Paul Doherty: A Murder in Thebes

“But he needn’t have come,” Antigone said softly.

“Oh no, it was very clever,” Miriam declared. “You asked for Memnon and Lysander. Anyone who knows soldiers would realize that Memnon couldn’t possibly come but would send his lieutenant.”

“And Jocasta swore an oath to guarantee his safety?”

“Another reason for Lysander to come out. Jocasta swore this oath at your insistence. Poor Jocasta was deceived. She had to die, didn’t she? In time she may have come to reflect, question the advice you had given her. In the end you were successful. Lysander came out, and once he was through that stockade, he was killed. There was no argument, just brutal murder. Pelliades was acting on your advice. The garrison had lost an outstanding officer and now they could display his corpse to lower the morale of the soldiers inside. At the same time, your lover began to play upon poor Memnon’s mind. Memnon, however, was made of sterner stuff. He didn’t break, so he had to be murdered.”

“And Memnon never knew who the spy was?” Antigone leaned forward.

“It was a skillful piece of treachery,” Miriam declared. “Before the siege ever began, the Oracle told Memnon that he, in fact, had found a spy among the Thebans, that he was receiving secret information. Memnon, of course, accepted this and allowed his officer the use of the garret above his chamber so he could dress the part.”

“And you say Memnon accepted this?”

“Of course he would! As commander of the citadel, he’d be deeply interested in collecting information about Thebes.”

“Wouldn’t he tell the others?”

“Why should he? The spy answered to him and when matters turned ugly, just before the siege began, this officer would hint that he was also hunting a spy among the Macedonian garrison. So, why should Memnon reveal that?”

Antigone smiled, thinking.

“The two of you played the Macedonians and Thebans like musicians would flutes, piping the tune everyone wanted to hear.”

“But Thebes fell,” Antigone declared. She sat farther up on the bed, close to the bolster.

Miriam wondered if she had a dagger concealed, but Simeon was downstairs and the house was surrounded; she did not feel afraid but satisfied; Antigone’s reaction was proof enough of the accusations leveled against her.

“You didn’t give a fig if Thebes fell,” Miriam replied. “What did it matter to you? But let me hurry on. Thebes did fall. The Macedonians swept in and the garrison was relieved. Now you had two tasks. To spoil Alexander’s victory as much as possible and to steal the Crown. First, there was the usual whispering campaign. I suppose the envoys from Corinth and elsewhere became aware of the gossip. You and your lover dressed as Oedipus, a charade both of you had played before. At night the two of you would approach lonely sentries. The Macedonian soldier, cold and disgruntled, encountered this beautiful woman coming out of the night carrying a small jug of wine and some honey cakes. He’d relish the chance to gossip. Perhaps tease and flirt. You were safe. If any officer approached, you would hide in the shadows till he passed, and no soldier would confess to being distracted by such a beauty during guard duty.” Miriam paused. Antigone’s head was back, a faint smile on her face. “The soldier would be off his guard, shield and spear down. He’d hardly hear your lover come up behind him. And with a swift blow to the head, the man was dead. But that was just a minor part of the drama to dull Alexander’s victory. Your real intent was to steal the Crown.”

“I didn’t know how the Crown could be removed,” Antigone intervened. “And, even if I did, how could I get through lines of soldiers?”

“Oh don’t be so coy, Antigone! It was quite easily done. You’d work on Jocasta. She would give you the password. But, there again, perhaps she didn’t, because it wasn’t really necessary, was it? What we have are a squad of soldiers outside the shrine of Oedipus. They are truly bored. The shrine is quiet, the olive grove a sea of darkness around them. From the camp they can hear the sound of revelry as their fellow countrymen celebrate their great victory. They would be slightly resentful. Thebes was no more. Why should they waste their time guarding a deserted shrine? You played the same game again. If Jocasta could slip out at night, why not you? You could make up any excuse. You wanted to see that everything was safe. Or to walk through the trees. Or to take the night air. Why should Jocasta object? The high priestess had been given the solemn word of Alexander of Macedon that she and all her household were safe. I am speaking the truth, aren’t I?”

Antigone, tight-lipped, just stared back.

“Don’t you object?” Miriam asked.

“I am a priestess,” Antigone replied. “But I do love a good story, Israelite. So far you’ve no evidence.”

“Oh, but I have.” Miriam leaned forward. “More than you know.” And, at last, she saw her opponent’s confidence slip-a quick blink, a licking of the lips. “He’s told me.”

“You’re a liar! He’d never say.” Antigone’s hand went to her lips.

“Who’d never say, Antigone?”

“I cannot and will not betray myself,” the priestess replied. “You have me tangled, trapping me with words. You come here with a story and now you are going to allege that I, who did not know the secret, persuaded Macedonian soldiers to let me through their lines.”

“Ah, yes,” Miriam replied, “so let me tell you about the honey cakes and wine.”

“Imagine. .” Miriam felt as if she were telling a story to Simeon. “Imagine the soldiers on guard outside the shrine of Oedipus. Suddenly a young priestess, your good self, comes out of the olive grove. You carry a basket of food and drink, those honey cakes and that delicious wine you serve your guests. You claim it’s a present from the chief priestess. The soldiers eat and drink and, as they do so, consume the sleeping potion with which you’ve laced both the drink and the food. I can’t imagine a soldier on earth who’d refuse such a gift, and what threat could a young priestess pose? They are soon unconscious. Your accomplice then appears from the trees. The key is taken, you open the main doors of the temple and go into the vestibule.” Miriam paused. “Now, I don’t know if you used the password, pretending to be Jocasta, or just persuaded the soldiers inside to lift the bar. After all, if the officer in charge had let you through, why shouldn’t they?” Miriam glanced over her shoulder at the window. She wondered if Simeon had the sense to leave his post and come into the house.

“Your accomplice hid in the shadows of the vestibule. The front doors of the temple were locked, the soldiers inside would think their commanding officer had locked you in. They would certainly suspect no danger. Again the gifts were offered. The potion you gave them would work quickly. In a short while they were asleep, and then you took the Crown.”

“But I didn’t know how to! That was a secret.”

“No. There are two possibilities. First, like me, you could have discovered that the iron bar was the means to remove the Crown. Second, by that time Jocasta was dead. Her pectoral had been removed, the clasp undone, and what was inside? A piece of papyrus that revealed the secret? Jocasta’s dream suited your purposes: there would be no question about you slipping out of your bedchamber. And if anyone had noticed it, in the chaos and turmoil following Jocasta’s death, they would have thought you’d simply gone looking for her. Anyway, you removed the Crown, and your accomplice, with his club, smashed in the brains of the soldiers sleeping inside the shrine. You then relocked the door and did the same to the guards outside. You took the remains of the food and drink you’d brought and fled back to the priestesses’ house. Your accomplice returned to the olive grove where he burned Jocasta’s corpse before returning to the citadel. No one would have noticed you had left, and until the theft and Jocasta’s death, Macedonian soldiers were at liberty to wander where they wished.”