“I’ve already seen it,” said Alexandros. After a short pause, he added, “It really is a magnificent construction. Every building is connected, the biggest of them with drains ten to twenty cubits across. It’s possible to go around the whole town down there; with a good map one always knows which building one happens to be passing beneath.”
“Are there maps like that?”
“Yes, in diagram form. They were needed for its construction and now for maintenance; it is checked regularly, as it needs to be.”
“And is there a sewer under the stadium?”
“Certainly. The latrines are beneath us. As long as you hold your nose, you can crawl up a drainage channel into whichever sector you choose. The rainwater ditch is also connected. See? It runs all along the side of the arena, and there, next to the wall, is the gutter from the two sides. The stables are also connected. The city spent more on what’s down below than on what can be seen up top. That tall water tower on the left, that’s the stadium’s own special water tower. Look there! On the top of the wall, next to the place of honor is the fountain. It works, too, because it is at a lower height than the water tower… All the important buildings have their own water towers, haven’t you noticed? But there is just one aqueduct… You can’t stand sentries alongside it every ten paces; that would require many tens of thousands of them, and they can’t afford that many…”
A man who is as strong as a bull, allegedly a merchant, comes here from Rome, the city of sewers and aqueducts, and that is what interests him. What, in God’s name, is Alexandros a merchant in? He has never spoken about that. And from what is there a need to defend an aqueduct made of stone that is ten to fifteen cubits wide and runs at the height of five or six men? Surely not from us?
Uri felt no urge to demolish this superb aqueduct.
A colossal din arose: to the south, the quadrigas — two-wheeled chariots with teams of four horses abreast — appeared, with their drivers standing in them. They drove to their starting positions and turned there. The four chariots, one for each color, stood for the start. Bets were being laid, with agents of the local betting office flitting around between rows, handing out tessera, the precise nature of which remained a mystery to Uri, with the names of drivers and horses flying back and forth. The lunacy had begun.
“It’s a dangerous course,” Alexandros said excitedly, panting in Uri’s ear, his nostrils quivering. “There’s room for at most three and half chariots; they were stingy. Blood will flow, mark my word!”
Uri peered and blinked. He would not have ventured a guess at how many chariots fit alongside each other on the track; Alexandros must be a seasoned race-goer. The starter, with an orange kerchief aloft in his right hand, appeared at the starting line; the crowd roared. When he dropped the kerchief to the ground, with a theatrical flair, the gates at the four start positions were yanked up by a servant by means of a pulley contraption, and the cutthroat contest began. Before the kerchief hit the ground they were already hurtling.
By the end of the first half-circuit the left-side wheel of one of the chariots got caught on the pyramid that marked the turn, the chariot had toppled over and another had driven over it, leaving two horses lying with broken legs and one of the charioteers lying on his side, head bleeding, the other was limping, trying to escape by hopping toward the ditch on one leg. Servants scurried to clear the smashed chariots out of the way of the two chariots left in the race, and they paid no attention to the drivers. The two remaining chariots popped into view from behind the wall and again hurtled from left to right along the length nearest the stands; veering sharply to avoid the horses lying across the track, they came within a hair’s breadth of colliding. The crowd raged. The two chariots galloped for seven complete circuits, and the green colored driver won — as it happened, the one for whom the bulk of the crowd had been rooting.
Everyone was yelling; those next to Uri jumped to their feet. The victorious chariot driver took a victory lap; people whistled and clapped and clamored. The winner staggered up to the wall and was garlanded with a wreath. The limping driver inched his way from right to left to the starting line and then vanished through a doorway, to whistling and jeering. The bloody-headed one lay unconscious next to the wall; he was just left there. The second-place driver was sobbing as he drove his panting horses toward the starting line and then disappeared onto the path that led to the stables.
In the second race, one of the chariots overturned and broke apart immediately. The horses stopped, the chariot was unhitched, and they were led back to the starting line, with the driver sprinting off to let the remaining three chariots speed along without obstruction. The man with the bleeding head from the first race was only carried off after the winner of the second race had been announced; he too was whistled at, though he could have heard little of it.
It was then the wrestlers’ turn to enter from the left; they clambered up onto the southern end of the partitioning wall, where cordons had been set up on either side to keep them from falling off, while still leaving spectators on both sides a good view. The combatants were not armed and wore loincloths. Blows, holds, kicks, or bites of any kind were allowed; a match was over when one of the contestants conceded. The winner got up and beat his chest at length, aiming kicks at the opponent who was lying on the ground, every kick acknowledged with rapturous hoots from the crowd. The winner bowed toward the notables and the public at large before ambling down the steps toward the stables. The loser left in the same direction; on reaching the arena he sank to all fours and squirmed away, wiggling his hindquarters to gales of laughter and applause from the public.
Next came two athletes, who likewise proceeded along the wall, this time right by the notables, one balancing on the forehead of the other before clambering up a long pole like a monkey and balancing on one arm. He posed there for minutes on end without anything happening. The bored public, busy chomping, slurping, and gossiping, only cried out when the lower equilibrist knocked the pole off his forehead. The athlete who had been poised on one arm gracefully flew through the air and, after performing two and a half somersaults, managed miraculously to land on his feet in the sawdust, take a step or two, then bow. Applause, ovation. The two athletes scampered off.
Then the dignitaries sitting atop the wall got to their feet, marched to the steps, and began to file down. Only then did the greatest pandemonium so far break out, as they were celebrated as if they had carried out quite exceptional feats of arms. Then they too left, along with their retinues, and headed off in the direction of the stables, with the masses rising to their feet in acclamation.
“Is that it? Is it the interval now? What happened?” Uri inquired uncomprehendingly.
“If you ask me,” Alexandros said in some excitement, “it’s the women’s turn now…”
No one came. They had to wait. The public exulted. But then from over by the starting line ten women shrouded in veils trotted in, raced up the steps, and came to a stop in the middle of the wall.
A gaggle of musicians then ambled in, also from the direction of the starting line, playing percussion and wind instruments. The women started to dance, casting their veils to the ground, strutted around in mantles, cast the mantles off, danced in breast-bands and loincloths, then they discarded their breast-bands, and the public went wild, calling out colorfully, while the swaying women undid their loincloths and discarded those too, leaving them stark naked to perform their provocative dance — at the very end writhing as they lay on their backs. The public erupted. The dance over, the performers gathered their veils, draped them over themselves, and ran down the steps to the left, toward the stables. Applause. The musicians slowly plodded off after them, while servants ran in to gather the other discarded garments. One of the boys got a vigorous round of applause for dangling one of the loincloths before his nose, sniffing theatrically, and then draping it between his legs and making a jerky motion with it as he ran off.