For Thais, this was a good place for her to think about the upcoming changes in her life. Ptolemy had yet to arrange anything for their son. He’d sworn to find the best gymnastics and military teachers immediately after he returned to Babylon with Alexander, since he was unable to leave him alone.
One day in Elafebolion, a month of remarkably lovely weather, Thais arrived at the tomb and saw a small party approaching. They stopped about five stadiums from the mausoleum. Two of them separated from the rest and slowly rode toward the hill. They were tall and wore glittering helms, one riding a black horse and the other a dappled gray one.
Thais’ heart beat faster. She recognized Alexander and Ptolemy. In honor of his Bucephal, the king always picked black horses. Six Persian youths designated by Ptolemy to be her guards jumped up in alarm and ran out from under a lonely elm where they’d waited for their charge. Thais calmed them down, explaining who the men were. The soldiers did not mount, but lined up in the distance, bowing their heads with respect.
The king gazed in amazement upon Thais and Eris, standing on the white steps of the temporary mausoleum. The two women were dressed in identical pale blue ecsomida, like two statuettes of Corinthian and Egyptian bronze. He dismounted and quickly approached Thais, holding out both hands to her.
“I am glad to find you here, honoring the memory of a friend,” Alexander said. He was smiling, but his eyes were sad. “I wished to speak with you before returning to Babylon.”
“Whenever you want, King. Even now.”
“Alas, now there are too many people waiting for me, impatient to rest after a march. I shall set a meeting here and let you know. Will you allow me that, Ptolemy? After all, your wife is my friend.”
“She is not asking permission.” Ptolemy laughed. “Why do you ask, all-powerful King?”
“A king must observe tradition even more closely than the last of his subjects,” Alexander said, sounding somber. “For how else am I to inspire respect toward law and the sense of good measure?”
Ptolemy flushed slightly under his dark tan. With his reputation as a wise man of state he did not like to make even the smallest mistake.
Four days later a messenger arrived and told her Alexander was waiting for her at Hephaestion’s tomb. Thais twirled in front of the mirror, choosing a lavender ecsomida cut just above the knees. She wore the earrings from the Heavenly Empire, the gift from the yellow-faced man. After thinking about it, she also added the necklace from the talons of the black gryph, the memento from the Eridu temple. Only a firm demand from Thais forced Eris to stay home, which meant she was permitted to accompany the Athenian no further than the city walls. Boanergos, now a mature twelve year old stallion, scattered the measured hoofbeats of a pacer as swiftly as before.
Alexander sat on the top step of the mausoleum without armor, helm or weapons, wearing only the leg coverings he did not like to remove. He rarely took them off because they hid the scars of terrible wounds on his legs.
He took the pacer’s reins and caught Thais as she was dismounting, gently tossing her up into the air. The smart horse walked away without command and hid in the shade of the elm. Alexander peered at the Athenian, seeing her for the first time after a long separation, ran his fingers over the talon necklace and touched a tinkling carved earring. Thais explained the meaning of the gryph’s talon, the sign of the Guardian of Secret Paths, and told him how she came to have it.
Alexander listened as his gaze glided over her figure, clearly outlined through the transparent ecsomida.
“Are you still wearing the chain belt?” he asked, noticing the glint of gold. “Still with the xi?”
“There cannot be another one. Impossible,” Thais replied quietly. “I wanted to thank you, King. For the house in the New City, near the Lugalgira gate.”
“I use it to escape sometimes,” the king said, chuckling sadly. “But I cannot stay long.”
“Why not?”
“There are too many matters of state. Also …” Alexander suddenly switched, dropping the dispirited manner of speaking he had adopted recently. His voice became energetic. “Sometimes I wish to throw myself into the fire of Eros. To feel like a young man again. In you I have found the divine madness which also inhabits my soul, akin to the underground fire. You cracked the stone walls and let it out. What man can resist such force?”
“In order to awaken it, one requires a force in response, as a salamander requires fire,” Thais said. “And there is not one, except you.”
“Yes, when I was the way I met you in Memphis. No. That was in the middle of the Euphrates.” He sighed. “That man is far away now,” Alexander said, subsiding.
Thais looked at the king’s beautiful face, discovering unfamiliar traces of tired and disdainful cruelty. These were unsuitable for Alexander’s prior image, that of a dreamer and the bravest of the brave warriors. Such people could never be either disdainful or cruel. His low forehead seemed more rounded from the pronounced eyebrow ridges. His large, straight nose was emphasized by the sharp creases near his mouth, of which the full lips had already started to stretch over his strong round chin. Deep vertical lines cut through the once gentle outlines of his cheeks. Despite the conditions he had survived, his skin remained as smooth as before, reminding her of the young age of the great king. In Sparta, Alexander would have reached the age of a grown man only two and a half years ago.
“Are you very tired, my king?” Thais asked, filling the question with all the tenderness of which she was capable, as if the great conqueror and ruler had suddenly become a boy not much older than her Leontiscus.
Alexander lowered his head in silent agreement.
“Does the urge for the boundaries of Ecumene still burn in you?” the Athenian asked quietly. “Perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong path.”
“There is no other one. One cannot go to the east of Asia, or south or north without meeting armed detachments or entire armies. They would annihilate you or make you a slave, whether you have five hundred companions or five. It does not matter. Only having gathered a large force can one penetrate the wall of hostile people of different languages and different faiths, understanding nothing about my goal. You can see for yourself that I had to overturn enormous kingdoms and crush countless enemies. But only two years later, Chandragupta has already taken away a part of the conquered land from me in India and kicked out my envoys. No, I cannot reach the boundaries of Ecumene by land. Now I shall try it by sea.”
“Perhaps if you traveled alone, like the yellow-faced dweller of the East, you could get further in.”
“Perhaps. But there are too many dangers along the way, and each one can be deadly. And it would require too much time. Traveling on foot is too slow. No, I was right when I took the path of force. The sizes of Ecumene calculated by the greatest scientists of Hellas are incorrect. It is far greater, but that is their mistake and not mine.”
“Will you travel again, then, into the unknown?”
“I am tired not of traveling, but of the cares of the huge state. They crashed upon me like a river during a flood.”