Paul Doherty - A Murder in Thebes

“And, of course, Memnon’s state of mind would grow worse?” Alexander asked.

“Oh yes, but he was a tough old dog,” Miriam continued, “so the Oracle somehow killed him!”

“You don’t think he committed suicide?” Alexander queried.

“No, I don’t,” Miriam answered. “But how he died is a mystery. Only the gods know what would have happened if the Macedonian army hadn’t appeared. However, it did, and Thebes fell. Now, the spy could have fled but he has impudence and cheek second to none.” She paused. “He’s taken the Crown. He’s killed Macedonian guards.” Miriam went cold.

“What it is, Miriam?” Alexander asked.

“Whoever it is,” she replied slowly, “is devious and cunning. He certainly hates you Alexander. I just wonder. .”

“Whether he will strike at the king himself?” Hecaetus asked.

Miriam nodded. “He’ll either do that,” she concluded, “or disappear.”

“And the Crown?” Alexander asked, ignoring the threat. “How did he kill the soldiers? How did he take the Crown?”

“I don’t know.” Miriam closed her eyes. “My lord, I really don’t know.” She opened her eyes and stared at the king. “Antigone will not suffer, will she?”

Alexander shook his head.

‘Good! Because I think I am going to need her help. I have your permission, my lord, to return to the shrine? I would like to take her with me.”

Alexander nodded. “Tell Simeon to draft a letter to the captain of the guard, a pass to let you in. You’ll find the shrine changed. I’ve had the two pits cleaned.”

“Why?” Miriam asked.

“The snakes were a danger and I can’t stand them,” Alexander declared, getting to his feet. “I also wanted to check myself, or Hecaetus did, that there were no secret entrances, passageways, or tunnels.”

“And there were none?”

“None whatsoever.” Hecaetus said with a grin.

Alexander moved to the tent flap, beckoning Hecaetus to him.

“I understand your concern, Miriam.” Alexander smiled. “But I don’t think this assassin wants my life.”

“Why not?” Miriam asked.

“If he wished to strike at me he would have done so,” Alexander said. “But that would be very dangerous for him. Instead he’s created chaos and stolen the Crown. He’s done that for a purpose. He intends to sell the Crown to someone.” Alexander walked back toward her.

“Demosthenes? The Athenians?” Miriam queried.

“We thought that at first,” Hecaetus smirked, “so I’ve had Timeon and his delegation carefully watched; they’re not involved. Timeon is acting like a good little boy; he never leaves his tent. And the news from Athens is that Demosthenes has fled without a coin to his name.”

“It’s true,” Alexander confirmed.

“So that leaves one person,” Miriam replied. “His Excellency, Darius III King of Persia.”

Hecaetus smirked. “Then the rumors about Alexander’s death and the destruction of his army must have been started by Persian agents in Greece. The actions of the Oracle confirmed this. He may have deceived the Macedonians but he also deceived the Thebans and brought about their destruction.”

“That’s why he killed Telemachus, isn’t it?” Miriam asked.

Hecaetus nodded.

“If Telemachus had been kept alive long enough, if he’d been forced to reflect, he may have realized that the Thebans had been most cruelly tricked.”

“But surely the Thebans realized that when the Macedonian army appeared?” Miriam asked.

“They still had doubts,” Alexander replied, “that I was with them. Again, the work of the Oracle. Can’t you see, Miriam, if Telemachus had survived, he would have had to concede to a dreadful nightmare-that he and his entire city had been duped into revolt.”

Alexander left, followed by Hecaetus. Simeon came back; he sat on the edge of the bed and looked mournfully at his sister.

“A busy morning?”

Miriam picked up her belt and threw it at him but he ducked and grinned mischievously.

“You are supposed to help me,” she said crossly.

“What help can I give?” he countered. “And what will you do now?”

“This Oracle, the assassin,” Miriam replied, “is both confident and cunning. Why is that Simeon, eh? Thebes is in ruins, the Macedonian army controls Greece, and yet he acts with impunity. I mean. .” She paused.

“What?”

“Well, Telemachus may be dead but what happens if another Theban is also picked up by Hecaetus’s net?” She paused. “Of course!” she breathed.

“Don’t be enigmatic, sister.”

“The Thebans know as much about the Oracle as we do,” Miriam added. “The spy communicated with them when he was disguised as a woman, or by arrows shot out of the Cadmea. I wager you a jug of wine, brother dearest, that if we had subjected Telemachus to the most horrific tortures, he would only have confessed to being approached by a spy, but never to having known who that spy was.”

“So the Oracle thinks he’s safe.”

“He’s certainly safe from the Thebans. Most of the council are probably dead, and if there were any survivors, they wouldn’t be able to point the finger.”

“So why kill Telemachus?”

“I don’t know,” Miriam murmured.

“Perhaps to protect someone else?”

“Or to buy time,” Simeon added, “till he manages his escape.”

“Perhaps,” Miriam pulled a face, “the Oracle wants to keep us guessing, stumbling in the dark. If we had learned that Telemachus knew as little about him as we do, it might have opened other paths of inquiry.”

“He’ll also need help to escape.”

“If it’s the Persians,” Miriam replied, “our spy has got nothing to fear. Thebes stands on a tongue of land surrounded by the sea; it would be very easy to leave by merchant ship or to be picked up by some galley in the pay of Darius. I suspect that this is what is going to happen.” She got to her feet and finished dressing; using a piece of polished bronze, she applied some paint to her face. Simeon rose.

“Don’t go away,” she warned. “You’ve got a sword belt; wear it. I need protection. I also need a warrant to get into the shrine of Oedipus. So, if you could draft it and have it sealed?”

Simeon reluctantly agreed. Miriam tidied the tent, her mind distracted by what she had learned. She pulled back the flap and looked out. The mist had lifted, the camp was now fully awake, the soldiers going about their usual tasks. We’ll have to move soon, she thought; the army can’t stay here forever and our friend the Oracle knows that. He’s waiting for chaos, for confusion to break out; then he’ll slip away. She idly wondered if Hecaetus’s suggestion was correct? Perhaps the officers should be confined to house arrest, but there again, how long could that last? The Oracle would simply bide his time and leave when it suited him. She let the tent flap fall. She walked back, opened a small coffer, took out a silver chain-a present from Alexander-and absentmindedly put it around her neck.

“Miriam Bartimaeus?”

She started and looked over her shoulder. Timeon, the Athenian envoy, was standing in the mouth of the tent. He looked nervous, shuffling from one foot to another.

“To what do I owe this honor?” Miriam asked.

“May I come in? I wish to speak.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but scuttled in. Miriam gestured to a stool.

“The king is angry,” he began.

“He has good cause,” Miriam replied. “His guards are killed.” She was about to say that the Crown had disappeared but caught herself just in time.

“I know what’s happened.” The envoy clawed at his straggly mustache and beard. “The Crown has disappeared from the shrine.” He continued, “Oh, the king won’t say that but the gossips are busy.”