Free A Murder in Thebes (Alexander the Great 2) by Paul Doherty

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 saunteredoff. 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