
"One of my favorite plays, Eco. Quite possibly Plautus's funniest comedy. Crude, yet satisfying-"
"I was to play Euclio," Statilius said rather sharply, drawing the conversation back to himself, "when suddenly, this morning, Roscius explodes into a rage and says that I have the role all wrong, and that he can't suffer the humiliation of seeing me bungle it in front of all Rome. Instead I'll be Megadorus, the next-door neighbor."
"Another fine role," I said, trying to remember it.
"Fah! And who gets the plum role of Euclio? That parasite Panurgus-a mere slave, with no more comic timing than a slug!" He abruptly stiffened. "Oh no, what's this?"
I followed his gaze to the outer aisle, where the usher was leading a burly, bearded man toward the front of the theater. A blond giant with a scar across his nose followed close behind- the bearded man's bodyguard; I know a hired ruffian from the Subura when I see one. The usher led them to the far end of our bench; they stepped into the gap and headed toward us to take the empty spot beside Eco.
Statilius bent low to hide himself and groaned into my ear. "As if I hadn't enough worries-it's that awful moneylender Flavius and one of his hired bullies. The only man in Rome who's more of a monster than Roscius."
"And just how much do you owe this Flavius?" I began to say, when suddenly, from backstage, a roaring voice rose above the discordant pipes.
"Fool! Incompetent! Don't come to me now saying you can't remember the lines!"
"Roscius," Statilius whispered, "screaming at Panurgus, I hope. The man's temper is terrible."
The central door on the stage flew open, revealing a short, stocky man already dressed for the stage, wearing a splendid cloak of rich white fabric. His lumpy, scowling face was the sort to send terror into an underling's soul, yet this was, by universal acclaim, the funniest man in Rome. His legendary squint made his eyes almost invisible, but when he looked in our direction, I felt as if a dagger had been thrown past my ear and into the heart of Statilius.
