A Murder in Thebes

CHAPTER 11

Miriam went out and brought back bowls of hot food for the pages. By the time she’d returned, Simeon was awake, sitting heavy-eyed on the edge of his bed, staring at the two imps.

“They haven’t moved,” he said, as Miriam came into the tent.

“I wager they’ve got sticky fingers.”

The pages ignored him as they grabbed the bowls and began eating, dipping their spoons into the hot porridge, blowing to cool it, then pushing it into their mouths. The porridge and bread Miriam had brought disappeared in a twinkling of an eye. Both pages burped and sat, eyes wandering round the tent.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Simeon moaned. He wrapped an old blanket around him and left.

“What do you want to tell me about Memnon?” Miriam asked. “Or was that just an excuse to get some free food?”

“We are very hungry,” Pollux replied. “It’s now scraps of food from the kitchen.”

“Well, in future you can stay in the camp,” Miriam replied. “My brother will have a word with the quartermaster.”

“Oh, he’s your brother?” Castor asked. “We thought he was. .”

“Don’t be crude!” Miriam snapped.

“Old Memnon,” Castor hastily added. “We said he liked taking wenches into his bed.”

“He did,” Pollux declared, “but we also think he had a boyfriend.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Late one evening,” Pollux replied, “I was climbing the tower; I was looking for food. Now old Memnon didn’t like us wandering about. I heard footsteps and hid. A figure passed me; the head and face were shrouded, but I smelled perfume, really rich and strong.”

“So it was a woman?” Miriam asked.

“No, no, as the person passed, I glanced down; it was a man! He was wearing military sandals and had hairy legs, not like any woman I’ve ever seen.”

“And where was this person coming from,” Miriam asked, “Memnon’s chamber?”

“It could have been. But then again, all the officers have their chambers in the tower.”

“Not all of them,” Pollux intervened. “Cleon had his over the stables.”

“That’s right,” Caster agreed.

“You’ve been listening at keyholes.”

Castor and Pollux nodded solemnly.

“We listened to you when you were talking to the officers yesterday and when you were talking with that man with the cruel eyes.”

“Hecaetus?”

“Yes, that’s right, Hecaetus, who brought the prisoner in. We heard what was said about the spy being a woman.”

“That’s impossible,” Pollux continued. “Only serving wenches were in the Cadmea, and they knew nothing. When the garrison was besieged by the Thebans, the serving wenches were dismissed.”

“And when did you see this man pretending to be a woman?” Miriam asked. “Was it before the Thebans locked you into the citadel or afterward?”

“Oh, before,” Castor replied. “I got the impression he or she was going out into the city.”

“But you mentioned Memnon?” Miriam asked.

“Well, we talked about it last night,” Castor declared. “We think this person was going out disguised as a woman to move among the Thebans would not be recognized as one of the garrison.”

“Ah,” Miriam smiled, “I see what you mean. Is there anything else, lads?”

Both pages shook their heads. Miriam went over to the makeshift writing desk. She scrawled a short message on a piece of papyrus.

“If you do remember anything else, come back. Take this to the quartermaster. He’s a big fellow with a balding head. His name is Solomonides. Tell him you have spoken to me. He’ll give you food, but you’ll have to work for it.”

“I hope he doesn’t like boys,” Pollux declared, scrambling to his feet.

“Just to eat.” Miriam smiled.

The two pages left. Miriam lay back on the bed. She heard the tent flap pulled back, and Alexander walked in quietly, followed by Hecaetus. Both nodded and sat down on the opposite bed. The king looked clear-faced and bright-eyed.

“I retired early,” he joked. “There’s nothing like Mother to spoil a good feast. Hecaetus has told me what happened. Pity, I would like to have met Telemachus,” he added wistfully. “I am sure he could have told us a great deal.” He played with his wrist guard. “Hecaetus has also told me what you learned yesterday. The waters are becoming more muddied; I can make little sense of it all.”

“The spy, the Oracle, is in the Cadmea,” Hecaetus intervened. “My lord, if I were you, I’d arrest all five officers.”

Alexander snorted. “I’ve thought of that. Tell me, Miriam, why I shouldn’t arrest all five, confine them to quarters?”

“First, you’ve no real evidence,” Miriam replied. “Second, I wager some of those officers have powerful friends and ties with leading Macedonian families; their confinement will be seen as an insult, particularly if no charges are leveled.”

“Go on,” Alexander insisted.

“Third, the soldiers regard them as heroes. Whatever happened to Memnon or Lysander, those officers did not lose their nerve. Despite the most frightening rumors about your death and the destruction of your army, they held the citadel until you arrived. It seems a poor reward to place them under house arrest. Last, the army is preparing to march on the Hellespont.” Miriam continued, “You don’t want any divisions and you don’t want to give comfort to your enemies by lashing out, striking out against those around you.”

Alexander clapped his hands.

“Well done, Miriam!” He sighed and looked at Hecaetus. “And, if I put them under house arrest, what will happen?”

“Well, at least this Oedipus won’t go around killing people,” Hecaetus retorted.

“Oh, I think he’ll stop that,” Miriam declared. “It’s becoming too dangerous for him. He’s made his mark. He killed Telemachus because he had to. He’ll only strike again if he can get away with the crime. After all, he’s got the Crown, he’s caused confusion and chaos. I think he’ll sit, wait, and watch.”

“Is that all you can say?” Hecaetus sneered.

“Oh, we could put them under arrest,” Miriam continued. “One of them could be guilty, two could be guilty, or it might be all of them. Let’s review what we do know or what I suspect. We have a spy, a high-ranking traitor, a very skillful and subtle man. He knows the Cadmea, the city, and the shrine of Oedipus. He is a master of disguise. He can dress up as Oedipus. I suspect he can also disguise himself as a woman. Now, he may have used the latter ploy to attack our sentries or to go around the camp and approach the shrine. He certainly used that disguise to slip into the city of Thebes before the Cadmea was ringed off. Disguised as a woman, he could meet people like Pelliades and the other Theban leaders and give them all the information they needed before slipping back to join his companions. Now in the main, he was successful, except on two occasions. First he was glimpsed by Lysander, who probably uncertain about what he saw and a good officer, kept his mouth shut. Second, he was seen by one of the pages coming down from the tower and going out into the city. Now, before the Thebans cut the citadel off, people were allowed to go in and out of the citadel at will. Memnon wouldn’t have objected, would he have, my lord?” She paused.

“I know what you are going to say, Miriam,” Alexander replied. “He was to do nothing to antagonize the Thebans.”

“The Thebans also,” Miriam continued, “seemed to prefer such haphazard arrangements.” She paused. “I’ve said something.” She put her finger to her mouth. “I’ve said something. . ” She scratched the back of her head. “I don’t realize the significance of it. Anyway,” she continued, “matters changed when the siege began. There were no further strolls in the city. Instead the spy communicated with his Theban friends by fire arrow: the tip soaked in oil, the message tied to the other end. It would be shot to a specified location and the Thebans would then collect it. The spy, the Oracle, as you call him, also tried to unnerve Memnon: this business of Oedipus being seen around the citadel.”

“You said he was also seen beyond?”

“Oh, that was a Theban trick,” Miriam replied. “While the Oracle played the Oedipus in the Cadmea, some Theban played the role outside. It was to disconcert Memnon.”

“Why should they do that?” Alexander asked.

“You attacked Thebes,” Miriam replied, “because they rose in rebellion. They really thought you were dead and that the bones of you and your army were whitening in some mountain valley in Thessaly. It was a lie, a trick. The Thebans really believed the rumors and the spy did everything to encourage it. Whether he believed it himself, or whether he just wished to stir the Thebans up, we don’t know. In fact, the war was being fought in the mind and soul, especially of poor Memnon. The Oracle hoped our commander’s nerve would break, his spirit fail. Fearful of the Thebans, deeply anxious about Alexander and the army, Memnon might have been stupid enough to capitulate and ask for terms. Indeed, he was almost there, sending out Lysander to negotiate. Now I don’t think the Thebans wanted to kill Lysander. However, one of them foolishly said something that may have revealed the identity of the spy, so Lysander was killed and his corpse gibbeted to show how confident the Thebans were.”

“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.”

“And you know how dangerous it would be to spread such gossip?”

“I know,” he stammered.

Miriam watched those deep, watery eyes.

“So, why are you here, Timeon of Athens? At the banquet the other night you were more sure of yourself, issuing challenges. Now you’ve come here all atremble, wanting to speak to me, the Israelite woman.” Miriam studied his pallid face. “You’ve had fresh letters from Athens, haven’t you? The news of Thebes’ destruction has reached there. The pro-Macedonian faction is now in power; they don’t want you to do anything to upset Alexander now that Demosthenes and his demagogues have fled.”

Timeon just blinked.

“And, of course, you are wondering about yourself. After all, you were appointed official envoy when Demosthenes was cock of the walk in the Agora of Athens.”

“They say you have a bitter tongue.”

“Do they now, Timeon, so why are you here?”

“They also say you are fair and can’t be bribed.”

“You want me to act as mediator?”

Timeon nodded.

“If you could,” he paused, “if you could assure the king that what has happened in Thebes is not the work of Athens or its envoys.”

“Well, of course I will,” Miriam retorted coolly, “I mean, if that’s the truth.”

“It is, it is!”

“Then why are you so nervous?”

Timeon spread the fingers of his right hand.

“All of Greece has changed,” he murmured. “The wolf was bad, but the cub is even worse.” He lifted his head. “When Philip died we thought the power of Macedonia would collapse with him. There would be the usual bloodletting and Alexander would disappear. Now it’s all changed. Demosthenes was wrong. I do not wish to be crucified. And the Athenians don’t want a lake of ash where their city once stood.”

“Athens is safe.” Miriam hid her excitement. This treacherous envoy was going to offer her something. He wouldn’t dare go to Alexander or his companions: their moods were unreliable, their tempers savage.

“Everything has a price Timeon,” she declared. “And, as Aristotle said, even the gods can’t change the past. What I am interested in is what you are going to tell me. You are going to offer me something, aren’t you? I’ve read your playwright Aristophanes; he says you cannot make a crab walk straight. Perhaps he should have written, ‘you cannot make an Athenian tell the truth.’”

“And the wisest of the wise may err,” Timeon snapped back.

“Aristophanes?” Miriam asked.

“No, Aeschylus!” Timeon made to get up.

“Sit down, man!” Miriam soothed. “You’ve come here to buy Alexander’s good will, yes? To give him reassurance that you are not involved in what has happened, whatever that may be!”

Timeon pulled his cloak around him and nodded.

“And you’ve come to me,” Miriam continued, “because what you’ve got to say is very dangerous, isn’t it?”

Timeon breathed in rapidly.

“I have your word of honor?”

“You have my word,” Miriam declared.

“In Athens,” Timeon spoke hurriedly, “the news arrived that Alexander was dead and his army destroyed and that Olympias was facing a revolt in Pella. Demosthenes was ecstatic. The Thebans sent envoys and our council met with them in the dead of night. The Thebans said they had a high-ranking spy in the Cadmea, that they were going to throw off the Macedonian yoke, expel or kill the garrison, and rise in revolt. Wiser minds in our council urged caution. The Thebans were furious. We asked for proof, for the name of this spy. The Thebans were most reluctant. Demosthenes didn’t have it all his own way. Again the demand was made, and the Thebans replied that the Athenians would know the name well. When questioned further, the Theban envoy simply replied, ‘Haven’t you heard of Socrates’ pupil?’”

“Socrates’ pupil?” Miriam queried.

“That’s all they said. The envoys left and the council voted. Demosthenes wanted to send troops immediately to help Thebes but we were not so certain.”

“So you adopted a wait-and-see policy?”

“Of course we did,” Timeon retorted, “as did all of Greece.”

“And there’s more?” Miriam asked.

“Yes, there is.” The Athenian looked anxiously about. “Could I have a cup of wine?”

Miriam poured one and thrust it into his hands.

“When Alexander lay siege to Thebes, Demosthenes sent me here with strict instructions to keep Athens closely informed. Of course, I did. After all, I am only an envoy.”

“Of course,” Miriam echoed.

“Well, you know what happened. Thebes fell, the face of Greece changed for ever. Demosthenes lost control in Athens. Two days ago I received a mysterious message. I left the camp accompanied by one of my squires. We had to meet the sender in the olive grove near the shrine of Oedipus.”

“Why did you go?” Miriam interrupted.

“The note, which I’ve destroyed, simply said it was in the interest of a son of Athens, for had not both Sophocles and Oedipus found refuge in this city? We met at dusk; it was easy to slip out without Hecaetus noticing. The figure was shadowy; I could smell woman’s perfume on him.”

“How did his voice sound?”

“More a whisper, a hiss, as if he was holding something over his mouth. Despite the perfume, the voice was unmistakably male. He asked two things. One, was the city of Athens still interested in the Crown of Oedipus?” Timeon shrugged, “I said I didn’t know. And two, more important, would the city publish the truth if it was stolen? Again I replied that I didn’t know.”

“What happened then?” Miriam insisted.

“I told him that Athens was still a member of the League of Corinth and owed allegiance to Alexander of Macedon. The stranger became very angry. I wanted to question him further, but he disappeared; that’s all I know.”

“Is it?” Miriam asked.

Timeon held his right hand up.

“I swear by Apollo, by all that is holy, that that is all I know.”

Simeon pulled back the tent flap and entered. Miriam beckoned for him to leave. She could tell by the look of concern on Timeon’s face that he wanted no witnesses. The Athenian leaned forward.

“If Alexander learned this from any other source,” he hissed, “he would have my head, but Athens had no hand in it and does not wish to be involved.” And pulling up his hood, Timeon left the tent.

Miriam waited for her brother to reenter.

“We have a name,” she declared. “The Thebans believe that the Oracle was a ‘true son of Athens,’ a disciple of Socrates.”

“In which case,” Simeon replied, “Alexander should arrest Aristotle or Plato or dig up all the corpses. Miriam, that means nothing! Socrates and his circle have been dead for years!”

Miriam sat, eyes closed. She recalled the histories of Athens.

Simeon’s jaw sagged.

“Of course, Miriam! Alcibiades was one of those whom Socrates was accused of corrupting. He became a power in Athens during the war against Sparta. He led the disastrous expedition to Sicily and later sought exile in Persia. The Oracle wasn’t referring to the historical Alcibiades but to Memnon’s officer.”

Miriam tried to control her excitement. Alcibiades could provide the explanation for everything, she thought: He was foppish, petulant, probably a transvestite. It would have been easy for him to go around Thebes pretending to be a woman and attending secret, shadowy meetings with members of the Theban council.

Miriam recalled what the page had told her. How he had glimpsed a man dressed as a woman coming down the stairs of the tower. Was he the same one Lysander had glimpsed?

“Brother,” she urged, “send a courier to the Cadmea. Tell those officers I want to meet them again, urgently. Oh and this time let us bring some soldiers.”

Simeon tossed her the scroll sealed in the royal chancery. “This is your pass into the shrine.”

Miriam followed him out of the tent, stretched, and took a deep breath. The sun had now broken through, weak and watery. She became aware of the din in the camp.

Alcibiades, she thought; it was so simple! She recalled the words of Aristotle: “Miriam, you don’t have to search for the truth. You usually stumble over it.” She went back into the tent and got her cloak, took a sheath dagger from the chest and stuck it into the cord round her waist. Simeon returned, four soldiers trailing behind him. They all set off at a brisk pace through the camp, up the hill, and into the citadel. The officers and two pages were in the hall, lounging about on benches. They greeted her arrival with dramatic groans and moans. Cleon offered her some wine but she refused. Miriam stared around quickly. Alcibiades was missing!