Paul Doherty - A Murder in Thebes

“It’s strange,” he mused. “Rumors are sweeping the camp that Oedipus’s shade has been seen. I just wish the king would take that bloody Crown and march away from here. But he’s such a showman. He should have been an actor on the stage. In fact, he is, and all of Greece is the audience. He’s taken Thebes by storm, and now he wants some god to come down from Olympus and hand the Crown to him.”

“These spies of yours. .” Miriam began. She was wary of talking to Hecaetus about Alexander. She didn’t trust the man as far as she could spit but she didn’t want him to be her enemy.

“Oh a few merchants, tinkers, travelers.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“I am looking for a lovely boy, by the name of Meleager. He was a scribe in the service of the Theban council. He was close to their leader Pelliades.”

“But he has disappeared?”

“Yes, Miriam, the boy has gone, vanished. He may have fled, he may be in hiding, or he may be one of the corpses lying beneath that sea of ash once called Thebes.” Hecaetus paused, head half-cocked, listening to the sounds of the camp. “I tell you this, Miriam, I don’t think Memnon jumped. He was murdered, but how or why, well that’s a mystery.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to continue searching for Meleager. He could well be in one of the slave pens. He can protest about how much he helped Macedon, but in the eyes of Alexander’s soldiers, one Theban’s like another.” He leaned down and kissed Miriam on the top of her head, and pointing to the piece of parchment bearing the quotation from Sophocles, he said, “If I were you, young woman, I would walk very carefully.”

And then he was gone. Miriam picked up the piece of parchment and stared at it. Was it to frighten her?

“No,” she exclaimed. She was supposed to show this to Alexander! The king was as brave as a lion in battle but, like Philip, highly superstitious, wary of omens, portents, and warnings.

“Miriam.”

She turned, startled. Simeon was crouched in the mouth of the tent.

“It’s busier here,” she quipped, “than anyplace in the camp.”

Simeon just blinked and crawled in on all fours.

“I don’t feel well,” he murmured. “They are drinking fit to burst.”

“You are an Israelite,” Miriam retorted. “Never try to imitate Macedonians in their cups.”

Simeon got to his feet. Miriam took a jug of water and quickly prepared an herbal drink.

“It will settle your stomach. You should be asleep.”

Simeon shook his head. “The king wants me back at his tent.”

“Oh no.” Miriam groaned.

“It’s the Crown of Oedipus. He also wants you.” He stumbled on his words. “Well, you’d best come.”

Alexander’s banqueting tent was not as stately as when she had left. The ground littered was with scraps of food. Tables and chairs were overturned. Two of his commanders were lying flat out, snoring like pigs. The musicians and dancing girls had fled. Alexander had changed the seating arrangements. He had moved his couch farther down the tent-one arm around Niarchos, the other round Perdiccas. At the far end he had set up a makeshift pillar, a huge wooden stake planted in the ground, with iron clasps on it. These had been bent and held a crown Alexander must have taken from his treasury. He had laid out cloaks in front of the stake to imitate the pits in the shrine; now he was challenging everyone, all comers, to remove the crown without standing on the cloaks. Miriam groaned and closed her eyes. Alexander flush-faced and bright-eyed, was shouting abuse at Hephaestion, who stood before the cloaks staring blearily at the crown. Alexander staggered over, put his arm around Hephaestion’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are supposed to be a bloody engineer!” he bawled in his ear. “How do you get that crown off that bloody pillar without standing on the cloaks? Remember. .” Alexander lifted one finger up as he swayed backward and forward. He blinked.

“What must I remember?”

“He must take the crown off,” Niarchos yelled, “without touching the cloaks. One’s a fire, one’s a snake pit, and in between them is a row of spikes. Nor must he use anything brought into the shrine.”

Hephaestion blinked owlishly at his king and stared at the wooden stake.

“I could go outside,” he said, “go around the tent, lift the flap, and take it.”

The rest of the company roared with laughter. Alexander caught Miriam’s eyes.

“Come on Israelites!” he gestured. He went and took Niarchos aside. “Sit down Miriam, you are the only sober man among us!”

His quip raised a few sniggers. Miriam blushed slightly. She had heard the secret jokes about her being more man than woman. Alexander must have seen the hurt in her eyes as he squatted down beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he slurred, “but it all started when I told them about our visit this morning. And do you know, not one of these drunken buggers can give me any advice.”

Miriam stared at the red cloaks that stood for the burning charcoal, the spear in between that stood for the spikes, and the long cloak of blue that represented the snake pit. She had been so frightened about what had happened in the citadel that she hadn’t given any thought to this problem. Niarchos had now sprung to his feet. He yelled at one of the bodyguards to bring him a long lance or pike, but when he did so, Niarchos realized that it was far too short to reach. Alexander sat, gnawing his fingernails.

“There must be a way,” he muttered, “to take that crown.”

“Do it by force?” Perdiccas clinked his cup against that of the king. “Burn the temple and take it by force.”

“And all of Greece will see that.”

The speaker at the far end of the semicircle stood up. Miriam recognized Timeon, the Athenian delegate.

“My lord Alexander, if you take it by force, all of Greece will know of it.”

“Thank you, Timeon.” Alexander forced a weak smile. “And before you leave, I’ll have words with you. .” he scowled, “about the traitor Demosthenes.”

“He is no longer in Athens,” Timeon declared. “He has fled; we do not know where. All of Greece now has its eyes on Thebes.”

Miriam gripped Alexander’s wrist. She could feel him beginning to tremble with anger. One of those terrible rages that swept him, particularly when he was deep in his cups. What had begun as a drunken joke was now turning ugly. She looked along the line of Alexander’s commanders for a sober face, but they were all drunk. Some were half asleep, others were now glaring at the Athenian envoy. Niarchos, stung by Timeon’s hidden taunts, walked along the cloaks. He forced back the metal clasps on either side of the crown, took it off, and tipsily put it on his head.

“That’s the way we take Crowns in Macedon!” he yelled at the Athenian. “We just move in and take them!”

“Of course,” Timeon purred, “whether it’s Macedon or anywhere else.”

His remark stilled the clamor and noise in the tent. Alexander sprang to his feet. He ran and picked up the spear that separated the different-colored cloaks. Miriam thought his anger was directed at Timeon but it was Niarchos he confronted.

“You stupid Cretan bastard!”

Niarchos stared fearfully back. Alexander brought the spear up. Miriam jumped to her feet, ran forward, and caught his arm.

“My lord king,” she cried, “you know this is only a charade. Niarchos acts the fool. Don’t reveal our secret.”

Alexander’s arm remained tense.

“Put it down,” she whispered. “Alexander, put it down!” She felt his arm relax.

“Miriam is right.” Alexander stuck the spear into the earth.

“What do you mean?” Timeon, eager to create more trouble, stepped forward.