by Stephen Fry
That was all he could get out of the Pythia. As ever with oracles, all supplementary questions were met with silence.
Oedipus left Delphi in a daze, striking out on a road that took him in the exact opposite direction from Corinth. He must never see Polybus and Merope again. The risk of harming Polybus through some accident was too great. And as for the second part of the prophecy … the idea made him feel physically sick. He was very fond of his mother, but in that way?
One thing was certain, the greater the distance he put between himself and Corinth, the better.
WHERE THREE ROADS MEET
Oedipus was beginning to enjoy his wanderings. As a prince of Corinth he had become accustomed to being escorted everywhere by stewards, pages and bodyguards. He found life on the road as a free and unaccompanied traveller full of interest. He took pleasure in finding ways to make the small supply of coins in his purse go further. He slept in hedgerows, offered himself up in each village and town he came to as a gardener, schoolteacher, minstrel, baker’s assistant or whatever might be needed. He was good with his hands, fast on his feet and matchlessly quick with his wits. Mental arithmetic, languages, accounting, the memorising of long lines of poetry – they all came easily and quickly to his supremely agile brain.
One afternoon, in the countryside outside the small town of Daulis, he found himself at a place where three roads met. While he stood debating with himself which one to take, an opulent chariot sped towards him. The old man driving stood up in his seat and tried to force him out of the way.
‘Move, peasant!’ he shouted and struck down with a whip.
This was more than the proud Oedipus could bear. He snatched at the whip and pulled, jerking the old man out of the chariot. Four armed men jumped down from the back and ran towards him, shouting. Oedipus wrested a sword from one and in the fight that followed killed three. The fourth ran away. When Oedipus stooped to examine the old man, he discovered that he had fatally broken his neck in the fall.
Oedipus covered the four corpses with earth and commended their spirits to the underworld. Uncoupling the horses from the chariot, he slapped their hindquarters and sent them skittering down the road.
Once again he debated which way he should take. In his head he named the choices ‘Road One’, ‘Road Two’ and ‘Road Three’, plucked a branch from an olive tree and picked off the leaves one by one, counting as he did so. ‘One, two, three … one, two, three … one, two, three … one, two! So be it. I take Road Two.’
What might have happened had one more leaf – or one fewer – grown on that branch we can never know. Matters of immense import may depend on such issues, but we can never do more than guess the outcomes of the roads we do not take.
Oedipus walked cheerfully down Road Two and that was that. His fate was sealed.
THE RIDDLE OF THE SPHINX
The province of Boeotia through which Oedipus had been walking was a land of pleasant fields, gentle valleys and sparkling rivers. He found that the path he had chosen rose up towards a mountain pass. A voice called to him.
‘Wouldn’t go that way, if I were you.’
Oedipus turned to see an old man leaning on a stick.
‘No? Why not?’
‘That’s Mount Phicium, is that.’
‘So?’
‘Haven’t you heard tell of the Sphinx?’
‘No. What is a “Sphinx”?’
‘I’m a poor man.’
Oedipus sighed and dropped a coin into the man’s outstretched palm.
‘Thankee kindly, sir.’ The old man wheezed and crinkled his eyes. ‘Some say the Sphinx was sent by the Queen of Heaven herself as a punishment to King Laius. You’ve heard of him, at least?’
Oedipus had always paid attention in the schoolroom. He had been obliged to commit to memory endless lists of dull provincial kings, princes and tribal chiefs. ‘Laius, King of Thebes. Son of Labdacus, son of Polydorus, son of Cadmus.’
‘You’ve got him. Great-grandson of the sower of the dragon’s teeth himself. Husband to Queen Jocasta and a mighty powerful king and lord.’
‘So why would Hera wish to punish him?’
‘Ah, well now. He raped Chrysippus of Pisa, so they say. The lad killed himself, at any rate.’
‘I heard the story. But surely that was ages ago?’
‘Twenty years or more. But what’s that to the gods?’
‘And so she sent this sphincter …?’
‘Ha! You’re a funny one. Sphinx, I said. Terrible creature, head of a mortal woman, but the body of a lion and the wings of a bird. You don’t want to mess with her. She stands at the top of the pass there, just where you was headed. She stops every traveller with a riddle. If they can’t answer it right, she throws them down to their deaths on the rocks below. Nobody’s answered the riddle yet. Trade nor traffic from the north can’t get through to Thebes. You want to go there, you’d best go all the way round the mountain to avoid her.’
‘I’m good at riddles,’ said Oedipus.
The old man shook his head. ‘See the buzzards circling in the air? They’ll be picking the flesh from your broken bones.’
‘Or from the sphincter’s.’
‘Sphinx, boy. That’s a Sphinx, and don’t you forget it.’
Oedipus left him cackling, wheezing and tutting, and walked on.
It was true that he was good at riddles. He had invented a whole new style of word game in which you rearranged the letters of one word to make another.fn9 He had stumbled across the idea as a child when told the story of Python, the great snake that Gaia – Mother Earth – had sent up to guard the Omphalos, the navel stone of Greece at Pytho, now called Delphi.fn10 Oedipus had excitedly pointed out to his mother that Typhon, another of Gaia’s great monster sons, shared the same letters as Python.
‘And Hera is the same as her mother Rhea!’ he had cried.
‘Very good, dear. But it doesn’t mean anything.’fn11
No, he supposed that it didn’t. But it was fun. Conundrums, puzzles and codes continued to delight him and bore most other people. Now the prospect of a life-or-death riddle appealed to his intellectual vanity.
The mountain pass was narrowing as he ascended. The old man had been right about the buzzards, a full dozen wheeled above him, screeching in anticipation.
‘Halt!’
He looked up and saw a winged figure crouching on a ledge above him. It leapt down and landed softly on the path in front of him, opening and closing its wings.
A human face, the body of a lion, just as the old man had said.fn12
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Oedipus.
‘Sir? Sir? Are you blind?’
‘Forgive me. Hard to tell. I can’t even be sure which is your face and which your arse.’
‘Oh, I am going to enjoy watching you die,’ said the Sphinx, her lion’s fur bristling.
‘You’ll have quite a wait,’ said Oedipus. ‘I don’t plan on doing that for years yet. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get through.’
‘Not so fast! No one passes me unless they can answer my riddle.’
‘Oh, I see. The riddle being why your mother didn’t strangle you at birth? No?’
The Sphinx, who thought herself exceptionally fine-looking – as indeed she was – spat with rage. ‘You will answer the riddle or die!’ She indicated the sheer face of the cliff below her. Oedipus looked down. Hundreds of bleached human bones lay scattered on the rocks beneath.
‘Ooh. Nasty. Right then, fire away. Haven’t got all day. Have to be in Thebes before night.’
The Sphinx settled herself down and tried to compose herself. She had never met anyone quite like Oedipus before.
‘Tell me this, traveller. What walks on four feet in the morning, two feet at noon and three in the evening?’
‘Hm … four feet in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening?’
‘Just give me the answer to that,’ purred the Sphinx, ‘and you may freely pass.’
Oedipus s
ucked in through his teeth. ‘Man, oh man,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘that’s a teaser and no mistake.’
‘Ha! You can’t solve it, then?’
‘But I did,’ said Oedipus raising his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’
The Sphinx stared. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I just told you. “Man, oh man,” I said. And “man” is the answer. When Man is born, in the morning of his existence, he crawls on all fours; in his prime, the noontime of his day, he goes upright on two legs; but in the evening of his life he has a third – a stick to help him on his way.’
‘B-but … how …?’
‘It’s called “intelligence”. Now let me try one out on you. Let me see … What has the face of a hag, the body of a sow, the wings of a pigeon and the brains of a pea? No?’
The Sphinx reared up with a screech and before she had time to open her wings, fell backwards off the cliff’s edge, claws thrashing the air, down onto the rocks below. With screams of delight, the buzzards swooped.
Oedipus passed on and began to make his own, more gentle, descent from the mountain.
The city of Thebes lay spread out in the valley below, threaded through by the waters of Lake Copais. As he went he encountered shepherds, goatherds and a body of soldiers who were all amazed to see someone coming down from the mountain pass. By the time he reached the gates of Thebes, the story of his defeat of the Sphinx had spread throughout the city. He was welcomed by an ecstatic populace, who carried him shoulder-high to the palace and the presence of their ruler, Creon.
‘You have rid us of a quite terrible problem, young man,’ said Creon. ‘That creature not only choked off an important commercial route, her presence caused many to believe that Thebes lay under a curse. Other cities and kingdoms were refusing to trade with us. My sister, the queen, wishes to thank you personally.’
Queen Jocasta welcomed the hero with a sweet smile. Oedipus smiled back. She was older than him by some years, but remarkably beautiful.
‘You are in mourning, majesty,’ he said bowing low and holding her hand for a little longer than many might have thought suitable.
‘My husband, the king,’ Jocasta replied. ‘He was ambushed and killed by a gang of robbers. My brother Creon has been ruling as regent ever since.’
‘My sincere condolences, madam.’
What a very attractive woman, Oedipus thought to himself.
What a very attractive young man, Jocasta thought to herself.
LONG LIVE THE KING
Oedipus stayed on in the royal palace of Thebes, an honoured guest. He had quickly proved himself invaluable to Creon. His grasp of the intricacies of commerce, taxation and governance astounded the older man. Jocasta, meanwhile, adored his company. They played games together, sang songs and composed poetry.
One afternoon Oedipus approached Creon and asked if he might have a private word with him.
‘It’s your sister Jocasta,’ he said. ‘We’ve fallen in love. I know she is older than me, but –’
‘My dear fellow!’ Creon grasped him warmly by the hand. ‘Do you think I’m blind? I saw from the first that there was something between you. Eros shot from his bow the moment you met. I couldn’t be happier. And Oedipus … if you are to marry the queen, why, you must be crowned king.’
‘Sir, I wouldn’t for a moment wish to usurp your –’
‘ “Usurp” poppycock. And no “sirs”, brother. A young king is just what the city needs. The people love you. You were sent by the gods, who can doubt it?’
And so, to widespread rejoicing, Oedipus married Jocasta and was crowned King of Thebes in a grand ceremony on the Cadmeia. The Thebans loved Oedipus. Aside from the great victory over the Sphinx, his arrival seemed to have brought the city luck.
In the opinion of Creon and the council of Theban elders, their new king was strikingly modern. Oedipus rarely conferred with priests. He was negligent in his attendance at the temples on all but the most important holy days. He was almost blasphemous in his casual approach to prayer and sacrifice. But he was remarkably energetic, efficient and effective. He drew up mathematical tables and charts connected to everything from taxation to population, he instituted laws on household and palace management, on justice and on trade.
The money from taxation and tariffs rolled in like never before, of which a proportion was expended on schools and gymnasia, asclepiafn13 and roads. Oedipus’s name for this radically new style of government was logarchy, ‘rule by reason’. Every Theban agreed that they had been ruled over by no wiser a king since the days of their great founder Cadmus.
King Oedipus and Queen Jocasta had four children: two boys, ETEOCLES and POLYNICES, and two girls, ANTIGONE and ISMENE. It was a happy family. With the city continuing to prosper and flourish so that it became the envy of the Greek world, onlookers predicted a long and successful reign.
And so it might have been, were it not for the outbreak of a terrible epidemic.
Rumours were heard of a family struck down with a disease that had made them vomit and flame with fever for a day before dying. Soon the sickness was smouldering through the streets of the poorer quarter of the city; then it burned like a wildfire through all of Thebes. Scarcely a household was unaffected.
The calm logic and reason that Oedipus espoused as the answer to all ills now looked insufficient. Frightened citizens crowded the temples and the air was soon filled with sacrificial smoke. Petitions reached the king, who turned to Creon.
‘I have to admit that I am stumped,’ said Oedipus. ‘I try to tell the people that plagues are part of the natural order of things, and will naturally pass in time, but they insist on believing they betoken some kind of divine punishment or cosmic retribution.’
‘Let me travel to the Delphic oracle and see if it offers any advice,’ said Creon. ‘What harm can it do?’
Oedipus was sceptical, but he consented. While Creon was away, Oedipus and Jocasta’s own daughter Ismene fell ill and nearly died. She was still recovering when Creon returned, grim-faced.
‘Delphi was crowded,’ he said. ‘I queued up as an ordinary citizen. When my turn came at last I asked the Pythia one question, “Why is Thebes suffering from plague?” ’
‘Not “How do we get rid of it?” ’ asked Oedipus.
‘It amounts to the same thing, surely?’ said Creon. ‘Anyway, this was the Pythia’s answer: “Thebes will be relieved when the murderer of King Laius is named and found.” ’
Jocasta gasped. ‘But that’s absurd. Laius was killed by a gang!’
Oedipus thought hard. ‘If it was a gang, one of them must have dealt the fatal blow. The truth can always be uncovered if you go about it systematically. But let me first say this. Make it known that whoever dares house or protect the killer of Laius will be punished. As for the killer himself – my curse is on him. He will wish he’d never been born. He will be identified, hunted down and justice served on him without mercy. I’ll see to it personally. So let it be proclaimed.’
‘Very good,’ said Creon. ‘And there’s always Tiresias. All the way home, I was thinking “Why on earth didn’t we consult Tiresias?” ’
‘Surely he can’t still be alive?’ Oedipus had heard of the great Theban seer. Everyone had. ‘He must be ancient.’
‘He is not young, certainly, but he still has his wits. We can send for him.’
Messengers were despatched to Tiresias. Oedipus was curious to meet the prophet who had undergone so much at the hands of the gods. As a young man, Tiresias had aroused the wrath of Hera, who turned him into a woman. He served in her temple as a priestess for seven years before she restored him to male form. Then he had the misfortune to attract her ire again and this time she struck him blind. Out of pity Zeus gave him inner sight, the gift of prophecy.fn14 For generations his wisdom and prophetic powers had been at the service of the Theban royal house, but now he lived in secluded retirement.
Tiresias was not pleased to be hauled to the palace in the middle
of the night and summoned before a man a quarter of his age. The interview did not go well. Oedipus expected all the deference due to a king and especially to the great ruler and Sphinx-slayer who had transformed the fortunes of Thebes and its people. Instead he was treated with grumpy insolence.
‘I am blind,’ said Tiresias, leaning on his long staff. ‘But it is you who cannot see. Or perhaps you refuse to see. Those who curse are most accursed. Those who look out are those who most need to look in.’
‘No doubt the unlettered and the credulous are fooled by your mystical drivel and portentous riddles,’ said Oedipus, ‘but I am not. Riddles just happen to be my speciality.’
‘I am not talking in riddles,’ said Tiresias, fixing his blind eyes on a spot just above Oedipus’s head. ‘I speak clearly. You want to find the polluter of Thebes, then look in the mirror.’
Oedipus could get no more out of him and sent him back to his villa in the country. ‘And put him in the most uncomfortable cart you can find. Let his mad old bones have some sense shaken into them as he goes.’
‘Damn such people,’ Oedipus said to Jocasta when he reported on the interview later. ‘The oracle at Delphi we know to be truthful. It is directed by Apollo and the ancient powers of Gaia herself, but this Tiresias is nothing but a fraud. Full of all that “You will not find the truth but the truth will find you”, “Seek not to know, but know to seek”, “You don’t make mistakes, mistakes make you”, rubbish. Anyone can do it, you just turn sentences upside down and inside out. Horse shit. Meaningless. He must think I’m an idiot.’
‘Sh …’ said Jocasta, ‘take wine and calm yourself.’
‘Ah,’ said Oedipus wagging his finger, closing his eyes and giving a fair imitation of Tiresias. ‘Take wine, but do not let wine take you.’
Jocasta laughed. ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t set too much store even by the oracle at Delphi. It foretold that Laius would be killed by his son, not by a gang of robbers.’
‘Yes, I meant to ask you again about the death of Laius,’ said Oedipus. ‘If he and his party were all killed, how can we find out anything about the gang responsible?’
