Part 33 (1/2)

'That's good,' I encouraged.

'I hope you think so...' His tone was vague. Immediately I began to suspect I would not agree with him. 'There is a little problem -'

'He means a complete disaster,' Phrygia clarified. A blunt woman. I noticed Thalia regarding her sardonically.

'No, no!' Chremes was bl.u.s.tering. 'The fact is, we can't get the civic theatre. Actually, it's not up to our usual standards in any case -'

'Steady on,' I said sombrely. 'Apart from Damascus, we've mainly been playing at holes in the ground with a few wooden benches. This must be pretty rough!'

'Oh I think they have plans to build something better, Falco!'

'Everywhere in Syria has plans!' I retorted. 'In twenty or thirty years' time this province will be a theatrical company's dream of sipping ambrosia on Mount Olympus. One day they'll have perfect acoustics, majestic stage architecture, and marble everywhere. Unluckily, we cannot wait that long!'

'Well, it's typical!' Chremes gave in. He seemed even more despondent than me tonight and set off on a catalogue of miseries: 'We have the same situation everywhere - even in Rome. The performing arts are in a steep decline. My company has tried to raise standards, but the fact is that legitimate live theatre will soon not exist. We'll be lucky if plays are performed as readings by bunches of amateurs sitting round on folding stools. All people want to pay money for nowadays are mimes and musicals. For a full house you have to give them nude women, live animals, and men sacrificed on stage. The only play that is guaranteed success is b.l.o.o.d.y Laureolus Laureolus.'

Laureolus is that rubbish about the brigand, the one where the villain is crucified in the final act - traditionally a way of creating free s.p.a.ce in the local jail by dispatching a real criminal. is that rubbish about the brigand, the one where the villain is crucified in the final act - traditionally a way of creating free s.p.a.ce in the local jail by dispatching a real criminal.

Helena intervened: 'What's wrong, Chremes? You normally look on the bright side.'

'Time to face facts.'

'It was time to face facts twenty years ago.' Phrygia was even more gloomy than her hated spouse.

'Why can you not get the theatre?' Helena persisted.

Chremes sighed heavily. 'The Palmyrenes are not interested. They use the theatre for public meetings. That's what they say say anyway; I don't believe it. Either they don't enjoy entertainment or they don't fancy what we're offering. Being rich is no guarantee of culture. These people are just shepherds and cameleers dressed up in lush brocade. Alexander was supposed to have come here, but he must have thought better of it and pa.s.sed them without stopping. They have no h.e.l.lenic heritage. Offering a Palmyrene town councillor the chance to see select Greek or Latin comedies is like feeding roast peac.o.c.k to a stone.' anyway; I don't believe it. Either they don't enjoy entertainment or they don't fancy what we're offering. Being rich is no guarantee of culture. These people are just shepherds and cameleers dressed up in lush brocade. Alexander was supposed to have come here, but he must have thought better of it and pa.s.sed them without stopping. They have no h.e.l.lenic heritage. Offering a Palmyrene town councillor the chance to see select Greek or Latin comedies is like feeding roast peac.o.c.k to a stone.'

'So what now?' I asked when the tirade finally ended. 'Are we all trooping back across the desert to Damascus without speaking a line?'

'If only that were true!' remarked Phrygia under her breath. More than ever she seemed to be nursing some immense grudge. Tonight it was even making her incapable of being constructive about her beloved company.

Maybe that was because after all its vicissitudes, the company was finally cracking up. Chremes turned to me. His bl.u.s.ter was leaving him. 'There was a bit of bother today among the lads and la.s.ses.' At first I a.s.sumed he was coming to me for help, in view of my success at turning around the stagehands' and musicians' strike. I was wrong, however. 'The worst is, Philocrates has given notice. Having no stage available here is more than he can take.'

I laughed briefly. 'Don't you mean he's depressed by the lack of available women?'

'That doesn't help!' Phrygia agreed sourly. 'There is some suggestion he's also upset because a certain party accused him of causing past events - '

'The certain party was me,' I admitted. 'Just stirring. He can't have taken it seriously.'

'Don't believe it!' Thalia put in. 'If Philocrates is the dot with the itchy piece and the big opinion of himself, he's s.h.i.+tting elephant plop.' She missed nothing. She had only been with us a few days, but already knew who was a real poser.

'He's not the only one anxious to leave, Falco.' Phrygia sounded ready to give up herself. So was I, come to that. 'A whole mob are demanding their severance pay.'

'I fear the troupe is falling apart,' Chremes told me. 'We have one last night together, however.' As usual he rallied with a flourish, though an unimpressive one. His 'last night' sounded like some grim party where your creditors turn up, the wine runs out, and a bad oyster dramatically lays you low.

'Chremes, you said you had failed to get the theatre?'

'Ah! I try never to fail, Falco!' I tried to keep my face neutral. 'There is a small Roman garrison,' Chremes informed me, as if he had changed the subject. 'Not very visible in the neighbourhood, perhaps, though I believe that may be policy. They are here to undertake road surveys -nothing to which the Palmyrenes could take exception.'

'If the roads are heading out to the Euphrates, the Parthians may baulk.' I had answered the political point without thinking. Then I guessed what the manager was saying and I groaned. 'Oh, I don't believe mis... Tell us the worst, Chremes!'

'I happened to meet one of their officers. He has placed at our disposal a small amphitheatre which the troops have built for themselves.'

I was horrified. 'Dear G.o.ds! Have you ever attended a garrison theatre?'

'Have you?' As usual he dodged.

'Plenty!'

'Oh I'm sure we can manage -'

'You're ignoring the little matter of having no front stage,' Phrygia gloatingly broke in, as she confirmed the unsuitable venue Chremes had accepted. 'A performance in the round. No fixed scenery, no exits and entrances, no trapdoors from below, and nowhere to hide the lifting machinery if we want to do flying scenes. Giving our all to an audience of bullies, all screaming for obscenities and supplying them if we don't -'

'Hus.h.!.+' Helena soothed her. Then her common sense broke through. 'I do see it may be hard to keep soldiers happy fora whole play...'

'Torture!' I rasped. 'If they only chuck rocks, we'll be lucky.'

'This is where you come in,' Chremes informed me eagerly.

'I doubt it.' I was planning to load the ox-cart and turn back to Damascus that night. 'I think you'll find this is where I back out.'

'Marcus Didius, listen. You'll be pleased by our idea.' I doubted that too. 'I've discussed this with the company and we all feel that what we need to hold the soldiers' attention is something short, light, dramatic and above all, different.'

'So what?' I asked, wondering why Helena suddenly giggled behind her stole.

Chremes for his part appeared to be blus.h.i.+ng. 'So we wondered if you were ready to let us rehea.r.s.e your famous ghost play?'

That was how my elegant creation, The Spook mho Spoke The Spook mho Spoke, came to receive its sole performance on a hot August evening, in the Palmyra garrison amphitheatre. If you can think of worse, I'd be intrigued to hear it. The soldiers, incidentally, only turned out at all because they had been told one of the support acts was a suggestive snake dancer.

They got more than they bargained for. But then, so did we all.

Chapter LXV.

One problem we faced was that as a result of all the derision people had poured on my idea, most of the play was not even written. All writers must know that sinking feeling, when the goods are demanded in the firm expectation of a delivery you know is impossible... But by now I was so professional that the mere lack of a script left me undeterred. We wanted the drama to have speed and bite; what better than to improvise?

I soon knew that my play would not have to carry the entire evening: Thalia's travelling sideshow had caught up with us.

I first noticed something new when a lion cub appeared in our tent. He was sweet but ungainly, and so boisterous it was frightening. Investigation revealed extra waggons. One of them consisted of two large carts fixed together, on top of which loomed a ma.s.sive structure shrouded in skins and sheets. 'Whatever's that?'

'Water organ.'

'You haven't got an organist!'

'You're fixing that, Falco.'