Paul Doherty - A Murder in Thebes

PHILIP OF MACEDON: king; murdered in 336 B.C.

OLYMPIAS: his widow and queen; Alexander’s regent in Macedon

ALEXANDER: son of Olympias; later Alexander the Great

PTOLEMY, NIARCHOS, HEPHAESTION: Alexander’s companions

ARISTANDER: Olympias’s sorcerer; later in the service of Alexander

DEMOSTHENES: Athenian orator; leader of the anti-Macedon faction

DARIUS III: new king of Persia; Alexander’s great opponent

ARISTOPHANES: playwright

ARISTOTLE: Philosopher; tutor to Alexander

SOPHOCLES: playwright; author of the Oedipus cycle of three plays

SOCRATES: Athenian philosopher

ALCIBIADES: pupil of Socrates; later general of Athenian forces

IN 336 B.C., Persia, ruled by Darius III, was a world power. Its only rivals were the Greek city-states led by Athens, Thebes, Sparta, and Corinth. They, in turn, were becoming alarmed by the increasing military power of Philip of Macedon, who had forced his will upon them. In 336 B.C., Philip was brutally murdered. Both Persia and Greece thought this would mark the end of Macedon’s Power. Alexander, Philip’s son, soon proved them wrong. He left his mother Olympias as regent of Pella and, in a brilliant show of force, brought the Greek city-states into line. He was given the title of captain-general, and he formed the League of Corinth against Persia.

Alexander, who had dreamed of marching in glory through Persopolis, still had to make sure that all of Greece acknowledged him. He marched into the wild mountain region of Thessaly intent on bringing its tribes under submission. While he was gone, rumors began to circulate in Greece that Alexander and his army were no more and that Queen Olympias had succumbed to a successful coup in Pella. The Thebans rose in revolt, besieging the small garrison Alexander had left in their citadel, the Cadmea. The Thebans, however, were soon proved wrong. Alexander hurried back, leading his bedraggled army, to show all Greece that he would brook no opposition.

THE OEDIPUS LEGEND

Oedipus is a figure from Greek mythology. The son of king Laius and Queen Jocasta, when Oedipus was a child his foot was pierced and he was abandoned, at the behest of his father, because of a warning from the gods that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Unbeknownst to his parents, Oedipus was rescued by a shepherd. He grew to manhood and returned to Thebes to find his parents: by accident, he killed Laius and married Jocasta, and though unaware that these were his parents, he incurred the wrath of the gods. When their identities were revealed, Jocasta committed suicide, and Oedipus, blinded, wandered Greece, a man cursed by the gods and man. Sophocles, the playwright, wrote three brilliant plays-a trilogy that had a profound effect upon Alexander and the world he lived in-based on this legend.

THEBES AUTUMN 332 B.C.

“Ye shall behold a sight even your enemy must pity.”

“A quote from the Iliad , my lord?”

Alexander King of Macedon didn’t bother to turn but stared out across the dusty plain toward the soaring gray wall of Thebes. He was studying the Electra Gate, one of the seven great entrances to Thebes. Beyond this rose the Cadmea, the fortified citadel of the city where his men-leaderless, trapped, and besieged-could only look on helplessly at the drama unfurling below. Alexander clawed at his hair. Usually it was styled, cut by his barber so as to imitate the busts and statues of the gods, curled and oiled to cluster round his forehead and fall in layers to the nape of his neck. Now it was dirty, dusty, and far too long. Alexander lowered his hand.

“If mother sees me, she’ll moan,” he murmured. He shielded his eyes against the light. The Theban army had now deployed in front of the walls: phalanx after phalanx of heavily armed hoplites. In the wings stood the cavalry, their conspicuous blue cloaks ruffling in the strong winds.

“Look.” He pointed. “In the center is the Sacred Band, the cream of the Theban infantry if we break them?” He paused. “What will it matter? The Thebans will simply retreat behind their gates and the siege will continue.” He stared back over his shoulder to where his own Macedonians were now deploying for battle. The foot companions in the center, his own cavalry, were held back. Alexander would wait to decide how to deploy those.

“We’ll have battle within the hour,” Alexander declared. He looked at the man who had spoken, Timeon, leader of the Athenian delegation to the Macedonian camp outside Thebes. “I thought you’d recognize the quotation.” Alexander’s weather-beaten face creased into a smile, his different-colored eyes crinkling in amusement. “That’s not the Iliad ! It’s a quotation from Sophocles’ Oedipus !”

Alexander strode down the hill, his captains and generals gathering behind him. He paused and stared up at the sky. There was really nothing to see. The clouds had broken, the previous night’s storm had ended. Alexander was copying his father. Philip had known all the tricks for keeping people guessing as he acted the role of a preoccupied commander. In fact Alexander didn’t have a clue as to how the coming battle should be fought. The Thebans would stay in their positions; his infantry would attack. He would try the usual feint-go for the center, then suddenly switch, sending his crack troops into the enemy’s right or left flank, thereby trying to roll up the enemy like a piece of string. He’d force them back, but then what? The Electra Gates would open, the Thebans would retreat, and the bloody siege would continue.

“I’m hungry,” Alexander declared. He rested his hands on the shoulders of two of his commanders, tall Hephaestion and Perdiccas. Hephaestion’s eyes glowed with pleasure at being touched by a man who was both his lover and his king. Perdiccas, short, wiry, dark-faced, and black-haired as a Cretan, wondered what trickery Alexander was up to.

“We’ll break our fast,” Alexander declared. He pulled his purple cloak around him and flicked the long hair from his face, a girlish flirtatious movement. “We have the best of stages, gentlemen; the play we are going to present will be witnessed by all of Greece.”

Alexander pursed his lips in satisfaction. He liked such lines; his scribes and clerks were taking them down. They would be passed from mouth to mouth: dramatic words before a fateful battle!

I should have been a playwright, Alexander thought. He walked back through the ranks, nodding and smiling at the men standing at ease, their weapons piled before them.

“Will we fight today, my lord?” one of them shouted.

“We fight every day,” Alexander replied. “We are Macedonians.” He stopped. “That’s old Clearchus, isn’t it?”

The guard who had spoken shuffled his feet in pleasure. Alexander shook his finger at him.

“That’s your problem Clearchus-too much fighting, too little loving. It’s time I got you a wife and you settled down.”

Alexander moved on, smiling at the ripples of laughter his retort had caused. The men on either side formed a wall of armored flesh. Alexander continued smiling even though he noticed how thin his soldiers were, how dusty and tired. They had marched hundreds of miles in a few weeks, pouring down from the mountains of Thessaly to confront this great danger to his new rule. If we fight, Alexander wondered, are we going to win? Are the men too tired? He passed the horse lines. The ribcages of many of the cavalry mounts were visible, their coats mangy and dull. The baggage carts lay about, the wood was splintered, the wheels cracked. The tents were rain-soaked, weather-beaten, and a hand-picked group of archers guarded their precious stores of food. Alexander snapped his fingers, indicating for his companions to disperse.