Last Act In Palmyra by Lindsey Davis

Author:Lindsey Davis [Davis, Lindsey]
Format: epub

Chapter XXXVIII

The musicians and stagehands stayed with us and continued to work. We gave Scythopolis The Birds. Scythopolis gave us-an ovation. For Greeks, they were surprisingly tolerant.

They had an interesting theatre, with a semicircular orchestra that could only be reached by steps. In a Roman play we would not have used it, but of course we were doing a Greek one, with a very large chorus, and Chremes wanted a flock of birds to spill down towards the audience. The steps made life difficult for anyone foolish enough to be acting while dressed in a large padded costume, with gigantic claws on their shoes, and a heavy beaked mask.

While we were there some cheapskate salesman was trying to persuade the magistrates to spend thousands on an acoustic system (some bronze devices to be hung on the theatre wall). The theatre architect was happily pointing out that he had already provided seven splendid oval niches that would take the complex equipment; he was obviously in on the deal with the salesman, and stood to receive a cut.

We tested the samples of the salesman's toys to the limit with tweeting, twittering and booming, and frankly they made no difference. Given the perfect acoustics of most Greek theatres, this was no surprise. The taxpayers of Scythopolis settled back in their seats and looked as if they were quite content to place wreaths in the seven niches. The architect looked sick.

Even though Congrio had told us it had happened before, I never really understood why Chremes had suddenly abandoned his normal repertoire. With Aristophanes we had leapt back in time about four hundred years, from New Roman Comedy to Old Greek ditto. I liked it. They say the old jokes are the best. They are certainly better than none at all. I want a play to have bite. By that, speaking as a republican, I mean some political point. Old Comedy had that, which made a sophisticated change. For me New Comedy was dire. I hate watching meaningless plots about tiresome characters in grisly situations on a provincial street. If I wanted that, I could go home and listen to my neighbours through their apartment walls. .

The Birds was famous. At rehearsal Tranio, always ready with an anecdote, told us, 'Not bad considering it only won second prize at the festival it was written for.'

'What a show-off! Which archive did you drag that one out of, Tranio?' I scoffed.

'And what play actually won then?' Helena demanded.

'Some trifle called The Revellers, now unknown to man.'

'Sounds fun. One of the people in my tent has been revelling too much lately, though,' Helena commented.

'This play is not half as obscene as some Aristophanes,' grumbled Tranio. 'I saw Peace once - not often performed, as we're always at war of course. It has two female roles for wicked girls with nice arses. One of them has her clothes taken off on-stage, then she's handed down to the man in the centre of the front row. She sits on

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