“If the queen does not rule then her position is imaginary,” Thais replied, matching her tone. “Would it not be smarter to let someone else have this position? Someone who would not be imaginary?”
“In Memphis?”
“In Alexandria. There will be no more queens here, only the envoy who is already running everything. However, it is too soon to speak of it. I want to go to Ptolemy and discuss the circumstances with him.”
“It has not been long since the king expressed his highest appreciation for your contribution here. The information you gathered about Nubia, Punt and Libya in general became a foundation for studying the geography of the entire country at the Alexandrian Museum. He also praised the boatmen of Queen Thais …”
The black priestess spoke of the groups of young people hired by Thais to serve in heavily populated areas along the Nile. Many small children living near the enormous river drowned or were killed by the crocodiles. Swift, light boats with green flags now sailed along the shores, always ready to assist children and animals. Thais was fond of both and they reciprocated with utmost trust.
Eris thought she heard a rustling among the garden shrubs. Putting out the lantern she peeked down.
A dark, windless night enveloped the small palace, which had been chosen by Thais to be her residence in the garden district of Memphis. Leaves did not move, dogs did not bark, only bats dashed around. Both friends could hear their barely audible peeps. Being able to hear the bats was a measurement of age among Helenians and Egyptians. When someone stopped hearing the bats, he turned the corner toward old age.
“I shall go and check the gallery,” Eris whispered. “I am worried about that handsome slave who managed to escape.”
“He wouldn’t dare. Not after his accomplices perished,” Thais objected.
“Possibly. Still, I’d like to check. Do not put on the light.” Eris dissolved in the darkness.
The upper rooms of the palace were aligned along a gallery connected to the open veranda on the east and north sides of the house. The gallery was separated from the veranda by the sliding papyrus hangings, and from the rooms by blue translucent drapes stretched tightly between wood posts. Luminaries were lit along the northern gallery, lighting Thais’ dark room with a semblance of moonlight.
Suddenly, a clear silhouette of a nearly nude man carrying a short stick appeared against the drapes. Thais rose noiselessly, reaching out for something suitable for defense, and picked up an onyx vase that weighed nearly a talant. A second shadow, Eris, appeared behind the first, pulling out her terrible dagger. The first shadow paused and listened. Thais approached slowly, raising the vase above her head. Eris paused as well. The man with the stick stood still, then whistled almost as quietly as a bat. A third shadow with a long knife appeared behind Eris.
All that followed took place almost instantaneously. The first man pulled out a knife from his loincloth and sliced through the drapes. The third shadow, seeing Thais, made a dull warning sound to his accomplice, but the latter had no time to turn around as he received a dagger through his left shoulder.
Thais shouted, “Look out!”
The black priestess turned around and the second assassin attacked her. The Athenian threw the onyx vase at the Frakian’s familiar face as hard as she could. The murderer managed to throw his knife at the same time Thais threw the vase, and Eris fell at the feet of her victim in a pool of blood.
Guards and nearly all of her palace servants rushed in, having heard the queen’s screams. Fortunately, after Ptolemy’s insistence, the staff included a skilled physician.
A dozen luminaries were lit. Thais forbade taking Eris to her room. She was placed on the queen’s bed. The first assassin was dead, but the second was still alive and tried to get up to his knees. Thais pulled out Eris’ sacred dagger and rose it above him, but stopped.
“Shake him,” she ordered the soldiers. “Perhaps he will regain his senses. Pour water on him. Get my interpreter.”
The interpreter ran in. He spoke eight languages. Forgetting about him, the Athenian fell before her friend’s bed while the physician worked quickly on the other side, trying to stop the bleeding. She took Eris’ clammy hand and pressed it against her own cheek.
The black priestess’ eyelids moved, her seemingly unseeing blue eyes opened, then filled with the light of consciousness. A smile touched her gray lips.
“Like a Helenian,” Eris whispered, barely audible.
The queen’s bitter scream made everyone in the room fall to their knees.
“Eris, my beloved friend, do not go! Do not leave me alone!”
Only then did she fully realize how precious to her was this melayna aymi ero, kai kale — black, but beautiful through and through, as Eris’ friends called her. Eris was more dear than anything in the world, more dear than life itself, for life appeared impossible to Thais without the divinely strong, calm and intelligent friend.
All of the queen’s associates respected Eris, despite her outward solemnity. She liked good people and good things, although she never insisted on gaining the friendship of the former or the possession of the latter. She had no false pride and never wished to humiliate others or demand special attention or honors for herself.
Unyielding simplicity, complete absence of unworthy desires and envy gave her strength to get through any challenge. Eris understood from the first glance the innate loveliness of events and objects that most people miss. Her incredible beauty had stopped being a weapon since she’d left the temple of Kibela-Gaea. While poets celebrated her and artists went to great lengths to get her as a model, the Athenian was often surprised how few people understood true meaning and the power of Eris’ beautiful image. Compared to Thais, she appeared more mature. As if she possessed a deeper understanding of matters and things than other people. At times of merriment, Eris equaled the Athenian, who was still a girl at heart, fond of crazy and mischievous tricks.
This divine friend, sent to Thais by the Great Mother or Aphrodite, was departing from her into the dark kingdom. Thais felt as if her heart were also dying, that the shadows of the dead was gathering: Menedem, Egesikhora, Leontiscus, Alexander …
Holding back sobs, Thais whispered a prayer to the three all-powerful goddesses, begging them to bring Eris back. As if in response to her plea, the blue eyes opened again, filled with the warm light of life.
“Do not, grieve, my friend, I shall wait.”
Even in her perilous condition, Eris did not forget her promise to wait for Thais in Hades, in the fields of asphodels along the River, to cross it hand in hand with her friend.
Thais could no longer contain the desperate surge of grief. Roykos decided to send for the high priest of Neit, afraid that the queen would die of shock.
The old priest walked in, catching his breath, but never losing his majestic posture. He leaned over the unconscious Eris, took her hand and held it at length. He then touched the queen’s shoulder. Thais lifted her grief-twisted face and met the calm, sad gaze of her friend.
“I think she will live,” the priest said. Thais caught her breath, unable to speak a word. “I sent for our physicians to help your Helenian. I recall your mentioning the substance from the mountains near Persepolis. Do you still have it?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll get it right away.” Thais rushed for the chest where she kept the fantastic medicines of Mesopotamia, India and Bactriana.
The priest found a dark brown clamp which resembled tree resin, and handed it to the newly-arrived, middle-aged Egyptians wearing simple white robs. Modest but self-assured, they discussed something with the palace physician, crushed a piece of the medicine into some milk, and, unclenching Eris’ teeth, made her drink it. Her wound was covered with a bunch of bluish herb with a strong strange scent, and it was firmly bound.