Steven Saylor - A Mist of Prophecies

"And Cassandra?"

"The master acquired her and brought her into the troupe shortly after me. I was terribly jealous of her. Do you know, I think this is the first time I've ever admitted that to anyone."

"Jealous? Why?"

"Because she was so much more talented that I was-at everything! Her gifts were extraordinary. She could recite Homer and make men weep, or make them weep with laughter by enacting a fable by Aesop. She could dance like a veil floating on the breeze. She could sing like a bird, and do so in whatever language you pleased-because she picked up languages the way the rest of us picked up bits of jewelry from admirers in the audience. And she did all this without apparent effort. Beside her, I felt like a clumsy, sweating, squawking fool."

"I find that hard to believe, Cytheris."

"Only because you never saw the two of us perform side by side."

"You must have hated her."

"Hated her?" Cytheris sighed. "Quite the opposite. We were very, very close back in those days, Cassandra and I. Those lovely days in Alexandria…"

"You call her Cassandra, yet that can't have been her real name."

She smiled. "The curious thing is, that was what we called her, even then. But you're right. When she first arrived, she had another name. But do you know, I've completely forgotten it. Some totally unpronounceable Sarmatian name; she'd come from somewhere on the far side of the Euxine Sea. But very early on she played Cassandra in a new mime show the master had written. Just a vulgar little skit, really; can you imagine, a comic Cassandra? But she was hilarious, staggering around, harassing the other characters, making rude prophecies and double entendres about the city officials and King Ptolemy. People loved it so much they demanded that mime every time we performed. She made such an impression with the role that the name stuck, and Cassandra was what we called her from then on."

Cytheris gazed thoughtfully into her cup, swirling the Falernian into a vortex. "We begin as we continue in this life. That's especially true of us performers. If we're lucky, we find a role that fits, and we play it to the hilt. I always specialized in playing the wanton woman, the seductress. Look where that role's taken me! Cassandra played… Cassandra. I imagine it must be the same for you, Gordianus. To some extent isn't the Finder a role you fell into early on, that you gradually perfected, that you'll keep playing until the end?"

"Perhaps. But if I'm playing a role, where's the playwright? And if there is a playwright, I'd like to complain to him about the nasty surprises he keeps throwing at me."

"Complain? You should be thankful for a life that keeps giving you surprises! Surprises keep you on your toes. You wouldn't want to grow stale in your part, would you?" She laughed, then sighed. "But we were talking about Cassandra. It's such a pity that women aren't allowed to be real actors, performing in the Greek tragedies or even in silly Roman comedies. Instead, only men can go on the legitimate stage. It doesn't matter if the role is a swaggering general or a virgin goddess, it's a man who performs it behind a mask. Women are allowed only to be dancers or to perform mime comedies in the street. It's criminal, really. When I think of what our Cassandra could have achieved performing the great female parts-the Antigone of Sophocles or Euripides' Medea. Or the Clytaemnestra of Aeschylus-imagine that! She'd have made your blood run cold. She'd have made strong men run whimpering from the theater! Perhaps that's why women aren't allowed to play women on the stage-the result might be too disturbing for you men in the audience, and too inspiring for the women.

"Even so, we actresses sometimes manage to find the role that takes us where we want to go. We simply have to create it ourselves and live it day by day, instead of performing it on a stage. That's what I did. And that's what our Cassandra did."

"Until the role killed her," I said. "You say you met her in Alexandria. What then?"

"Dear old Volumnius came along. Fat, sweet, incredibly rich Volumnius. This was five years ago-yes, almost exactly five years to the day. Volumnius was in Alexandria on some sort of business trip. He just happened to be passing through the Rhakotis district with his entourage one day when we were performing near the Temple of Serapis. I spotted him in the audience right away, fiddling with his gold rings and his gold necklaces and biting his lips and watching me dance the way a cat watches a sparrow flit through the trees. I put on the performance of my life that day. I was doing the dance of seven veils, taking them off one by one-a bit of naughtiness to spice up the show in between all the clowning. You're supposed to take off only six veils, of course; that's the point, to tease the crowd and make them hang around for more, hoping you'll come back for an encore. But that day I didn't stop at six; I took off the seventh as well."

Cytheris laughed. "Volumnius's eyes almost popped out of his head! As for the poor master, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. Even in Alexandria, women can't dance naked in the street, and the city authorities were always looking for some excuse to shut us down. But I took off that final veil as a gambit, and the gambit worked. The next day I had a new master. When Volumnius headed back to Rome on his private ship, I was with him. And I've never looked back."

"Now you're a freedwoman."

"Yes. Antony helped with that. I still have certain… contractual obligations… to Volumnius, but this house and everything and everyone in it are mine." She snorted. "No wonder a woman like Antonia hates me so much. What has she ever accomplished on her own merit? Everything comes to her because of her family and her name. She couldn't even find a husband outside her family! I should feel desperately trapped, living such a cramped little life. I've made my own way in the world, using what the gods gave me."

"What about Cassandra?"

"That was the hardest thing about leaving Alexandria-saying good-bye to Cassandra. I wept. So did she. I was sure I'd never see her again. When you're young, the world seems such a big place, so easy to get lost in. But it's not so big after all, is it? All roads lead to Rome. I came by one road. Cassandra came by another. Earlier this year I began to hear the rumors about a mad-woman down in the Forum who had the gift of prophecy. People said she was called Cassandra. I thought, Could it possibly be my Cassandra? I piled into that gaudy litter Antony gave me and went to have a look. And of course it was her, standing in front of the Temple of Vesta wearing a ragged tunica, muttering to herself and begging for alms. What in Hades is she up to? I asked myself. Then I began to worry. What if she really had gone mad? What if she had taken it into her head that she really was her namesake? Perhaps the gods had punished her-had looked down and seen her making a mockery of the Trojan princess whom Apollo tormented, and for her hubris they had driven her mad. Half the lunatics and religious fanatics in the world make their way to Rome; why not Cassandra, if she had gone crazy? You see…"

Cytheris hesitated. I gave her a questioning look.

"Even now, all these years later, this isn't easy to talk about," she said. "When we were young, I promised her I would tell no one. She was always so frightened that it would happen while she was performing, that her secret affliction would be exposed…"

"She has no need of secrets now," I said.

Cytheris nodded. "You're right; I'll tell you. Cassandra was subject to spells of falling sickness. In the time I knew her in Alexandria, it happened only twice that I knew of. But it was frightening to watch. I'll never forget the first time. We were alone in the room we shared at the master's house. We were talking, laughing-then suddenly she was thrown to the floor. It was uncanny, bizarre, as if a giant, invisible hand had cast her down and was holding her there while she thrashed and writhed. Her eyes rolled up in her head. She foamed at the mouth. She muttered something incomprehensible. I had the presence of mind to put something in her mouth to keep her from swallowing her tongue, and I did my best to hold her down so that she wouldn't hurt herself.