By now night was falling, and we were close to the multistory dwelling where the gladiators slept. They shared the space with the horses of dear old Cato, plus the mob of slaves he kept on hand. He retained them as an investment against hard times, since he had little faith in treasures that could not defend themselves with their fingernails. The red-haired gladiator told us to blend in with a group of obviously foreign travelers we had bumped into. Merchants with beasts of burden and their drivers now separated us from our gladiators, if I may call them that, and left us unprotected. I should make it clear that our guardians were quite negligent, occupied with their own concerns, teasing each other and joking the whole time, flirting with each other with fascinated interest, forming their own private group, generally indifferent to us. On reaching a corner, where the driver of a cart had problems turning and was interrupting the flow of traffic, the gladiators pushed their way out of our group altogether and blended into the group of foreigners. We were left just with Apollodorus. He was passing as a woman quite nicely, less and less like a gladiator habituated to dicing with death, while rich spectators munched away at their meals. So here ended the conversation between the ex-senator turned gladiator and a philosopher of excrement and that newly made Egyptian maiden, Apollodorus.
The crowd hustled us along and Apollodorus led the way. My maids were not at all embarrassed to chat with a man dressed as a woman and began to give him details of our journey. We had planned it carefully on those long evenings when we slunk away from the humiliations that Roman greed and corruption were inflicting on Auletes as he tried to uphold the cause of the Lagids. My maids had remained silent in the presence of the gladiators, deeming them unworthy of their conversation. But Apollodorus looked so much the part of an Egyptian woman that it was hard to call him by his real name. Even though he was risking his hide to a far greater degree than we were, he spoke at ease, with an impeccable diction and an extensive vocabulary that clearly belied his past as a humble shepherd. He asked for the details of our plan. Then, instead of correcting or upbraiding me, he combined his astuteness with mine, adding things I had overlooked, suggesting shortcuts, and in general matching my audacity with his own. Hence from our joint discussions, a naively simple plan was converted into a practical scheme of redemption, as cunning as anyone could hope for.
From that moment on, we were accomplices. He led our way as fast as the density of the crowd allowed. At the house of a cheap mask-maker he brought us to a halt. As we went inside, he told us that this was where the gladiators bought adornments for their contests.
First we crossed a patio where a mass of children were working at low tables supported variously by hooks, columns, and sticks. They were banging away at leather and brass with primitive tools, shaping articles for their master. We stepped into a small, dark room where the hammering was deafening. Apollodorus faked a woman’s voice, speaking in perfect Roman Latin with no trace of a foreign accent, and talked to the owner, inventing a story to explain our presence in this place. The owner — I could hardly see a thing till my eyes adjusted to the gloom — showed no sign of believing a word of it, but he did not question it, either. He simply wanted our business, to sell us something and then get back to bullying the children.
On a large table lay a remarkable variety of masks. The majority were showy, finished in garish colors. On the far left I spotted some that brought a laugh to my lips. They could have been designed expressly for us; a good part of the Egyptian pantheon was facing us, eyeless and bodiless, with caricatured features, all in bright colors. There was Sehmet, Anubis, Horus, Thoth, and Ammon Ra.
“Those are the ones!” I cried out, unable to contain my excitement. “We want those. Exactly what we’re looking for.”
“You mean them animal ones?” asked the owner. He might have known his craft to perfection but in other matters he was a typical Roman ignoramus.
“That is the Egyptian pantheon,” I corrected him sternly. “And the head of Horus is missing the sun and moon.”
Apollodorus shot me a disapproving look and I cut short my theological lecture. He was right. Why bother to argue with this nobody?
One of the children quickly packed the masks we chose. Charmian paid. With womanly grace Apollodorus hoisted the package onto his shoulder and in the twinkling of an eye we were back outside, in the muddy alleyway. From here on our progress speeded up. The streets were less congested. Prostitutes offered their services, sitting on tall chairs in illuminated windows that lent a little light to our progress.
After we passed Porta Capena, above which an aqueduct ran, we found a cart awaiting us on the Appian Way. It belonged to the seamen who were to carry us from the port of Brundisium over the waters of the Mediterranean. It was a rough, rustic vehicle, and was still partly loaded with sacks of sand or soil. It had obviously been organized by these barbaric Romans, for they had yoked four bulls to it, sacred animals in Egypt. There was barely room for us, what with all our baggage and the slaves who had been sent ahead. My personal mounted guard would protect us but we had agreed they would follow at some distance in order not to attract attention. Never before had Cleopatra traveled in such mean circumstances, in an unroofed cart, without dignity or comfort, like a piece of cargo, and certainly not by night, the last time Auletes would choose for traveling.
Perched awkwardly there on one of the sacks of soil, I could hear, as we exited the city, the buzz of voices and noises that accompanied the smells of Rome. My excitement had left me deaf to the noise until now. My eyes had been overwhelmed by the confusion of sights and occupied all my attention. But now the light of the sun was extinguished and only the torches of our guides illuminated our route, and finally I could hear again. Our cart traveled slowly, hardly faster than a couple of women who walked along, complaining loudly about the rise in the price of barley. Along with them came the voices of workmen chatting about their day’s problems:
“And now if he tells me it’s no good, I’m gonna feel like yelling, and why not, eh?”
“All he said to me was they’re gonna give you a set of rules and you gotta follow ’em. So I did it, as far as I understood ’em, but it’s not what I’m used to, you gotta do two jobs in one day, and then figure out when to fit in this one and that one. .”
To these voices were added those of our servants that started up again after they had fallen into silent astonishment at seeing their princess sprawled on sacks, right there in their midst. By now they had decided not to see me, and, under the pretense of chatting among themselves, were using the opportunity to pass me messages they had been wanting me to hear for some time. Things like, “That rascal Lampon, you know we paid him eight drachmas to get rid of the rats down in Toka, because there’s nothing worse than rats in the vineyards, when the grapes are ripening. But instead of catching them, he just lounged around, stuffing his face with fruit and scratching his belly.”
And, “Archibius, the banker, he refused to lend my parents money. Know why? Not that they were asking for too much — but for too little! Just fifty-two drachmas. He said it wasn’t worth his while wasting his ink for a piddling amount like that! But we know he lends even less to some folk!”
And, “Do you know that Lucius Bellenus Gemellus asked his son Sabinus to please send Pindarus over to Dionysias, because Hermonax had asked him to take him to Keresoucha to check out his olive grove, because. .”
The voices around me, the hoofs of the oxen, the clattering of horses, the smell of the earth, the curses of my faithful Charmian, the unconcealed excitement of Apollodorus dressed as an Egyptian woman — he was singing falsetto, in keeping with his long-haired wig — all these things combined to make this trip one of the most enjoyable of my life.