Luxos’s alarm ebbed away. ‘At least I’m safe for the moment.’
They sat down together. Metris carried a small canvas bag. She brought out a loaf of bread and some goat’s cheese. They shared the food on the beach, sitting close so their bodies touched.
‘Why would I be alive, hundreds of years in the future?’
‘Who knows? Bremusa and Idomeneus have managed it. Funny things happen when you meet anyone from Mount Olympus.’
The heat was still oppressive but not quite as bad on the beach, with a breeze coming in from the sea. Despite Metris’s odd premonition, Luxos’s spirits had soared when she appeared.
‘It’s so good to see you. Will this get you into trouble with Bremusa?’
‘She likes me better since I put some fires out. She gave me some time off.’ Metris delicately arranged their cheese on two slices of bread. ‘Listen, I had an idea. You told me Isidoros was reciting his poetry before Aristophanes’ play. You said he drinks a lot?’
‘He’s notorious for it.’
‘How about getting him drunk before he starts? If he was too drunk to recite, maybe there’d be no time for Aristophanes to find anyone else? Then he’d let you go on instead.’
Luxos considered the nymph’s suggestion. It wasn’t a bad plan. Isidoros was famously fond of wine. He had been known to miss performances because of it. Getting him drunk on purpose was a credible idea. It might be done. And after that, who knew? Luxos might find himself the only person capable of taking his place at short notice.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think I can do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It wouldn’t be honourable. I can’t harm a fellow poet.’
‘Even one you don’t like?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
Metris was temporarily disappointed but soon smiled again. She liked that Luxos was honourable. She put her arm round him.
‘If you ever find yourself dying under a huge burnt-out chariot, hundreds of years in the future, I’ll rescue you at the last moment. Anyone who says you died will be wrong. Even if people think you’re dead, I’ll still save you.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘Of course. I’m a nymph. And I’m getting really close to Athena these days. She’ll probably grant me lots of new powers when she invites me to live on Mount Olympus.’
Rehearsal
It was the eve of the final day of the Dionysia. Tomorrow, the comedies would be performed and judged. Aristophanes knew his play wasn’t perfect but, for the first time, he was cautiously optimistic. The whole production had been given a boost by Theodota’s money. Everyone was pleased with their new props and costumes, and showed a willingness to work. Even the technical rehearsal, often a tedious process, went fairly well. Every prop was carefully tested, scenes were gone over again and again until everything ran smoothly, with all the actors and chorus doing their best to make the comedy work.
‘We’ve done all we can,’ said Aristophanes to Hermogenes. ‘We might get away with it.’
Hermogenes nodded. He’d been pleased with the rehearsals, though he still worried about some technical aspects of the play. With the many tragedies and comedies all being performed at the same location during the Dionysia, the various acting companies could not rehearse at the theatre itself. At their own rehearsal space they had a replica of the stage, but that wasn’t quite the same. There was always the fear that something might go wrong when they performed in the great theatre of Dionysus.
The actors, chorus, stagehands and everyone else associated with the production were warned by Aristophanes to make sure they got a good night’s sleep. All of them ignored his warning, and spent the night celebrating instead, turning up at the theatre the next morning in a fragile state, but still ready to work hard.
The Final Day of the Dionysia
The delegations from Athens and Sparta were due to meet for the last time. The meeting would begin as soon as the plays were finished. If no agreement could be reached the war would continue.
Earlier in the day, Hyperbolus, Kleonike, Lamachus and Antimachus met in Euphranor’s house, discreetly entering his villa via the alleyway at the back, cloaked, their faces hidden. Their meeting was tense. Euphranor addressed them with the air of a very wealthy man who was unused to his wishes being thwarted.
‘When I put my money into this enterprise I was assured of success. But the peace conference is still going ahead, and so is Aristophanes’ play.’
‘Don’t worry, Euphranor, everything’s still on course,’ said Hyperbolus.
The priestess Kleonike gazed out from beneath her grey, hooded cloak and spoke quite mockingly. ‘It doesn’t sound like everything is still on course.’
‘Well maybe that creature you summoned to Athens isn’t as good as you said she was! Though she cost enough.’
‘Most of which I paid,’ said Euphranor.
‘Don’t blame me,’ said the priestess. ‘Laet has been highly effective. All you had to do was finish things off.’
General Lamachus frowned. He’d never liked the idea of involving a priestess. ‘We should never have gone down that route. Warriors trust their own strength.’
Kleonike laughed, infuriating the general.
‘Enough arguing!’ said Antimachus, Aristophanes’ producer. ‘We don’t have time for it.’
‘Don’t you start, Antimachus, said Euphranor. ‘You’ve failed worse than anyone. You were meant to sabotage Aristophanes and now I hear he’s got everything he needs.’
‘I kept my part of the bargain! I starved him of funds!’
‘Then where did he get the money?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well he got money from somewhere.’ Hyperbolus scowled at everyone in the room. He wore his best chiton. It was a respectable garment but it didn’t make him look any less intimidating. ‘We’ve got four hours before the play begins. We have to either delay it or sabotage it. It must not go well. If the audience all start cheering for peace, it might affect the delegates.’
‘How are we meant to sabotage it?’ asked General Lamachus.
‘Any way we can. Bribe the actors. Steal their props. Kleonike, can you send Laet down to the theatre?’
‘She’s already on her way.’
‘Good. The play must not go on.’
Citizens Arrive at the Theatre
The Theatre of Dionysus Eleuthereus lay under the shadow of the acropolis, in the south of the city, close to a smaller theatre, the Odeon, built by Pericles, used for music and singing. It was in this smaller theatre that the proagon had been held, when the titles of the upcoming plays were announced and the judges were selected. The Theatre of Dionysus was a good deal larger, a circular, open-air space holding twelve thousand people. The acoustics were excellent, though the wooden benches were not especially comfortable, particularly for an audience who might spend the whole day there. People laid their cloaks on the benches to make it easier; wealthier citizens brought their own cushions, or hired them. Some days the theatre could be a scene of extreme emotion, as the plays of Athens’ famous tragedians were performed in an atmosphere of religious reverence. On the last day of the Dionysia, the atmosphere changed to one of raucous amusement, as the comedies were staged, comedies which were famous all over Greece for their wit, obscenity and irreverence. The adult population of Athens crammed into the theatre. There were guests too, visitors to the city, and ambassadors from foreign states. Notably, there were representatives from the other Greek states which paid Athens tribute in exchange for protection.