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.
31
Calliroa — she of the beautiful stream is a legendary spring nymph. strong blood of the people of seagoing Crete, the relatives and contemporaries of the forefathers of India.