by Aeschylus
LEADER:
She tells him to come,
but how, prepared?
NURSE:
Prepared, how else?
I don’t see . . .
LEADER:
With his men, I mean, or all alone?
NURSE:
Oh, she says to bring his bodyguard, his cut - throats.
LEADER:
No, not now, not if you hate our master-
tell him to come alone.
Nothing for him to fear then, when he hears.
Have him come quickly, too, rejoicing all the way!
The teller sets the crooked message straight.
NURSE:
What,
you’re glad for the news that’s come?
LEADER:
Why not,
if Zeus will turn the evil wind to good?
NURSE:
But how? Orestes, the hope of the house is gone.
LEADER:
Not yet. It’s a poor seer who’d say so.
NURSE:
What are you saying? - something I don’t know?
LEADER:
Go in with your message. Do as you’re told.
May the gods take care of cares that come from them
NURSE:
Well, I’m off. Do as I’m told.
And here’s to the best. . .
some help, dear gods, some help.
Exit.
CHORUS:
O now bend to my prayer, Father Zeus,
lord of the gods astride the sky -
grant them all good fortune,
the lords of the house who strain to see
strict discipline return.
Our cry is the cry of Justice,
Zeus, safeguard it well.
Zeus, Zeus,
set him against his enemies in the halls!
Do it, rear him to greatness - two, threefold
he will repay you freely, gladly.
Look now - watch the colt of a man you loved,
yoked to the chariot of pain.
Now the orphan needs you -
harness his racing, rein him in,
preserve his stride so we
can watch him surge at the last turn,
storming for the goal.
And you who haunt the vaults
where the gold glows in the darkness,
hear us now, good spirits of the house,
conspire with us - come,
and wash old works of blood
in the fresh-drawn blood of Justice.
Let the grey retainer, murder, breed no more.
And you, Apollo, lord of the glorious masoned cavern,
grant that this man’s house lift up its head,
that we may see with loving eyes
the light of freedom burst from its dark veil !
And lend a hand and scheme
for the rights, my Hermes, help us,
sail the action on with all your breath.
Reveal what’s hidden, please,
or say a baffling word
in the night and blind men’s eyes -
when the morning comes your word is just as dark.
Soon, at last, in the dawn that frees the house,
we sea-widows wed to the winds
will beat our mourning looms of song
and sing, ‘Our ship’s come in!
Mine, mine is the wealth that swells her holds -
those I love are home and free of death.’
But you, when your turn in the action comes, be strong.
When she cries ‘Son!’ cry out ‘My father’s son!’
Go through with the murder - innocent at last.
Raise up the heart of Perseus in your breast!
And for all you love under earth
and all above its rim, now scarf your eyes
against the Gorgon’s fury -
In, go in for the slaughter now!
Enter AEGISTHUS, alone.
The butcher comes. Wipe out death with death.
AEGISTHUS:
Coming, coming. Yes, I have my summons.
There’s news, I gather, travellers here to tell it.
No joy in the telling, though - Orestes dead.
Saddle the house with a bloody thing like that
and it might just collapse. It’s still raw
from the last murders, galled and raw.
But how to take the story, for living truth?
Or work of a woman’s panic, gossip starting up
in the night to flicker out and die?
Turning to the LEADER.
Do you know?
Tell me, clear my mind.
LEADER:
We’ve heard a little.
But get it from the strangers, go inside.
Messengers have no power. Nothing like
a face-to-face encounter with the source.
AEGISTHUS:
- Must see him, test the messenger. Where was he
when the boy died, standing on the spot?
Or is he dazed with rumour, mouthing hearsay?
No, he’ll never trap me open-eyed!
Striding through the doors.
CHORUS:
Zeus, Zeus, what can I say? -
how to begin this prayer, call down
the gods for help? what words
can reach the depth of all I feel?
Now they swing to the work,
the red edge of the cleaver
hacks at flesh and men go down.
Agamemnon’s house goes down -
all-out disaster now,
or a son ignites the torch of freedom,
wins the throne, the citadel,
the fathers’ realms of gold.
The last man on the bench, a challenger
must come to grips with two. Up,
like a young god, Orestes, wrestle -
let it be to win.
A scream inside the palace.
- Listen!
- What’s happening?
- The house,
what have they done to the house?
LEADER:
Back,
till the work is over! Stand back -
they’ll count us clean of the dreadful business.
The women scatter; a wounded SERVANT of AEGISTHUS enters.
Look, the die is cast, the battle’s done.
SERVANT:
Ai,
Ai, all over, master’s dead - Aie,
a third, last salute. Aegisthus is no more.
Rushing at a side door, struggling to work it open.
Open up, wrench the bolts on the women’s doors.
Faster! A strong young arm it takes,
but not to save him now, he’s finished.
What’s the use?
Look - wake up!
No good,
I call to the deaf, to sleepers . . . a waste of breath.
Where are you, Clytaemnestra? What are you doing?
LEADER:
Her head is ripe for lopping on the block.
She’s next, and justice wields the axe.
The door opens, and CLYTAEMNESTRA comes forth.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
What now?
Why this shouting up and down the halls?
SERVANT:
The dead are cutting down the quick, I tell you!
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Ah, a riddle. I do well at riddles.
By cunning we die, precisely as we killed.
Hand me the man-axe, someone, hurry!
The SERVANT dashes out.
Now we will see. Win all or lose all,
we have come to this - the crisis of our lives.
The main doors open; ORESTES, sword in hand, is standing over the body of AEGISTHUS, with PYLADES close behind him.
ORESTES:
It’s you I want. This one’s had enough.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Gone, my violent one - Aegisthus, very dear.
ORESTES:
You love your man? Then lie in the same grave.
You can never be unfaithful to the dead.
Pulling her towards AEGISTHUS’ body.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Wait, my son - no respect for this, my child?
The breast you held, drowsing away the hours,
soft gums tugging the milk that made you grow?
ORESTES turns to PYLADES.
ORESTES:
What will I do, Pylades? - I dread to kill my mother!
PYLADES :
What of the future? What of the Prophet God Apollo,
the Delphic voice, the faith and oaths we swear?
Make all mankind your enemy, not the gods.
ORESTES:
O you win me over - good advice.
Wheeling on CLYTAEMNESTRA, thrusting her towards AEGISTHUS.
This way -
I want to butcher you - right across his body!
In life you thought he dwarfed my father - Die ! -
go down with him forever !
You love this man,
the man you should have loved you hated.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
I gave you life. Let me grow old with you.
ORESTES:
What - kill my father, then you’d live with me?
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Destiny had a hand in that, my child.
ORESTES:
This too: destiny is handing you your death.
CLYTAEMNESTRA :
You have no fear of a mother’s curse, my son?
ORESTES:
Mother? You flung me to a life of pain.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Never flung you, placed you in a comrade’s house.
ORESTES:
- Disgraced me, sold me, a freeborn father’s son.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Oh? then name the price I took for you.
ORESTES:
I am ashamed to mention it in public.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Please, and tell your father’s failings, too.
ORESTES:
Never judge him - he suffered, you sat here at home.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
It hurts women, being kept from men, my son.
ORESTES:
Perhaps . . . but the man slaves to keep them safe at home.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
- I see murder in your eyes, my child - mother’s murder I
ORESTES:
You are the murderer, not I - and you will kill yourself.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Watch out - the hounds of a mother’s curse will hunt you
down.
ORESTES:
But how to escape a father’s if I fail?
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
I must be spilling live tears on a tomb of stone.
ORESTES:
Yes, my father’s destiny - it decrees your death.
CLYTAEMNESTRA:
Ai- you are the snake I bore - I gave you life!
ORESTES:
Yes!
That was the great seer, that terror in your dreams.
You killed and it was outrage - suffer outrage now.
He draws her over the threshold; the doors close behind them, and the chorus gathers at the altar.
LEADER:
I even mourn the victims’ double fates.
But Orestes fought, he reached the summit
of bloodshed here - we’d rather have it so.
The bright eye of the halls must never die.
CHORUS:
Justice came at last to the sons of Priam,
late but crushing vengeance, yes,
but to Agamemnon’s house returned
the double lion,
the double onslaught
drove to the hilt - the exile sped by god,
by Delphi’s just command that drove him home.
Lift the cry of triumph O! the master’s house
wins free of grief, free of the ones
who bled its wealth, the couple stained with murder,
free of Fate’s rough path.
He came back with a lust for secret combat,
stealthy, cunning vengeance, yes,
but his hand was steered in open fight
by god’s true daughter,
Right, Right we call her,
we and our mortal voices aiming well -
she breathes her fury, shatters all she hates.
Lift the cry of triumph O! the master’s house
wins free of grief, free of the ones
who bled its wealth, the couple stained with murder,
free of Fate’s rough path.
Apollo wills it so ! -
Apollo, clear from the Earth’s deep cleft
his voice came shrill, Now stealth will master stealth!’
And the pure god came down and healed our ancient wounds,
the heavens come, somehow, to lift our yoke of grief -
Now to praise the heavens’ just command.
Look, the light is breaking!
The huge chain that curbed the halls gives way.
Rise up, proud house, long, too long
your walls lay fallen, strewn along the earth.
Time brings all to birth -
soon Time will stride through the gates with blessings,
once the hearth bums off corruption, once
the house drives off the Furies. Look, the dice of Fate
fall well for all to see. We sing how fortune smiles -
the aliens in the house are routed out at last!
Look, the light is breaking!
The huge chain that curbed the halls gives way.
Rise up, proud house, long, too long
your walls lay fallen, strewn along the earth.
The doors open. Torches light PYLADES and ORESTES, sword in hand, standing over the bodies of CLYTAEMNESTRA and AEGISTHUS, as CLYTAEMNESTRA stood over the bodies of AGAMEMNON and CASSANDRA.
ORESTES:
Behold the double tyranny of our land!
They killed my father, stormed my fathers’ house.
They had their power when they held the throne.
Great lovers still, as you may read their fate.
True to their oath, hand in hand they swore
to kill my father, hand in hand to die.
Now they keep their word.
Unwinding from the bodies on the bier the robes that entangled AGAMEMNON, he displays them, as CLYTAEMNESTRA had displayed them, to the chorus at the altar.
Look once more on this,
you who gather here to attend our crimes -
the master-plot that bound my wretched father,
shackled his ankles, manacled his hands.
Spread it out! Stand in a ring around it,
a grand shroud for a man.
Here, unfurl it
so the Father - no, not mine but the One
who watches over all, the Sun can behold
my mother’s godless work. So he may come,
my witness when the day of judgement comes,
that I pursued this bloody death with justice,
mother’s death.
Aegisthus, why mention him?
The adulterer dies. An old custom, justice.
But she who plotted this horror against her husband,
she carried his children, growing in her womb
and she - I loved her once
and now I loathe, I have to loathe -
what is she?
Kneeling by the body of his mother.
Some moray eel, some viper born to rot her mate
with a single touch, no fang to strike him,
just the wrong, the reckless fury in her heart!
Glancing back and forth from CLYTAEMNESTRA to the robes.
This - how can I dignify this . . . snare for a beast? -
sheath for a corpse’s feet?
This winding-sheet,
this tent for the bath of death!
a coiling - what to call - ?
Foot-trap -
woven of robes . . .
why, this is perfect gear for the highwayman
who entices guests and robs them blind and plies
the trade of thieves. With a sweet lure like this
he’d hoist a hundred lives and warm his heart.
Live with such a woman, marry her? Sooner
the gods destroy me - die without an heir!
CHORUS:
Oh the dreadful work . . .
Death calls and she is gone.
But oh, for you, the survivor,
suffering is just about to bloom.
ORESTES:
Did she do the work or not? - Here, come close -
This shroud’s my witness, dyed with Aegisthus’ blade -
Look, the blood ran here, conspired with time to blot
the swirling dyes, the handsome old brocade.
Clutching AGAMEMNON‘S robes, burying his face in them and weeping.
