by David Alkek
"Beautiful lady, I would like to talk with you."
"What do you want, my child?"
"Can we step over here under this portico so we will not be overheard by anyone?"
Humoring the girl, the woman ushered her behind a column. "What do you want to talk about?"
Thais exposed her feelings about the stifling life of women and the fate that awaited her if she became married. She told how afraid she was of a life like that. She told her of Elysia and what her grandmother had said. “So I want to be like that. I want to be like you, free to walk the streets of Athens, to choose my friends, to attend lectures and dinners. I want to talk of literature and history, of philosophy and poetry. I want to be free."
"I will help you, my girl. I will help educate you and help you become a woman. Not just a woman, but a woman of the city and the world. I will introduce you to businessmen, politicians, and philosophers. You can feel free because you will be free. What is your name?"
"My name is Thais."
"I am Aspasia. I will meet you here tomorrow. Bring what personal items you want from home and hide them in your cloak. Don't worry about clothes. I will take care of that. As to your family, I will inform them through a public official that you have left the care of your father, and are now a member of my household. Don't worry; everything will be fine. I will be your new mother and you can look forward to a new life."
She did as Aspasia told her, and in the cold grey hour before dawn, she packed her personal belongings, kissed her mother good bye, and closed the door on her previous life. Her mother cried, but told her that she understood her emotional turmoil, for she had felt them also at her age.
Aspasia taught her the graces of being a lady, a woman unattached to men. She read poetry, especially that of Sappho, the most famous female poet of ancient Greece. She learned of erotic love, the love of poets and playwrights.
"But what of making love itself?" she asked one day. "I'm afraid that I won't know what to do. Will it hurt? Well, I like it?"
Aspasia replied, "Don't be afraid. I will teach you. I won't tell you to make love until you are ready. You must believe me, that you’ll know yourself. When that time is; when you meet the right man; when the circumstances are right, you will know."
Aspasia took Thais to dinners and symposia, and taught her how to have polite conversation with men, how to flatter them, and how to appeal to their emotions. Aspasia showed her how to dress, apply makeup, dye her hair, eat properly, and of course how to exercise her mind.
When Aspasia thought the time was ripe, she introduced Thais to the mysteries and ecstasies of sex. Men, whom Aspasia knew and respected for their tender and experienced lovemaking, initiated Thais to that magic realm.
She showed Thais how to avoid pregnancy, for there were many methods available. She taught her how to excite men emotionally, how to tease them, how to sexually arouse them, how to maximize their pleasure, as well as her own -- both physically and mentally.
Over time Aspasia introduced her to young men of wealthy families, businessmen, and aristocrats, who paid well for her company. She also enjoyed the association of learned men and philosophers, who rewarded her with knowledge and fine conversation.
With Aspasia's careful tutelage, Thais developed the air of a cultured courtesan. She dressed in the finest clothes, died in patterns of flowers and foliage. Her hair was coiffed by hairdressers, her makeup perfection itself. She walked the streets of Athens with an erect bearing, drawing the admiring glances of everyone she passed. All of this would have been for naught had she not the beauty of face and body to go with these appurtenances.
At dinners that Aspasia took her to, she was the center attraction, the woman all men wanted to be with. She did not disappoint. Her conversation sparkled with knowledge and wit; her flattery titillated; and finally her sexual prowess brought men to her knees.
When Thais had passed her twentieth birthday, Aspasia introduced her to a widowed wealthy banker. Clineas was in his early forties and lived the good life. He entertained lavishly, but with taste, in his magnificent home. Not of the obnoxious neoplutoi, he didn't flaunt his wealth, but used it to support artists, poets, and philosophers. He attended lectures at Plato's Academy, and could converse easily on philosophy, literature, and, of course, politics.
Thais was impressed with the gentleman. They developed a deep mutual relationship. Thais provided youth and beauty, while Clineas gave her expensive presents and intellectual stimulation. Sex was the icing, the spice that completed the gourmet affair.
She became his exclusive hetaira, and moved into his house. Two years later, he bought her a very comfortable house of her own, and put it in her name. He also provided her with the rent from another of his houses for her slaves and expenses. Thais truly felt love for this man although she had never said so.
After an especially delectable dinner and night of sex, Clineas confessed to her. "Thais, I know that it's not proper for a gentleman to say I love you to a hetaira, but that is what I feel. You know that in the time we've been together, you've meant more to me than anything. You bring out the best in me. I feel the energy of youth, not only sexually, but in my mind. I believe that you could keep me young forever."
"I feel very deeply for you, too, but I doubt that I could keep you young, although you certainly act it." She laughed. "Only the gods can make us immortal, but they have given us happiness." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, trying to express her feelings without actually saying that she loved him. Aspasia had impressed upon her that hetairai should never give themselves completely to any man.
During their third year together, Clineas was tragically drowned when his ship was lost in a storm. Thais fell into mourning, refusing to see anyone, wearing rough clothes and no makeup. Clineas' will left her with enough wealth and yearly income to live independently for the rest of her life. Even this did not ease the ache or fill the space in her heart, vacated by her warm and giving lover. But time heals all wounds, as the poet says, and Thais with Aspasia's motherly assistance reached out again for companionship.
She developed mutual friendships with other hetairai, intelligent, refined, and worldly women. Not all love is sexual or erotic love; she enjoyed the freedom to be a woman, and talk with others of her kind. Only women can share the feelings, fears, and joys that are peculiar to their sex. After a time, when Aspasia apparently thought she was ready for male companionship again, she introduced her to Phidias.
Phidias was a young man who had no wealth or refined culture, but had a mind as beautiful as his body. She found that her soul, as well as her flesh found companionship with his. No, it was more than that. Could she call it love? She never thought she would feel that way about a man after Clineas' death, but this was different, deeper. She knew in her mind that it was dangerous, but her heart denied it. It told her to fling caution and reason to the wind and to enjoy this life while she had it.
* * *
One day as Thais was tending to her housekeeping, telling the slaves what to do and what to buy in the markets, Aspasia came to visit. They hugged warmly and exchanged kisses on the cheek. Thais had fruits and wine served in the portico by the fountain.
"I haven't seen you in a while and decided you needed a visit. How have you been?" Aspasia asked.
"Very well; my life is very contented, very happy."
"That's good, my daughter, but be careful that you protect your happy heart, for it can be broken."
"I know that, Mother Aspasia, but it is hard to tell my heart that. Phidias loves me, too."
"All men confuse erotic and agape love. He must realize in the back of his mind, that you are hetaira and your profession does not allow for a permanent relationship like marriage."
"He may know that," said Thais, "but his heart beats with mine. I will not push him away or abandon him."
"That is well for now. Let's allow time do what it will. Our fate is in the hands of the gods. I would like to invite you tomorrow
night to a small dinner I'm having."
"Phidias and I would be delighted to come to your house. You always serve fine dishes."
"I am not inviting Phidias. There will only be hetairai. You know all of them, old friends of mine and yours. Your time has been monopolized by Phidias for too long. You need a break, some female conversation."
"I could do that during the day, like I am with you right now. Why do I have to come without Phidias?"
"Because I think it best." Aspasia reached for Thais' hand. "Because I want you to keep your mind open, even if your heart is closed. Besides, a gentleman friend of mine is also having a symposium tomorrow night and I suggested that he ask Phidias. Don't worry, he won't be crying in his soup alone that evening."
"All right," said Thais. "It might be fun to get together with the girls over some wine again. I'll come."
"Good, that's settled." Aspasia rose, kissed Thais on her cheek, said she looked forward to their dinner, and left.
Thais sat down on a low couch and watched the water play over the stone statue in the courtyard. She sipped thoughtfully at her wine. Was she really in love with Phidias? What did that mean anyway? Would she marry him, if he asked her? Probably not. She couldn't; she wouldn't -- ever. She wouldn't give up the independence she had worked so hard for, then throw it away, only to live like her mother and her brother's wife.
What of Phidias? What were his feelings, his plans? He was a philosopher, a student, a teacher. She could see that learning and teaching were his true loves. Did his fellow philosopher, Aristotle, say that the highest virtue of a man was to use his mind, his reasoning? When he was with her, she filled his mind and his soul as well as body. He seemed to forget the world outside of their bedroom. But, she knew that with the morning's light his mind passed to other matters -- history, science, and philosophy.
Thais enjoyed their relationship and knew that Phidias reciprocated her feelings. But -- deep in her soul a tiny voice whispered that it could not last forever. Nothing lasts forever, does it?
Chapter 10
At this time, the political turmoil in Athens was coming to a boiling point, the fire being stoked by the orations of Demosthenes. He had developed into a talented orator, who spoke eloquently and fervently against the growing power of Philip of Macedon.
As a young man, Demosthenes had been cheated out of most of his inheritance when his father died. He had talent for writing arguments, but his slight build, and his lack of ability to argue in public hampered him. He studied rhetoric for a while at Plato's Academy and trained his body as well as his mind. His trainer had him run uphill, carrying a shield and spear. His teacher told him to memorize and recite a speech while doing it, so he could learn to control his breathing. He exercised his voice by speaking above the roar of the waves at the beach. To aid his diction, he placed pebbles in his mouth, and forced himself to articulate well in spite of them.
After a few years at the Academy, in which he mastered the art and science of oratory, he left and developed his own career as a rhetor. These were hired orators who acted as professional lawyers and politicians. They argued cases in court or before the Assembly. Some, like Demosthenes, were honest and noble, while others were simply hired mouthpieces without strong ethics. As Athenian politics grew more intense, rhetors on both sides of issues rent the atmosphere with their campaigns.
Demosthenes became one of the wealthiest of these lawyers, well-known for his technical ability and sometimes flexible morals, for he could be hired to defend either side. He received large fees from citizens for introducing and arguing in favor of laws before the Assembly.
In spite of his wealth and reputation, he earned the integrity of defending Athens against its own degenerate politics. He raised his powers of oratory to their supreme effort, urging Athens and all Greece to resist the threat of tyranny from Philip of Macedon.
* * *
Phidias grew up during the period of Athens' second empire, in which she was again powerful, and her citizens accumulated great wealth. He remembered, when he was about twenty-four, going with his father who was to speak at the Assembly. He knew that his father was concerned about the decay in morals and the lack of good sense in Athens.
Aristippus rose to speak at the Assembly. "My fellow citizens, when we formed our new Confederation after beating the Thebans, we promised our allies that we would not conquer or colonize any lands outside of our surrounding Attica. Instead, you have sent armies to conquer Samos and islands off the coasts of Thrace and Macedon. Athenians are now colonizing those islands. This is an arrogant and unwise policy that will only gain the enmity of our allies. Some have already protested. I promise you that the others will withdraw from the Confederation and may even go to war against us."
A man in the front row stood up and yelled, "Let them. We have wealth and power and will crush any opposition." Many in the Assembly cheered and raised their fists.
Aristippus held up his hands for quiet. "I see that my warnings have fallen on deaf ears. I am too old, and have suffered too many wounds in Athens' wars to defend her again. I am trying to do it now with my words. Don't throw away our hard-earned prosperity and political power, by using policies that failed with our first empire a hundred years ago." He sat down amid cheers and boos from the Assembly. It was not long afterward that Aristippus’ warnings came true.
Athens ignored the advice of level heads like Aristippus, and used force to coerce or punish any of its wayward allies. That year, several cities and islands declared a Social War of rebellion. All of Athens allies left her and after two years of war she was forced to sign a peace treaty, acknowledging their independence. Athens, indeed, lost not only its second empire, but was left without allies, without effective leaders, without wealth, and without friends. Fortunately, Aristippus died two years before this, and he didn’t have to witness Athens' humiliation, even though he had warned against it.
The kingdom of Macedon in the north was growing in power. While Athens was engaged in its Social War that ended her second empire, Philip seized territory all along the European coast of the north Aegean, including the lucrative gold mines of Thrace. His thoughts then turned to the south.
At a celebration of his recent acquisitions, Philip raised his third cup of wine, "To the Athenians." The officers and members of Philip's council sitting at the tables, littered with scraps of the feast, looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "They have given us literature and art and philosophy." The guests nodded; they knew that their king admired Athenian culture. "They are also politically stupid." The men laughed. “A few years ago they lost the rest of their empire. And now they're engaged in a war supporting Phocia against the Amphictyonic League. Weakened Sparta is their ally." More laughter rolled like thunder through the men.
The city of Phocia stole the treasury at Delphi, the home of the sacred oracle. This was a sacrilege, and the Amphictyonic League, composed of the cities of Boeotia, Locris, Doris, and Thessaly declared war against it. Athens and Sparta fought for Phocia. This was referred to as the Second Sacred War.
"Let the Greeks fight each other," said Antipater, Philip's senior general. "They will be easy pickings for us, when they come begging for our help."
Everyone raised their cups in agreement and drank deeply that night. They had reason to celebrate, for the Macedonian treasury was bursting with gold from the Thracian mines and the sale of Greeks from the captured lands in the north Aegean into slavery.
The war in the south lasted ten years, while Philip trained his army. As the war turned against the League, it turned to him for aid. He was waiting for the opportunity, and his expertly trained army was ready. He marched swiftly south through the open passes and overwhelmed the Phocians and their allies.
The spoils he took from Phocia he gave back to the Oracle at Delphi. Philip was invited to join and become leader of the League. He was hailed as a protector of the shrine and invited to preside over all the Greeks at the Pythian games. His star was rising.
During Athens' struggle with Phocia against the League, Demosthenes, began his phillipics, famous orations against Philip and Macedon. He was furious that Athens had not awakened to the threat, and was using its depleted treasury to hire mercenaries to do its fighting.
Phidias and Aristotle were as concerned as many Athenians about Athens losses and her resistance to the growing power of Philip. They attended a meeting of the Assembly to hear Demosthenes, whose campaign against Philip had become strident.
Demosthenes rose to address the Assembly. "My fellow Athenians, there you sit with your fat bellies, gold rings on your fingers, and slaves in your homes. You eat well and sleep soundly at night, while mercenaries defend our city.
"Have you no shame? Where is the patriotism that strengthened Athenian hearts and spears in the great wars against Persia? Where is the spirit of our Goddess, Athena? Have we given it away to mercenaries? You have allowed the wealth of our last empire to make you physically weak and morally decadent.
“You are especially blind to the dagger at your throat held by Philip, the tyrant of the north. He says he will be the leader of all the Greeks and invade and conquer Asia. I say that it's only a ruse. His true ambition is to subjugate all Greeks to himself as king."
He looked with piercing eyes, his lips pressed with scorn, over his rapt audience. By this time, the theoric fund, which had been set up to pay the populace to attend games and festivals, had been so extended, that it strapped the state. The Assembly had made it a crime to use this fund for any other purpose. Demosthenes recognized that the welfare state was bankrupting the city and hampering its defense. He was determined that the fund be used in a war against Philip.
"I propose, nay I insist, that the money that is paid to citizens to attend the religious ceremonies and plays be used instead to pay citizens to defend our state. Why waste more money on mercenaries who have no love for Athens, when we can use the same funds that we are already paying to our citizens to defend our own city.