Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile by Steven Saylor Read Free Book Online Page A

The young Roman has spoken. But I find his company congenial, don’t you? Would you like to share our midday meal, Gordianus? We have only simple fare—some pickled tilapia from the Nile, olives, hearts of palm, dates, flatbread. No wine, but there’s some Egyptian beer. Will you join us?”
    And so I ate my birthday meal with an unexpected circle of newfound friends, sitting in the shade of a palm tree in the most exciting city in the world, gazing at one of the world’s most spectacular sights, the harbor of Alexandria and the Pharos Lighthouse. The food was delicious and the company delightful. The actors had all traveled widely and had many stories to tell. Having traveled myself, I had a few stories of my own. I felt quite happy, thinking this was how a birthday should be celebrated, until the subject turned to Rome.
    “Have you been away for long?” asked Axiothea.
    “I left Rome exactly four years ago today, on my eighteenth birthday. I haven’t been back.”
    “Do you miss it?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “One hears such terrible things about the war in Italy, between Rome and the rebel cities. Do you get much news from home?” asked Melmak.
    “Letters from my father. It’s been a while since I received one.” In fact, it had been several months since his last letter arrived. I was beginning to worry about him.
    Axiothea read my expression. “So many letters and messages go astray these days, or take forever to arrive. The war in Italy, the war in Asia, the war on the sea—it’s a wonder any ship ever arrives in port. Everything is scarce. Everything costs more. It’s the times we live in.”
    “And thank goodness we all have someone to blame!” said Melmak with a laugh.
    “Who?” I said.
    Melmak shook his head. “Obviously, you are not an Alexandrian, or you wouldn’t need to ask. Whom do we blame for everything that goes wrong? Must I put on my fat-suit and waddle up and down the waterfront to remind you?”
    “Is King Ptolemy really to blame for high prices?” asked Bethesda. I felt a bit uneasy, seeing my slave join freely in the conversation, but to the actors, who were all freeborn, her slave status seemed to make no difference. My father had told me that actors were not like other people, that they tended to live outside the constraints and expectations of normal society.
    “Is the king to blame? Probably not,” said Melmak. “But we blame him nonetheless. And if things get worse, we shall blame him all the more.”
    “What if things get better?” I said.
    “Then we shall credit the gods and offer prayers of thanksgiving!”
    “It seems the king can do nothing right.”
    “And thank the gods for that, or else we actors would be out of work!”
    “Is it true, what you hinted at in the show—about the king’s brother coming to Alexandria?”
    Melmak shrugged. “Who knows? That’s the rumor. We’ll know for sure, if and when he gets here.”
    “But if that happens, there’s likely to be chaos, isn’t there?” I had never been in a city under siege. The idea was unsettling, but the actors seemed unfazed.
    “Chaos?” said Melmak. “Most certainly, there will be chaos. Chaos before, chaos during, and chaos after. Chaos at all times and everywhere—that is the natural state of Egypt. But the mime shows will continue, no matter what. The troupe of Melmak never misses a performance, come rain or shine.”
    “At the rate things are going, it may not take an invading army to bring down the king,” said Axiothea.
    “What do you mean?” asked Bethesda.
    “Did you not notice the marked lack of enthusiasm on the part of those soldiers who broke up the show today? Listless, I would call them.”
    “Practically somnambulant!” said Melmak. “Two months ago, with a company of royal guards breathing down our necks like that, we’d have had to scramble for our lives. Today, we simply packed up our things and trotted off—and they didn’t even come after us!”
    “Yes, that