Antigone

 The end of a war is rarely the end of the story – and so begins the tale of Antigone, daughter of King Oedipus and Queen Jocasta of Thebes. 

Antigone bore the burden of eldest daughter, the third of four children. Her brothers, twins, were raised inseparable, and their synchronicity was no mistake, for they planned to rule Thebes together as twin kings. Though they rarely disagreed in their youth, as they grew, they became more and more different. When the death of their father left them in charge of Thebes, the strife only grew stronger. Polynices, the older of the two only by a moment, was the first to speak up, suggesting his brother Eteocles cede the throne. The two quarreled then, so loudly they could be heard from the street, and the townspeople began to take sides. Thus began the Theban Civil War. 

The battles were long and bloody, and the forces of both sides suffered great losses. The greatest losses, though, were Polynices and Eteocles themselves, two brothers pitted against each other by circumstance, perishing just the same. 

While both sides fought fiercely and neither leader survived, the winner, if you can call him that, was declared to be Eteocles. His right hand man, Creon, stepped into the role of king, vowing to rule as he believed Eteocles would have. His first decree – an edict stating that last rights would not be read to the traitorous brother Polynices, and that his body would be left outside the city walls, on the battlefield, for the vultures. 

For this, Antigone would not stand. She strode headlong into the court of Creon, planting herself firmly in his gaze. “My brother will not be disrespected.” 

“I won’t allow you to bury him. He is a traitor, and deserves to be remembered as such,” Creon spoke bluntly, staring down the bridge of his nose at Antigone. 

“This is not what Eteocles would have wanted – They were brothers. They were my brothers,” Antigone pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. 

At this, Creon looked away, breaking his gaze upon the crying girl. “Weep all you want. I cannot allow it. What kind of king would I be if I did? Go now, and do not ask again.” 

Antigone, never one to give up easily, wiped her cheeks, turned on her heel, and left the throne room. She walked briskly through the halls, searching desperately for her sister Ismene. 

Antigone revealed to her sister her plot to  sneak beyond the city gates that evening and bury her brother, no matter what punishment may befall her. She would not let him suffer in the Underworld, no matter his side of the war. 

“But…. I can’t do it alone.” 

She paused as the color drained from Ismene’s face. Ismene had never shared Antigone’s fire, and she wouldn’t start now. “I won’t. I can’t stop you, but if you want to do this, I won’t help.” Ismene stood to leave, but lingered a moment, knowing her sister would not let her resistance foil the plans she had laid. “Give Polynices my love, and tell him I’m sorry.” 

That evening, as the palace turned in for bed, Antigone did not sleep. She tossed and turned, fighting her own conscience, until she could stand it no longer. She slid out of bed, donned her cloak, and slipped out the front gates. Under the cover of the moonless night, Antigone laid her brother to rest. 

As dawn broke, Antigone returned to her quarters, awaiting the fate she knew was coming. As the morning light grew brighter and brighter, the sounds of the palace grew too – the sneaking whispers of Antigone’s crime echoed around her. Eventually, word made its way to Creon, and Antigone was the only suspect. She would not deny her actions, though. 

Her punishment was enacted swiftly. Guards dragged her straight from the throne room to a cave just outside of town. The men worked tirelessly to seal the door as fast as possible, Antigone seated all the while, watching without a word. 

Antigone was swept away with such haste for a reason – Creon feared the return of his son, Antigone’s fiance, Haemon. Creon worried that with his son’s objection, he would not be able to follow through on his threats, weakening his standing among the city’s people. Creon’s guards had not acted a second too soon, for just as the last rock was being placed, Haemon stormed into his father’s throne room. 

News traveled fast in Thebes, but Haemon traveled faster. He swept into the courts with a fury Creon had never seen from his son before, a whip of wind following his brisk stride as he began to scream. 

“The love of my life, father? How dare you? You send me on some fool’s errand to, what, get me out of the way? So you can condemn her brother to eternal suffrage, knowing she would never stand for that! Would I have known, I would have never left her side.” 

And just like that, as quickly as he entered, he was gone. 

He did not slow his pace until he reached the mouth of the cave, and even then, his fast-paced steps turned to rabid digging. Haemon clawed at the sealed cave entrance, pulling mud and rocks away as fast as he could, but he was not fast enough. As he broke through the barrier, he saw Antigone hanging peacefully from a vine, lifeless. With no hope of salvation, she had chosen to join her brothers. 

Haemon drew his dagger to cut her down. As he cradled her limp form, he wept. Just as his wracking sobs began to turn to quiet whimpers, he heard the unmistakable crunching of footsteps on gravel. Haemon laid Antigone gently on the ground, and looked up to see who had come to disturb him. There, in the mouth of the cave, stood Creon. 

Without a second thought, Haemon lunged for Creon, his dagger still in his fist. His brash, uncalculated action was not nearly swift enough to catch his father off-guard, and he was disarmed in a moment. 

Creon professed his shame to his son. “I’m sorry. I came to free her myself, but it seems the fates had other plans,” Creon spoke carefully, feeling the tears begin to well in his own eyes. 

“I cannot live in a world without her. Antigone was my sun and moon, my stars, my life. I wish to be with her now.” Haemon drew in a deep breath. “Whatever awaits us, it far outweighs staying on this mortal plane with you.” 

Haemon knelt and reached for the dagger which had skittered towards the wall of the cave. He gripped the hilt tight and plunged the blade deep into his chest. Creon cried out, but it was too late. His son was gone. 

Creon lifted Haemon’s limp body and cradled it in his arms, just as Haemon had done for Antigone only moments ago. After a moment, he stood with a deep sigh. Creon knew this blood was on his hands. He considered turning Haemon’s dagger on himself, but soon realized he was now a king without an heir. He could not leave Thebes in such perilous waters, and so he took a vow. 

There, in the cave, he vowed to honor his son, who acted only out of love. He vowed to honor the wishes of Polynices and Eteocles, brothers who only ever wanted peace. And finally, he vowed to honor Antigone, a woman who was unwavering in her belief of what was right.