That Oidipous is presenting a conditional sentence is clear from its first word, but the kind of conditional it will be remains unclear until the second clause. The verb in the aorist narrows the possibilities to two opposite interpretations: past actual or past contrafactual. The verb presents another problem: elision of the last vowel leaves it unclear whether its subject is first or third person singular. Is the subject τύχη or Oidipous? These ambiguities allow the audience four ways to construe the first clause: 1) “If Fate saved the city” (past actual); 2) “If Fate had saved the city” (past contrafactual); 3) “If I saved the city” (past actual); and 4) “If I had saved the city” (past contrafactual). Oidipous believes that he saved the city when he defeated the Sphinx; he does not thinks that Fate had anything to do with it. Therefore, he must intend either “If fate had saved the city” or “If I saved the city.” Is he about to suggest that, if fate had saved the city, it would not have destroyed him, or is he questioning why, if he did save the city, fate should destroy him? The surprising thing is that no matter how he means it, his expression suggests that he accepts the fact that his own destruction is already assured. Why does he not counter, “I am not destroyed?” Is his acceptance of the past tense might be a rhetorical flourish to mock the seer; he is being sarcastic. This seems to make most sense, but it also means that he altogether dismisses the seer and anything he might have to say. The audience, by contrast, knows that the seer has been presenting accurate information about the past and the future. Not only that, but since Oidipous himself appears to be serving as an unwitting conduit for the god’s speech, the audience might now sift his perplexing utterance for unintended meanings. [Gd] The ambiguity of his statement has prompted the audience to juxtapose several situations—the city saved and not saved, by fate or by Oidipous. The juxtaposition suggests that the present plague might be an unresolved residue of the city’s incomplete or misunderstood salvation from the Sphinx and that Oidipous and “fate” might be two sides of the same coin. This blending of salvation and catastrophe, man and mythical beast, accords with the negative interpretation of the deed in which Oidipous is believed to have proven himself “great,” his besting the sphinx, which was quite literally his crowning achievement and his destruction, for in combination with Laios’ death it led directly to rule over the city and marriage to Iokaste. Jumbled as they are, it is fitting that both actors and events have for years been polluting the city. Thus, the ambiguity in Oidipous’s expression suggests to the audience that his most impressive achievement, the one that revealed his extraordinary talents, is an expression of his most egregious error, which was to believe himself responsible for the city’s salvation. His speech is now prophetically ambiguous and accurate, and the audience finds itself able correctly to interpret both his words and those of the seer. This newfound capacity for interpretation might suggest to the Athenian audience that it revisit prophecies it has itself received, and about which it has felt conflicted, especially the Delphic prediction of Athens’ destruction and its promise of divine help in bringing this about. The audience might also revisit its own moments of miraculous salvation at Marathon and Salamis. Has Athens misunderstood these events by misattributing them to its own intelligence and intrepidity rather than to a divine intervention to save the city? [Gt-a] [Mpea] [P] [Apao] [Dc]