“Of course,” Miriam interrupted, “and if the citadel was attacked, the Macedonians would have sold their lives dearly.”
“Naturally.”
“But if Pelliades and Telemachus wanted the Macedonian garrison to leave, why didn’t they negotiate with Lysander instead of killing him?”
“Jocasta never understood that,” Antigone replied. “You see, when Pelliades was talking about negotiations and avoiding bloodshed, Jocasta offered her mediation. She was a priestess; she would guarantee Lysander’s safety. Pelliades seized on that, claiming it would be very useful.”
“But what changed his mind from honorable negotiations to foul murder, displaying Lysander’s corpse on a cross?”
“Jocasta said,” Antigone went and sat at the foot of the stairs, “she said it all occurred so quickly. As you know, the Thebans had built a palisade around the Cadmea.”
“Until then,” Miriam asked, “the Macedonians had been allowed to wander through the city?”
“Oh yes, until everything became tense and rumors started to spread. You see, at first, they were just rumors. Alexander dying, his army being defeated, a revolt in the Macedonian capital at Pella. When these rumors were confirmed as fact,” Antigone sighed, “the palisade was built, the citadel put under a virtual state of siege.”
“Then negotiations were opened?”
“Yes, and you know what happened. Captain Memnon sent out Lysander.” Antigone waved her hand. “You asked me why they killed Lysander. Afterward Pelliades came here; he tried to make his peace with Jocasta.” She smiled wryly. “He wasn’t even allowed in the yard. So I had to go out to meet him at the gate. Of course, I was furious as well. I asked him why he had violated Jocasta’s oath, his promise to her and to me. Pelliades was more sober-minded now. He said that when Lysander came out, one of the Thebans councillors had said something that, if Lysander took it back to the citadel, might reveal the identity of their spy. Indeed, Lysander seemed to recognize this; he became alarmed and stepped back. The councillor, realizing his mistake, drew his dagger and, before Pelliades could stop him, plunged it into Lysander’s throat. Pelliades claimed that he had no choice but to display the corpse, turn what had happened to their advantage, show the garrison that there was really no hope whatsoever.”
Miriam opened the door and stared out. The officer was arranging a guard around the house. She closed the door and leaned against it, a tingle of excitement in her stomach. She had finally discovered a loose thread.
“And you have no idea,” she asked, “what this councillor said?”
Antigone looked as if she was going to shake her head.
“Please!” Miriam went and knelt before her. “Pelliades has gone. Thebes is a desert. It’s no longer now a question of just Macedon. Jocasta’s murder must be avenged.”
Antigone put her face in her hands.
“I did ask Pelliades. He was furious at the councillor. Oh, they didn’t care very much about Lysander, but their spy in the Cadmea was very valuable. If I remember correctly, the councillor jokingly referred to the spy as a woman.”
“A woman?” Miriam exclaimed.
“That’s what he said. It apparently meant something to Lysander. According to Pelliades, Lysander became pale. He actually spat out, ‘That treacherous bitch!’ ” She spread her hands. “That’s all I can tell you.”
Miriam went and opened the door. She called across to the officer and asked him to send a message to the Cadmea demanding that the officers Demetrius, Patroclus, Melitus, Alcibiades, together with Cleon, meet her in the mess hall.
“May I have an escort as well?” she added.
“Of course the officers are ready. And by the way, mistress, my men have scoured the woods, and they can find no trace of the attacker.”
“And his weapons?” Miriam asked.
“As I have said, no trace.”
Miriam thanked him and closed the door. Antigone still sat at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, rocking gently backward and forward. Miriam caught her by the arm and helped her to her feet. “You’re safe,” she reassured her. “Alexander will not lift his hand against you.” Miriam walked Antigone away from where the others, now much calmer, sat in the kitchen peering out. “Antigone, I trust you. Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Antigone’s dark-green eyes shifted.
Miriam continued, “The other priestesses, could they have been involved in Jocasta’s death? Let me explain. Someone is able to move around the Macedonian camp.”
“They were all in the house when that man attacked.”
“No, no,” Miriam declared, “what happens if there’s a killer, and a woman, one of the priestesses, is working with him?” Miriam flinched at the hardness in Antigone’s eyes. “I have helped you. I have confided in you and for that you have my thanks and Alexander’s protection.”
Antigone’s face softened. “I apologize,” she murmured, “but the Crown is gone, the shrine is violated. What happens to us now?”
Miriam patted her on the shoulder. “Alexander will take care of you. There are other temples, other shrines that could use your skills. I beg you to reflect further on what I have said. Is there anything else you can tell me? Be prudent.” She stepped away. “And do not leave this house.”
Miriam made her farewells and reached the Cadmea just after noon. During her walk back she could see that Alexander had acted vigorously. The revelry in the camp had been cut short. Soldiers and archers now patrolled the olive groves. An entire corps had been deployed around the shrine. At the citadel the garrison had been strengthened, the men standing to arms. Officers and heralds were moving about, proclaiming that no Macedonian was to wander by himself. Any stranger who approached an outpost must be recognized as an enemy. She found Demetrius and the rest waiting for her in the mess hall, lounging on benches; this time there were no grins or sly jokes. They soon assembled around the main table.
“I can see that you have heard the news.” She bit her tongue.
“What news?” Alcibiades lisped.
“The dead guards?” Cleon asked.
“And the other business?” Demetrius snapped.
“What other business?” Miriam demanded.
“Oh, we have heard gossip, rumor. Something happened at the Oedipus shrine.”
“I have not come to talk about that. Is it possible to have some watered wine, food? I haven’t eaten since last night.”
Cleon hurried off to the kitchen. He brought back a small bowl of watered wine, cut-up bread, a small pot of honey, and some rather wizened apples.
“It’s the best I can do,” he apologized.
Miriam thanked him. She nibbled at the food and sipped at the wine.
“I have learned two things,” she said, clearing her mouth. “First, before matters became tense in Thebes, you were allowed to wander the city at will?”
“Of course,” Demetrius replied. “Beer shops, wine booths, the pleasure of the brothels. You know soldiers, Miriam, no commander likes to keep them cooped up like chickens. But, as I told you, the rumors started, two of our lads disappeared. Memnon ordered us back into the citadel and then the palisade was built.”
“But you could go where you wanted before things turned sour?”
“Oh, yes,” he agreed.
“What’s the second thing?” Melitus asked.
“Ah!” Miriam put the wine bowl down. “I know why Lysander died. I honestly think,” Miriam continued, “the Theban council simply wanted to get you out of the Cadmea and well away from Thebes. There was no secret plan to massacre you. They simply wanted you out and their citadel back. Now, in the negotiations between the Thebans and Lysander one of the councillors made a terrible mistake. He referred to their spy as ‘that woman.’ Now apart from the servant girls, there was no high-ranking lady or wife of an officer. Yes?” She studied their faces quickly and caught the flicker in Alcibiades eyes. “However, Lysander seemed to know exactly what this councillor was talking about. He reacted. The Thebans realized their spy had been betrayed-”