“No, we’re all here,” said Melmak.
“Only eight, in the whole troupe? Surely there must be more. How could only eight of you perform so many parts?”
“Makeup, costumes, props, and padding.”
I looked from face to face. Besides Melmak and Axiothea and the two boys, there were four men, all of average size and a bit older than I. “But which of you played the fat merchant?”
“That was me, of course.” Melmak beamed.
“Not possible! I realize the merchant’s costume was padded, but he had a fat face. And his voice was completely different from yours.”
“It’s called acting, my good fellow. I know that Rome is a backwater when it comes to the theater, but-”
“And there was an acrobat who’s not here. The muscular man in a nemes headdress who juggled before the show.”
“Me again!” said Melmak. He made a fist and drew it to his forehead, then pulled back the long, loose sleeve of his tunic to show off his biceps. “As you can see, the muscles are real, and not a costume. We all take on many parts. At present, Axiothea is the only female in the troupe, so some of us men play the occasional matron.”
“The old whore in the first skit-that was Axiothea?”
“Yes. We’ve tried it with a man, but it’s not as funny.”
“Very impressive,” I said, amazed that so few could play so many.
“Ha! Acting, he calls it!” One of the men stepped forward. In some ways he was the most striking member of the company, for although his physique was ordinary and his features nondescript, his dark, longish hair and neatly trimmed beard were bisected from front to back by a stripe of white. Such a marking would have seemed more likely on a furry animal than on a man, but the curious coloration appeared to be natural. “My name is Lykos, and I am not an actor. And no matter how fervently Melmak and the others may think that their thespian talents create the illusions of the mime show, it’s I who do most of the work in that department.”
Melmak begrudged the man a smile. “Lykos is our artificer, and I suppose he does deserve some credit.”
“Some credit? Well, that’s more than I usually get.”
“Artificer?” I said.
“Lykos makes the costumes and wigs,” said Axiothea.
“Costumes and wigs? Is that all I am, a glorified seamstress and wig-master?” Lykos snorted. “I design and create the props. I oversee the makeup. It’s I who make Melmak as fat as the king, I who can make even Axiothea old and ugly. The artificer, not the actors, is the true master of theatrical illusion, the miracle worker of the mimes!”
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.”