He turned to Hermogenes. ‘We’re getting away with it… for Zeus’s sake, get the play moving before we lose the audience again. Is Mnesarete ready to go on?’
‘She’s disappeared.’
‘What?’
‘She’s gone. I think someone might have bribed her to leave.’
Aristophanes glared at Hermogenes. ‘Do you have to give me bad news every time you open your mouth? What sort of assistant are you?’
‘It’s not my fault.’
‘Of course it’s your fault. You’re my assistant! You should have known that Hyperbolus and his cronies might bribe Mnesarete. Unlikely though it may have seemed at the time. What are we going to do now? ‘
Aristophanes cursed, very loudly. What was the world coming to if you couldn’t trust a prostitute?
Luxos
Muses, daughters of Zeus, let us hymn the blessed ones with immortal songs.
Luxos the Poet lay on the ground, happy but drained. Metris the nymph was kneeling beside him. She put her face close to his.
‘Your poem was so good! The audience loved you.’
‘I feel weak,’ mumbled Luxos.
‘I’ll make you better,’ said Metris. She kissed him. Luxos felt strength returning to his limbs.
‘Won’t this make Athena angry again?’ he said.
‘How could she mind, after your beautiful poem?’
They kissed again, quite oblivious to the whirlwind of theatrical activity happening all around, as characters rushed on and off stage, and props were carried here and there. Onstage, the chorus was going through one of their dance routines, and the audience were cheering and clapping along.
Aristophanes
With Mnesarete treacherously departed — Aristophanes would have some strong words to say to Theodota about that — they needed a beautiful young woman quickly. That was a problem.
‘Find someone beautiful!’ he yelled.
‘Like who?’ said Hermogenes. ‘We didn’t bring an extra supply.’
Aristophanes fretted. What could he do? Who could he send on? Bremusa? He shook his head. She was an attractive woman but fierce, and not suitable to offer as a bribe to the judges. Besides, his whole strategy was to send out someone practically naked, and he knew she wouldn’t do that. Aristophanes had never seen her in anything but her leather armour. He was briefly distracted by the thought of what she might look like without it. He shook his head. No time for that at the moment.
He could send on a man in a female mask and costume. That was standard practice for any speaking role, as there were no female actresses. Some of their young actors made not a bad job of acting the female parts. But it wasn’t going to be enough for what he had in mind.
He noticed Luxos and Metris, embracing on the floor. Aristophanes studied the nymph. There was no denying that she was a gorgeous young creature. Too gorgeous to be kissing Luxos, he thought, even though he was feeling more sympathetic to the young wretch, after his poetry had saved the day. Aristophanes was still amazed that he’d turned out to have talent. Not only had his hymn to Athena been a beautiful piece, he’d declaimed it perfectly, and his lyre music had been excellent.
He stepped up and addressed the couple, raising his voice above the commotion in the theatre. ‘Young lady, kindly stop kissing that malcontent and listen closely. I need someone shapely and attractive to get out there and shake herself at the judges. You’ll just about do. Also, you have to be nearly naked.’
Metris looked up from the floor. ‘How naked exactly?’
‘As close as we can get without breaking festival law.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘We’ll give you a piece of string.’
She sat up, as did Luxos.
‘Why should I do that?’
‘To help my play.’
Metris didn’t look all that interested in helping his play.
‘I’ll pay you well.’
That did seem to make more of an impression. There was a pause as she considered it. The chorus was coming to the end of their song. They needed someone onstage soon.
‘Are you going to let Luxos have the poetry spot before your play at the next festival?’ asked Metris.
‘No,’ said Aristophanes.
‘Then I’m not doing it.’
The chorus were finishing. Aristophanes needed this woman onstage right now, damn her. ‘All right! If I win the prize, I’ll let him recite again!’ He turned to Hermogenes. ‘Bring the tiny costume.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Metris, springing to her feet. She smiled broadly. She had a dazzling smile. ‘I don’t need your costume.’
She stepped behind a wooden pillar. A few seconds later, she stepped out again. How she did what she did, no one could tell, but they had rarely seen such a sight. Her clothes had vanished and she was dressed in a costume which amounted to no more than nine or ten daisies, strategically placed, and attached by some magical means known only to nymphs. While wearing only a few flowers, she’d also caused her hair to be filled with them, so that it rose and spilled over her shoulders in a great wave of buttercups and daisies. Aristophanes gazed at her, astonished at the transformation. So did Hermogenes, and everyone else backstage. It really seemed as if some festive goddess had decided to pay them a visit. No one had ever seen anyone more beautiful. Not only was she beautiful, she seemed to project an aura that spread warmth and happiness around her. Previously stressed stagehands began to smile. Her beauty and warmth produced an overwhelming eroticism — so overwhelming that Aristophanes was obliged to shake his head vigorously to remind himself that they still had a play to finish.
Philippus appeared, waiting for his cue to go back onstage.
‘What’s happening —’ he began, but halted at the sight of Metris. He looked at her in wonder.
‘Take her onstage,’ yelled Aristophanes. ‘And get her as close to the judges as you can.’
Philippus, a solid professional, swiftly overcame his surprise and led Metris out onto the stage. As she walked past the chorus, their phalluses shot in the air, comically erect. The crowd cheered wildly.
‘They’re huge!’
‘Best phalluses ever!’
Aristophanes smiled. He had a shrewd idea that it wasn’t just the comedy penises of the chorus that had suddenly gone erect. Metris, clad in only a few daisies, was quite a sight. It was difficult not to react. If Dionysus was looking down on the festival, he surely would have approved.
Trygaeus led Metris around the stage. There was terrific applause from the audience. The nymph smiled at everyone. The warmth of her smile permeated the amphitheatre, and if felt like they were all touched by the cheerful, intoxicated sexual desire that was appropriate at the Dionysia, but had been missing so far. For someone who’d never been on stage before, Metris knew how to milk the applause. She and Trygaeus deliberately took a long time before finally coming to a halt in front of the judges. These judges, five in number, were seated in a prominent position in the front row. They were just as affected by Metris as everyone else, leaning forward in their seats with lustful expressions quite surprising for some of them, given their age.
‘Esteemed panel of judges,’ said Philippus, declaiming grandly. ‘You see what I’m offering you?’
He looked towards Metris, and grinned. ‘You get plenty of good things when you award Aristophanes the prize! Athens gets peace, the farmers get their vineyards back, and we all retire for some feasting and debauchery!’