“And you and he would just talk, would you? Is that why a leading Theban councillor came to the shrine, to see his beloved niece? Or was it something else? Do you know, Antigone, I believe you seduced one of the officers in the citadel. If you painted your face, lost that reverential look, and donned an oil wig like the women of Egypt wear, you’d be very beautiful, quite ravishing.”
“I thank you for the compliment,” came the cool reply.
“You seduced one of the garrison officers, a man open to bribery. He became the Oracle. You told him what to do. Rumors were sweeping Greece that Alexander was dead and the Macedonian army no more. In Thebes, Pelliades and Telemachus fanned these sparks to a flame, especially when they received confirmation from a Macedonian officer.”
“So I deceived my uncle?”
“Oh, don’t look so round-eyed, Antigone, you know you really should act in Olympias’s play. The queen would take to you like she does to one of her vipers. You didn’t really care about Pelliades or the Thebans. And it wasn’t very difficult for your lover in the citadel to confirm the rumors, started by other Persian spies, that Alexander of Macedon was no more.”
Antigone’s brows knit together.
“But I don’t understand, Israelite. You talked about my uncle’s visits here and yet the spy was in the citadel?”
“That was the transparent beauty of your scheme.” Miriam shifted on her stool. “Until the siege began, the Macedonians were able to wander where they wished. That’s how you enticed the officer, wasn’t it? A man who came here to see the shrine, susceptible to your charms and to the wealth and prospects you offered. At first he may have been reluctant, but eventually, like all traitors, he embraced the whole treason, just as he embraced you, body and soul. You played a very treacherous game. You told your uncle that one of the garrison had come to the shrine. Oh, you. .” Miriam shook her head, “. . you wouldn’t tell him that he was your lover, no more than you’d reveal that you were a Persian spy, but you would tell him that he’d confessed to you some dreadful news, that Alexander and his army had been destroyed. Pelliades and Telemachus, eager to throw off Macedonian rule, would scarcely believe such marvelous news. However, thanks to Persian gold, similar rumors were seeping through all of Greece, so they accepted it as a truth revealed by the gods. They would often come out here to see how much more you had learned and you would tell them about the garrison. How some of the officers were weak but that the two leaders Memnon and Lysander, well, they were Alexander’s men, body and soul, and they wouldn’t frighten easily.” Miriam paused. Antigone was now watching her like a cat, head down slightly, glaring at her from under her eyebrows. “Pelliades,” Miriam continued, “encouraged you further; that’s why you used Jocasta and the priestesses here to open negotiations with the Macedonian in the citadel.”
“But Jocasta was her own person,” Antigone snapped.
“Jocasta loved you,” Miriam retorted. “I could see that. She would do whatever you asked. Go out into the night to meet a stranger, or act as the broker of peace for your uncle. Now we come to Lysander.” Miriam brushed the hair from her brow. “I really thought you were telling us the truth behind Lysander’s death, about one of the Theban councillors almost betraying the identity of the spy in the citadel. It was all a lie. The spy never went into Thebes. He never met Pelliades, Telemachus, or anyone else. The only person he met,” Miriam pointed across the chamber, “was you, somewhere in the olive grove. He’d come here disguised as a woman, wouldn’t he? I suppose that was your idea? You lent him the perfume, the paint for his face, the gray cloak. You told him what to say and what to do. To any onlooker, you’d be two women talking.”
“Do you have proof of all this?” Antigone intervened.
“Logic is better than proof. Antigone, why should a Macedonian officer dress up as a woman to meet Thebans? They’d see through the disguise and it would afford him little protection. One member of the Macedonian garrison nearly stumbled on the truth: poor Lysander. One day, by chance, he came into the grove. He glimpsed something extraordinary, one of his compatriots dressed as a woman, slipping through the trees. Now, Lysander probably dismissed this as some sexual escapade. He may not even have been sure who the man was. What he didn’t know was that the spy had also glimpsed him. Frightened about what Lysander might eventually do, you persuaded your uncle to open formal negotiations and entice Lysander out. You were very persuasive. Pelliades would listen. If you could entice Lysander, even Memnon, out of the citadel and kill both of them, your spy in the Cadmea would be protected and the others might be persuaded to surrender. In the end, Pelliades had to accept Lysander alone.”
“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.”