Home is the Hunter

by Helen Macinnes

  (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—

  (He sighs, heavily, sadly.)

  We’ll never know what really happened.

  PENELOPE

  (Picks up a dagger from the chest where ULYSSES had hidden the weapons)

  This is all that is left.

  HOMER

  I’ll take that, Penelope.

  PENELOPE

  (Suddenly asserting herself)

  No. I have a use for it. You go back to your room, Homer. Stay there, please.

  HOMER

  And leave you to face these men, alone?

  PENELOPE

  (Comes back to centre stage)

  Please go, Clia! Get the spear in my room—Ulysses’ spear. Get it!

  CLIA

  (Listening, pressed against the door)

  I hear a rumble of wheels. They’ve come back.

  PENELOPE

  Get that spear!

  (As CLIA leaves the door and runs up the steps toward PENELOPE’s room, HOMER comes over quietly to stand beside PENELOPE in the centre of the Hall.)

  Oh, Homer! You could save yourself. They have no quarrel with you.

  HOMER

  I suppose they’d leave me alive if I were to turn my Odyssey into a poem praising them. But—I’d rather it stayed unfinished.

  (Very sadly)

  It was to have been a happy story—one that ended pleasantly, encouragingly

  PENELOPE

  Instead—I have turned it into a tragedy.

  HOMER

  (Sombrely)

  Then you are a true Greek, Penelope... Why do our stories always have to end in tragedy?

  (He sighs.)

  The fault, dear lady, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves—

  (The door’s heavy bar is being raised from outside. HOMER takes out his knife and places his other hand on PENELOPE’s shoulder as they turn defiantly to face the opening door. PENELOPE’s hand, holding the dagger, is at her back, half hidden by her skirt. ULYSSES enters, and halts. Behind him are TELEMACHUS, EUMAEUS, and PHILETIUS, excited and triumphant.)

  ULYSSES

  (To PENELOPE)

  And what the hell are you doing down here?

  PENELOPE

  (Almost faints against HOMER, who holds her for a moment. She pushes him away, and runs to ULYSSES.)

  I thought they had killed you. I thought you were dead.

  ULYSSES

  (Catching her into his arms)

  Kill this old fox? Not likely. I knew a trick or two they hadn’t even thought of.

  (He suddenly notices CLIA, with the spear, at the top of the steps.)

  Have you women gone crazy, or something? What chance do you think you would have had?

  (Takes the dagger out of PENELOPE’s hand)

  And who was this meant for?

  (Throws the dagger aside and laughs and embraces PENELOPE again)

  HOMER

  (Coming forward)

  Odysseus!

  TELEMACHUS

  Oh, Mother, he was wonderful! You should have seen him, Clia!—What are you staring at?

  CLIA

  Ghosts.

  (She drops the spear and comes slowly down the steps.)

  HOMER

  (He and ULYSSES grasp hands. ULYSSES keeps one arm around PENELOPE, never lets her go.)

  This ghost feels very solid to me. Odysseus—welcome! Home is the hunter, home from the hill, and the sailor home from sea!

  ULYSSES

  (Looking around, still holding penelope)

  And home to stay, this time. I’d never risk another night like this one.

  (He looks at PENELOPE. CLIA has started to straighten things.)

  Leave that to morning, Clia. Let’s all move toward bed. Is no one tired, around here, except me?

  CLIA

  But is it safe to go to bed? Are they—are they all dead?

  ULYSSES

  (Cheerfully)

  Not one left. We can sleep in peace. Now—let’s say good night—

  HOMER

  (Insistent)

  One man against eleven! But how—?

  ULYSSES

  (Gestures to TELEMACHUS)

  I had some useful help.

  TELEMACHUS

  (Proudly)

  Oh... I didn’t do much. Eumaeus and I—we just sort of guarded the door, cut off all retreat.

  ULYSSES

  You stood ready. You didn’t give ground. That’s something, boy.

  HOMER

  (Determined)

  But how did you—?

  ULYSSES

  (Brusquely)

  It was a free-for-all, crazy, mixed up. Began suddenly, and then—well, it was over. That’s all.

  HOMER

  So that’s all, is it? I don’t believe a word you say. It must have been an epic fight. Heroic! You took your own house as you captured Troy! Come—tell me it all. I want to hear the details while they are still fresh in your mind.

  ULYSSES

  (Drawing PENELOPE toward the steps)

  Tomorrow will be time enough for that. Or the day after tomorrow.

  (He smiles broadly.)

  Get some sleep, all of you. And don’t waken me for a week!

  HOMER

  But I’ve never been more wide awake in my life...

  (Suddenly noticing ULYSSES’ impatience)

  Sorry... Of course—tomorrow will do... I suppose.

  (He looks dashed. Then he sees TELEMACHUS picking up the bow to replace on the wall, and goes to help him.)

  This bow saw some hard service tonight, didn’t it?

  TELEMACHUS

  Well—

  HOMER

  (Taking TELEMACHUS’ arm)

  Come, let’s walk a little in the cool, free air. It will clear our heads, and you can give me all the details. Tell me how and why and where. If I didn’t see the climax to this story, I can at least hear about it. And, listening, I’ll see it as clearly as if I had been there.

  ULYSSES

  (Halting at the steps, worried)

  Telemachus—

  TELEMACHUS

  Don’t worry.

  ULYSSES

  (Warningly)

  No embroidery!

  (Laughs)

  Leave that to your mother.

  TELEMACHUS

  (Grinning)

  I’ll tell Homer exactly what he wants to know.

  HOMER

  Splendid. Now, the Great Bow is what interests me most. Let’s begin with that incident, and I’ll make it the grand climax of the Odyssey.

  (He walks out with TELEMACHUS, talking, talking.)

  EUMAEUS

  (Catching PHILETIUS’ arm)

  I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Let’s see if Telemachus can spin as good a yarn as his father. And I’ve got some details of my own to add.

  (They look at ULYSSES with a broad grin and start moving into the courtyard. CLIA looks at ULYSSES and PENELOPE, who have forgotten her. She pulls a shawl over her shoulders.)

  CLIA

  And what about mine? I was the first to recognise Ulysses, wasn’t I? Besides, this is the first night in three years I can walk out in the fresh, free air.

  (She hurries after the others. Their laughing voices fade into the gentle night.
ATHENA has entered as they leave, and—as she speaks—comes downstage.)

  ATHENA

  There’s no place for Reason, out there. They will catch cold, but what does that matter when the air is free, and one can laugh again?

  (As PENELOPE breaks away from a long embrace, ATHENA halts downstage, right, and turns to watch them. PENELOPE looks toward the courtyard.)

  PENELOPE

  Poor Homer—they’ll confuse him, completely.

  ULYSSES

  (Laughing)

  Not Homer. He’ll confuse them until they believe everything he says.

  PENELOPE

  What is the true story of tonight, Ulysses?

  ULYSSES

  (Tenderly)

  You and I.

  PENELOPE

  You didn’t use the Great Bow, did you?

  ULYSSES

  (After a pause)

  No. I didn’t. But does that matter?

  PENELOPE

  (Laughing)

  Nothing matters except—you are home. And you love me.

  (She throws her arms round her husband.)

  And you didn’t lie to me. Oh, Ulysses, Ulysses!

  (They kiss, a long long kiss. ATHENA has lost interest. She is walking across the stage, and a transparent curtain moves with her. She holds its edge with an upraised arm, as if she were drawing it closed. As she walks, she looks out over the audience, smiling, speaking.)