Thais of Athens

Chapter Eleven. The Doom of Persepolis

Susa was built on a series of hills, with a high central area similar to the Athenian Acropolis. It reminded Thais of her homeland. She wished she could spend at least one day breathing the blessed air of Hellas, ascending the marble staircases of temples, hiding from the sun in Athenian galleries aired by the clean breath of the sea. She was further reminded of the past during a celebration and a run with torches. It had been allowed by Alexander, despite his impatience to continue moving further south toward Persepolis, where the main treasury of the Persian state was located. Alexander had to arrive to Persepolis before Darius managed to gather and bring his troops there. The army commander set the example of tirelessness, both in the saddle and on foot, abandoning his horse from time to time and walking a parsang or two with his infantry men.

When snow-covered peaks appeared in the east and the valleys became steeper and rockier, the Macedonians ran into strong resistance from Persian troops. On a mountain range known as the Gates of Parsa, which squeezed between steep slopes on both sides, Alexander’s army was obstructed by a hastily built rock wall. There, the Persians deflected one Macedonian attack after another until Alexander eventually stopped. The shorter mountain route turned out to be impassable.

The great army leader dispatched Philotas and Kenos with a part of the army. He sent them down the lower road to capture the crossing and build bridges across the river Araks, the last big obstacle on the way to Persepolis. Alexander himself traveled down the mountain paths with getaerosi, Thessalian horsemen, Silver Shields and Cretan archers, and with the assistance of local mountain tribes, whom he spared. He even forgave their initial attacks on the Macedonians. Alexander ended up at the back of the detachment, guarding the Gates of Parsa. Attacked from two sides, the Persians retreated, which meant the way to the river was open.

Thais and two hundred Thessalian horsemen traveled in Philotas’ detachment, which was attacked by a horde of Asian riders that appeared seemingly from nowhere. Initially, the Macedonians didn’t even realize with whom they were dealing.

In predawn twilight, Thais rode up to the top of a hill, accompanied by the lokhagos and another officer, where they paused to survey the valley laid before them. Suddenly both officers vanished, riding swiftly down, calling on their soldiers at the foot of the hill. The Athenian could barely see a bunch of half-naked horsemen, rushing at full tilt across the dusky gray valley. The horses flew through fluttering grasses, running side by side in a solid wave. Their gray outline looked like waves in a river of tall, dry grass, rising during a flood.

Fear crept into the hetaera’s courageous heart. The ghostly horde looked like something out of Hades, resurrected by the sorcery of local mages-priests.

Alexander’s riders charged toward the menacing flood. A wild roar rose into the sky, sobering Thais. As if in response to the shouts, rays of dawn sprung out from behind the mountains, shedding light over a real battle. The Thessalians went to the left, cutting the horde from the mountains, the Agrians struck from the right. The infantry, carrying giant, fourteen elbow-long spears headed directly for the center. The fight was over quickly, like all horsemen clashes. The attackers, or rather what was left of them, turned back with shouts of anger and cries of horror. The Macedonians got to keep many of the splendid, although poorly tamed, valley horses.

The detachment met no one else all the way to the Araks. The bridges were being constructed with utmost speed because everyone knew Alexander would be there as soon as he was finished with the Persian detachment at the ridge.

The delay turned out to be longer than Philotas and Kenos had expected. The bridges were ready, but Alexander and his army still hadn’t arrived. It turned out that the battle along the mountain path had turned into a massacre. Chased by their ruthless enemy, the Persians fell down sheer drops, crashing into rocky mountain rivers. Some of them jumped off willingly, preferring a free death to slavery or a torturous death from swords and spears.

Alexander did not expect such persistence from the Persians, and he became enraged, but calmed down when he saw everything was ready for the crossing. The bridges were lit by torches and the head detachment waited for his orders on the opposite bank. He ordered the getaerosi, Thessalians and Agrians to cross over to the other side immediately.

Alexander himself rode up the steep bank of the Araks on his faithful Bucefal, whom he hadn’t used in the mountain battle, having opted instead for a lighter horse accustomed to steep mountain paths. From there he observed the crossing and lineup of his troops. Suddenly Alexander noticed a caped rider of small stature atop a long-tailed, long-maned horse. The figure sat without moving, also watching the soldiers as they crossed the river.

Curious as usual, Alexander rode up to the rider and demanded, “Who are you?”

The rider pulled back the cape, revealing a woman with black braids wrapped around her head, though her features were barely visible in the dusk. Alexander peered into her face with astonishment, trying to guess, what woman could end up here, five thousand stadiums away from Babylon and three thousand stadiums from Susa.

“Do you not recognize me, Majesty?”

“Thais!” Alexander exclaimed. “How? I ordered all women to stay in Babylon!”

“All women, but not me. I am your guest, Majesty. Have you forgotten that you thrice invited me: in Athens, in Egypt and in Tyre?”

Alexander remained silent. Understanding him, the Athenian added, “Do not think badly of me. I have no wish to use our meeting at the Euphrates and I am not running after you to beg for some favor.”

“Then why did you go on such difficult and dangerous journey?”

“Forgive me, Majesty. I wanted at least one Helenian woman to enter the heart of Persia along with the victorious warriors, instead of being delivered by a cart along with trophies, provisions and slaves. I have a splendid horse, and you know I am a good rider. Accept me. I am only here with one goal.”

Not seeing Alexander’s face, Thais sensed a change in his mood. She imagined that the king was smiling.

“Very well, guest,” he said in a different tone. “Come. It is time.”

Bucefal and Boanergos descended from the ridge. Thais rode next to Alexander till dawn. The king sent Bucefal into a broad trot, ignoring the fatigue of his soldiers. They were not surprised, since many of them thought the divine army leader was not subject to human weakness.

The mountains grew lower once they’d traveled away from the river, and sloped into a wide valley in the southeast. Legendary Parsa spread under the hooves of the Macedonian cavalry. Leophoros, as Helenians called the comfortable road designed for heavy carts, led to the coveted Persepolis. This was the largest gazaphilakia, or treasury of Persia, the sacred place of both coronations and royal visits of the Akhimenide dynasty.

At dawn, when they were only a few hours away from Persepolis, the Macedonians saw a huge crowd on the road. When they drew nearer, they realized middle-aged people, carrying green branches as a sign of peace and submission, were walking toward them. They were Helenians who had been captured or tricked into working at the capital of Persia. Skillful craftsmen and artists, they were all cruelly and purposefully disfigured. Some were missing feet, some hands, yet others their noses or ears. These people have been purposefully crippled so that they could still perform their work, but could not escape and go home in such pitiful or terrible state.

Alexander’s eyes filled with tears of outrage. The cripples fell to their knees before his horse, begging for his help. Alexander dismounted and called over a few noseless leaders of the crowd. He promised to help them return home.

The leaders discussed this among themselves and came back to the patiently waiting Alexander, begging him not to send them to their homeland, where they would be subject to mockery and pity. Instead, they asked that he let them settle together in a place of their choice.

Alexander approved their decision and ordered them to walk toward Parmenius’ provisions train, then further to Susa, where each one of them would be given three thousand drachmas, five new garments, two pairs of buffalo, fifty sheep and fifty measures of wheat. The cripples moved on with joyous shouts, glorifying the king. Then Alexander rushed toward the most hated city in Asia, as he called Persepolis.

Ptolemy, clearly moved, rode up to Alexander and Thais. She rode slightly behind, shocked by what she had just seen.

“How could they destroy the beautiful Athens? Its temples, galleries, fountains? What for?” Thais asked.

Alexander glanced at Ptolemy. “What would my best observer of countries and states say?”

“It is very simple, great king.”

The hetaera noticed the unusually formal address.

“It is very simple,” Ptolemy repeated. “Beauty serves as support for the spirit of the people. When we break it, shatter it and tear it to pieces, we break traditions that cause people to fight and give their lives for their homeland. Love of your people, your past, military valor and civilian courage cannot grow in a polluted, decimated place. When people forget their glorious past, they turn into a crowd of vagrants, wishing only to fill their bellies and drink wine.”

“Excellent, my friend,” Alexander exclaimed, then turned to Thais. “Do you not agree?”

“Ptolemy is right, as usual, but not in everything. Xerxes went through the entire Attica with destructions and fires, and burned down Acropolis. The next year, his envoy Mardonius came to Athens and burned down whatever was left after Xerxes. Ptolemy is right. Mardonius burned and destroyed primarily temples, galleries and collections of sculptures and paintings. But my compatriots did not restore anything. They left the shattered walls, blackened columns, broken statues, and even the charcoals left from the fires. They all remained until the Persians were pushed out of Hellas. The black wounds marking our beautiful land strengthened the Greeks’ hatred and rage during the battles against Asian conquerors. They crushed them in the battle of Plataea, thirty long years later. Then came Pericles, Aspasia, Phidias, and Parthenon was created.”

“Are you saying that not only the most beautiful things, but also the sight of their destruction strengthens the people’s spirit?” Alexander asked.

“Precisely so, Majesty,” Thais replied. “But only if the people, who created the beauty of their land and sublimated it, realize what they have lost.”

Alexander grew silent.

As if sensing the approaching end to their journey, the horses perked up and ran swiftly down the road, ascending into thick forest. The thickness of the ancient oak trees indicated that this forest had been sacred since the ancient times, protecting the Persepolis valley from north winds. The forest was followed by plowed fields, carefully irrigated by mountain creeks. Peaceful farmers, most likely slaves of the royal land owners, plowed the fields, aided by mighty black bulls, apathetic and slow, with horns curved to the inside. Macedonians were already familiar with these animals, as well as with their unusually fatty milk and tasty meat.

Far ahead, the white palaces of Persepolis seemed to float above the flat plane. Their roofs of pure silver glittered blindingly in the sunlight even at the great distance.

Infantry and archers switched to a run, using the last of their energy to keep up with the cavalry. The army opened up into a broad front. Having divided into small groups, the Macedonians crept through the gardens, along irrigation canals and around the small houses on the outskirts of the city. The citizens ran away with shouts of terror, and hid wherever they could. Some gates were locked shut, some were left ajar.

Alexander knew that his plan of catching Persepolis by surprise had been successful. Nobody had suspected the swift arrival of large Macedonian troops. That was why he had not created a battle or troop alignment plan. He let the detachment chiefs and lokhagosi take the initiative instead. He himself rode to the treasury with the stronger getaerosi and Thessalians, arriving before its guards could do anything about hiding the silver, gold, jewels, crimson pigment and incense.

While the infantry engaged the weak Persian city guards among the cherry and peach orchards, the mud, sweat and dust-covered horsemen dashed toward the palaces which stood atop the tall platforms.

Light white columns covered in thin grooves, forty elbows each, stood like a forest, concealing the mysterious dwelling of Persian rulers. In the north corner of the palace platform, the staircase leading to the Gates of Xerxes was being defended by archers and a detachment of elite royal guards: the “Immortals” in their glittering gilded armor. The majority of these brave warriors had died at Gaugamela, and some of them had gone north with Darius. Those left in Persepolis could only provide brief resistance to the fierce push of the best Macedonian cavalry.

Before the palace servants knew what was happening, the Macedonian riders were in the courtyard, having blown through the unlocked Gates of Xerxes, and their enormous statues of winged bulls. Raging horses thundered up the enormous northern staircase which led from the platform through the portico of twelve round columns, into the apadana, the Reception Hall. This was a square space, two hundred elbows high, its tall roof supported by massive square columns arranged in rows around the entire hall, similar to other giant halls of Persepolis palaces.

Having dismounted, Alexander remained at the cool apadana. Ptolemy, Hephaestion and Philotas ran off, leading their soldiers through the palace halls in search of the treasury and scattering terrified palace servants. They reached the treasury, which stood separately in the eastern section of the palace, through a triple pylon and a southern entrance facing the valley. The famous gazaphilakia was there, among the “Hundred Pillar” halls and “Ninety-Nine Pillar” halls, as well as in the tangled corridors of the eastern corner of the palace platform.

The Macedonians held the last brief battle in a narrow passageway between the treasury and the southern palace. During that time, the hero of the Persian Gates battle, Crateros, managed to capture the guards’ barracks. Those were located near the treasury, behind the hundred pillar Throne Hall. A few minutes later, the royal treasurers knelt before Alexander and handed him the fanciful keys with which to open the treasury rooms. Afterwards, the treasury was sealed and placed under guard, having passed into the ownership of the great commander.

Exhausted to the limit, and having already entrusted the horses to the palace servants, the Macedonians collapsed where they stood. The soldiers had no energy left even for pillaging.

Unlike at Susa, Alexander had no wish to hurt the local population, despite the fact that Persepolis had not surrendered and did not send out ambassadors to greet him. This last had been justified by the suddenness of the Macedonian attack. They had burst so unexpectedly into the city that it had been too late for the people to decide anything.

Leontiscus and Crateros rode around the city squares and main streets, placing guards everywhere. This was not a frivolous precaution, considering that the city could still be hiding large detachments of enemy soldiers. Sleeping Macedonians were everywhere, lying on the streets and in the gardens, snoring on rugs, blankets and mats taken from the citizens.

Thais rode into this sleeping kingdom in the evening, having waited in a suburban garden with a group of guards. As agreed, she arrived at the western staircase where servants labored hard to wash off the blood which covered the white steps. Bodies of palace defenders had already been removed, but the sharp tang of blood still hung in the sunset stillness.

Thais spent that night in the house of a fugitive wealthy nobleman, where terrified male and female slaves were ready to fulfill the foreigner’s every wish. She was tired and blackened by the sun and dust, and seemed menacing to them despite her beauty and small stature. Their fear was amplified by the expressive gestures of both Leontiscus and Ptolemy, who ensured that Thais was well settled before they vanished. The slaves were even more terrified by a group of riders who settled to rest in the garden and placed their horses not only in the empty stables but also in the house.

Having said good night to the Macedonian captains, Thais felt very alone before the entire crowd of servants. They had been abandoned by their owners, yet still dutifully protected their possessions. Thais’ first order of business was to request a bath. Once she was told that the bath was ready, she stuck a dagger into the belt of her short chiton and went into a small round room. There she was met by an old female slave, a Greek from Ionia, who spoke in a dialect Thais knew. Moved by a meeting with the first free Helenian woman in many years, who had arrived at the heart of Persia along with an undefeated army of fearsome conquerors, the old woman took Thais under her wing in a motherly fashion. After the bath, the old Greek carefully rubbed down the hetaera’s entire body and rubbed some kind of smelly brown ointment into her rough, scratched knees. She explained that the precious medicine was more valuable than silver. It was collected in the desert mountains beyond Persepolis where it appeared in smudges on bare rocks.

“Perhaps it is the flammable green oil?” Thais asked.

“No, Mistress. The burning oil is aplenty to the east and north, on the shores of the Girkanian Sea. But this is a rare gift of Gaea with the power to heal all things, especially wounds. You’ll see. All your scratches will be gone tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Prepare this ointment for tomorrow to heal the wounds of my friends,” Thais said, referring to Ptolemy and the old lokhagos. They had both received light wounds during the clash near the gates.

The slave nodded her agreement as she wrapped Thais in rare cloth to keep her warm after the massage. She called two more maids with ivory combs to brush out the Athenians black hair, glossy after the bath. Thais felt nothing. She was already asleep, her head tossed back, her small mouth slightly open.

As soon as the two maids were finished, the old slave covered the young Helenian with a blanket as tenderly as if she were her own daughter.

The next day Alexander, clean and fresh, looking like a young Helenian god in his golden armor, received kshattra, an envoy of Parsa and his associates. All of this was held in the same hall that had only recently been occupied by the ill-fated “king of kings”. The Persians brought lists of all the valuables in the city, and thanked the great conqueror for not pillaging Persepolis. Alexander smiled mysteriously, exchanging amused glances with his captains. They all knew the only thing that had kept the soldiers from pillaging the legendary capital was the incredible fatigue that had caught up with them just as they reached their goal. Now that the first excitement had passed, it took nothing to keep order among them. Now Alexander really did issue an order not to touch anything in the city.

The Macedonians seemed to have cracked during that last dash. Now they gazed indifferently upon the unprecedented luxury of palaces and the wealth of priests and nobles.

Old veterans, exhausted by the marches and terrible battles, cried from happiness as they gazed upon their divine leader finally sitting on the throne of Persian rulers. The war was over, the goal had been reached. They only missed their fallen comrades, who hadn’t lived to see such glory.

Alexander believed that now that he had conquered Asia, he could go east to the edge of the world, but he kept his plans secret even from his closest friends. The inevitable campaign to chase after Darius was still ahead of them because until the king of Persia was eliminated, Alexander could not assume the role of a ruler, despite compliance of the people. There was always the risk of a sudden strike if Darius managed to gather sufficient troops.

As soon as spring came to the northern mountains, it would be time to give chase and also move the royal residence to Ecbatana. This was located five thousand stadiums north of Persepolis. Higher in the mountains was the cool summer capital of Akhimenides and also a fortified city, completely unlike the arrogantly open Persepolis. Alexander decided to transfer the treasures from all three gazaphilakias: Susa, Persepolis, and Babylon, to Ecbatana. He also ordered Parmenius’ giant train to be diverted there, because he intended to make Ecbatana and Babylon his two capitals, and the former would also become a camp for the preparation of the next campaign.

Eris appeared suddenly, having beaten even the supplemental infantry troops. She brought a letter from Hesiona, who had gone to Ecbatana with Nearchus. He had decided to wait for Alexander there and rest from the great labor of building fleets. Nearchus promised to find a house for Thais there as well. Ptolemy strongly advised the Athenian to settle in Ecbatana for the duration of the eastern campaign, but the hetaera did not hurry, as she hadn’t yet fully recovered from the murderous ride to Persepolis.

The black priestess arrived on Salmaakh, and now accompanied Thais in her excursions around the city with two old friends, Lykophon and lokhagos. They had been assigned again to protect the beautiful Athenian. Za-Asht reluctantly parted with the young Thessalian and was taken to Ecbatana by Hesiona so that she could set up a home for Thais.

The Athenian and her companions wandered the huge palace halls, staircases and portals, surprised at how little wear they found on the steps, the sharp corners of door and window frames, and the gaps between square columns. The palaces of Persepolis, the huge halls for receptions and royal ceremonies had been attended by very few people and looked like new, even though the earliest structures had been built almost two centuries ago. Here, at the foot of the mountains of Mercy, the rulers of Persia had built a special city. It was not to serve gods or celebrate country, but solely to glorify themselves.

The giant, winged bulls with human faces and childishly round cheeks were considered to be portraits of kings, exuding health and power. The splendid bas-reliefs of lions at the bottom of the northern staircase glorified the courage of king hunters. In addition to the winged gods and lions, the bas-reliefs portrayed the rows of soldiers in long uncomfortable garments, walking in small mincing steps. They also showed slaves and tax collectors, sometimes with carriages and camels, lined up in endless lines to bow before the “king of kings” on the throne. Thais tried counting the figures on one side of the staircase, reached a hundred and fifty and gave up.

She was struck by the overabundance of columns in the giant palace rooms. There were fifty, ninety or even a hundred of them in throne rooms. It was like a forest, in which people wandered and lost direction. Thais didn’t know whether this had been done on purpose or because the builders did not know of another way to support the roof.

She, the daughter of Hellas, was used to plenty of life and space in the temples and public buildings of Athens and thought these reception halls would have looked a lot more majestic had they not been so crowded by columns. The heavy stone pillars in the temples of Egypt served a different goal, creating the atmosphere of mystery, twilight and separation from the world, which could not be said about the tall white palaces of Persepolis.

Thais made another discovery: there wasn’t a single woman’s portrait among the great multitude of statues. The purposeful absence of the entire half of humankind appeared arrogant to the Athenian. Akin to other countries where Thais had observed the oppression of women, the Persian state was bound to fall into ignorance and breed nothing but cowards. From this, the hetaera gained a better understanding of the amazing victories won by Alexander’s smaller army. The wrath of goddesses, those keepers of destinies, procreation, joy and health, was inevitable for such a country. The king of Persians and his closest associates, now dashing about somewhere in the north, were now taking the full brunt of the retribution for the excessive glorification of men.

Persepolis was not a city in the same sense as how the Helenians, Macedonians and Finikians used the word. It was not a collection of temples, like Delphi, Ethes or Hierapolis. Instead, Persepolis was created as a place where the rulers of the Akhimenide dynasty attended to the matters of state and accepted signs of respect. That was why only the homes of the nobles and houses for visitors surrounded the platforms of white palaces. These were circled from the south by a wide half-circle of cabins for the craftsmen, gardeners and other slaves, and from the north by stables and fruit gardens. The strange city, so splendid and defenseless, arrogant and dazzling, abandoned by the Persian nobles and wealthy citizens, was now quickly filling up with people. The curious, the fortune hunters, the leftovers of mercenary troops, and the messengers from distant southern and eastern countries arrived from who knew where, wishing to see the great and divine conqueror, Alexander, young and beautiful as a Helenian god.

The Macedonian king did not mind the gathering. His main forces were gathered here as well, getting ready for a celebration Alexander had promised they would have before marching to the north.

Thais almost didn’t see Ptolemy and Leontiscus. Alexander’s associates were busy from dawn till late night and had no time for rest or entertainment. From time to time messengers came to Thais’ house bringing a gift of some sort: a rare piece of jewelry, a carved ivory chest, a pearl necklace or a diadem. One time Ptolemy sent a sad slave girl from Edom, who was skilled at bread baking, as well as an entire sack of gold. Thais accepted the slave, but gave the gold to the lokhagos to give out to the Thessalian horsemen. Ptolemy was angered by her doing that, and sent no news after that until he was dispatched to her with a request from Alexander.

The king invited the Athenian to discuss an urgent matter. He received her and Ptolemy on the south terrace, surrounded by a solid white-pink wall of blooming almond trees. Thais had not seen Alexander since the crossing of Arrack and found him changed. The unnatural glint in his eyes was gone; they had turned deep and reacquired their distant gaze. His face, once thin from superhuman strain, had regained its color and youthful smoothness of skin. His movements were slightly lazy, as those of a sated lion. Alexander greeted the hetaera happily, sat her next to him and ordered sweets prepared by local chefs from nuts, dates, honey and buffalo butter.

The Athenian placed her fingers on the king’s broad wrist and smiled questioningly, but Alexander remained silent.

“I am dying of curiosity,” the hetaera exclaimed suddenly. “What do you need me for? Tell me, don’t torture me.”

The king abandoned his serious demeanor. At that moment Ptolemy was reminded of the way Alexander used to be when they’d been childhood friends.

“You know my dream of the queen of Amazons. You yourself tried to kill it in Egypt.”

“I killed nothing,” Thais said indignantly. “I only told the truth.”

“I know. But sometimes one wants to realize a dream, if only in a fairy tale, or a song, or in a theatrical performance.”

“I am beginning to understand,” Thais said slowly.

“Only you, a rider, an actress, and a woman as lovely as a goddess, are capable of fulfilling my wish.”

“To see the queen of Amazons at your side? In a theatrical performance? What for?”

“You have guessed. But it will not be at a theater, no. You shall ride with me through the crowds of revelers gathered here for the celebration. It will start a rumor that the queen of Amazons came to me to become my subject and my wife. A legend will be born that everyone will believe. A hundred thousand witnesses will spread the news through all of Asia.

“And then? What will happen to the queen?”

“She will go to her domain at Thermodont. And you, Thais, will come to my feast at the palace as a guest.”

The hetaera snorted. “I agree. But where will I get other Amazons to accompany me?”

“Find two. You won’t need more. You’ll be riding with me.”

“Very well, I’ll take my Eris. She’ll be my army captain. Her menacing looks will convince anyone.”

“Thank you. Ptolemy, order the best craftsmen to make a golden helmet for Thais …”

Thais interrupted, saying enthusiastically, “ …and a silver one for Eris …and round shields with images of snakes and hawks …and bows with quivers and arrows …and short spears …and small swords with golden hilts. Oh, and also a nice leopard hide!”

“Did you hear that, Ptolemy?” Alexander said, pleased with her answer.

“Of course. But what are we to do about the armor? It cannot be made as quickly. And it cannot be simply found for women. If the armor does not fit precisely right, they will look as if they are playing dress-up.”

“That is not a problem,” Thais said. “We shall ride in the nude, like true Amazons, wearing only the belts for swords and quivers.”

“Splendid!” Alexander exclaimed, hugging and kissing Thais.

The Athenian and Eris and a hundred Thessalian horsemen, the escort of the future “queen of Amazons”, went to the royal baths near one of the large lakes, ten parsangs south of Persepolis. The swift Araks flowed into it. The silt brought by the spring floods had already settled, and the blue mirror of the lake had regained its pristine clarity.

The white structures of a small palace, the shoreside verandahs, staircases descending all the way to the water, and the distant shores vanishing in the blue midday haze were completely deserted. This place could be a dwelling of a goddess or a god. Here the manmade structures were built in harmony with the surrounding nature, the same way as in Thais’ native Hellas. The builders of palaces and temples of Egypt, Babylon and Persia all tried to separate themselves from nature. But this was an exception. At this quiet lake, Thais felt calm and peaceful for the first time in years. It was as if she were dissolving in the pure mountain air, the sunshine, the barely audible splashing of waves, and the rustling of sprawling pine trees.

The two women chose a square gazebo. The staircase leading to the water was surrounded by a tall railing, completely hiding them from the curious. Thais lay on the marble in the sun at the edge of water, evening out her coppery tan, while Eris sat on the steps, thoughtfully gazing at the water and listening to the wind.

When the heat receded, an old servant came to visit them, riding in a light boat made of white wood and bringing fresh fruit. He was a slave from the distant Caducei and he took Thais sailing on the lake. A long time before, the old Caducean served a Greek mercenary and had learned Coyne. In simple and descriptive words he told her legends about lakes, about the beautiful peri, the nymphs of fire, love, and wisdom who dwelled in the surrounding mountains. He also told her about the mean and gloomy genies, the male deities of desert chasms who served the peri.

The boat glided slowly over the transparent waters, the oar splashing in a regular rhythm. As she listened to the old man’s quiet voice, Thais dreamed with her eyes open. The carefree, airy beauties with flashes of fire in their light garments slid over the water, undulating seductively in flight. They beckoned to the outcroppings of bare rocks, guarding the forbidden dwellings of the desert spirits. Thais, too, wanted to become a peri, neither a human being nor a goddess, free of troubles, love affairs, discourse and competition occupying both people and Olympian gods alike.

Returning from her dreams, Thais ran her hands over her muscular, smooth, earthly body, feeling sad and amused at the same time. She sighed, then dove into the cool depths of the lake, inaccessible to the fiery beauties.

Six days passed quickly, and the eve of the celebration finally arrived. Having talked to the Thessalians, the Athenian decided to appear in the city in the evening. The mad horde burst into the city with shouts and whistles, striking their shields, accompanied by clanking weapons and harnesses, hoofbeats and neighing. They all rushed to the northeast edge of the city and to a large house which had been prepared in advance.

Rumors about the arrival of the queen of Amazons had spread through the city instantly. Hundreds of people were struck by the noisy intrusion and had told everyone about the event. Having mistaken the Thessalians for Amazons, they counted nearly a thousand menacing, female riders carrying throwing knives in their teeth.

After that, nobody saw a single Thermodont woman until the divine conqueror of “king of kings”, the new ruler of Asia, Alexander himself rode out to the crowded square near the southern palaces, accompanied by his captains. The huge and beautiful Macedonian’s golden armor and helmet, molded into the shape of a lion’s head, shone brightly in the sun. Golden reins contrasted the black hide of his mighty horse, Bucefal, who was almost as famous as his rider.

The queen of Amazons, also in golden armor, rode to Alexander’s left, a place of high honor. People watched Alexander and his divinely beautiful companion with bated breath. The Amazon, in her pure and disdainful nudity, sat atop an incredibly beautiful horse, reddish chestnut, with a long black tail and mane, braided with golden threads. The pacer, small and agile, looked as small as a lizard next to the huge Bucefal. The Amazon queen’s copper-skinned body was circled by a belt of golden squares with a short sword. Her back was covered by a leopard skin, upon which rested her bow and arrows, framed by two long blond braids which fell from under the glittering helmet. The queen’s face was framed by a wide helmet strap, which, combined with a low brim, gave her a warlike and uncompromising look. On her left arm, above her elbow, the Amazon carried a shield with the image of Circe’s golden hawk in the center.

Another Amazon rode a step behind the queen on a charcoal gray mare. The woman was dark-skinned, wore a silver helmet and carried silver weapons. A silver snake coiled in the center of her shield, and her wild, dark blue eyes peered from under the helmet, eternally watchful and ruthless. A short silver spear was clutched in her right hand. Her horse, bowed and danced, swishing her silver braided tail.

Alexander, with his officers and Amazons, rode slowly through the crowds toward the southern edge of Persepolis. There, on a smooth stretch of the valley, tents and seats were constructed for the guests, as well as a space for athletic competitions and a stage for actors and dancers. It was incredible how quickly magicians, famous musicians and gymnasts had managed to get here for the celebration.

At the intersection of two large streets, the wealthy Persians could be recognized by their colorful garments and the absence of women.

Wealthy female citizens, wrapped in light scarves, huddled against walls and fences, while female slaves almost threw themselves under the hooves, pushing men aside. Persian nobles openly admired the splendid horses and the majestic royal retinue.

“Look!” a tall, warlike man exclaimed, addressing a friend whose features betrayed a touch of Indian blood. “I thought the legend about Amazons was false. I thought they would have to be as crooked in the legs as the Massaget women, from horseback riding since childhood.”

“But now you see that the Amazon’s seat …”

“Is completely different.”

“Yes, their calves are not wrapped around the horse, but lie on the horse’s back, with their knees bent and heels resting on the spine.”

The half-Indian froze, gazing after the queen of Amazons who rode with Alexander into another district, where the street was even wider and more crowded.

“En aristera! To the left!”

The sudden, piercing yell of the dark-skinned Amazon startled everyone. The queen instantly covered herself with her shield. A heavy knife, thrown with great force, thudded loudly against it. The black Amazon’s horse dashed to the left, parting the crowds. Before anyone could grab the attacker, he had already collapsed on the ground with the spear thrust deeply behind the left collarbone. It was a strike from which there was no possible recovery. Thais recognized the training of Kibela’s temple.

After a moment, the enraged getaerosi burst into the crowd, crushing everyone in the way. They surrounded a group of spectators near the dead attacker and led them down a side street. Two of them tried to jump over the rope and were killed on the spot. The queen’s face showed no trace of fright. She smiled carelessly at Alexander. The king spoke a few words to Ptolemy, who turned his horse and rode after the getaerosi.

Despite the attack, the glorious parade didn’t slow down even for a bit. Beyond the city limits, rows upon rows of soldiers greeted the king with thunderous shouts. Argiroaspides in the front rows struck their ringing silver shields. Drums rumbled. The black Amazon’s horse started dancing, striking her hooves in rhythm with the drums and bowing to the left and right. Armfuls of blue, pink and yellow flowers flew under the horses’ feet. Both Amazons were showered by flowers. They laughed and shielded themselves from the fragrant bunches, causing even greater delight among the revelers.

Ptolemy caught up with Alexander not far from the improvised theater. “The black-skinned one has an exceedingly firm and swift hand,” he said unhappily, addressing the king.

“Did you manage to find the reason for the attack?” Alexander asked. “Who and why needed to kill beauty, a thing that is harmless during war and carries no cause for revenge?”

“These people who live at the edge of the desert despise women. They have no sense of beauty and, having acquired an idea, are ready to kill, regardless of consequences and the thought of attacking like cowards.”

“What harm was the queen of Amazons?”

“They said that the one who threw the knife was a relative of some beauty who was designated to become your wife.”

“Without asking me,” Alexander said and chuckled.

“They say some people know special magic and that nobody can resist the charms of their women.”

Alexander said disdainfully, “And seeing the splendor of the queen of Amazons they decided to kill her even at the cost of life?”

“They value life poorly. The only thing of value is service to their gods,” Ptolemy said, looking unusually dismayed.

“Give orders to kill everyone who helped the assassin, and marry his beauty off to one of the stablemen serving the getaerosi!”

Alexander dismounted and caught “the queen of Amazons” as she hopped off Boanergos. Taking her hand, he led her to the highest row of benches under a tent of precious crimson cloth, taken from the stores of the East palace.

The sun was setting behind the hills when Alexander finally left the celebration. They rode in a row: Thais, still in her Amazon guise, Ptolemy, Hephaestion and Crateros. The other captains rode a few steps behind and a double row of armored getaerosi protected them on each side.

Hephaestion said something quiet to Crateros, who listened, then suddenly burst into laughter. Thais glanced at him, surprised by the unusual merriment coming from the normally serious Crateros.

“They were remembering the end of the performance,” Ptolemy explained.

Yes, Thais too remembered the incredible snake dance. It was performed by a tall, slender and unusually agile Nubian woman and a pale buxom Babylonian. It seemed as if the black body of a snake coiled around the white girl. The black “snake” seemed to rise from behind her “victim”, resting her head on her shoulder, or springing from the ground, sliding between the Babylonian’s legs.

“Are you talking about the snake dance?” Thais asked.

“Not at all. Can such delicate art get through to Crateros? No, he was recalling a group of Babylonian acrobats, performing the pantomime of love.”

“What was good about that?” the hetaera wondered. “It was disgusting. The girls were beautiful, yes, but the men…”

“But how artful they were in their poses. Even the servants of Cotytto wouldn’t think of such things.”

“Were you also delighted by that performance?” Thais asked Ptolemy.

“Do you know me so badly? Or are you pretending?”

Thais squinted mischievously, fixing a chain connecting her “borrowed” braid behind her back.

“No man can watch this with anything but indignation, though a eunuch might enjoy it,” Ptolemy said, sounding angry.

“I wonder why? I, for example, am angry because the sacred service to Aphrodite and Kibela, the mystery known only to the goddess and the lovers who can rise to her level, was displayed for show, humiliating people to the level of beasts and creating primitive emotions and degradation of beauty. It is a despicable violation of the gods’ bequest,” Thais said indignantly.

“I understand that well. But I also feel as if I’ve been robbed,” Ptolemy said, and smiled.

“Ah, you wanted to trade places with those acrobats,” Thais guessed.

“Why not? Not on stage, of course. But if a beautiful woman is being held and caressed in front of me, I feel offended. I cannot take such a sight.”

Alexander listened to the conversation with interest, nodding his approval. “I want to ask you a question,” he said to Thais.

“Yes, Majesty.”

Alexander gestured her to ride closer.

“Would you like to be the queen of Amazons in reality?” Alexander asked quietly.

“For you, yes. For me, no. You cannot continue a fairy tale you have invented.”

“That is true. How do you know?”

“A fantasy can only be realized through a woman. And you could not be with me for longer than a day before you left.”

“You took all of me just as furiously as I took you.”

“The priestess of Kibela said that beauty and death are inseparable. I did not understand her then, but now …”

“What now?”

“And now the kisses of the great Alexander are with me, and have been since that night at the Euphrates. I am riding with you, and the legend of your love is realized for the moment. It is not your love for me, but for the queen of Amazons. And the queen is gone.” Thais urged Boanergos into the darkness, ignoring Ptolemy’s warning shout.

At home, in the light of three lanterns, slave girls were hurriedly brushing out Thais’ hair. It had to be pulled up under the helmet in the morning in order to turn her into the blond Amazon. The tangled mass of wavy strands barely gave in to the slippery ivory combs. The Athenian tapped her foot impatiently, looking at the brightly lit platform of the palace through a crack in the curtain. Alexander’s guests had already gathered. This was the last night before the army’s departure to the north.

Thais managed to be ready by the time Leontiscus arrived to accompany the hetaera to the feast. The Thessalian gazed in astonishment at her modest, maidenly outfit. A short, translucent white ecsomida did not conceal a single line of her body. It left bare her left shoulder, left breast and strong legs in silver sandals with long straps. Thais braided her black hair into two thick plaits which hung to her knees. She wore no jewelry except for simple gold hoop earrings and a narrow diadem with large gold topazes.

The contrast to “the queen of Amazons” was so striking that Leontiscus couldn’t help staring at the Athenian. She was barely taller than his shoulder, yet he could not shake off the feeling that he was looking up at her.

Eris accompanied her mistress and hid somewhere in a niche, determined to wait till dawn and the end of the feast.

In addition to his friends, the army officers, the select getaerosi historians and philosophers, Alexander invited eight people from the noblest Persian families.

Strangely, no other women except Thais were invited into the throne room of Xerxes, where all the commanders of the victorious army were now assembled.

The platform, with its huge white palaces, loomed like a mountain and stood thirty elbows high under the stars of the early southern night. Beams of light from the flames danced in the bronze pails of burning oil which burst through the zigzagging terrace railing.

As she ascended the broad white staircase of a hundred steps, Thais felt excitement growing in her chest. The rush carried a touch of anguish and desperation as well, as she would feel before performing a sacred dance. To the east, in the light of a starry, moonless sky, she saw the wall of mountains, and felt as if a curtain fell away before her mind’s eye. She was transported to Hellas, filled with golden sunshine and pines, heard the bubbling and splashing of pure brooks in the steep, moss-covered chasms. She could see the white pink and bronze statues of nude goddesses, gods and heroes, wild foursomes of rearing horses frozen in sculptural groups, bright colored frescoes and paintings in the galleries, pinacotecs and homes. In her mind she walked barefoot over the warm dust of rocky paths, descending to the blue sea. She dove into the waves as she would rush into her mother’s arms, to join the gentle Nereids being carried to the fragrant colorful shores. They were the women of the sea, companions to Thetis, and Poseidon’s raging horses, their manes of foam fluttering in the roar of the wind and thunder of waves.

“Thais, wake up.” Leontiscus gently touched her bare shoulder.

The Athenian’s mind suddenly returned to the platform of the Persepolis palaces, overshadowed by the huge winged bulls of Xerxes’ pavilion. Startled, she realized she had stood here for a few minutes, dreaming, until the patient Thessalian reminded her that everyone was waiting at Xerxes’ Hundred Column hall.

Thais passed through a structure adjacent to the gates with four pillars and three entrances, twenty-five elbows each. She walked by the exit to her left that led to the apadana and Darius’ palaces. She headed along a path outside of the wall, heading toward the northeastern part of the platform where Xerxes’ palaces and the treasury stood. She was not concerned that her pure white outfit would be stained by the soot from the huge flaming basins on either side of her. The night was quiet, columns of black smoke rose vertically, and the soot did not fly in every direction. Leontiscus followed a path made of sparkling lime, continuing through an unfinished, four-columned pavilion in a courtyard in front of Xerxes’ palace. A wide portico with sixteen slender columns was also lit by pails. Here they used sheep fat, without scent or soot, used by the Persians to light the indoors.

Thais entered the soft half-light of the giant hall and paused near one of a hundred columns. They were proportionately slender, but looked as crowded as palm trees in a grove. The west corner of the hall, brightly lit and set with tables, was filled with a noisy crowd of servants and musicians, obscuring the guests. A group of female flutists had settled between the columns. Other musicians were set up at the end of a row of tables, near the outermost line of columns. Behind them, heavy curtains fluttered over tall windows. Thais inhaled deeply, lifted her head and stepped into the light of many lanterns and torches attached to the walls. Greetings and applause burst like an explosion when Alexander’s inebriated companions saw her. She stood motionless for a few moments, as if offering everyone the opportunity to admire her without arrogance, which always required the humiliation and negation of other people. Thais appeared before the revelers with a splendid feeling of inner peace and dignity, which gives one the ability to not be afraid of denigration and to not overcome shyness with haughtiness.

Alexander’s guests were over-sated and spoiled by the availability of women. A huge number of captives, slave girls, musicians-auletridae, widows of slaughtered Persians. Women of any age, nation, skin color and taste had inevitably ruined the attitude toward a woman as something precious, an attitude cultivated in Hellas and adopted by Macedonians.

Thais, however, was a famous hetaera and much more unattainable than all the other women surrounding the Macedonian army. She paused in front of the lanterns to fix her unruly hair, lit up through her delicate chiton, then smiled and walked slowly toward the foot of Xerxes’ throne, where the great army commander sat.

Her walk combined the celebration of feminine beauty, enjoyment of her own agility and the fluid lines of her figure, celebrated by a poet in a hymn about Calliroa^[31]. Graceful ripples seemed to flow from her shoulders to her feet, as if sluicing down the firm, polished stone of her body and “singing in motion” like the waves in Calliroa’s spring.

The Persians, who had never seen Thais before, realized immediately that they were witnessing a treasure of Hellas. Many generations of people dedicated to health and the difficult labor of land-rearing along the barren seashores, living in harmony with nature, had created a splendid human image. They did not know that Thais also carried a share of even more impressive blood, ancient and

Thais sat at Alexander’s feet, next to Ptolemy. The feast had been interrupted by her arrival, and now continued on. A messenger delivered a letter informing Alexander that the money captured in Susa, Pasargadae and Persepolis had been safely delivered to Ecbatana.

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

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

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

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

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

“Who? What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fire!” she shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The starry sky seemed to have gone out. Nobody had ever seen a blacker night than the one surrounding the blinding heat of the gigantic fire. People gazed upon it with a superstitious dread, as if it hadn’t been started by the hands of Alexander and the small Athenian woman, but by the powers of the underworld and Titans, who were trapped there and now burst to the surface of Gaea. Citizens of Persepolis fell to their knees anticipating greater perils. As expected, Alexander and his officers made no attempt to restrain their soldiers who took the fire as a signal to pillage. The crowd of shocked citizens scattered, hoping to save some of their possessions from the enraged Macedonians.

Supports crashed with deafening noise, throwing upward vortices of sparks. Alexander shuddered, came back to reality and finally let go of Thais’ hand, which had grown numb in the king’s strong palm. He leveled a careful gaze at the hetaera, the way he had after her speech, then yelled, “Leave.”

Thais raised an arm in front of her face, as if defending herself.

“No,” the king said firmly. “Not forever. I shall call you.”

“No, you shall not,” Thais replied.

“How can you know?”

“You know your weaknesses, you overcome them, and that gives you strength and power over people.”

“Are women my weakness then? Nobody has ever said that to me.”

“It is not surprising. Your heart is not about women, but about the divine insanity of reaching for all things unattainable. There is nothing in the world more elusive than feminine beauty. And you flee from this hopeless struggle, to which poets and artists are doomed. Beauty slips away, like the horizon. You have chosen your horizon and there you shall go.”

“And when I return?”

“Only Moiras^[32] knows that. Geliaine, great king.”

“I ask you to stay here for now. I am leaving Black Cleitus behind, as he is sick and would like…”

“I understand.”

“But be careful. Do not go out without guards. The news of she who burned down Persepolis will spread faster and wider than the fairytale about the Amazons.”

Thais did not reply, only turned and walked slowly into the darkness. Eris followed silently a few steps behind, keeping a watchful eye.