Thais of Athens

Chapter Ten. Waters of the Euphrates

Dusty sky hung over the scorched plain like an enormous, hot copper pot. The cavalry detachment, led by Leontiscus, crossed to the left bank of the Euphrates. They headed south across a large river valley, parallel to the ancient “royal road” from Ephesus to Susa. Eight hundred stadiums separated them from the mouth of the river which fed the Euphrates from the east. There they transferred onto large boats.

The Euphrates could carry entire ships. The only drawback of sailing there was the frequent bends in the river. This more than doubled the distance to Babylon, but they could sail without stopping for days on end, conserving the energy of the horses, who were also loaded onto the boats. Even such passionate horsemen as Thessalians agreed with their captain’s plan.

Lykophon was still too weak to ride. His comrades decided to transport him all the way to Babylon and procured a cart for doing just that. Thais ordered Za-Asht to accompany the Thessalian. The Finikian glared at Eris, who had seemingly pushed her out of the mistress’ heart. But Thais pulled the upset Finikian to her and whispered a few words. The girl blushed, dropped her eyes, and obligingly went to arrange a comfortable bed for the young man’s transportation.

Thais was mostly worried about Eris, as she could see Kibela’s priestess was a poor rider. Eris frowned at her concern and swore not to let her mistress down. After some hesitation, Thais decided to let her slave girl have Boanergos. She would take Salmaakh for herself. She advised Eris to keep her legs bent with the help of a belt slung over the shoulders and attached to both ankles. A Persian sweat blanket was covered with thin textured fabric to protect the rider’s skin should it get inflamed. Athenian, cone-shaped sun hats did not work in this climate because of the wind, so the women decided to take Leontiscus’ soldiers’ advice and cover their heads with turbans of black cloth. The soldiers were accustomed to the heat of Mesopotamian plains.

The heat was oppressive even to the sun-loving Helenians and war-hardened Macedonians. As usual, their departure was postponed due to the extra time it took to gather troops and minor issues. The detachment started when the sun was already high in the sky, the great celestial body trying to bend the restless humans into slave-like obedience like an angered ruler.

Thais rode Salmaakh side by side with Leontiscus on his snow white Song. The hetaera’s nostrils fluttered, breathing in the hot and bitter dry air.

Thais was overflowing with joy and daring, like a prisoner who had been set free. Victory! Alexander had crushed more of Darius’ hordes at Gaugamela. She wanted to sing, make Salmaakh rear up and dance on her rear hooves, or do some other kind of mischief. She listened to Leontiscus, barely able to contain her laughter. The captain of cavalry started by telling her various funny adventures that had taken place during the march to Gaugamela. Then he became carried away with describing the great battle.

Initially, the Macedonian army marched across dead country. The valleys to the north of Mesopotamia were nearly deserted. The handful of shepherds who traveled this way either ran away or had already left for the mountains before the coming of summer heat.

The spies reported a gathering of the enemy troops beyond the Tigris. True to his strategy, Alexander hurried to cross the river. They passed the semi-ruined Nineveh, one of the most ancient cities in the entire Ecumene, and were observed by a small group of people from atop its tall walls. Priests of ancient gods stood among them, dressed in colorful garments.

Alexander ordered his men not to touch the city. Its minuscule population did not pose any danger, and the worst enemy was ahead. The Macedonians turned more to the north after passing Nineveh in order to be closer to the hills with good grass and creeks of fresh water. Alexander wanted to reach a river flowing from the north which would provide enough water for the entire army. The small river fed a tributary of the Tigris, which flowed from northeast. Darius had assembled his enormous army near that tributary.

The Macedonian army moved at a slow pace, since the great army leader didn’t want to wear out the soldiers. When they arrived at the river near the small settlement of Gaugamela, Ptolemy noticed that the arch of low hills to the north looked like the front of a carriage, or arbila. This nickname was recorded in the chronicles of the war, and went on to confuse historians for thousands of years. Two hundred stadiums away from Gaugamela, along the southern road, stood a fortress which was also called Arbila, settled between an empty plain and rocks.

Alexander gave his army three days of rest after they’d covered several thousand stadiums. They would need the rest. Spies reported a huge gathering of the enemy cavalry only a few parsangs away, converging like a cloud. Alexander didn’t rush. He wanted to deal a final blow to the entire Persian army rather than chase separate divisions around endless plains. If Darius did not understand that a decisive battle should have taken place at the Euphrates, if he were following the example of his ancestors and hoping for the multitude of his hordes, all the better for the Macedonians. Their fates would be decided in that battle. Or that was, at least, the case for the Macedonians, because defeat meant death for the entire army.

“Could they not retreat?” the hetaera asked, having listened carefully. “After all, ten thousand Helenian soldiers managed to escape from the same area in the past.”

“Do you mean Anabasis by Xenophontus? At that time, the Greek mercenaries retreated without being surrounded by enemies, especially not as many of them, as there were Persians at Gaugamela.”

“The danger was grave then?”

“Very grave. Defeat would have meant death or slavery to us all.”

The giant number of horsemen facing the Macedonian camp surprised and frightened even the most experienced warriors. War elephants, never before seen by the Macedonians, hovered in the distance like gray ghosts. Gilded armor and spears of the “Immortals”, Darius’ personal guards, glittered in the sun as they rode in tight rows atop incredibly tall horses. The more experienced soldiers recognized the colorful dress of the Partheans, Sogdians, Bactrians, and even Scythians from beyond the great Asian river, Oxus. It seemed as if the horde would rush through like a storm to bring death under the hooves of countless horses. Like they waited to crush the impudent army that dared penetrate so far into the strange country at the border between the steppes and the labyrinth of mountain ranges.

The wind rose in the evening, shadowing the entire valley in red dust, and an even greater fear possessed the Macedonians. During a military council, Parmenius, the commander of the entire cavalry, sided with the other captains when they began to ask Alexander to strike at night, when the Persian cavalry would have no advantage over the Macedonian infantry. Alexander declined this suggestion. Instead, he set the battle to right after dawn, but not before the soldiers were fed.

Ptolemy supported his friend, although the great strategist would have been just as staunch even if he had stood alone.

Later on, Hephaestion told Leontiscus about Alexander’s consideration. The army leader both saw and felt the fear taking greater hold of his soldiers, but did nothing to dispel it.

For the same reason, Alexander showed a calm exterior that was unusual for him. He knew that a man was most dangerous to his enemy when he was the most afraid, with years of training and military discipline keeping him in formation along with his comrades. The army knew very well what would happen in the case of defeat. Alexander used that fact in place of inspiring speeches and loud promises.

Had they attacked at night, the men would did not feel the same sense of common support and would not be able to see their captains. In that case, their fear could have assisted the Persians and ruined that desperate battle push that was used so frequently by the Macedonian infantry and cavalry.

Alexander’s calculations turned out to be completely justified.

Untried in campaigns, not molded together in battles, Darius’ giant army rushed at the Macedonians, creating incredible crowding and chaos in the center. Alexander’s left wing, commanded by Parmenius and including Leontiscus and his Thessalians, was crumpled by the Persian cavalry, torn in half and forced to retreat behind the temporary walls of the Macedonian camp.

Parmenius asked for help twice, but Alexander did not respond. Leontiscus feared the end was near. But the Thessalian horsemen decided to not sell themselves short. They fought desperately, deflecting the push of the Persian riders. Stout, broad-chested Thessalian horses exchanged bites with valley horses, pushed them and struck them with their hooves. At the same time, the Macedonian infantry-phalanx moved forward in the center of the battle, step by step, in the midst of terrible chaos, cutting into the mass of enemies like a knife. The crowd was so dense that Darius was unable to use either the elephants or the carriages with sickle-like knives protruding from the spokes and rims, designed to cut down the enemy at speed. Alexander, too, was unable to introduce his heavy cavalry into the battle. Having mounted Bucefal, which usually indicated the start of an attack, he was forced to wait, not answering Parmenius’ cries for help.

Finally, the phalanx was able to penetrate deep into the center. The light Persian cavalry was pushed to the right, and getaerosi, heavy cavalry, were able to strike through the newly-formed gap. They crushed the “Immortals” and found themselves standing before the Persian king’s personal guards, just as they had during the battle at the Issus.

The Argiroaspides, or Silver Shields, proved that they deserved their military glory by running fearlessly at the weakening rows of the Persians. The shield-bearers, chosen to include the strongest men, struck the enemy with their shields at a dead run. The Persians broke rank, opening their unprotected sides to the Macedonian swords.

Darius, seeing the break made by getaerosi, rushed away from the battle on a carriage with the “Immortals” right behind him.

The battle at the flanks continued with unrelenting rage. Alexander took some of the getaerosi and managed to make it to Parmenius from the left, immediately improving the situation for Leontiscus and his Thessalian horsemen. Side by side with the battle-fierce Alexander, Leontiscus crushed and pushed back the enemy.

Amidst the clouds of dust, nobody noticed the gradual retreat of the Persians. Suddenly, they were all running, and an army that consisted mostly of cavalry was able to retreat much faster than one dominated by infantry. Somewhere on the right, Alexander’s Frakians and Agrians still fought with the Sogdians and Massagets, but the main Persian troops ran southeast, past the left wing of the Macedonian army.

Alexander ordered Parmenius and Leontiscus, the most battle-weary, to remain on the battlefield and gather the wounded and trophies. Alexander himself took some of his reserve troops in order to pursue the enemy. The warriors had been exhausted by the terrible battle, and were only able to chase them as far as the river before the army leader himself stopped the pursuit.

The chase did not eliminate the enemy, but forced the Persians to leave behind anything that was marginally burdensome to the horses. The loot turned out to be even greater than it had been at the Issus. In addition to jewels and weapons, clothes, tents and splendid fabrics, the Macedonians captured the war elephants for the first time, and took possession of both the carriages with knives and white wool tents embroidered with silver.

Alexander didn’t let his men celebrate the victory. In fact, he allowed only five hours of rest, then drove the army further to the south, ordering Parmenius to follow behind with the giant parade of carts and prisoners.

That was when Leontiscus collapsed from exhaustion.

But Darius did not go south to the main cities of his kingdom. Instead, he ran away to the northeast, into the mountains. Alexander discovered Darius’ abandoned carriage and weapons for a second time, but decided not to chase him through the labyrinth of ranges and chasms. Instead, he turned south to Babylon, Susa and Persepolis, distributing the loot and allowing the army to have a few days of rest. Ptolemy was sent to conduct some surveillance with a group of soldiers. That was when Ptolemy asked Leontiscus to send for Thais.

Leontiscus was only too happy to take on this chore.

“Parmenius wanted to keep me at the camp for the wounded,” he told Thais. “But I decided to get you myself.”

Thais rode closer to him and the riders’ knees touched. She wrapped her arms around Leontiscus’ mighty shoulders and pulled him to her for a kiss. The captain of the cavalry glanced around and blushed slightly, seeing the Athenian’s mocking smile.

“Are you afraid of Eris?”

“It is funny, but you are right. Her gaze is so steady and merciless, that my soul fills … not with fear, but …”

“You could say caution,” Thais suggested, laughing.

“Exactly. I am not afraid of the dagger in her hair or the elegant little knife she hides behind her bracelet which I know is used for cutting bellies open. It is not her weapons. I am afraid of her.”

Thais shook her head. “I am only afraid that she will get tired on horseback, because she is not used to it.”

“You always fuss over your slaves more than they fuss over you.”

“How can I not? I do not want them to be strangers to me. Why would I want to be touched by evil fingers, or looked at by eyes that hate me? That would only bring illness and misfortune. After all, these people live in my house and know every hour of my life.”

“You call them people. Many other Helenian women would call them barbarians and use a pin, a stick or even a whip to interact with them.”

“Would you have tried a whip on Hesiona?”

“Of course not. Hesiona is a noble Helenian and very beautiful. So much so that a mistress less beautiful than you would torture her mercilessly.”

“Then what do you know of the virtues of others? Eris, for example.”

“She will bruise Boanergos’ back, and then…”

“No, she won’t. She promised to sit properly.”

“She’ll get tired. It’s a long way.”

Thais waved a dismissive hand at him. “I am watching her. But tell me more of the battle. If I understand this right, Darius’ mistake was to throw all of his forces at you at once. The Persian army became so crowded that people couldn’t fight properly. What if he hadn’t done it? What would have happened then?”

“It probably would have been worse for us. But I am not Alexander. He would have found a way out of any situation. Although …” Leontiscus paused.

“Were you going to say something?”

“I remembered an incident. Captive tribe leaders and army captains were always brought before Alexander. He spoke to them through translators, asking primarily about how they viewed their defeat. A young Massaget, a leader of Scythian cavalry, who was tied despite his wound, had given Alexander a short answer: the Persians paid for their inability to fight.”

The conversation, he said, went like this:

“’Would you have done better?’ the victor asked the Massaget curiously.

“’It would be laughable to think of that with my forces of five hundred horsemen. But if I had at least a half of the royal army, I would have finished you off in two or three months.’

“’How so?’

“’I would have armed my cavalry with heavy bows. I would have showered your infantry with arrows, never letting them close enough to use spears. Reserve forces would have deflected your cavalry, which is seven times smaller than Darius’. I know that is the number because I counted.

“’What would you have done with the shield-bearing infantry?’ Alexander asked, at once serious and stern.

“’Nothing, as long as they held rank. They could be whittled at little by little, day by day, month after month. They can’t hold formation forever. I don’t know whether your infantry could even retreat beyond the Euphrates, never getting a chance at a major decisive battle.’

“Alexander paused. Then he became angry and asked, ‘Was that how you battled the Persians two hundred years ago, when their king Cyrus was killed?’

“’I do not know. If you think that way yourself, all the better,’ the Massaget replied proudly.

“Alexander looked at the Scythian carefully then said, addressing his captains, ‘He is intelligent and brave, which makes him dangerous. But he is a child. Who tells an important military secret, while standing tied up before the victor? Kill him without delay.’”

“Did they?” Thais asked quietly.

“On the spot,” Leontiscus replied.

They rode in silence for a long time. Thais occasionally glanced at Eris, rocking steadily atop the pacer and keeping her distance from the soldiers, of whom she was wary. Nature was benevolent to Aphrodite’s favorite. By noon the sky became covered with dusky fog, too thin to threaten rain, but thick enough to keep the sun from raging and punishing the travelers for their delayed departure.

They stopped in a small grassy valley, thirteen parsangs from the river crossing, where Thais received her own light tent. The soldiers, having unsaddled and tied the horses, set up haphazardly, spreading their capes on the ground. They clearly didn’t mind the scorpions or the tarantulas, which were big jumping spiders Thais had found disgusting even back in Hellas, where they were much smaller.

Taking refuge in her tent, the hetaera went to stretch after the long ride. Her legs were sore and strained after Salmaakh’s shaky trot.

Eris entered, bringing water for a bath. She walked so straight that Thais was reminded of the girls at the Amphorae Celebration, held in Athens on the second day of Antesterion, the Holiday of Flowers. From the posture of the girl, the sensitive Athenian suspected something was wrong, and ordered Eris to undress. She gasped at what she saw.

The delicate skin on her inner thighs was inflamed and covered with bruises, her calves and knees were swollen and her big toes bled from rubbing against the sweat blanket. The girl could barely stand. Only after a stern order from her mistress did she give up the jug of water and stretched out on a rug.

“Do not fear, Mistress. The horse’s back is undamaged.”

“But you are hurt,” Thais said angrily. She left to find medicine and bandages among her possessions. Healing Egyptian ointment subdued the pain and Eris fell asleep almost instantly. Thais bathed and, refreshed, went to a small fire where Leontiscus, a lokhagos, and the eldest of the ten unit captains waited for the meat sizzling on the coals.

At her request, someone brought Boanergos. The Thessalians examined the steed’s back carefully and saw that Eris had been right, the horse was fine. But Thais realized the girl would not be able to stand the second half of the journey. Or, considering her enormous physical and spiritual strength, she would make it but damage the precious horse. The hetaera decided to put Eris onto one of the carts that were going to catch up with the detachment at night.

When the Athenian entered her tent, Eris woke up. Thais announced that she would ride from there on a cart, along with Za-Asht. The black priestess said nothing, but declined food. The hetaera fell asleep without a care, falling into slumber as if she haven’t slept in a long time. Leontiscus woke her up to invite her to breakfast: a piece of salty Syrian cheese and a handful of tasty, almost black dates.

Horses stood in the distance, already harnessed and covered by sweat blankets. People still slept near the cart, and Thais decided not to wake her Finikian. When she glanced around, looking for Eris, she was disappointed not to find her either near the horses, or the carts. She asked Leontiscus whether he had seen her slave girl, but instead of chief of cavalry, it was the lokhagos who replied, and he was smiling for some reason.

“The black one told me not to disturb you. She asked you to forgive her, but she could not tolerate the shame of having to ride in a cart with the Finikian”

“Then what did she do?” Thais asked, becoming alarmed.

“Do not worry about her, Mistress. Nothing can happen to a pharmakis, a sorceress, like her. She simply ran forward and must be some ways away by now.”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Half a shift from the first night guard change. About six hours ago.”

“Artemis argotera! Alone at night, on a deserted path among jackals and hyenas. Also, she was completely exhausted from the day’s ride.”

“Nothing will happen to your black one. How she ran! I watched her. She ran like a good horse.”

Leontiscus burst out laughing. Thais bit her lip with concern, then suddenly laughed herself, certain for some reason that Eris’ adventures would end well.

They caught up with the escapee only two parsangs from their destination. Thais saw her from a distance, running down a low ridge leading into the wide valley of a Euphrates tributary. Eris’ only clothing, a white knee-length chiton, fluttered in the wind, and her head, wrapped with black fabric, was held high. The black priestess rocked smoothly as she ran. It was obvious she knew the means of even, lengthy running. Thais felt sorry that she hadn’t seen her run at night under the late moon, akin to the fearless goddess, Artemis. Yet again, the hetaera felt slightly superstitious with respect to her new servant.

Thais and Leontiscus quickly caught up with Eris and ordered her to ride Boanergos. During the night and half a day, Eris had covered nearly fourteen parsangs. Strangely, yesterday’s wounds had closed and were almost unnoticeable. She took a four hour break under a tamarix bush while she waited for the riders to catch up with her, but did not appear to be weary. Only her worn sandals showed the signs of her long journey.

Thais was so happy to see her that she hugged the black priestess, who did not respond to the gesture.

The boats waited for the riders at a designated spot. “These are not boats. They are ships,” Thais thought. “Awkward, flat-bottomed structures.”

Twelve horses could fit easily into the biggest boat. Leontiscus decided to take his horses with him as well as his entourage, also with horses. The lokhagos and the remaining horses rode along the river bank, much to the joy of the stern captain, who was tired of watching over the wounded. Light tents for Thais and Leontiscus were set up at the stern platform of the head boat.

“Could we set up your goddess of discourse somewhere away?” Leontiscus asked playfully, putting his arm around the Athenian’s waist as they watched her horses being loaded up.

“No. She won’t go to the bow with stablemen and helmsmen.”

“And what if I want to kiss you? Will she kill me?”

“Not if you don’t get caught,” Thais advised.

For three days the boats sailed along the river banks seeing nothing but sprawling gardens. But the gardens of Babylon itself dazzled even the most experienced veterans. The trees grew on the roofs of entire districts as well as on streets and squares set far above the river. These were the famous hanging gardens of Semiramis.

Leontiscus ordered the men to dock and unload at a merchant pier outside of the five rows of city walls. The horses were tired of standing in the boats and struck out with their hooves impatiently, demanding a ride. The Athenian and the Thessalian had to ride almost a full parsang before their horses were calm enough to walk along the crowded streets.

They took the Acadian road into the city, through the double gates of Ishtar. The hetaera saw this as a lucky omen. Its towers were covered with dark blue mosaic tiles, decorated by yellow and white tiled images of dragons and long-legged wild bulls. The straight Road of Processions was fifteen elbows wide and tiled in white and red. The road led to Esagila, the former sacred inner city with the enormous temple of Marduk, the chief Babylonian god. Presently, the temple was obscured from Thais’ sight by the giant Etemenanki tower, which had been damaged by time but was still famous through the entire Ecumene. It consisted of seven levels of different colors and was crowned with a small, bright blue temple. The Etimenanki tower dominated the entire city as if it reminded every citizen that the sleepless eye of the god was watching him or her from two hundred elbows above them.

To the right of the tower was a vast palace, unoccupied and crumbling. Further beyond the walls was a second palace, and to the left they could see smaller gardens of Semiramis atop tall arches, built in steps, as was almost every other structure in Babylon.

Such a large quantity of greenery this far away from the river was surprising. A deep canal flowed near the south wall of the palace, but thousands and thousands of slaves were required to water the elevated gardens of the old city. This was similar to Egypt, except those ancient gardens had long since perished under the sand. Only the large and wealthy temples that owned multitudes of slaves still had large gardens at the heights above the flood line. The rest of the greenery of the Egyptian cities grew in valleys level with the Nile. Here, in Babylon, the old rules were still in action, possibly due to the tight concentration of the city. In any case, the Etemenanki tower made a much greater impression upon the hetaera than did the gardens of the legendary queen.

The messenger who had been dispatched ahead returned on his sweat-darkened horse with the news that Ptolemy departed for Susa, while the chief officers settled in the palaces of the Old City. Leontiscus was pleased. Thais promised him she would set up a small symposium to celebrate the end of the long journey.

The Road of Processions filled with Thessalians eager to greet their chief. Surrounded by all these people, Thais and Leontiscus rode on, passing a large blue wall decorated with glazed reliefs of lions with white and red manes. They crossed several bustling streets and, turning right through the sacred city, found themselves on the bank of the Euphrates once again.

A bridge connected the eastern portion of Babylon, which was called the Old City, with its western portion, the New City. This area contained fewer temples, inner walls and reinforcements, but more greenery. As they made their way along, Thais discovered a wonderful little house in the northern part of the New City, nestled between the gates of Lugalgira and the river, and settled in.

Thais was struck, as she was in many Asian cities, by the abrupt transition from noisy, dirty streets tormented by heat and buzzing flies, to the calm coolness of shady garden yards with canals of running water behind thick walls.

Eris arrived shortly after with her possessions, followed by Za-Asht. Thais quickly found a good stableman, in addition to the gardener who already lived at the house, and a slave woman who could cook dishes to suit Helenian taste.

In the evening she danced for her Thessalians at the improvised symposium. Rumors about the famous Athenian hetaera arriving in Babylon had spread as fast as lightning, and as a result, the house near Lugalgira was surrounded by the curious. It was as if there were no war going on, and as if the victorious army from another country were not occupying the city. Leontiscus had to send soldiers to guard the gates from the annoying Babylonians.

Stories about the military might of Macedonians and the invincibility of the divine Alexander spread further and further. Cities showed their obedience by surrendering without battle and handing all keys to Alexander’s messengers. This occurred in Susa, where Ptolemy had gone, and even Ecbatana, a distant summer residence of Persian kings located far in the north. It contained one of the main treasuries.

Despite the fact that it was autumn, heat was brought to Babylon by winds from the limitless plains of Persia and the rocky plateaus of Syria, Elam and the Red Sea deserts. Nights were suffocating with stuffy humidity. But that wasn’t what Thais found exhausting. It was the silent and relentless struggle between her servants that wore her down. She always wished for peace and calm in her household. It was just as well that the Finikian was desperately afraid of the “sorceress” and didn’t dare openly express her jealousy.

Eventually the slave girls divided their duties. Much to Za-Asht’s delight, Eris let her have the personal care of Thais so that she could take on the management of the house and the horses, as well as the mistress’ protection. Despite Thais’ protestations, she considered the latter her primary obligation.

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.

Alexander rose, pushing Za-Asht away. The hetaera gestured to both slave girls to leave.

“Are you hungry?” Thais asked, settling on the thick carpet. Alexander shook his head. Thais brought an ornate Persian goblet of wine, diluted it with water and poured it into two travel cups from green Cyprus glass. Alexander lifted his cup quickly, splashing slightly.

“To Aphrodite,” he said quietly.

“Wait one moment, Majesty.” Thais picked up the vial with a tourmaline stopper decorated with a star from a tray. “This is for me. Three drops,” she whispered, measuring three drops into her wine. “And this is for you. Four drops.”

“What is that?” the Macedonian asked. He spoke without caution, but with curiosity.

“A gift of the Mother of Gods. She will help you forget for tonight, that you are a king, a ruler and conqueror of people. She will take away the burden you have carried from the time you took the shield of Achilles from Troy.”

Alexander observed Thais carefully, and she smiled at him with that fleeting tinge of superiority the king had always found so attractive. She lifted the heavy glass vial and downed the tart and burning potion without hesitation. Thais poured him more wine, and they drank again.

“Rest a bit.”

Thais took Alexander to the inner room and he stretched on a bed. The mattress was made of leopard skins. Thais sat down near him, and placed a hot hand on his shoulder. They were both silent, feeling the inevitability of Ananka (fate) drawing them to each other.

Thais felt the familiar sensation of fire running up her spine and flowing through her chest and belly. Yes, this was the terrible potion of Rhea-Kibela. But this time she wasn’t frightened.

The beating of her own heart resonated in the hetaera’s head like tambourines of Dionysus. Her consciousness started dividing, setting free the other Thais. This Thais was not a human being at all, but a primal force, separate and at the same time inexplicably connected with every other sensation, sharpened to its limit. Thais moaned, arched her back and was caught by Alexander’s strong arms.

Through the thick blanket of sleep, Thais heard a vague noise, some subdued exclamations and a distant knocking. Alexander opened his eyes and slowly propped himself onto one elbow. The voices became louder and the hetaera recognized them as belonging to Leontiscus, Hephaestion, and Black Cleitus. The king’s friends and bodyguards froze in the doorway, not daring to enter the house.

“Hephaestion!” Alexander called. “Tell everyone to go to the ravens, including you. Don’t you dare bother me, even if Darius himself is attacking the city.”

All Thais heard in response were hurried steps down the stairs and away.

The great army leader came back to his senses only late in the evening. He stretched with a deep sigh and shook his head. Thais ran out of the room and came back with an armful of clothes, which she placed silently before the king.

“This is mine,” Alexander exclaimed with surprise. “Who brought it?”

“They did,” Thais replied, meaning the Macedonian’s friends.

Eris and Za-Asht had managed to tell her about the terrible panic that had ensued the morning after Alexander did not come back after swimming. His friends and bodyguards had eventually arrived at Thais’ home after scouring the entire city looking for their king.

“How did they manage to find me here?” Alexander wondered.

“Leontiscus figured it out. He knew I went swimming in the Euphrates at night and heard that you did the same.”

Alexander chuckled quietly. “You are dangerous, Athenian. Your name and death begin with the same letter^[28]. Last night I felt how easy it was to die in your arms. I still feel light and transparent, without desires or cares. Perhaps I am already a shadow in Hades.”

Thais lifted the king’s heavy hand and pressed it to her chest. “Oh no. You are still filled with flesh and power,” she assured him, kneeling on the floor at his feet.

Alexander studied her for awhile, then said, “You are like me on the battlefield. You are filled with the same sacred power of the gods and the divine madness of the effort. You do not possess the first basis of care, which preserves life.”

“Only for you, Majesty.”

“So much the worse. I cannot do that. One time I allowed myself to be with you, and a day is completely ripped out of my life.”

“I understand. Do not say anything more, beloved.” This was the first time Thais had addressed the king this way. “The burden of the shield of Achilles.”

“Yes. The burden of the one who decided to know the limits of Ecumene.”

“I remember that, too,” Thais said sadly. “I shall not ask you anymore, even though I’ll be here. But then do not ask me, either. Chains of Eros are forged faster for women and hold them stronger. Promise?”

Alexander stood and picked up Thais as if she were a feather. He held her against his broad chest for a long time, then suddenly tossed her onto the bed. Thais sat up with her head lowered and started braiding her tangled hair. Alexander leaned forward and picked up the golden chain bearing a star and letter mu in the center.

“Give it to me as a memory of what took place,” the king asked. The hetaera picked up her chain belt, thought about it, then kissed the ornament and held it out to Alexander.

“I shall order the best jewelers of Babylon to make you another in two days. It will be made of precious red gold with a star of fourteen rays and a letter xi.”

“Why xi?” Thais lifted her long eyelashes in surprise.

“Remember. Nobody can explain this to you, except me. The ancient name of the river in which we met is Xarand. In Eros you are akin to a sword, xyphos. But for a man to be with you is epi xyron ehestai, as if on the blade of a razor. And also, xi is the fourteenth letter of the alphabet.^[29]”

The Athenian’s eyes dropped under the king’s long gaze and her pale cheeks flushed.

“Poseidon the Earth keeper. I am so hungry,” Alexander exclaimed suddenly, smiling at the quiet hetaera.

“Then come. Everything is ready,” the Athenian said, perking up. “Then I’ll see you to the south palace. You can take Boanergos and I’ll ride Salmaakh …”

“No. I’ll take one of your Thessalian guards.”

“As you wish.”

Thais spend the entire day alone in her bedroom. She came out only in the evening, ordering Eris to bring kiura from the stash prepared with the unforgettable Egesikhora back in Sparta.

Eris reached out and touched the Athenian’s wrist with her warm fingers. “Do not poison yourself, Mistress,” the black priestess said.

“What do you know about this?” the hetaera asked sadly, but with conviction. “When something like this happens, Gaea is unstoppable. And I do not have the right to allow myself to have a child of the future ruler of the Ecumene.”

“Why, Mistress?”

“Who am I to make my son an heir to the great empire? He will get nothing from the fate except slavery and early death, because it plays with all people that harbor thoughts of the future, be they dark or light.”

“And what if it is a girl?”

“Alexander’s divine blood must not experience the cruel destiny of a woman.”

“But a daughter would be as beautiful as Aphrodite herself.”

“All the worse for her.”

“Do not fear, Mistress,” Eris said firmly, changing her tone. “You won’t have anything. Don’t drink kiura.”

“How can you know this?”

“I can and I do. We are all initiated in the ancient knowledge of Kibela about the mysteries of the moon’s influence upon a person. Everything in a woman’s body depends on it. You won’t have anything. You met with the king at such a time when all is allowed.”

“Why are we, who are taught all the wisdom of feminine art, not taught this?” Thais asked with astonishment.

“Because this knowledge is secret. A woman must not be free from the power of Gaea-Kibela. Otherwise humankind will vanish.”

“Would you perhaps tell me this secret?”

“Yes. You serve another goddess, but her purposes are the same as those of the Great Mother. And while I am with you, I will always tell you which days will have no consequences.”

“While you are with me. But when you are not …”

“I shall be with you till death, Mistress. I shall tell you everything before I die.”

“Who is getting ready to die here?” a merry voice rang out.

Thais squealed with joy and dashed to meet Hesiona. The two women hugged and held each other for a long time. Both of them had waited for this reunion ever since Thais had gone one way on horseback and Hesiona had headed in the opposite direction aboard a ship.

The Athenian dragged her friend out to the veranda where there was still some sunlight left.

“The Daughter of the Snake”, as she had once been nicknamed by a jealous Clonaria, had lost a lot of weight. Her face and hands were wind-bitten and her hair was cut short, as if she were a fugitive slave or a wife punished for being unfaithful.

“You look awful,” Thais exclaimed. “Nearchus will find someone else. There are plenty of seductresses here in Babylon.”

“No, he won’t,” the Theban replied. There was so much certainty and calm in her voice that the hetaera felt he really wouldn’t.

“Are you here for long?” Thais asked, gently patting her friend’s coarse hand.

“Yes. After the victory at Gaugamela, Nearchus is planning to build a dock and a port here. He will sail to Arabia, but not for long and without me. It is so wonderful, my star. The final victory.”

“Not so. Not everything is over with Persia yet. And then, as far as I understand Alexander, there is still the long march to the edges of Ecumene. You and I probably won’t get to go there. We will remain behind.”

“I don’t like Babylon. It is a decaying city of former glory. I have yet to find a home here.”

“With Nearchus?”

“Nearchus is going to live near the ships and come here to visit.”

“Then stay with me. There is plenty of room.”

“Thais, phile^[30],” Hesiona said, smiling gratefully. “This is the best I could think of, to find you and stay with you. I don’t even have a servant.”

“We’ll find someone. Mine are not from Babylon but from far away.”

“This black one is interesting. What is her name?”

“Eris.”

“What a terrible name: the goddess of discourse from the dark world.”

“They all have names like that where she is from. She is a former priestess, like you, but a fallen one, not enslaved. She served the menacing Mother of Gods. I shall tell you about her later. First I want to hear about your voyage.”

“Very well.” Hesiona frowned, looking uncertain. “You know, Eris has strange eyes.”

“Ah, you noticed.”

“She seems to contain all of feminine depth, as dark as described in the ancient myths, and at the same time she appears hungry for all things new and beautiful.”

Thais shook her head. “But enough about the slave girl. Tell me about yourself.”

Hesiona’s story was brief. Her journey had been much simpler than that of Thais. At first she had accompanied Nearchus up the Euphrates, where lumber was being prepared in a hurry for the construction of ships. Then they traveled around several Syrian cities to look for older, properly dried lumber. Countless carts brought the lumber to the “royal road” before it was floated downriver to the lower Euphrates crossing. That was where Nearchus had set up the docks for navy ships.

“Just think of it. I sailed past them at night,” Thais exclaimed. “And didn’t even think of you.”

“I wasn’t there. After the news of the great victory, Nearchus sailed down the river and we visited the place where both of them come together, where swamps take up enormous areas. We will probably have to go back there again, and it is an inhospitable place.”

“Who directed you here, to Lugalgira?”

“Your hero, Leontiscus the Thessalian. He is so in love with you, my darling Thais.”

“I know,” Thais looked despondent. “And I cannot respond in kind. But he would agree to anything as long as he could be near me.”

“Thousands of other men would accept the same conditions. You are growing lovelier by the day and have never looked more beautiful.”

Much to Hesiona’s surprise, Thais burst into tears.

In a large throne hall of the Southern palace, constructed of dark blue glazed bricks with a pattern of yellow bars, Alexander presided over the council of his army officers. Ptolemy, who had only just arrived and barely managed to wash off the sweat and dust from the sun-scorched trip, reported treasures captured at Susa, a city which had surrendered without battle. Aside from silver, gold, and ornate armor and weapons, Susa contained scores of statues. These had been stolen by Xerxes from the pillaged Hellas, including the bronze group of Harmodius and Aristogeyton, the two assassins of tyrants. Alexander immediately ordered the sculpture to be sent to Athens. This pair of powerful warriors, stepping forward in unison with their swords raised, would inspire sculptors for centuries to come. It was a symbol of brotherhood and inspired purposefulness.

Ptolemy left all the treasures where they were under the protection of his soldiers, whose numbers were too small to fight in an open battle, but sufficient to protect the loot in a fortified city. Fifty thousand talants were kept in Susa. Silver mines of Alexander’s homeland couldn’t have produced that much in fifty years. According to the information gathered from Persians, the main gazaphilakia, or Persian state treasury, was located in Parsa, in the capital of kings of the Akhimenes dynasty. It was called Persepolis by the Greek geographers. There were no large armies at Parsa, as Darius was still in the north.

Alexander acted as swiftly as ever. In seven days he gathered the best of his cavalry, and his infantry was ordered to prepare to march toward Susa in three days. Provision carts were dispatched immediately. The main forces and the entire provision train was expected to travel slowly under Parmenius’ command.

Cool winter reigned in the valleys of Susa and Parsa, making this the best time for the march. There was plenty of food and water for the horses. Alexander gave strict orders for the thousands of actors, artists, women, servants and merchants accompanying the army to stay in Babylon. Nobody dared follow the lead detachment. Only after Parmenius’ troops and provision carts left would the inevitable army companions receive permission to travel toward Susa and Persepolis.

After the counsel, Alexander went to the temple of Marduk, where the priests serving the ancient gods of Babylon held a sacred ritual in his honor. The great conqueror sat on a throne in a place of honor next to the high priest. The priest was middle-aged, but not yet old man. He had a long, narrow, carefully arranged beard.

A procession of priestesses carried golden vessels on their heads, and fragrant blue smoke rose above them in small streams. They were adorned in red garments so light that the slightest breeze caused them to rise and flutter, akin to flashes of transparent fire.

Alexander looked tired and glum. The high priest beckoned a young temple servant who spoke good Coyne and served as a translator.

“Conqueror of kings, please turn your benevolent gaze upon the woman up front carrying the silver mirror. She is the daughter of the noblest family, more noble than even the Akhimenides. She is portraying Sharan, the one close to goddess Ishtar.”

Alexander had already noticed the tall girl. She had amazingly white skin and snakelike thin black braids which hung almost to the floor. He abandoned his thoughts and nodded to the priest, who smiled with insinuation. “Say but a word of desire, oh conqueror and ruler. She will expect you this very night at the hour of bat on a splendid bed of glorious Ishtar in the upper rooms of the temple. You will be taken there,” the priest said, then paused, seeing Alexander’s gesture of refusal.

“Does the love of a noble servant of Ishtar not attract you?” the priest said, clearly disappointed.

“It does not,” the Macedonian replied.

“Forgive me, oh ruler, if I dare ask of the forbidden as I am ignorant of your divine ways,” the priest said, then paused again. The interpreter stopped abruptly, as if having stumbled.

“Continue,” Alexander said. “I do not punish for awkward words. You and I are from different people, so it is important that we understand each other.”

“They say the only woman you’ve chosen here is an Athenian whore. Do nobility and virtue blessed by a deity mean nothing to you?”

“The one of whom you speak is not a whore as you understand it. That is, she is not a woman available to anyone for a certain price. In Hellas, all free women are divided into wives, ladies of the house and mothers and, on the other side, the hetaerae, female friends and companions. Hetaerae know many different arts: dance, ability to dress well, to entertain with a conversation or poetry, they know how to host a party-symposium. Hetaerae are surrounded by artists and poets, who draw inspiration from their beauty. In other words, hetaerae give a man the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of life, shaking off the monotony of everyday things.”

“But they offer themselves for money.”

“Yes, and great money at that. Art and long education are worth a lot, and natural talent even more. We understand that well. A hetaera is free in her choice of men. She may give herself for a great price, she may refuse, or she may take no money at all. In any case, Thais cannot be simply obtained on a divine bed the way you are offering your ‘virtuous’ Sharan.”

The priest quickly dropped his eyes to avoid betraying his anger. The conversation was over, and Alexander remained glum and indifferent through the remainder of the ritual ceremony.

Thais spent the entire week trying to convince Ptolemy to take her along for the march. Ptolemy warned the hetaera of the incredible dangers of the journey through the unknown mountains, populated by savage tribes, as well as the difficulties of a march under the speed set by Alexander. She needn’t experience all these hardships, though, since she could travel comfortably within one of Parmenius’ carts. Thais believed that at least one Athenian woman had to be present during the conquering of the sacred and, until now, invincible capital of the Persians. These were the same people who had decimated Hellas and sold tens of thousands of its daughters into slavery. Men could stand for themselves, but she was the only woman capable of making this journey, having hardened along the way and owning a splendid steed.

“Why else did you give me such a wonderful pacer?” she asked Ptolemy mischievously.

“That was not what I dreamed of,” Ptolemy fumed. “Everything is turning out differently. I don’t see the end to this journey.”

“Is Alexander not going to spend the winter in the warm Parsa?”

“Winter is only two months long around here,” Ptolemy grumbled.

“You have become completely unreasonable. Why don’t you just say you are afraid of Alexander’s wrath?”

“It is a small pleasure when he becomes enraged.”

Thais paused to think, then suddenly perked up. “I shall go with the Thessalian horsemen,” she said. “I have friends there, and they will hide me from Alexander. Leontiscus, their leader, is a soldier, not an army leader, and he is unafraid of anyone or anything. There. It’s decided. You don’t know anything, and I’ll take care of the meeting with Alexander in Persepolis.”

Ptolemy finally agreed. Thais’ greater challenge was convincing Eris to stay in Babylon without her. Hesiona came to her rescue. The two former priestesses found something in common in each other and Eris’ resistance was finally overcome with the Theban’s help. Hesiona promised to join her friend should she stay in Persepolis, and bring both their slaves and Salmaakh.

Thais had only a few days to prepare for the journey, and she had to consider many things. She would have failed had it not been for Leontiscus and her old friend the lokhagos, who rejoined the ranks of the same detachment with which Thais was planning to travel.

A march this long and at this great speed would have frightened her in the past. But now, having covered an even greater distance on her pacer, Thais didn’t feel the slightest bit of hesitation and was not at all worried. Finally, one morning in the late fall, she kissed Hesiona goodbye, hugged the silent Eris, and sent Boanergos along the deserted streets of Babylon, his black tail flowing in the wind. She was to meet the detachment of Thessalians beyond the Urash gates, along the road to Nippur.