Page 89
With a growing round of applause, a master of ceremonies appeared onstage, announcing a performance of The Three Coins, by Plautus. Claudia wasn’t familiar with it, but she trusted that Hieronymus wouldn’t have risked anything too scandalous.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the performing players of Campus Martius.’
To raucous cheers, a man in a toga emerged from the decorative pillars that acted as a backdrop, giving the impression of a house or a curia or a temple, depending on the play.
On this occasion, it was a house. The man was involved in some sort of property dispute. It belonged to a man named Charmides and there was alleged to be treasure buried within, but the house was managed by Charmides’s daughter, who was described as spendthrift.
Claudia was barely paying attention when she heard Damocles mumbling: ‘His daughter? It is supposed to be his son.’
A murmuring wave moved through the audience.
‘Is it an interpretation?’ Damocles mumbled. ‘A reinvention?’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Claudia.
‘I’m not sure yet.’
When the protagonist of the play, Megaronides, announced the arrival of the mysterious daughter, the curious murmurs grew in volume.
‘It is I, Lesbionicus,’ said the actor, stepping onstage.
He wore a rudimentary wig of straw, dressed in an imitation of her imperial robes, with a wooden crown. His face was painted like a brothel girl’s. He walked in a comedic sashaying way that she knew was intended to signal a woman of ill-repute.
The audience erupted into nervous, scandalized laughter.
‘Where are my handmaids?’ said Lesbionicus. ‘The pretty ones? I need them to help me out of my robes.’
The actor winked to the audience, signalling a dirty joke.
‘Or perhaps my woman gladiator will do the job for me? I pay her well to serve me, in more ways than one.’
It was Claudia. Lesbionicus was a parody of her.
They would say it was just a character, a name, that it was a coincidence, but she knew better.
Claudia felt a hundred pairs of eyes swivelling in her direction. She dared to look out at the crowd, catching rows of people whispering, giggling behind their hands.
‘What is this, Damocles?’ Claudia hissed.
‘Do not blame me, Empress. They have changed the script.’
She looked to Hieronymus, who struggled to swallow back the smirk on his lips.
It was a joke at her expense, and in front of the prince, no less, but it was also something else more insidious. It was also part of the plot against her, and an acknowledgement that her worst fears were real: she really was the joke of Rome.
She turned and caught eyes with Cassius.
The look he gave her was one of understanding.
It was a look that said, ‘ohhh’.
He saw the panic and embarrassment on her face, blushing red with her eyes wide, and he knew the truth, without a single word having been spoken between them.
He understood what brought her and Gia together now.
‘Should I… stop them?’ asked Damocles.
‘Wait! They’re just getting to the good part,’ said Hieronymus, stuffing hazelnuts into his mouth.
