The Riddle Turns
“The question is not who should rule, but how we can so organize political institutions that bad rulers can be prevented from doing too much harm.”
— Karl Popper
Part III
After entering Thebes, Oedipus learned that the people mourned the loss of their king, and feared who would fill his throne: Laius had left no heir.
Then the Sphinx arrived with her riddle, demanding an answer. She killed those who could not provide one, piling at her feet the bones of the bold.
Her weight smothered life. Trade and travel fell to a crawl. The city grew still, silent, and the people longed for an answer.
Any answer.
Queen Jocasta’s brother, Creon, approached the stranger, thankful he had answered the riddle, and offered him the Queen’s hand.
Without question, he accepted.
Under this new king, trade and travel took again to their feet. Crops grew abundant once more. As the years passed, the still-beautiful Jocasta bore Oedipus four children—two sons and two daughters.
Yet slowly, the city grew sick. Trade and travel slowed. Crops blackened. Cattle wasted in their stalls. Mothers wept for children born blue and still. The aged wandered the streets, unsteady, backs bent over walking sticks, begging.
King Oedipus summoned Creon to his court and sent him to Delphi to learn what must be done to end the plague.
Creon inquired, and the oracle answered:
Ritual pollution brings this plague. The defilement remains: King Laius’s murderer roams within the city, unpunished.
Oedipus vowed to find the foul murderer, purge him from Thebes, and never rest until it was done.
He summoned the blind seer, Tiresias, and asked him: “Who roams within the city’s walls, defiling us? Who, though he has slain our king, walks among us unpunished?”
The old man stood mute.
Oedipus pressed: “Can you use omens or divination to learn his identity?”
Silence.
“You see what others cannot. Come now—tell me the truth. Tell me the man.”
Uneasy, the old man shook his head.
“Why do you turn pale?”
“No, my king, I dare not tell. No good can come from it. The truth will undo you.”
“You would betray the city? By God, tell me! I beg—”
Tiresias struck his staff against the stone. “You do not understand. I will not tell. Leave me to bear what I know alone.”
“You know—yet refuse to tell?”
The seer turned to leave.
“Insolence!” Oedipus erupted.
“You conspire against me, old man! It is you. You are the guilty man! You planned it. You had it done. I know it! Laius’s blood all but drips from your hands!”
“You force me to speak. You are the man you seek.”
Then he turned again to leave.
“And you turn your back on me, after such shamelessness?”
“You gave me no choice. I spoke the truth, and you refuse to hear it.”
“Say it again, then. Clearly. And mind yourself.”
“You are the murderer.”
“For this, charlatan, you will pay dearly.”
“Would you force me to say what more I know?”
“Say what you will, peddler of omens. Your blind visions mean nothing.”
“So be it: You live in shame with those most dear to you, and refuse to see it.”
“You dare speak further? Have you lost your wit? Gone mad?”
“You are the madman. Soon all will curse you as you now curse me.”
“Who put this poison in your mouth? Creon? Did he set you on me? Did he answer the riddle of the Sphinx? No, he did not. Did you? No, I did! I answered it alone. What do you know, for all your sacred arts? Nothing. Were you not blind, you would already have paid for this insolence.”
“I serve not Creon, but Apollo. You mock my blindness, yet refuse to see. I have spoken the truth. Ask yourself: whose house do you live in? Who is your father? Who is your mother?”
“Out of my sight!”
“You called me.”
“I did not know you would make a mockery of yourself.”
“Your parents thought me no fool.”
“My parents?”
“Your parents. Today you will find your father—and a broken heart.”
“Damn your riddles!”
Hearing the quarrel, Jocasta entered. Tiresias turned again to go. He paused as he passed her and spoke once more: “You once were a man to solve a riddle.”
Oedipus found no words. The echo of the seer’s walking stick faded down the hall.
Jocasta approached Oedipus and set a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Why so angry, my king? What troubles you now?”
“The old man—the blind seer, Tiresias. My enemies have leased his tongue. He dared accuse me of the crime I have vowed to punish.”
“Why do you bother with such nonsense? Pay him no mind. He’s but a blind old man who thinks he can speak for Apollo.”
“He spoke with confidence.”
“Men too often mistake confidence for truth.”
The queen paused, lowered her eyes, and spoke again:
“Long ago, Laius asked the oracle his fate, and was told he would have a son who would rise against him and take his life.”
Her eyes grew moist.
“He ordered that my newborn be taken—that our son be exposed on the mountainside.”
She steadied herself. “Laius was reckless in his caution.”
“You never told me: what happened to him?”
“He was slain—by robbers. Murdered where the three roads meet.”
She gave a short, cynical laugh. “So much for oracles!”
“Where the three roads meet?” He hesitated. Something in him stirred. “How long ago?”
“Long ago—before you came to Thebes.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was still a handsome man, though turning gray—nearly as tall as you. As confident as he was stubborn. And proud.”
“Reckless in his—” Oedipus shifted his weight.
“I heard a prophecy too—that I would kill my father and marry my mother.”
“And here we are! You see? Just silliness.”
“I fled the oracle to protect my parents.”
“And now you are a protective father yourself—and a king.”
“On the road to Thebes—where the three roads meet—I encountered an old man in a chariot. His herald ordered me out of the way, and I refused. The old man cursed my insolence and struck me. I killed him—and all his servants but one, who escaped.”
The queen’s eyes widened. “No—no. It was a band of robbers. One man could not have killed them all. That’s what his servant said.”
“His servant told you this? He witnessed it? Where is he now?”
“He fled. He begged to be sent from the city the day you were crowned.”
He studied her. “Why is your face pale?”
“It was a band of robbers. The servant said so.”
“Send for the servant.”
She reached for him again, took his hands, and searched his face. “Let it be. He begged to leave the city.”
“The city suffers. I will know.” He turned to his guards. “Bring him to me.”
“Not every riddle needs an answer.”
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