Authors: Helen Macinnes

Home is the Hunter (21 page)

EUMAEUS

(As
ULYSSES
watches his son leave)

I’ll keep him safe, Ulysses.

(
ULYSSES
grasps the old man’s shoulder, and then
EUMAEUS
hurries after the boy.)

ULYSSES

(Watches them go, looks at the quiet darkness of the courtyard for a moment. Then he turns away, grimfaced. He speaks angrily.)

This isn’t the time for emotion—or fear—or worry.

(He moves toward the open chest, and the scattered weapons.)

ATHENA

(With her hand on the door that leads to the women’s quarters)

Not even a time for reflection. All you need now, Ulysses, is a quick eye, a strong arm, and a brave heart.

(She watches him as he picks up a sword and tests its weight. He chooses another, carefully.)

You have them all. And I can’t take any credit for them. I’m not even supposed to admire them. Yet, strange—strange that I can almost love men when they face this moment in their lives. Ulysses—you are bad for me. Let me go to Penelope, and become the cold, calm goddess again...

(She opens the door and goes through, closing it quietly.)

ULYSSES

(Fastening the sword to his belt, and then selecting a couple of throwing knives)

I could be wrong, all wrong. Perhaps Philetius stumbled, and then Melas would be on him like a wolf. Or Eryx—he could have changed his plans. Scoundrels are unpredictable: they fall out, yes; but they can join forces again when you least expect it...

(He secures the knives at his waist.)

Well—too late, now, to worry about all that. There never was a battle yet, when I didn’t feel nervous to begin with...

(From the distance, come excited shouts. At this, he moves quickly to the wall on the right side of the door, where the shields are hanging.)

I’d be happier if I could find my old shield. What have they done with it?

(He searches the wall with his eyes.)

All this damned house-cleaning each spring. Clia never leaves a thing in place.

(He has taken down a round shield, leather-covered.)

I remember this one. A bit on the small side, after what I’ve been using. No, no, no. The weight’s all wrong.

(He rejects it.)

Besides, I’ll need both hands free if I use the knives.

(He moves back to the hearth, nervous and restless. On impulse, he picks up a piece of charred wood, and adds a second stroke to the wall.)

Lucas, the sacrificial goat... That’s certain, anyway... What about Eryx, himself, and his four men in that boat? Why not?

(He laughs and scores five more times.)

Well, I’ll soon know—definitely. If Eryx walks in here with Melas, then—

(He throws away his marker, smiles grimly.)

I’ll really have a fight on my hands.

(He turns abruptly to face the door as he hears the brief warning of an owl hooting. There is the sound of footsteps in the yard. Suddenly, they are hushed. Silence.)

MELAS

(Entering suddenly, quietly, looking around the Hall, his sword drawn. He calls back, over his shoulder, to the men following him.)

There’s only the beggar here. I’ll deal with him. You search for the boy and the pig-keeper.

(He comes further into the Hall.)

You seem to be amused. Why? Because Eryx and his men have sailed away... Let me amuse you more, my friend.

(He raises his sword. He is quiet, confident, contemptuous.)

ULYSSES

(His smile broadening)

My arithmetic wasn’t so bad, after all.

(He points to his score marks.)

A poor joke, I admit; but there are worse ways to enter a fight than with a smile on your lips.

MELAS

So you’re going to fight, are you? I’ll fight no beggar. But I’ll string your nose and ears as a decoration around your neck.

(
ULYSSES
,
still smiling, draws himself to his full height, and brings his sword up on guard.)

You’d like some lessons in how to use a sword? What’s your usual weapon? A stick, or an axe?

(
ULYSSES
parries a thrust easily; another, and another.
MELAS
’
bluster is now over. He is watchful, dangerous.)

Who are you, anyway?

ULYSSES

You’ll learn!

(He springs forward with a sudden shout.
MELAS
fights back, but is forced to give way. He gives a warning yell as he tries to reach the door, but
ULYSSES
fights round him and forces him back toward the long dining table.)

Take your favourite chair, Melas!

(He kills
MELAS
at the foot of
ULYSSES
’
chair, and then turns to face the three men who have come running in answer to
MELAS
’
call. For a moment the men hesitate, as they see
MELAS
dead.)

Come in, gentlemen! Welcome to
my
house!

ONE OF THE MEN

(Turning to run into the yard)

Ulysses!

(But as he turns,
ULYSSES
pulls a knife from his belt and throws it after the fleeing man as he reaches the courtyard. His cry is heard from the darkness outside.)

ULYSSES

(Sword ready, speaking softly)

Yes, it’s Ulysses.

(He leaps forward to attack the two men.
As
the curtain closes, they are fighting back vigorously, dangerously.)

The curtain remains closed only for a brief space. From the hidden Hall, we can hear some shouts, then a hideous scream. Then silence...

SCENE 3

The Great Hall is empty. Its large entrance doors are closed. The brightly lit torches flicker over the upset benches, the dark stains on the floor. Silence. The door to the women’s quarters is thrown open, and
PENELOPE
appears.
CLIA
follows, protesting, trying to pull
PENELOPE
back toward her room.

CLIA

(Angry)

Ulysses said you were to stay back in your own room! Penelope—

(But
PENELOPE
,
halting on the shallow step, looks round the Hall in fear.
CLIA
is silenced, as she looks, too.)

PENELOPE

Something went wrong... I knew it. I knew it. Oh, Clia—

(She comes slowly down the steps into the Hall.)

CLIA

(Runs down the steps, looks at the chair where
MELAS
had been killed.
A
dark stain has gathered there. She points.)

Blood—there!

PENELOPE

(Her voice is too quiet.)

Ulysses—they rushed Ulysses and killed him!

CLIA

(Sees two more dark patches)

And there, and there! Two more were killed—Telemachus? Eumaeus?

(She rushes to the entrance door, but cannot open it.)

They’ve barred the door. They’ve shut us inside.

(She stands panic-stricken.)

PENELOPE

(Tensely)

I knew it. As soon as I heard the screams, I knew something had gone wrong. And then, that terrible silence.

(Turns on
CLIA
)

Why did you keep me locked in my room? Why, why?

CLIA

(Sharply)

What use would you have been, down here?

PENELOPE

I could have died with Ulysses, with my son—

(She covers her face, stands hopeless.)

CLIA

Oh, Penelope, Penelope—what shall we do now?

HOMER

(Struggling out of sleep, appears in the doorway of the men’s quarters. He carries a small knife. He lowers it, self-consciously.)

I must have fallen asleep—can you believe it, I fell asleep? Then suddenly, a hideous scream, the scream of a death agony. Or was it all part of some hidden dream?

PENELOPE

(Lifelessly)

It was no dream.

HOMER

(He has slipped the small knife into his belt. He comes forward, and begins to notice the room. He stares at the dark stains on the floor. He awakens fully.)

Who was killed here? Whose bodies have been dragged out to the yard? There has been a fight—who—whom? Clia, why didn’t you waken me, why did you let me sleep?

CLIA

(Still at the entrance door, listening)

I thought I heard wheels—a cart being driven away. A cart? Are they taking the bodies away? To throw over the cliff?

(She begins to weep.)

PENELOPE

(In horror)

Clia!

CLIA

That’s what they did with the others they killed, three years ago. That’s what they—

PENELOPE

(Tensely)

Stop that!

(She faces
HOMER
.)

It’s all over. We are prisoners. You, Clia, and I.

HOMER

Where is the boy? Old Eumaeus? The beggar? Are they dead?

PENELOPE

(Dully)

Yes... Ulysses is dead.

HOMER

Ulysses? Odysseus is dead?
Odysseus?

PENELOPE

(Beginning to weep)

Ulysses was the beggar, Homer. He had a plan—it didn’t work. And
I
am to blame for all this. I started it all, but I never meant it to end this way.

CLIA

(Her voice is harsh, bitter.)

You never meant it to end this way? When you throw a stone down a mountainside, does it fall on a ledge and stay there? Or does it go on falling, carrying other stones with it, starting a rockslide?

HOMER

(To
CLIA
,
as he goes toward
penelope,
and puts his arm round her)

Quiet, woman, quiet!

(He sees the big bow lying on the floor, then the quiver and fallen arrows.)

CLIA

(Still angry)

One spoken word, and the stone is thrown. One small gesture, and the rockslide is moving. And you think it can be stopped by an apology?

(Chants bitterly)

I was wrong, I didn’t know, I never meant it
—Bah!

HOMER

(Goes over to the bow, picks up an arrow)

Quiet! You help no one. We must think...

PENELOPE

(Follows him)

Think? I’ve done too much thinking. I invented a contest. A contest? Ulysses didn’t even have time to use that bow. He was cut down—

(She can’t go on.)

HOMER

But there are only four arrows... A quiver holds more than that. Perhaps he did account for some of those ruffians before the rest rushed at him. Perhaps—