Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (6 page)

I cleared my throat. “Well, it’s certainly a miracle that you all got away from those soldiers.”

“No gods or magic were involved,” said Melmak. “Just careful planning and quick reflexes. We’ve worked out a system for making fast getaways. Emergency change of scene, I call it. It hasn’t failed us yet.”

“But one of these days, if you keep putting on shows like that, you’re bound to get into trouble. You’re tempting the Fates.”

“We are a mime troupe, Gordianus. We must give the people what they want. And we do! We draw the largest crowds and collect the fattest purse of any troupe in the city. Oh dear, I shouldn’t have admitted that. Now you’ll want even more money for the use of your lovely slave.”

“As I already told you, she’s not available.” I had a sudden vision of Bethesda at the mercy of a troop of royal guards, and shuddered. “Not at any price.”

“Ah, well.” Melmak sighed and cast a wistful gaze at Bethesda. “Your master is denying you a marvelous career as an actress, my dear.”

Axiothea laughed. “Give it a rest, Melmak! The young Roman has spoken. But I find his company congenial, don’t you? Would you like to share our midday meal, Gordianus? We have only simple fare—some pickled tilapia from the Nile, olives, hearts of palm, dates, flatbread. No wine, but there’s some Egyptian beer. Will you join us?”

And so I ate my birthday meal with an unexpected circle of newfound friends, sitting in the shade of a palm tree in the most exciting city in the world, gazing at one of the world’s most spectacular sights, the harbor of Alexandria and the Pharos Lighthouse. The food was delicious and the company delightful. The actors had all traveled widely and had many stories to tell. Having traveled myself, I had a few stories of my own. I felt quite happy, thinking this was how a birthday should be celebrated, until the subject turned to Rome.

“Have you been away for long?” asked Axiothea.

“I left Rome exactly four years ago today, on my eighteenth birthday. I haven’t been back.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes.”

“One hears such terrible things about the war in Italy, between Rome and the rebel cities. Do you get much news from home?” asked Melmak.

“Letters from my father. It’s been a while since I received one.” In fact, it had been several months since his last letter arrived. I was beginning to worry about him.

Axiothea read my expression. “So many letters and messages go astray these days, or take forever to arrive. The war in Italy, the war in Asia, the war on the sea—it’s a wonder any ship ever arrives in port. Everything is scarce. Everything costs more. It’s the times we live in.”

“And thank goodness we all have someone to blame!” said Melmak with a laugh.

“Who?” I said.

Melmak shook his head. “Obviously, you are not an Alexandrian, or you wouldn’t need to ask. Whom do we blame for everything that goes wrong? Must I put on my fat-suit and waddle up and down the waterfront to remind you?”

“Is King Ptolemy really to blame for high prices?” asked Bethesda. I felt a bit uneasy, seeing my slave join freely in the conversation, but to the actors, who were all freeborn, her slave status seemed to make no difference. My father had told me that actors were not like other people, that they tended to live outside the constraints and expectations of normal society.

“Is the king to blame? Probably not,” said Melmak. “But we blame him nonetheless. And if things get worse, we shall blame him all the more.”

“What if things get better?” I said.

“Then we shall credit the gods and offer prayers of thanksgiving!”

“It seems the king can do nothing right.”

“And thank the gods for that, or else we actors would be out of work!”

“Is it true, what you hinted at in the show—about the king’s brother coming to Alexandria?”

Melmak shrugged. “Who knows? That’s the rumor. We’ll know for sure, if and when he gets here.”

“But if that happens, there’s likely to be chaos, isn’t there?” I had never been in a city under siege. The idea was unsettling, but the actors seemed unfazed.

“Chaos?” said Melmak. “Most certainly, there will be chaos. Chaos before, chaos during, and chaos after. Chaos at all times and everywhere—that is the natural state of Egypt. But the mime shows will continue, no matter what. The troupe of Melmak never misses a performance, come rain or shine.”

“At the rate things are going, it may not take an invading army to bring down the king,” said Axiothea.

“What do you mean?” asked Bethesda.

“Did you not notice the marked lack of enthusiasm on the part of those soldiers who broke up the show today? Listless, I would call them.”

“Practically somnambulant!” said Melmak. “Two months ago, with a company of royal guards breathing down our necks like that, we’d have had to scramble for our lives. Today, we simply packed up our things and trotted off—and they didn’t even come after us!”

“Yes, that surprised me,” I said. “I was afraid there might be a bloodbath.”

Melmak shook his head. “A bloodbath takes a lot of work—all that hacking, and cleaning up the mess afterward. It simply wasn’t worth the soldiers’ time. I suspect their commander ordered them to stop the scandalous show and break up the crowd, and that’s exactly what they did—no more and no less.”

“But why?”

“Because the king isn’t paying them! He’s not paying anyone any longer—not the workers in the Library or the clerks in the Museum, or the stokers at the Pharos Lighthouse, not even the zookeepers in the royal gardens. He’s run out of money, and everyone knows it. Instead of gold or silver or even copper, people on the royal payroll are being issued promissory notes drawn on the royal treasury. A royal decree has ordered all merchants to extend credit based on those notes, but more and more merchants are now openly refusing to do so. So everyone in royal service is doing as little as possible—including the soldiers. Alexandria is grinding to a standstill.”

“I hadn’t realized things had gotten so bad,” I said.

Axiothea nodded. “Bad, and likely to get worse. So says…” Her voice trailed off.

I raised an eyebrow. “You were about to quote someone?”

Melmak flashed a knowing smile. “Axiothea was about to quote her mysterious patron.”

“Patron?” I said.

“Perhaps you noticed that fancy litter at the front of the audience?”

“Yes. I saw it arrive.”

“It seems the fellow inside has taken quite a fancy to our Axiothea.”

“I never got a glimpse of him.”

“Neither have we! Nobody knows who he is—except Axiothea. Every now and again, she goes missing for a day or two, and then comes back smelling of some expensive new perfume, and we all know she’s been visiting her rich friend. But will she invite us along? Or even tell us the fellow’s name, or where she’s going, or how long she’ll be gone? No!”

“Believe it or not, Melmak, some things are none of your business.” Axiothea smiled, but it seemed to me she was straining to keep an even tone.

“Melmak is just jealous,” said Lykos. “He wishes some wealthy lady would choose him to be her favorite, and shower him with gifts, the way Axiothea’s patron showers her.”

One of the actors nodded. “That’s why Melmak insists on doing his juggling routine before the show, prancing about practically naked and showing off those muscles—hoping some rich filly will take notice and invite him home with her. Get himself a nice, comfy spot doing stud service, and then—goodbye to acting!”

They all shared a laugh at this, even Melmak. Axiothea visibly relaxed.

The sun was hot but the shade was pleasant. Our stomachs were full. Everyone had consumed a generous share of the beer, drinking from the same cup—including the monkey. Because it was my birthday, they had insisted that I drink a double share, and I had not refused.

While the two women stood to one side, talking, we men sat in a circle around the big palm tree, facing outward, leaning back against the trunk with our legs outstretched. I began to doze. When Bethesda crouched down beside me and touched my hand, I had to struggle to open my eyes.

“Master, Axiothea wishes to go to the little open-air market off the waterfront. You can see a bit of it, just over there.”

“Yes, and I was wondering if Bethesda could go with me,” said Axiothea. She stood over me with her hands on her hips, wearing an expression that said she wouldn’t take no for an answer. If Bethesda were a free woman, would she be as brash and willful as her double?

I hummed and nodded, half-asleep. “I don’t see why not.” Then I smiled, for I happened to know that Bethesda had recently stored up a few coins by sometimes keeping the change when I sent her to make a purchase. She must have brought those coins with her, I thought, and now she intended to spend her meager treasure to buy me a birthday present. I closed my eyes again, and thought how sweet she was … how very, very sweet.…

My dream was sweet as well, doubly sweet, for I was back in my little room in Rhakotis, which was filled with dappled sunlight, and naked in the bed with me I beheld not one but
two
Bethesdas, equally beautiful, equally loving, equally delightful. The dream went on for quite some time, with each development more exciting than the last, until there was a knock at my door. Though the two Bethesdas both laughed and playfully tried to hold me back, I insisted on seeing who it was. I got out of bed and opened the door, but the hallway was empty. Or was it? The passage was dimly lit, but at the far end, almost lost in shadows, I thought I saw a figure. His face was hidden, but I could see that he wore a Roman toga. Something about his posture alarmed me. He held himself in an unnatural way, clutching himself as if he were in pain. I heard him moan. My heart began to race.

“Father?” I whispered. “It that you?”

I woke in a cold sweat, chilled by the breeze from the harbor. For a long moment I stared at the distant Pharos Lighthouse, my mind unable to comprehend it. This happened to me from time to time in Alexandria; I would wake with no sense of where I was, and feel confused, as if I had never left Rome and suddenly found myself in a place completely strange to me.

But of course, the place was not strange. I had come to know the waterfront of Alexandria better than I knew many parts of Rome. My acute disorientation faded. I had a slight headache—from the beer, no doubt. The chill quickly passed as the breeze blew the sweat from my body. The sunlight felt warm on my skin. I was in Alexandria on a beautiful afternoon, and all was well. I yawned and stretched and looked around.

I was alone.

The members of the mime troupe had vanished.

So had Bethesda.

V

“Bethesda!” I called, thinking she must be nearby. I got to my feet, feeling a bit stiff. My head was pounding. I peered up and down the waterfront.

“Bethesda!” I called again, louder.

There was no response. Above my head, a seagull squawked. To my befuddled senses, the noise sounded suspiciously like laughter.

How long had I been asleep? Judging by the position of the sun, it could not have been more than an hour. Could she still be at the nearby market, shopping?

And where had the actors gone? I looked around and saw no trace of them except scattered date pits and other detritus from our midday feast.

I scanned the area again, making sure there was no sign of Bethesda, then headed toward the market.

The place was a maze of small tents and partitioned stalls, deliberately meant to slow one’s progress and baffle the eye. If a person wished to hide, such a crowded, jumbled market would be an ideal place. Was Bethesda teasing me, playing a game of hide-and-seek? That did not seem like her.

I made my way through the market, trying not to be distracted by all the hanging baubles and trinkets and pots and pans. Almost every vendor offered a selection of souvenirs for tourists, including little images of the Pharos Lighthouse for every budget, rendered in cheap pottery or glass or ivory. At the stall of a garment vendor I spotted a green dress that looked almost exactly like the one I had bought for Bethesda, for a much cheaper price, but when I took a closer look, I could see that it was of inferior linen and shoddily made.

I reached the end of the market without seeing Bethesda. I turned around and made my way through the stalls again, and still did not see her. I went back to the palm tree, thinking she might have returned in my absence, but she wasn’t there.

I began to feel uneasy.

I went from stall to stall in the market, questioning the vendors. A few were so unfriendly they wouldn’t talk to me, probably because of my Roman accent—a prejudice I encountered from time to time in Alexandria—but a few of them remembered seeing the two pretty girls dressed in green.

“Like twins!” said a mustachioed rug-seller, with a lecherous gleam in his eye. “I certainly wouldn’t forget those two. Giggling and whispering to each other and acting silly, the way girls do.” This did not sound like the Bethesda I knew, who carried herself at all times with a quiet, catlike grace. Away from me, in the company of another female, did she behave with less restraint?

“Oh, but that must have been an hour ago,” said the rug-seller. “They took a quick look at my wares, said something rude about my mustache—silly girls!—and then moved on. I haven’t seen them since.”

Nor had any of the other vendors, it seemed. Bethesda and Axiothea had certainly visited the market, and had been noticed by several of the vendors, but this had happened an hour ago, when I first began to doze under the palm tree. No one knew when they left or in what direction they headed.

Bethesda and Axiothea seemed to have spent the most time in the garment stall, comparing their own dresses to the inferior version on sale there, to the displeasure of the old woman in charge of the stall, who thus had reason to remember them. She gave curt answers to all my questions, but then, as I was leaving, she lowered her voice. “But now that you’ve reminded me, I did notice something a bit odd.…”

“Yes?”

“I’m trying to think. Yes, it was at the same time that those girls came in to look at my garments. I noticed a couple of fellows hanging about, peering this way and that. I didn’t like the look of them.”