athens, which she had not understood before. She read of his attempts to elevate the Helenians of Attica so that each lived in harmony with the spirit of the city of the Maid. She sensed the wise man’s nostalgia corresponded to her own present mood. He pined for the past of Athens, which had become an empty vessel of former splendor after the war with Sparta.

Where in the past she saw only boring admonitions, she now discovered his firm belief that high moral code and people’s spiritual attitude toward each other could create a true arche, or state. The task of people’s improvement was the most important one, in Plato’s opinion. The rulers who plunged Helenians into lawlessness and taught their people nothing but anger and betrayal never achieved anything except for shame and infamy.

It would be interesting to know what Alexander was trying to achieve. Where was he going to direct his mighty army? Where was he going to apply his great wisdom and the constant benevolence of the gods? Then again, why would Thais bother with such things? Where was she to go to rediscover her own love of adventure and travel?

It was time to leave Memphis if only to separate herself from the loss of Egesikhora and Menedem. Over the last few days she had been persistently approached by one Stemlos, the only son of one of the wealthiest merchants in Memphis. He had only just come out of the age of epheb^[18] and probably was no older than Thais herself. He felt as if a boy before a goddess. But, she recalled, the mighty Menedem had often been like a boy as well. Kind, trusting, fearless. Should she accept Stemlos’ offer? Oh, no. She didn’t want anyone.

While reading Plato’s seventh letter, Thais sensed that the wise man revered the ancient and sacred, as he called it, religion of the Orphics. Still she retained some of her old dislike toward Plato’s teachings. Perhaps it was because he preached suppressing the physical, natural essence in a person. She was put off by his ancient mindset and the feelings of a devout slave owner, since she had developed a broader outlook upon people and the world in general. Thais stayed at the temple for several days, thinking and reading, until she became overwhelmed and gave up trying to guess her own future. She felt some relief at that decision, and some of her former lively confidence regarding health and strength returned.

That was when she heard a servant’s call, announcing that “a beautiful girl in a pink chiton was asking Thais to come to the gates of the inner courtyard.”

“The beautiful girl” turned out to be Hesiona. She wore a bright garment, not typical for the stern Theban. Hesiona had changed significantly and grown lovelier since she had come to Thais’ household from the slave market.

Hesiona noticed her mistress’ amazement and blushed, then told her, “All citizens of Memphis are ordered to dress in their best garb.”

“What? Why? Alexander?”

“Yes.”

Thais clapped her hands, summoning the servant boy. “Tell the honorable priests that I thank them for their hospitality, but I must go. I shall be back soon.”

Thais had no idea how mistaken she was. She would once again cross the threshold of the Neit temple nine years later — as the queen of Egypt.

It had been a long time since Memphis streets were so filled with life. Thais and Hesiona slowly made their way home through the excited throngs. The normally restrained and polite Egyptians, the one aspect in which they resembled Spartans, could not be recognized. They did not give way to women and elders, but instead pushed each other around like Athenians at Agora.

Thais was not recognized and was even insulted several times because of her worn and dull colored dress. She did not respond, but chose to bow her head and cover her face with a scarf.

The people of Memphis greeted Alexander with delight and wanted to hold a general celebration in his honor. The great conqueror, however, vanished as suddenly as he arrived, as soon as he received the admission of surrender from the envoy and the priests, who announced the pharaoh’s resignation.

Thais did not wish to see Alexander, and fate accommodated her. Late in the evening, two days after Thais returned from the temple, she received a visit from Nearchus. The Athenian recognized the seafarer immediately, even though he had changed noticeably and acquired sharp and commanding tones in his speech. His beard stuck out arrogantly, against the fashion of the rest of Alexander’s captains. The Cretan did not seem to be surprised to see his old friend. When he stepped toward Thais, she ran out to greet him. He took her hand firmly and spoke a single word, “Egesikhora?”

The hetaera’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. She hung her head, holding her breath. They stood before each other silently. Nearchus’ hands squeezed the soft gold bracelets around her wrists. Finally Thais caught herself and called Hesiona.

“Sit. Have some wine.”

Nearchus obediently lowered himself into a heavy carved armchair, moving with a slowness that was unusual for him. Without even noticing, he poured himself some undiluted wine.

Hesiona came in shyly with her gaze lowered, carrying Egesikhora’s jewelry box, which had ended up staying at Thais’ house as Thais had originally suggested.

The Cretan flinched at the sight of his gift. Thais grabbed Hesiona, who was about to leave, and pushed her toward Nearchus.

“She is the witness of Egesikhora’s last hour. Talk!”

Hesiona burst into tears and knelt on the carpet, then quickly took hold of herself and related to Nearchus what he wanted to know, speaking in a relatively coherent narrative.

Several tears rolled from under the young fleet leader’s lids. The Cretan remained motionless, only his hand shook over the armrest and his thin fingers squeezed the neck of a carved lion. Following a sudden urge, Hesiona rose from the carpet and pressed her cheek to his hand. Nearchus didn’t take it away but lifted his other hand and started patting the Theban’s hair, as he listened to Thais adding details to her story.

“And my Menedem went to accompany Egesikhora into the dungeons of Hades,” Thais said between sobs.

“And the damn Eositeus is there, too. Oh, Spartans!” Nearchus said with dull hatred and threat as he rose.

“Egesikhora was a Lacedemonian, too,” Thais objected quietly, and the Cretan had no answer to that.

“Tomorrow at dawn I shall make a sacrifice in her memory. I invite you,” Nearchus said after a pause, then turned to Hesiona, “and you. I shall send a carriage or a palanquin.”

“Very well,” Thais answered for them both. “But you are forgetting this.” She held out Egesikhora’s jewelry box.

Nearchus stepped back, pushing away the small box. “No. I am giving it to the one who took Egesikhora away from the assassins. To your friend.”

Hesiona was so shocked and anxious that she turned crimson. “What is the matter with you, navarchus^[19]? How can you give such expensive things to a penniless girl? After all, I am not a slave only by the mistress’ mercy. I cannot take this.”

“Take it. As a memory of the terrible hours you went through with my golden beloved. And let me judge your virtues for myself.”

Hesiona glanced at Thais with hesitation. The hetaera raised her eyebrows, signaling that she had to take it. The Theban made a low bow as she accepted the box under the Cretan’s gloomy gaze.

Nearchus stopped at the threshold. “I have word from Ptolemy,” he said to Thais. “He was looking for you on the first day, but he had to sail with Alexander toward the sea. He hasn’t forgotten you. If you want to see him, Alexander and Hephaestion, then come sail with me. I am waiting for a messenger from the Harbor of Heroes where I must join Alexander. Our divine leader and friend wishes to found a new city, possibly the future capital of his kingdom. There is a suitable spot where a Cretan port used to be a thousand years ago.”

“Where is that?” Thais inquired.

“On the shore. You would have to sail to Naucratis, then further to Canopus, then along the seashore to the west. You know the place from Homer. It is a dwelling of the old man of the sea Proteus.”

“There’s an island that lies near Egypt in turbulent surf. The people who live there call their settlement Pharos,” Thais instantly remembered and recited.

“Yes, Pharos. Alexander is particularly fond of this spot. You know how much he loves Homer. Will you come?”

Thais flushed, feeling embarrassed. “How big is your ship?”

Nearchus chuckled for the first time of the entire evening. “My biggest ship stands in Tyre, in the square before the main temple. As the sign of victory. Just as Deiad’s siege machine was set in the temple in Gaza. Deiad is, by the way, Alexander’s chief mechanic.” Thais threw up her hands with delight and Nearchus frowned. “Why do you need to know the size of my ship?” the Cretan asked. “I’ll give you a separate ship, or two, or three. As many as you want.”

This was the first time the Athenian truly felt the power of the young Macedonian king and his equally young associates.

“Do you agree to sail to Pharos? But why do you need a big ship? You have less stuff here than you had in Athens,” Nearchus said, then glanced around the less than luxurious furnishings of Thais’ home.

“I need to take my horse with me,” Thais replied shyly. “I can’t part with her for a long time.”

“I understand. Is that all? What else?”

“Also my stableman and two women in addition to myself.”

Nearch said proudly, “You shall have an entire ship with an experienced crew at your disposal. I expect my messenger in two days. Then we’ll sail to Eshmun and Small Hermopolis, past Naucratis. You have been there, haven’t you?”

Thais recalled the dull plains with their numerous salt lakes, sand dunes and immeasurable thickets of reeds, the entire Delta barrier that separated Egypt from the glorious blue sea.

Mistaking the Athenian’s silence for hesitation, Nearchus said, “Ptolemy told me to give you as many darics as you want. I’ll send the money tomorrow.”

Thais shook her head thoughtfully.

“No, don’t. I haven’t seen Ptolemy yet. And he hasn’t seen me.”

Nearchus chuckled. “You need not doubt. Ptolemy shall be at your knees the moment he sees you.”

“I doubt myself. But I shall borrow three hundred darics from you.”

“Certainly. Take it. I brought a lot of money.”

As soon as the clanging of the swords and armor died in the distance, Hesiona dashed toward Thais and slid to the floor, hugging her knees.

“Mistress, if you love me, please take this royal gift from me,” she pointed at Egesikhora’s jewelry box.

“I do love you, Daughter of the Snake,” Thais replied gently. “But I cannot take what was given to you. By the will of fate and gods it belongs to you.”

“I have no place to keep jewelry.”

“Then hide them in my room. By the way, I think it is time for you to get your own room. Would you like to have the small bedroom?”

“Oh mistress, I want to sleep on the rug at your bed.”

“I shall strike you every time you call me that,” Thais decided, then planted a firm smack on Hesiona’s behind. “It is not proper for us to sleep in the same room. I feel you shall wake up soon.”

The sad ritual of a memorial sacrifice, accompanied by mournful Greek songs, was brief. Everyone left, even Thais. Only Nearchus remained, standing at the place of Egesikhora’s burial pyre for a long time.

The Cretan showed up at Thais’ house two days later. “Alexander’s messenger is here,” Nearchus informed her right away. “Apparently, there is no need to rush to Pharos. Foundations of Alexandria have been laid already, and the great strategist himself, along with Ptolemy, Hephaestion and other associates is headed for the Libyan desert, toward the oasis where the famous oracle and oak of Ammon are located.”

“Is that far?”

“More than three thousand stadiums across the desert.”

“And three thousand back? That will take a whole month.”

“Alexander will take less than that.”

“Then why should be sail to Pharos?”

“You don’t have to. Alexander ordered me to look over the spot for a harbor. I’ll go. For a short while.”

“Would you take me with you? On your ship? Without the horse, just me and Hesiona?”

“Certainly. But why?”

“I want to see Pharos. I want a chance to see the sea, and not Ptolemy. The horse will stay here with my slave girl.”

Clonaria told her merchant about the imminent departure and he hurried to “take” her into his house and sign the marriage contract. The merchant had enough room in his household for Salmaakh as well.

The swift ship of the fleet leader carried Thais and Hesiona down the western arm of the Nile. Nearchus sailed forth with warlike speed, not dallying anywhere, and stopping only to get provisions. Thais spent most of the trip on deck, sitting under the stern tent next to Nearchus. She clutched around herself a blue cape of fine wool which Nearchus had initially intended for Egesikhora. Hesiona sat nearby in her favorite pose on three layers of carpets, her legs curled up. It was a kind of luxury that was unheard of even in Athens at the time. In Egypt it was only available to the noblemen and the highest-ranking priests. Three slaves, two tall Mizian men and a slender, mean-tempered Finikian girl, waited off to the side, ready to carry out any order.

Nearchus told them about the adventures during Alexander’s campaign. Being more of an explorer and seafarer at heart than a military man, he remembered more about the places along the Ionian and Finikian coasts than about the battles. There were mountains and harbors which closely resembled Crete and Hellas, but were more spacious and less populated, with vast, untouched pine and cedar woods, light and pure, cleansed by the mountain winds. The hills below were akin to the gardens of gods, with chestnuts, mighty walnuts and pomegranate trees, and groves of sakuras, with their round crowns bubbling up like green clouds. Even lower, right near the coast, were thickets of almonds, hazelnut bushes as big as houses, fragrant myrtle and laurel, pistachios and carob trees with black pods, as sweet as dates.

All this wealth of food, barely touched by men even in close proximity of the cities, allowed people to live in spacious solitude. Had it not been for the constant pirate attacks, life there would have been much easier than on the shores of the native Peloponnese and Crete. But the cities demanded more and more new slaves for construction and taking care of the households, and the Asian shores became deserted, emptied by the “living tool” hunters.

Nearchus recalled the harbors surrounded by cliffs of white lime, saying they were like marble goblets filled with blue, crystal clear water. Deep gulfs among red mountains hid mysterious black underwater rocks, covered with huge sea sponges and blood red corals.

The shores, overgrown with thyme, lavender and myrrh, emitted a sharp fragrance during the hot, calm days, diluted only by the fresh scent of the sea. Further to the south, in Cilicia, the narrow mountain valleys, shaded by the enormous sakuras, were saturated by the poisonous fumes of oleanders and magnolias. Woe befell those who lingered near the bubbling rivers at the bottoms of those valleys. Cypresses sixty elbows tall, a height unheard of in Hellas, framed the approach to the sea like burial columns.

Entire islands of silvery gray olive foliage spread around cities and large villages.

Finikian shores, which were drier and had poorer soil, had many oaks and shrubs, but its mountains were home to the same titans as in Cilicia and Caria, the cedars and firs.

Nearchus told them about the cities. Some of them had opened their gates to the victorious Macedonians, welcoming them gladly. Others fought desperately, and for that they had been pillaged and all their men murdered. Those others had included Millet, Galicarnass, Tyre and especially Gaza.

Each time he spoke of the conquered cities and battles, Nearchus mentioned Alexander. The friend of his childhood games and youthful adventures, the exiled prince in the eyes of his closest friends, not to mention the cream of Macedonian cavalry from the noble families to his devoted getaerosi (comrades), had grown from an inexperienced soldier into a divine army leader. Alexander accomplished things that no Helenian could even dream of, not even his father Philip, who had long since considered a war against Persia.

Against the advice of men experienced in politics, Alexander rejected his father’s underhanded tricks. He always acted straightforwardly, kept his word, and fulfilled his promises to the letter. His ability to make lightning fast decisions surpassed even that of Themistocles. He never gave up on his goals and acted with such confidence in successful outcome that his captains considered it divine foresight.

During the first large battle at Granic, the senior officers could still reproach him for carelessness. But after the giant battle at Issus, when Alexander and thirty-five thousand Macedonians and Thessalian horsemen decimated hundreds of thousands of Darius’ soldiers with minimal casualties, his associates started treating Alexander with reverent fear. The old simplicity, even familiarity, in their attitude was replaced by something akin to worship. Alexander’s habit of suddenly throwing himself into the most dangerous spots in the battle, and fighting with a godlike rage, made him like Achilles, whom Alexander counted among his ancestors. Over a short period of time he received two serious wounds: one to the hip and another one in the shoulder, from which he recovered inhumanly fast.

“He must be surrounded by the greatest beauties of Ionia, Syria and Egypt,” Thais said.

Nearchus burst out in a kindly laughter. “You’d be surprised. Imagine this: Alexander doesn’t have anyone, unless you count some plain-looking widow he took into his tent after his senior officers advised him not to inspire gossip among his soldiers and take a lover. Tens of thousands of young women have been sold into slavery. He could have had his pick. During the battle of Issus he took in all of Darius’ possessions, as well as his family. That included his mother, wife and two daughters. Darius’ wife, Stateira, was considered the first beauty of Asia, and the princesses are beautiful as well.”

“And he didn’t take her?”

“No. And wouldn’t let anyone else have them, telling everyone that the women were to be his hostages.”

Thais picked up a handful of Carian almonds from a clay platter. They were a common Helenian treat which she missed greatly during her time in Egypt.

“Then he doesn’t like women at all?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say that. When Ptolemy hinted that the ladies of the Persian royal family were beautiful, Alexander sounded almost anguished. ‘Yes, and it is a torture to my eyes’ was what he’d said. No, he senses feminine beauty keenly and reveres it.”

“Then why does he avoid women?”

“I think Alexander is not an ordinary man. He is indifferent to food and drink. I have seen him disgusted by the gluttony of his comrades who wanted to have a feast after each victory. He is not greedy, even though there isn’t a person in Hellas who ever possessed such treasures. His favorite occupation is to read at night and spend his days consulting with the cryptii, the people who survey the way ahead, as well as talk with the philosophers.”

“What of the widow?”

“She doesn’t love Alexander and is afraid of him, hiding in the back section of the tent like a mouse.”

It was Thais’ turn to laugh. “How well do you understand him, close friend? Or are there others, even closer? Ptolemy? Hephaestion?”

“Most likely. Hephaestion because he is Alexander’s complete opposite. Ptolemy always stands for himself, although Alexander highly values his cleverness and ability to make decisions quickly. I know the sea, but he is distant from it. We, his closest friends, have become more distant from him lately. Alexander’s decisions are difficult to foresee, and his actions are frequently inexplicable.”

“For example?”

“Sometimes Alexander acts like a wise ruler, merciful toward those he conquered, respectful of the others’ traditions and temples, filled with good intentions toward the citizens of the taken cities. But sometimes he is akin to a wild, untamed barbarian. He destroys cities to their foundations and sets off bloody massacres. When they were at Thebes, the Macedonians demonstrated what they were capable of.”

“Oh yes,” Hesiona exclaimed.

Nearchus glanced at her, then continued. “The same fate befell Millet and Galicarnass, to say nothing of Gaza. Resistance makes Alexander mad, and he deals with his enemy like a savage, forgetting all his beautiful words about equality between people of Asia and Hellas. Myself, I think courage and bravery deserve at least some respect. After all, courage lives in the best of people. And if that is so, how can he kill the courageous and the brave ones, leaving behind only the weak of body and spirit? Not one intelligent livestock farmer would do a thing like that with animals, let alone people.”

“There is a worse side to such savagery,” Hesiona said suddenly, blushing deeply. “Among those who are murdered or sold as slaves like livestock, there are irreplaceable people: artists, healers, philosophers, singers, actors. Each polis, each city-state is known for its masters and its achievements in creation of beauty, in crafts and knowledge. It is clear that all this requires centuries of gradual perfection, even millennia, like Egypt, Hellas and the lost Crete. When we annihilate a city with all its carriers of arts and knowledge, we rob ourselves and the entire Ecumene, and lose wisdom and beauty that took centuries to be created.”

Nearchus raised his eyebrows, thought about it, then nodded decisively in agreement.

“Tell me, have you tried talking to Alexander about this?” Thais asked.

“I have. He listened to me at first because he knew that I rarely speak, and when I do it is only about things that are important.”

“And?”

“And he forgot everything in yet another fit of Achillean rage. He is not as much like Philip as his mother, Olympias.”

“What was she like?”

“Why ‘was’? She is still alive. She is not much older than forty, and she is still beautiful, with a peculiar, slightly wild kind of beauty. Do you know that she is a princess of an ancient line from the mountainous Timphea, an orphan dedicated to Dionysus who became his priestess? And, of course, she is a maenad.”

“So she is subject to enraged ecstasy. Alexander must have inherited that ability. Now I understand his inexplicable behavior a little better.”

“It is possible. He becomes enraged when he runs into any resistance, be it a clash with an enemy or a dispute with his friends. He tries to overcome obstacles with a savage shove, not sparing his own life or those of others. During those times he thinks nothing of human dignity, that of which he speaks so frequently during his calm moments, when he disagrees with his teacher, Aristotle.”

“This happens to very fortunate people, the favorites of Tihe, the fate,” Thais said thoughtfully.

The companions remained silent for a long time, listening to the bubbling of water under the steering oars. The ship moved under sails. The steady east wind shortened their voyage. The mournful shouts of the livestock herders and roaring of donkeys could be heard from the distance. Thickets of donax, or reeds, spread as far as the eye could see, rippling in the wind like a brownish green sea. More reeds with fluffy tips, fluttering in rhythm with the current, grew closer to the shores of rivers and channels.

“Have you seen that most beautiful one, Darius’ wife?” the hetaera suddenly asked.

“I have. She is very beautiful.”

“More beautiful than I am? And … Egesikhora?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Tall, slender. Gloomy black eyes under wide black eyebrows. Large, thin-lipped mouth, slightly hollow cheeks, long neck. I don’t know about her legs. You can’t see them under those heavy long dresses of theirs. Long black braids, thin like snakes. That is all there is to her. In my opinion, she is nothing to you or …” Nearchus paused, then gazed at the Theban, who flushed hotly. “ …or to Hesiona.”

“The Daughter of the Snake” hid her face in her hands, and Thais hopped up, hugged Nearchus and kissed him somewhere under an eye, trying to avoid his prickly beard.

“You deserve a reward. I shall dance for you. Call your musician girl. I think you have a flutist, and Hesiona can manage the sitar.”

Nearchus and his companions were thrilled by the unexpected performance, for there was no greater pleasure for Helenians, Finikians and Egyptians than a dance performed by a beautiful woman.

The quiet “kingfisher” days had ended after winter solstice, but weather still remained calm, even when Nearchus’ ship exited the Nile and turned along the shore to the west, propelled by the steady east wind. Two skillful helmsmen remained constantly at the steering paddles. In this wide band of yellowish water, churned by the rolling surf, sandbanks continuously changed their location. In the liquid sand, mixed with the Nile silt, the ship’s bottom could get stuck so firmly that no effort of the rowers or sails could move the entrapped vessel. That was why the helmsmen didn’t dare sail at night and always stopped in small harbors.

Thais and Hesiona were under Aphrodite’s protection. The goddess made their trip easy and fast. Soon the ship entered clear waters outside of the sands carried by the Nile, and approached the white band of foam beyond the island of Pharos, which was visible from afar. Eight ships carrying lumber and rock were crowded around the strip of land between the Mareotide lagoon and a broad strait where a poor settlement of fishermen Racotis used to be only a month before. In this early morning hour, thick smoke rose above kitchens in the soldier’s camp and in the slaves’ quarters. It was picked up by the wind and carried to the west, along the deserted Libyan coast.

Alexander’s architect, Dinocrates, had accomplished quite a lot. Grooves and rows of boards hammered into the ground ran through the future city, marking the outlines of temples, streets and squares yet to be built. The chief of the city construction, a middle-aged, scar-covered Macedonian, greeted Nearchus with great respect.

Two tents woven of the delicate wool of Pamphilian mountain goats were set under the protection of a wall, still smelling of damp lime. The ship of the fleet commander carried plenty of beds, cushions and curtains. Thais and Hesiona settled quite luxuriously under his omnipotent care.

Meeting with the sea brought on memories of the past for Thais. A little bit sad, she relived the unforgettable moments of her short, yet saturated life to the hum of the sea, the splash of broadly rolling waves, and the constantly changing patterns of foamy bands. There were many seagulls, their rocking flight and piercing, troublesome cries making her think of Ea, the island of tears, and the dwelling of Circe in the midst of the deserted Ionic Sea.

In order to shake off the sudden sadness, Thais asked Nearchus for a boat and some oarsmen. The Cretan volunteered to accompany his guests, and they sailed across the strait to the legendary abode of the old man of the sea Proteus.

It was after noon, and the wind suddenly faded. Heat breathed upon them from above, and sparkling light spots dappled the calm water. The boat approached the island, low, sandy and completely empty. Even the seagulls grew quiet. Nearchus turned left, to the western side of Pharos, and the bow hit the sandy bank. Nearchus jumped into the water and handed both women over to the shore.

Ordering the oarsmen to wait, he led Thais and Hesiona through heat-saturated sand dunes covered with dry brambles. Beyond the dunes the wide band of surf-packed sand was cut off by a straight stone wall. Giant boulders, even larger than those in the Athenian Pelasgicon, were set together with a thoroughness resembling Egyptian and Cretan structures.

“What is this? Who lived here in the ancient times?” Thais asked quietly.

Without a reply, Nearchus led the Athenian to the edge of the wall and pointed at the boulders which had been scattered by an earthquake and were now submerged in the clear water. A pattern in the shape of squares could be seen on the surface of the boulders, marked in regular deep grooves. Some of the squares were carved out, and some had been left even with the surface of the stone. Together they made a net-like pattern of dark and light squares.

Thais immediately remembered where she had seen something like that. “It’s Crete, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, her eyes shining.

Nearchus replied with a wide pleased smile. “There are ruins further down. See? That looks like a column.”

“I want to see that,” Thais said. She looked down at the water, considering. “The water is not cold, despite winter time, unlike in Hellas …”

“The locals wouldn’t be caught dead swimming this time of year,” Nearchus said with a chuckle, then grew suddenly glum.

Thais realized that he remembered Egesikhora and gently patted his arm.

“I’ll go for a dive,” she said, and ran toward the sea.

Hesiona dashed after her, but both were passed by Nearchus. “In that case,” he yelled over his shoulder, “I am going first. A-e-o …” he yelled, clearing his lungs, the way sea sponge divers did.

The Cretan shed his clothes, then dove, followed by Thais and, much to Thais’ surprise, Hesiona, who ended up close by. Thais knew the Theban was a decent swimmer, but had never considered her capable of more. Concerned, she signed to Hesiona to go back to the surface, but the girl shook her head stubbornly and went even deeper into the dusky shadow, to where Nearchus was beckoning.

A large image of an octopus was clearly visible, the fanciful curves of his tentacles illuminated by a ray of light on the flat surface of a large stone slab. A fallen column with a wide top narrowed toward the bottom, after a Cretan fashion. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough breath to examine it.

Thais went up, but Hesiona suddenly fell behind. The movements of her arms slowed. Nearchus dashed to her aid, shoving the Theban up and catching her at the surface just in time. As she recovered, Hesiona lowered her eyes sheepishly. She no longer tried competing with swimmers like Nearchus and Thais, who kept diving until they grew cold.

Climbing out onto a dry slab warmed by the sun, Thais was surprised for the second time. Hesiona didn’t rush to get dressed, but was taking her time to dry her hair. She was not heeding Nearchus, who jumped and walked on his arms to get warm, glancing at his companions discreetly, as was appropriate for a polite hymnophile.

Thais’ deep tan, that had scandalized Athenian fashionistas, had grown paler in Egypt, her coppery skin becoming lighter. Hesiona, barely gilded by the sun, looked charming even next to the famous hetaera. Her legs, which were as strong as Thais’, could have looked too muscular, had they not been so beautifully outlined. Her hair became fluffed by the wind and surrounded her head in a thick mane, seemingly too heavy for the delicate, maidenly neck.

Hesiona tipped her head to the side. Deep shadows hid her large eyes and gave the girl’s face an expression of tired sadness. She rested one hand on a prominent curve of her hip and used the other to brush the sand off her body with slow, smooth movements. A brief sigh of a shore wind tossed Hesiona’s hair over her forehead. She started with chill and lifted her head. Suddenly embarrassed, she covered herself with her hair and ran away under the questionable protection of the tall clumps of dry grass.

Nearchus felt a strange sense of pity and attraction to the tragic, gentle and passionate Hesiona. This girl, in whom he sensed a bright and delicate spirit, seemed akin to him, a former hostage and exile since childhood.

From the glint in his eyes Thais understood the Cretan’s emotions. While she dressed, Thais said quietly, “Do not rush, seafarer, and she will make a good companion for you.”

“I will not rush. I understand that she needs to be awakened. Will you give Hesiona away?”

“How can I not? She is not a slave, but a free, educated woman. I love her and will be glad of her happiness. But you must watch out. One wrong step and you will be dealing with an unusual destiny and you will not be able to take her, like the others who have tried.”

“Will you help me?”

“First of all, I will not interfere.”

Nearchus pulled Thais to him and kissed her bare shoulder.

“Do not rush with your thanks,” Thais said, laughing. Then she remembered something and pushed Nearchus away.

Calling Hesiona, Thais pulled apart the bracelet on her left arm, the sign of a slave, with one swift movement. She pulled it off and tossed it into the sea. The Theban had no time to say anything, and Nearchus clapped his hands thrice, expressing his approval.

They crossed the strait, steering at the tall pillar which marked the spot for a future breakwater, and found more remains of Cretan structures near the west end of the strait.

Nearchus said that he was repeatedly surprised by Alexander’s unmistakable instinct. A port, constructed so substantially thousands of years ago, undoubtedly was an important harbor along the trade routes of the great Cretan sea state. And now it was to serve the state of Philip’s son.

Thais stayed in the future Alexandria till new moon, swimming in the sea even during windy days.

Part of the Macedonian detachment, which had accompanied Alexander to the Ammon’s oasis, arrived without him. Much to everyone’s surprise, Alexander went from the oasis straight to Memphis, taking a difficult and dangerous path across the Libyan desert. He was accompanied by Ptolemy, Hephaestion and Cleitus, the brother of Alexander’s wet nurse, and an incredibly powerful giant, nicknamed Black. The trip to Ammon’s sanctuary turned out to be not hard in the winter time. They were able to find water in every large hollow. The way to the east, to Memphis, however, was more dangerous and difficult. Huge mountains of sand fumed and rustled under the wind, obstructing the entire four thousand stadiums with an endless series of hills.

It was unclear why Alexander had decided to undertake this trip, since it contributed little to his glory.

Nearchus shrugged. “It is clear to me.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“Alexander needs to follow Darius into the depths of Asia, across deserts and heat-filled plains. He wants to test and strengthen himself.”

“What did the oracle of Ammon say?”

“Nobody knows. The oracle’s priests and garamants, the keepers of the oak, met Alexander with the greatest of honors. In the morning, he entered the temple alone. His companions waited for him the entire day and the following night. At dawn Alexander left Ammon’s sanctuary, saying that he’d found out everything he wanted, and everything he needed from the god.”

“Then what are we to do?”

“Sail to Memphis. Today. Or do you want to spend more time with the sea?”

“No. I miss Salmaakh.”

Again the endless plains of the Delta stretched before them, looking even more dull after the open spaces of the sea. The Cretan continued telling tales about Alexander’s campaigns, except now Thais frequently went to the bow deck, leaving him alone with the Theban. She noticed that Hesiona’s glances directed at Nearchus were becoming increasingly tender and dreamy. One evening Hesiona quietly slipped into their shared quarters where Thais had retired earlier, but still lay awake. Hearing that the girl could barely contain her laughter, Thais asked what had happened.

“Look,” Hesiona said, and held an enormous sea sponge to the light of a lucnos.

“A gift from Nearchus,” Thais said, admiring the sponge. “It is a rare thing, to match this basin.”

A shallow, silver lined cleansing basin stood in the corner of their quarters, so large and heavy it could only be moved by two strong slaves.

“Shall we try it?” Hesiona suggested with a laugh. She rolled the basin out like a wheel and dropped it to the floor.

The ship shook from the basin’s thunderous fall, and the helmsman’s assistant ran into the room in a panic. Charmed by the women’s smiles, he immediately sent two sailors to fill the basin with fresh water.

Thais lowered the sponge into the basin and watched it absorb almost all of the water. She ordered Hesiona to stand in it, then lifted the sponge with great effort and squeezed it over the Theban. A delighted squeal burst out of Hesiona, her breath caught by an entire shower of cold water.

“Make sure that Nearchus’ love doesn’t drown you like this sponge,” Thais joked, and the girl shook her head violently.

However, on the fourth day of their trip, Hesiona did not come out to the deck. She stayed in their room instead. Thais demanded an answer from the saddened commander.

“I grew to love her. But she … I am afraid Hesiona will never truly recover. I am afraid to ruin everything. Help me somehow. You, skillful priestess of Aphrodite, ought to know such things.”

“Trust me,” Thais reassured him. “While it is strange for me to be a man’s ally, I am certain that you shall not harm my Hesiona.”

“What more can I say?”

“No need,” Thais said, then went back into her quarters and stayed there till night.

Two more days passed. The ship approached Eshmun in the midst of a dark, moonless night. Thais lay awake in her quarters, thinking about what Nearchus had said about Alexander wanting to go to the end of the world in the east. What was she going to do now?

Suddenly, Hesiona burst into the room and threw herself on the carpet in front of the bed. Hiding her face, she held her arms out over the silk throw toward Thais.

Thais pulled Hesiona to her, kissed her flushed cheeks several times then pushed her away slightly. Thais looked into the chestnut colored eyes with an unspoken question.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the Theban whispered passionately. “And he gave me this bracelet and this ring. He bought them in Naucratis. These are not the other ones, not Egesikhora’s.”

“Are you going to him again?”

“I am. Right now.”

“Wait a little. I shall teach you how to become even more beautiful, though you are not bad as is. Take off your epoxida.”

Thais pulled out a set of cosmetics for the body as well as fragrant essences. She looked over her friend critically, then asked mischievously, “Is male love really that bad?”

“Oh no!” the Theban exclaimed, then blushed and added, “Except I don’t know what to do to make it good for him.”

“You must descend to him like a goddess to a poet, ready to give yourself to a sacred ritual without fear or impatience. Serve him as you would serve Aphrodite at a seashore, without limit or hesitation. I mean, if that is your way …”

“Yes, yes. I know that he is a fleet commander of the great Alexander, and I … But still, I am happy with whatever the fate holds. Who can argue with it?”

“Gods themselves cannot and dare not,” Thais agreed. “But we mortals must be spiritually strong in order to avoid humiliation.”

“What gives us strength?”

“Long preparation, demanding training, strict upbringing.”

“Even for hetaerae?”

“Especially for us. Many girls gifted by Aphrodite above all others, rose up and accepted adoration like queens, but ended up being pitiful slaves of men and wine, nothing but broken flowers. Any hetaera, who becomes famous, shall perish if she is not spiritually trained in advance. That is the meaning of the teachings at the temple of Corinthian Aphrodite.”

“I do not understand.”

“You will soon. And when you do realize that you cannot be famous by love alone, it won’t be too late to study dancing and the art of being a lively companion and storyteller.”

“I would so love to become a dancer, like you.”

“We’ll see. I know one Finikian woman in Memphis who could teach you the mysteries.”

“Oh, I need no mysteries. I love Nearchus and will not love anyone else except him.”

Thais looked carefully at the Theban. “This happens too, but rarely.”