Alexander narrowed his eyes. “You are free to go.”
Niarchos made to object.
“Shut your mouth!” Alexander snapped. “You are free to go! Simeon write out a pass! I’ll seal it myself. Niarchos, that money pouch! Come on, it’s so heavy you can’t even walk straight!”
The Cretan handed it over. The rest of the officers were now laughing, their mood ever fickle. They knew about Niarchos’s love of money; he was a brave fighter but he had combed the ruins looking for anything that glittered. Niarchos sullenly handed it over. Alexander threw it, and the woman deftly caught it.
“My scribe will write out the pass,” Alexander declared. “You will also get new clothes, horses, saddlebags, food, wine, and a soldier to guide you to wherever you wish to go.” He glanced away. “My blood has cooled. Alexander of Macedon does not make wanton war on widows and children. And, as for the officer, he shouldn’t have been drunk on duty. He deserved what he got.”
The woman now crouched down to comfort her children. Simeon found a place to sit cross-legged, his writing tray resting on his thighs. Niarchos was glowering at Alexander, but the king chucked him under the chin.
“I’ve got a present for you Niarchos.”
The Cretan’s eyes glowed.
“It’s a cup of pure gold.” He put an arm round the Cretan’s shoulders. “Come, let’s drink.” Alexander sauntered off. Niarchos had now regained his good humor, and the rest joined in the banter.
Simeon finished the letter. Miriam made a move toward the woman.
“Thank you.” The woman held a hand up. “But leave me alone. I and my children shall soon be gone from here.”
Miriam turned away and walked up the incline, through the ruined palisade, and into the Cadmea. The place was fairly deserted now. There was no city to guard, no attack expected. Most of the garrison had drifted back toward the main Macedonian camp. Only a few soldiers remained, lounging against the wall, playing dice or sleeping off a day’s drinking. A guard came across; Miriam showed him the royal seal and the man hastily withdrew. The tower was also deserted though in the mess hall Miriam glimpsed the two pages still using the table to play with their magnets. They looked up as she entered.
“Do you have breasts?” one of them called.
“Aye, and a brain,” Miriam retorted. She sat on the stool and watched. They were gambling for coins. One held the magnet, the other pulled out iron filings from a bag and wagered how far they would have to be before the magnet pulled them close. The game did remind her of the lectures in the groves of Midas. Aristotle had been fascinated by magnets. He’d expanded his teaching to talk about the properties of the earth, and did it contain a magnetic force?
“Do you want to wager?” one of the pages abruptly asked.
Miriam got up, closed the door, and came back. She opened her own purse and shook a few coins out onto the table.
“I’d like to ask you some questions.”
The boys immediately ceased their game.
“You are pages of the royal court?”
“Oh no! We are Thebans.”
Miriam looked nonplussed.
“We are orphans,” the elder one said.
“Before things turned sour, Memnon took us in. We don’t know who our father and mother were. We might be Thebans. Someone told us that we were bastards.”
“Do you know what that means?” Miriam asked.
The older one, thin-faced and cheeky, nodded. He looked tough; the younger one was more sly-eyed. Street children, Miriam thought, who hang around soldiers’ camps.
“Anyway, Memnon took us in. He was a crusty old bugger but fair. We cleaned the slops, ran messages.”
“But the Macedonians destroyed your city?” Miriam asked.
“Not our city,” they both chorused.
“What are your names?”
“Memnon called us Castor and Pollux. We asked him why, and he just laughed. We thought he liked bum boys.”
“And?”
“Then we heard one of the serving wenches squealing in his chamber. But you can’t say the same about the rest.”
“His officers?” Miriam queried.
“Bum boys the lot of them,” the elder one said.
“You are?”
“Castor.”
“What do you mean they are bum boys?”
“By Apollo’s cock,” Pollux retorted, using a soldier’s favorite oath, “they were always clinging to each other in the stables or in their chambers. Demetrius and Alcibiades, Melitus and Patroclus. If they were dogs you’d throw a bucket of water over them.”
“They were lovers?”
“We didn’t say that,” Castor declared, his eyes fixed on the coins. “They just like each other’s bottoms.”
Miriam hid a smile. Sodomy amongst the Macedonian soldiers was common; many of them were bisexual. In her youth she had been shocked, but now she glanced away; if the truth were known, she really didn’t care about Macedon or its army. Alexander was different.
“And Cleon?” she asked.
“Oh, he was fair enough Memnon’s man. He protected his captain like an old woman would her solitary chicken.”
“And the night Memnon died?”
“No one knew about it,” Castor replied. “Not till first light and the poor bugger’s body was found at the foot of the tower. I think Patroclus was on guard. Cleon was furious. They had a meeting here in the hall, Patroclus swore he heard nothing from the captain’s chamber.”
“Why do think Memnon died?” Miriam asked.
“He was lonely,” Castor replied. “He thought there was a traitor among his officers. It was common gossip. To be blunt, mistress, everyone was terrified! They thought the Thebans were going to attack, break in, and crucify us as they did poor Lysander.”
Miriam pushed two coins down the table.
“And do you know who the traitor was?”
“It couldn’t have been Cleon or Memnon.”
“Why is that?” Miriam asked the younger one.
“One night Cleon was in his captain’s chamber. I came up with some wine and a bowl of fruit. There were voices raised.”
“And what was said?”
“Cleon was talking to his captain. He agreed there was a traitor in the garrison. Cleon was terrified that this traitor would open the gates and allow the Thebans in. He was begging Memnon to double the guard, which the captain did. Anyone who went near the gate at night would have had an arrow in his gullet. And then Cleon said ‘If they break in, sir, you’ll not let them take me alive? You’ll kill me won’t you?’ Memnon scoffed, but Cleon insisted. I paused on the stairway. I love hearing conversations. Cleon asked Memnon if he had his suspicions about who was the traitor? Memnon said. ‘Whoever it is must be an archer, that’s right!’ Cleon asked why. Memnon replied that he had been on top of the tower late one night and had seen a fire arrow shot from the yard below. It went across the palisade. I thought I had heard enough,” he stammered, “so I brought in the wine.”
“But you left hurriedly?” Miriam asked.
“They closed the door,” the page replied cheekily.
“But you listened at the keyhole?”
“Memnon begged Cleon to discover who the spy was. Cleon agreed, though he said something strange. . ” The page looked at the small pile of coins near Miriam’s elbow. She pushed two across the table.
“Go on,” she said.
“Cleon said that if the assassin struck, he’d strike at Memnon. Cleon thought that the Thebans hoped Memnon would join Lysander; they then would have killed the two principal officers, and the garrison would have surrendered. Memnon agreed. Cleon told him to bar and bolt the door and to stay well armed. ‘They’ll try to kill you here,’ Cleon warned. Memnon pointed to that bloody dog he kept.”
“Where is he now?” Miriam interrupted.
“Oh, he’s been taken into the camp by that other bum boy, the one with dyed hair.”
“Ah, Hecaetus.”