The Children of Jocasta

When he saw Jocasta suspended from the ceiling, Oedipus snapped in two. One of the guards reached above him to cut through the rope which had taken her life, and her body fell into her husband’s arms, as though he were carrying her across a threshold at the start of their life together. He held her for a moment, then laid her down on the bed, because she was heavier now than when she was alive. Creon stood back and allowed Oedipus to cling to his wife’s body and weep.

By the time Sophon arrived, it was clear to everyone that there was nothing he could do. But the guards who had gone to fetch him hadn’t delivered their message with any care for the fact that the man they sought was sitting in a room with the queen’s four children. Come quickly, they had said. The queen needs you. Sophon had hurried out behind them, and the children followed him because their mother was the queen and if she needed their tutor, she might well need them. Besides, they hadn’t seen her for two days, and if she wanted the doctor, she would want to see them and admire their songs and handwriting and stories. So they ran behind Sophon all the way to their mother’s room. They could hear a man crying, which sounded terribly wrong, as men never cried. Especially not their father, though they had never known another man to be in their mother’s rooms. But why would their father ever cry?

The grizzled watch commander had stepped outside the room to breathe some air untainted by the faint stench of death, and he noticed the children hurrying their way along the colonnade to see their mother. He muttered, ‘Stop them’, to the guard standing next to him, and pulled the bedroom door closed behind him. The guard stood for a moment, uncertain what he should do. His training had been in hand-to-hand combat: he had no idea what protocol required of him in this situation. But he had a son and a daughter the same age as Eteo and Ani, although his girl was the older one: tall with a grave expression that occasionally cracked into mirth when she found her little brother beguilingly funny.

‘Come on,’ he said, reaching out to Eteo, the child who had run most quickly through the courtyard. ‘You’re it.’ He tapped Eteo’s arm, and ran across the courtyard laughing like an imbecile. The watch commander was about to bellow at him, before noticing that his words had had the required effect: Eteo jabbed his brother and ran after the guard, squawking with delight at the unexpected game. Polyn patted Isy on the head and declared her it, and she raced after her siblings on her small, spindly legs. Picking on the youngest should have provided an easy victory, but Isy was nearly as tall as Ani already, and soon caught up with her sister.

The watch commander eased the door open a crack and peered inside.

‘The children are outside,’ he said. ‘Just so you know.’

Oedipus was impervious to words. He knelt by the side of the bed, his head resting on his wife’s belly. Sophon leaned over the top of the bed, but there was no need to check for a pulse. Jocasta had been dead for many hours already. Creon stood apart from the others, his expression one of confusion rather than grief. He caught the watch commander’s words, and frowned.

‘Take the children to the kitchens,’ he said. ‘Tell the servants to look after them. Keep them out of the way until I come and get them myself. Do you understand?’

‘Of course, sir,’ said the watch commander. His hair and beard were grey: he was too old not to know that today would reveal who was in charge of Thebes now the queen was dead.

Sophon stood up, the bones in his back cracking as he straightened. He looked at Oedipus’s shaking body and walked across the room to Creon.

‘How did this happen?’ he asked.

Creon shook his head. ‘I don’t know. She found those rumours very upsetting, about the missing baby. You know.’

Sophon looked puzzled. ‘The baby was born dead. She knew that.’

‘She didn’t know it well enough, perhaps,’ Creon replied.

‘I am sure she did. There must have been something else, to force her to commit such violence against herself.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Creon watched the old man realize he would not find his answers here.

‘Oedipus.’ Sophon spoke quietly, and Oedipus did not reply. The doctor shuffled over to the bed, and put his hand on Oedipus’s shoulder.

‘Oedipus, I need you to talk to me for a moment. Forgive me, but it cannot wait.’

Oedipus gulped himself quiet. He turned around, so he was sitting on the floor, facing the two men. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘I need you to tell me what happened,’ Sophon said.

Oedipus stumbled his way through a description of Jocasta’s final act as queen: calming the crowds at the gate and sending them home. His voice cracked when he told Sophon about Teresa and her taunts. But Sophon merely nodded and encouraged him wordlessly, as though he were trying to calm a frightened dog. He listened right through to the end, when Oedipus described the young woman who spat at his wife, and surely pushed her over the edge into madness, and then argued with him once they were back inside.

‘How else could she have done this to herself? To the children? To me?’ he asked. ‘Unless she was mad?’

Sophon didn’t reply, but asked instead if Jocasta had felt unwell after the unpleasant exchange with the young woman.

‘Unwell? I don’t know what you mean,’ Oedipus said. ‘She was upset, so she came back here and locked herself in her room. She might have had a headache. You know how often she was prey to them, especially after an experience like that.’

‘She didn’t talk to anyone else before she came in here? Stop to play with the children, or anything?’

‘No, of course not. If she’d taken time to play with them, she’d still be alive. I’m sure of it.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Sophon.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Oedipus was becoming angry.

‘You think she had plague.’ Creon realized the point of the old man’s questions. ‘You think the woman who spat on her gave her the plague.’

Sophon nodded. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘I have known Jocasta for almost thirty years. She didn’t kill herself because she thought she was involved in an incestuous relationship with her own child. The very idea is preposterous. She hated that people were suggesting it, and I’m sure she was angry and upset. But that wouldn’t be enough to make her take her own life. People kill themselves when they believe it’s the best option they have. They’re rarely correct, of course. But if they’re suffering terrible pain, or they know – without any doubt – that they will soon be suffering, it isn’t an incomprehensible choice.’

‘People survive the plague,’ Oedipus said. ‘She would have given herself that chance.’

‘I think she believed she would die,’ Sophon replied.

‘It’s that old hag’s fault,’ said Oedipus. ‘She will be executed before the end of the day. I’ll do it myself with my bare hands.’

‘Will that help matters?’ asked Creon.

‘Why would you say that?’ Oedipus asked, dragging himself to his feet. ‘Was this your idea? Were you in it together, you and Teresa?’

‘I understand that you have lost your wife,’ Creon replied. ‘I ask you to remember that I have lost my sister.’

‘Lost her? You couldn’t wait to be rid of her, could you? You’ve spent years weaselling your way into this palace. She never did anything without you in the end. Except this.’ He gestured at his wife’s body.

‘I had no choice,’ Creon said. ‘She needed someone to help. All the things you weren’t interested in. She needed someone to support her.’

‘So you’re accusing me of failing to take care of my wife?’ Oedipus demanded.

‘Gentlemen, please,’ Sophon said. ‘We have all lost someone we loved dearly. Now is not the time for attributing blame. It cannot help, and none of us can pretend that it is what Jocasta would have wanted. Please let’s all pause for a moment before we say things we might regret.’

‘I have nothing to regret,’ Oedipus said. ‘Throw him out of the palace and don’t let him back in here again. Not while I’m here. Not while I’m alive.’

The old watch commander, who had been standing by the wall in silence, stepped forward uncertainly.

‘You aren’t in charge of the guard,’ Creon said calmly. ‘They obeyed your wife, and now they obey me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Oedipus said.

‘It’s not ridiculous,’ Creon replied. ‘You are not king of Thebes and nor will you ever be. Your wife was the queen, and her son will be the king. Until then, you or I will be the regent. It’s perfectly clear in the laws of our city.’

Oedipus sprang at his brother-in-law, panting from the exertion, fingers curling into claws. The guard stepped forward between them, and echoed Sophon’s plea for calm. He looked over to the old man for guidance.

‘Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt this argument, which you seem desperate to have over the body of a woman who would have loathed it,’ Sophon said. ‘But if she did have the plague, her body is still contagious.’

Creon and Oedipus faced each other, the guard’s hands on their respective chests as he switched his gaze from one man to the other.

‘We must bury her,’ Sophon said. Oedipus opened his mouth to argue and Sophon raised a finger. ‘I know you are sceptical so let me give you my diagnosis. But don’t get any closer than you have been.’ Oedipus looked over at his wife, whose bloated face told him nothing.

‘She had a fever, undoubtedly,’ Sophon said. ‘You can see her hair was damp around the temples. It’s still clumped together now.’

‘Is that it?’ Oedipus asked. ‘You’re saying she had plague because her hair isn’t neat enough?’

‘No,’ Sophon replied. ‘I’m saying she had plague because I believe she did. I saw the woman you described on my way to the palace. She had a child with her, a girl, I think. They were both dead by the side of the road. I recognized her when you described her hair and her clothing. I’d already noticed the signs of fever in your wife, so your account merely confirmed my diagnosis. Also, and this may be the most crucial point . . .’

Oedipus ran his hand across his forehead. He was burning from the shock and the grief and the anger.

‘I think you have a fever,’ said Sophon. ‘You may be in the early stages of the plague, having caught it from Jocasta before she died. You need to be quarantined, and we need to cool you down as soon as we can. I’m going to send for some ice, as soon as you agree to let me treat you. I don’t want you to be frightened. The effects of the disease vary and you may survive it perfectly well. I did, after all. But please believe me when I tell you I hope very much that you will heed my advice and stay away from your children.’

Oedipus slumped forward, unable to argue further. He staggered across the room to a couch and sank onto it, leaning his head back against the wall. Sophon took this as consent, and asked the watch commander to help wrap Jocasta’s body. They peeled the sheets off the bed and wrapped them around the queen. Sophon sent another guard to the ice store, and asked him to bring as much ice as he could carry, and place it in the bath. Creon stood back, watching the men in silence. He could not help wrap his sister, but he could attend to the burial of her body.

‘There is a grave for plague victims just outside the city wall,’ he murmured to Sophon, who nodded. ‘We’ll take her straight there.’ He turned to the watch commander. ‘Thank you, sir, for your loyal service in this matter. Will you help me to carry the queen away?’

The watch commander was a widower and childless. He preferred to help Creon than ask one of his men to take the risk.

‘Yes, sir,’ he replied. ‘Now?’

‘Now.’

‘I’ll send word ahead that we’ll need to exit the city shortly,’ he said, and disappeared through the door. The ice had now arrived, and Sophon wrapped a large piece in a muslin cloth, and persuaded Oedipus to lie down on the couch, before resting the cold block on Oedipus’s brow. ‘Lie still,’ he said. ‘The cooler you are, the better you’ll feel.’

Oedipus did not reply. Once he knew his diagnosis, he could no longer pretend he felt well enough to stand and fight. But still, he could not tolerate what was happening around him.

‘She should be buried properly,’ he said, his eyes closed. ‘Not like this.’

‘There’s no other way,’ Creon replied. ‘The sooner she’s buried, the safer everyone else will be. I’m sorry. You know as well as I do that she would never want to put her children at risk.’

Oedipus groaned, but did not speak.

‘We need a stretcher to carry her,’ said Sophon.

‘The men can build a litter,’ said Creon, and he left to give the order.

‘You can’t let them do this to her,’ Oedipus said.

‘There’s nothing else to be done,’ replied the doctor.

‘What about the children? They’ll want a tomb they can visit, for God’s sake. They’ve lost their mother.’

‘We’ll think of something,’ Sophon said. ‘Don’t worry about it now.’

After a time which seemed far longer to Sophon than to Oedipus, Creon and the watch commander returned with a makeshift stretcher. They laid it down on the bed next to Jocasta, and moved her onto it. They looked at one another and nodded, then lifted her. Sophon held open the door as they made their slow progress. The three men walked together, past the guards who hailed their queen as she left the palace for the final time. There was a scurrying sound from across the courtyard by the kitchens, but Sophon peered at the shadows and could see nothing. The men continued through the second courtyard, Creon wondering how he would announce to the city that the queen was dead. They were concentrating so hard on carrying her that no one heard the bedroom door, banging shut a second time.

The slaves all knew what had happened. The palace had never contained news or even gossip for a moment. Perhaps he would be too late to make any announcement, Creon thought. This scandal would spread more quickly than any disease. But they came out of their kitchens, their guardhouses and their posts, all saluting the dead queen. Creon’s jaw was set hard, but Sophon – who had seen so many die, and so many younger than Jocasta – could conceal his grief no longer. The tears ran down his cheeks, gathering in his damp beard. And still they carried her.

They entered the public courtyard, although the gates were still closed, and it was empty, except for the guardsmen who watched their commander struggling to keep his grip on the wood, and wished they could help. The sky was overcast, but it would not rain today. As the men reached the main gate into the marketplace, the guards opened it and waved them through.

Without speaking, the three of them turned to the left and continued their journey. The market was closed, so no one stood by to see them. They walked until they reached the small gate in the city walls, which led them to the Outlying. The stench of the plague pit was undeniable. Creon wished he could raise his sleeve to his face, to cover his nose. But it was impossible: he couldn’t take the weight of the stretcher with just one hand.

No one watched over the plague pit: there was no need. People brought their dead if they had to. Journeys here were always brief and brutal. The men put their burden down on the ground for a moment, while they decided where they should go. Creon glanced at the contents of the pit and shuddered. Most people didn’t have sheets to spare for their loved ones’ dignity, so the corpses were covered in the clothes they had died in, or nothing at all. He and the watch commander massaged their shoulders and arms, trying to revive them for one last exertion.

‘Over there.’ Sophon pointed to the far side of the pit. ‘There’s a jar of quicklime at the side of the pit there. We lower her in and then sprinkle that over her.’

Creon and the watch commander nodded. Neither had the energy to speak. They bent down, and lifted Jocasta one last time.

‘No,’ said a voice. ‘You can’t.’

*

They turned to see Oedipus, raving with anger, or the plague, or both. ‘You can’t leave her here. You can’t.’

Sophon walked back towards him and looked at his fevered eyes. ‘We must, my friend,’ he said. ‘There’s no choice.’

Creon and the commander had not stopped walking, and Oedipus screamed when he looked past Sophon and saw they had gone further away. ‘No.’

He pushed Sophon in the chest. The old man almost lost his balance, but recovered before he fell, and watched as Oedipus staggered after his wife.

There was no hope of catching them. Two healthy men, even carrying a corpse, could move more quickly than a man running a vicious fever. So by the time he reached them, sweat dripping down his face, they had already thrown the queen into the pit. For a terrible moment, Sophon thought Oedipus was going to hurl himself in after her. But he did not. Instead, he collapsed to his knees and wept as Creon and the watch commander stood catching their breath. Creon patted the commander’s shoulder, thanking him for his work. The commander raised his eyebrows in a question, and Creon nodded. He would prefer to do the final task alone. The commander saluted and withdrew, back towards the city and the palace. Creon reached over for a shovel which had been left beside the pit, and began to scatter lime across his sister’s body.

Oedipus could not tolerate anything that was happening in front of him. He wrenched himself back onto his feet, and grabbed for the shovel in Creon’s hand. The two men teetered for an infinite moment by the side of the mass grave. Creon had to let go of the shovel to steady himself, and Oedipus grabbed it from him and swung it towards Creon’s head. Creon dodged the blow, but Oedipus was readying himself to swing again. Creon looked around him for something he could use to defend himself. As Sophon watched him make a decision, he cried out, trying to stop it. But he was too far away, and the wind carried his voice towards the mountains.

Oedipus swung the shovel a second time, like an axe. And Creon ducked, scooping the powdered quicklime into his hardened hands. When Oedipus tried to hit him a third time, Creon flung the lime in his face.

Sophon had treated men in every stage of illness and injury, and he knew he would never again hear a sound like Oedipus made, as the caustic powder ate through his eyes. Creon could not have known what would happen when the lime met damp human tissue. His expression, even from a distance, was one of total horror. He ran from Oedipus, who had finally dropped the shovel so he could ball his hands into his eyes. But the pain was too great, and he could only stand and howl.

The horror was replaced on Creon’s face by something else. ‘Now you scream,’ he said quietly. ‘Now you know what pain is. I made that sound too, last summer. Not when I found the message from Eury saying she had the fever and had left. I didn’t want to upset my son, you see, so I kept quiet.’ He walked back towards his brother-in-law, safe in the knowledge that Oedipus could not see him. ‘But when it was time to open up our house again, eight days later, do you know what I saw? I saw my dead wife, lying beside the walls of her own house, mourned but unburied. She must have sat beneath the windows, listening out for our boy, hoping she wouldn’t hear him falling ill. Hoping she would live long enough to hear that she hadn’t infected him. And she died where she had collapsed, alone, a few feet away from her husband and her son, unable to touch them or speak to them. And when I saw her ruined body, waiting for us outside, then – you can believe it – I screamed as you have screamed. But for another, not myself.’

And then Sophon could hear nothing, but Oedipus’s anguished breaths, and Creon’s trudging steps.

‘Come on,’ said Creon, as he reached the old man. ‘We must go back to the city.’

Sophon looked at him. ‘We can’t leave him here.’

‘I can,’ said Creon grimly. ‘I am regent now. Thebes will never accept a blind man, an incomer, as her king. And he will be better dying here than giving the plague to his children. My sister would say the same thing if she were alive.’

‘She loved him very dearly,’ Sophon said.

‘She loved them more,’ Creon replied. ‘I am ordering you to accompany me to the palace. You will stay in quarantine and tell the slaves how to protect the children. He may have infected them already. In which case, you must tend to them and save their lives. If you prefer to stay here, trying to treat a dead man, I cannot stop you. But you will be throwing your life away. Come back with me. The gates will be closed once I return. They will never be reopened.’

Sophon looked away to the man demolished by every kind of agony, and he looked back at the man who had turned into a king.