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Authors: Mary Reed, Eric Mayer
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pleaser.”
“We don’t have a magician with us, mistress,” Peter timidly pointed out.
“Baba taught some of his knowledge to the other performers,” Cornelia replied. “He said a magick trick is like a coin in the hand. You’d never go hungry with something of the kind to entertain and astonish people. I could teach you and Peter one or two of them.”
Peter looked alarmed. “My apologies, mistress, but I am not certain such an act would be a Christian thing for me to do.”
“We don’t have time to learn magick,” John added.
“That’s so,” Cornelia admitted. “What about a bit of play-acting? We sometimes did that, you’ll recall, and you could easily—”
John raised his hand imperiously. “Cornelia, I’m not a performer.”
“How can you say that? You take part in all those elaborate processionals to the Great Church and the Hippodrome and other such tedious ceremonies without looking bored. Of course you can act!”
***
“I am Empress Theodora, and I demand you fetch the Lord Chamberlain immediately! There is an extremely delicate problem of great urgency that requires his immediate attention!”
The visibly trembling old man thus addressed bowed obsequiously and scuttled off.
The imperial speaker peered up toward the tip of the obelisk beside which she stood, and slowly stroked the monument’s warm sandstone. “I’m glad to see Egypt, and it seems Egypt is glad to see me.”
A few onlookers guffawed. Cornelia adjusted her crown, which John had cut from a dried melon rind. Although she spoke Coptic nearly as fluently as John, she had chosen to speak in Greek, realizing that in this part of Alexandria, so near to the docks, most passersby would speak that language.
“Now that I’ve traveled all the way from Constantinople,” she continued, “what would my loyal subjects like to hear about? My charitable works on behalf of former prostitutes? Or would you prefer I relate my theological discussions with the Patriarch?”
“Tell us about the chickens and the grain,” someone yelled.
Peter, playing the empress’ aged servant, had returned and now held his hand up to the side of his mouth and addressed the growing audience in a loud whisper. “Don’t insult the empress by mentioning her past indiscretions! She’s a good Christian now, you know.”
Then, his orthodoxy offended by the line he had spoken, he added, “Even if she does believe the monophysite heresy that Christ has not two natures, but only one, and that fully divine.”
“We all agree with the empress here, old man,” retorted one of the now considerably larger crowd.
“And knowing Theodora, if He really had two natures she’d bed them both,” offered another.
A flurry of other remarks followed.
“How many bishops has she got hidden in the Hormisdas Palace now?”
“At least she claims they’re bishops…”
“I wonder what kind of services they offer her?”
Peter covered his ears in horror.
The shouted demand came again. “Tell us about the chickens and the grain, empress!”
Cornelia stamped her foot. “It’s always that wretched matter! Do you really believe that in my youth I would strip off my garments, lie on the ground, and allow chickens to peck grain from my private parts? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Peter stood silently by, until he noticed Cornelia glaring at him. “Ah…” he muttered, “…er…Highness, I just heard the chickens…ah…talking.”
“Talking chickens?” Cornelia clapped her hands. “This is truly a miracle! And what did these remarkable fowl say?”
“Dinner’s on the empress!”
This brought forth coarse laughs and applause.
“Highness, here is the Lord Chamberlain!”
The crowd began to titter as a tall, thin figure in a tattered tunic approached with obvious reluctance from behind the obelisk.
A few wits continued to add their comments to the performance.
“If that’s a Lord Chamberlain I’m a pharaoh.”
“What cave
“We don’t have a magician with us, mistress,” Peter timidly pointed out.
“Baba taught some of his knowledge to the other performers,” Cornelia replied. “He said a magick trick is like a coin in the hand. You’d never go hungry with something of the kind to entertain and astonish people. I could teach you and Peter one or two of them.”
Peter looked alarmed. “My apologies, mistress, but I am not certain such an act would be a Christian thing for me to do.”
“We don’t have time to learn magick,” John added.
“That’s so,” Cornelia admitted. “What about a bit of play-acting? We sometimes did that, you’ll recall, and you could easily—”
John raised his hand imperiously. “Cornelia, I’m not a performer.”
“How can you say that? You take part in all those elaborate processionals to the Great Church and the Hippodrome and other such tedious ceremonies without looking bored. Of course you can act!”
***
“I am Empress Theodora, and I demand you fetch the Lord Chamberlain immediately! There is an extremely delicate problem of great urgency that requires his immediate attention!”
The visibly trembling old man thus addressed bowed obsequiously and scuttled off.
The imperial speaker peered up toward the tip of the obelisk beside which she stood, and slowly stroked the monument’s warm sandstone. “I’m glad to see Egypt, and it seems Egypt is glad to see me.”
A few onlookers guffawed. Cornelia adjusted her crown, which John had cut from a dried melon rind. Although she spoke Coptic nearly as fluently as John, she had chosen to speak in Greek, realizing that in this part of Alexandria, so near to the docks, most passersby would speak that language.
“Now that I’ve traveled all the way from Constantinople,” she continued, “what would my loyal subjects like to hear about? My charitable works on behalf of former prostitutes? Or would you prefer I relate my theological discussions with the Patriarch?”
“Tell us about the chickens and the grain,” someone yelled.
Peter, playing the empress’ aged servant, had returned and now held his hand up to the side of his mouth and addressed the growing audience in a loud whisper. “Don’t insult the empress by mentioning her past indiscretions! She’s a good Christian now, you know.”
Then, his orthodoxy offended by the line he had spoken, he added, “Even if she does believe the monophysite heresy that Christ has not two natures, but only one, and that fully divine.”
“We all agree with the empress here, old man,” retorted one of the now considerably larger crowd.
“And knowing Theodora, if He really had two natures she’d bed them both,” offered another.
A flurry of other remarks followed.
“How many bishops has she got hidden in the Hormisdas Palace now?”
“At least she claims they’re bishops…”
“I wonder what kind of services they offer her?”
Peter covered his ears in horror.
The shouted demand came again. “Tell us about the chickens and the grain, empress!”
Cornelia stamped her foot. “It’s always that wretched matter! Do you really believe that in my youth I would strip off my garments, lie on the ground, and allow chickens to peck grain from my private parts? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Peter stood silently by, until he noticed Cornelia glaring at him. “Ah…” he muttered, “…er…Highness, I just heard the chickens…ah…talking.”
“Talking chickens?” Cornelia clapped her hands. “This is truly a miracle! And what did these remarkable fowl say?”
“Dinner’s on the empress!”
This brought forth coarse laughs and applause.
“Highness, here is the Lord Chamberlain!”
The crowd began to titter as a tall, thin figure in a tattered tunic approached with obvious reluctance from behind the obelisk.
A few wits continued to add their comments to the performance.
“If that’s a Lord Chamberlain I’m a pharaoh.”
“What cave
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