Home is the Hunter Page 7

  PENELOPE

  (Helpfully)

  But you could change—

  HOMER

  Change what I have composed? Not one word, not one image!

  PENELOPE

  Well—if anyone ever says you’ve been inaccurate about me, just blame it on your pupils who don’t copy you correctly.

  (Pause)

  Homer, where’s your sense of humour? Lost it? And I always loved it most of all.

  (HOMER, who has been frowning at the ground, looks up—startled, as PENELOPE’s voice changes to unhappiness and entreaty.)

  Oh, I’m so tired of doing what everyone expects me to do... You’ve made me a prisoner, all of you. You’ve all got your fixed ideas of what I ought to be. Clia believes that Ulysses’ wife must be brave and eternally hopeful. Telemachus thinks it is quite natural that I should live a dull, dreary life—mothers aren’t supposed to be young or human! Even Amaryllis takes it for granted that I’m too old to envy the laughter and singing that I can hear from the Hall, night after night. “Noble Penelope,” you all say, “sweet Penelope. Of course we can depend on you.” Flattering? Yes. And there’s no snare so insidious as that of flattery. Little by little, I’ve become a prisoner of my own vanity, with all of you looking at me admiringly as you tighten the knots around me. But I want to be free. I want to be Penelope again, before she is completely trapped.

  (Silence complete)

  HOMER

  (Coming to PENELOPE, putting his arm around her shoulder)

  My dear Penelope.

  PENELOPE

  (Dejectedly)

  Now I have ruined The Odyssey.

  HOMER

  (Gently)

  No... No... You’ve altered nothing, nothing that is essential.

  PENELOPE

  But I’ve so little patience; and I’m frightened and heartsick. And I’m so bad at weaving—that’s really why I changed to embroidery.

  HOMER

  Trivia, trivia—all of them. The main thing is: you love Odysseus.

  PENELOPE

  Yes, but I can’t help that.

  HOMER

  And you’ve been loyal to him.

  PENELOPE

  Because I’m in love with him. That isn’t being noble... that’s just being logical.

  HOMER

  (Smiling)

  Is it?... Then it’s such strong logic that all those little things you worry about don’t really matter very much. They are only bitterness that comes from lonely nights. The moment you see Odysseus—you’ll forget all that. And what then remains? The simple truths of loyalty and love—the essentials that make you what you really are.

  PENELOPE

  I still feel I’ve got into your poem under false pretences.

  HOMER

  Do you think I judge a man or a woman by the little things? There’s more to a human being than words and arguments, laughter and tears. A man with high courage can know fear. A man who loves may know bitterness. A man who keeps faith can have moments of doubts. Do we add up the fears, the bitterness, the doubts, and make them our answer? Or do we see the courage, the faith, the love that has kept him—in spite of every attack—from being a coward and traitor? Penelope, Penelope... what do you admire in a tree? Only the pretty leaves? Leaves wither and fall. Or do you praise the branches and admire their strength? They too can fall. But what about the roots? If they are good, the tree will ride out every storm, and bloom each new spring.

  PENELOPE

  (Shaking her head)

  You make me seem better than I am. You ought to have chosen a heroine who wouldn’t have disappointed you.

  HOMER

  Where would I have found her? I wanted a symbol of loyalty and love. I chose you.

  (He begins to pick up his cloak, his harp.)

  Your story is what I needed. I needed? It is what we all need.

  (He touches her shoulder, and leaves abruptly.)

  PENELOPE

  (Walking slowly downstage, and wiping away a little tear)

  So, I’m a symbol.

  (She half smiles.)

  Why couldn’t he have left me just a woman? But no—I’m a symbol... Well, what is a symbol supposed to do now?

  (Suddenly angry)

  Welcome her wandering husband with a smile? A symbolic smile?

  (As suddenly miserable)

  Athena! Help me... In the name of Reason, what should I do?

  (The goddess ATHENA comes through the wall and stands watching PENELOPE. She remains invisible to all the mortals in this story, but when she addresses them, her voice speaks in their minds. And so now, PENELOPE is not aware of ATHENA, and her answers to ATHENA are spoken as a monologue rather than as replies to ATHENA’s interruptions. ATHENA, in flowing white, is calm and cool. She speaks with wry humour in her voice.)

  ATHENA

  It’s about time you called me.

  PENELOPE

  I need advice.

  ATHENA

  Delighted as always... But if I give it, will you take it?

  PENELOPE

  Hear me, Athena! I’ve prayed to you all these years...

  ATHENA

  I’ve brought your husband back to Ithaca, haven’t I?

  PENELOPE

  And now Ulysses is here; and Homer expects me to be the sweet, understanding wife. No tears. No questions. That’s hard to do... Is it even fair?

  ATHENA

  Let’s just call it reasonable.

  PENELOPE

  It isn’t reasonable. It’s the last straw. That’s all.

  ATHENA

  Hold on there! Who’s the expert on Reason, anyway? You or I?

  PENELOPE

  Or is it reasonable?... After all, I want Ulysses. Tears and reproaches might drive him away.

  ATHENA

  He never found them fascinating.

  PENELOPE

  But boredom could also drive him away.

  ATHENA

  He doesn’t plan to be bored, my sweet.

  PENELOPE

  Why—Homer’s picture of Penelope bored even me!

  ATHENA

  Look, you’re arguing in circles. Do you love Ulysses or don’t you?

  PENELOPE

  Ulysses is all my life. If he has come home only from a sense of duty, of decency, of pity—I think I’d die.

  ATHENA

  Will you stop being so emotional? Or you’ll drive me away. As you did this morning when you enticed those men to stay.

  PENELOPE

  Oh...

  ATHENA

  And don’t blame me. Reason had nothing to do with you this morning. Impulse, instinct, that’s what it was. Why did you do it? To punish Ulysses? For what?

  PENELOPE

  Taking all these years to travel home... Calypso and her silly island... And when he does get here, he slinks ashore and hides. Why? Doesn’t he trust me?... That hurts. That hurts deeply. And yet—athena

  (Turning to the audience)

  This is known as woman’s logic. Interesting, isn’t it?

  PENELOPE

  —and yet—I don’t want to hurt him. All I want him to prove is that he is willing to fight for me, because he loves me.

  ATHENA

  And you never thought of punishing him, just a little? You never thought of making him jealous? Now, Penelope, be quite frank with yourself!

  PENELOPE

  (Stamping her foot)

  Did he expect to walk into our Hall, and I was to say, “Ulysses, darling! You’re late for dinner; shall I scramble you some eggs”?

  ATHENA

  So instead, you prepared eleven swords to point at his throat.

  PENELOPE

  No, no, no... I have other ideas. He won’t even have to fight those men! I’ll arrange a contest, a contest that Ulysses is bound to win. I want him to remember this home-coming forever. I want this day to be the climax of all his adventures.

  ATHENA

  He was always a man for a climax. Good, Penelope. Very
good. Now I’m with you. Jealousy is a mean, emotional business that I leave to Venus when she’s spited. But to teach a man the reality of true values—yes, there I’m with you. Teaching is my favourite profession, even if it’s underpaid.

  PENELOPE

  Ulysses will stay here... never leave me again...

  ATHENA

  Certainly, he’d never risk another home-coming like this one. Only, be sure you plan your contest well. Plan very well. And I’ll do my part: I’ll get him here, today.

  PENELOPE

  (Sighing)

  Homer would never approve of all this. But I did try to tell him I wasn’t really a heroine. I’m just a woman who’s married to a hero, that’s all. It frightens me, when I think of it. The greatest hero of the whole Trojan War, and he’s married to Penelope!... Now stop this, Penelope, stop it! He’s coming home, isn’t he? So keep him.

  (She moves quickly upstage toward the bedroom.)

  What dress shall I wear? Shall I braid my hair, or leave it loose?

  (Her voice fades as she enters the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.)

  ATHENA

  Call me when you make up your mind.

  (To the audience)

  I do get so tired hovering around while you human beings decide—will you, won’t you, will you, perhaps, maybe. I feel like an equation, waiting to be solved.

  (She is walking round the room as she speaks, and now she stops to look at the embroidery on the frame.)

  Hm! You probably can’t see this from where you’re sitting, but I think that’s just as well. Frankly, it’s terrible!

  (She shudders and comes well downstage.)

  Poor Penelope, she really has suffered—whoever told her she could embroider? It certainly wasn’t the Goddess of Reason.

  (PENELOPE is heard singing “Mrs. Porter.” ATHENA, hand on hip, taps her foot.)

  She’s got five dresses out now, wondering which to choose. As if Ulysses will look at the dress! Why don’t we give her ten minutes to change her mind several times? Then we can get on with Act Two.

  (ATHENA, now downstage centre, looks around the audience.)

  Ten minutes?

  (She smiles and nods agreement. She gestures to the wings, and the curtains close obediently.)

  ACT II

  We are in the Great Hall of Ulysses’ house. Here, the daily life of eating, cooking, talking, sitting goes on.

  So, downstage left, we have the hearth and open fireplace; some pots; a basin; two leather-seated stools. Downstage right, there is the dining area: a long table, placed parallel with the right-hand wall; long wooden side benches; and the master’s chair at the head of the table. Upstage, on the left, we have a few shallow stairs, leading to a dais from which the door into the women’s quarters (and PENELOPE’s private apartment) opens. Upstage right, a similar narrow door to the men’s quarters. In the centre of the back wall, there is the main entrance to the Hall. Its large double doors are open to ventilate the Hall and light it by day, with the help of some narrow windows high up on the side walls. Storage chests lie against the wall under the windows. (A man standing on one of them could see out, but an outsider couldn’t see into the Hall.) On the walls, too, are four large brackets for holding torches: one near the fireplace; one on the back wall, near the dais; one, balancing it, on the back wall to the right; one near the dining table. And to the right of the main entrance we see a few small shields decorating the wall, while to the left of the door is the Great Bow. It hangs in solitary splendour, between the corner dais and the entrance. As it is unstrung, it doesn’t look much of a weapon—just two long ibex horns, fastened together at their roots by a strong handgrip of bronze and leather, their points recurved outward, with its string attached at one end and hanging free. The passage of time in the first two scenes is marked by the gradual shift of sun that pours over the threshold, moving toward the dais.

  SCENE 1

  Full sunlight is now streaming into the Hall. The dining table is in disorder from the midday meal. We can hear that some of the suitors have already reached the courtyard; three others are leaving the Hall slowly, teasing AMARYLLIS (who doesn’t object) as she starts to help CLIA with the bowls and cups on the table. MELAS still sits in the chair at the head of the table, finishing his wine slowly. Over by the hearth, HOMER stands silent, watchful. The babel of voices from the courtyard diminishes gradually.

  CLIA

  (Bundling bowls into AMARYLLIS’s apron, and then bustling to the hearth to attend the fire)

  Take them out to the stream. Scour them well. Use plenty of sand. I don’t want any stains left on them, this time.

  AMARYLLIS

  You’ve given me too many. Don’t blame me if they get dented. And stop scolding me. All day it has been nothing but nag nag nag.

  (She rearranges the thin copper bowls in her apron as she talks, dumping some out on the table in protest; and then, as she catches a glare from CLIA, puts them back. She speaks to MELAS.)

  Enjoyed your dinner?

  (MELAS pays no attention. She moves nearer.)

  It’s my night off.

  (MELAS, without looking at her, waves her away.)

  All right, Mr. Sourface, I can get one of the others to take me into the village.

  MELAS

  (Still not looking at her)

  Will you stop pestering me?

  AMARYLLIS

  I like that! What’s come over you—

  MELAS

  Shut your mouth! Can’t a man get some peace around here?

  (He avoids her eyes and pours some more wine into his goblet. He stretches himself comfortably.)

  AMARYLLIS

  Look at you! Sitting in the master’s chair. So you think Penelope is going to choose you!

  (She laughs.)

  MELAS

  Clear out!

  (He throws his wine in her face.)

  You talk too much.

  AMARYLLIS

  (In sudden rage)

  Too much? I haven’t talked enough. Penelope has been laughing at you, all along.

  CLIA

  (From the hearth where she is sweeping)

  Amaryllis!

  AMARYLLIS

  Why, you fool, she could have finished that embroidery months and months ago.

  (MELAS looks at her now.)

  She’s been ripping it out, every night. And only a man wouldn’t have noticed!

  (MELAS rises, staring. CLIA rushes at AMARYLLIS, the hearth broom upraised, but the girl runs out into the yard.)

  MELAS

  (Catching CLIA’s arm)

  So it’s true, is it?

  (He twists her arm as she struggles.)

  HOMER

  (Coming quickly forward)

  Stop that! Respect for age is the first virtue.

  MELAS

  (Aiming a last blow at CLIA’s head as he lets her go)

  I’ve been tricked, is that it? Tricked...

  CLIA

  (Retreating behind HOMER)

  See how they behave! At dinner, they pretended to be so reasonable, just to impress you. But now you see a touch of what they really are.

  ERYX

  (Enters from the yard. He carries a spear in his hand.)

  Come on, you! We’re going hunting. We’ll find a deer, up the Green Mountain. We’re tired of eating stewed slop.

  MELAS

  I’m staying here.

  (He walks back to the table, sits down.)

  ERYX

  You’re coming with us. You don’t stay here alone. Get that?

  MELAS

  A trick—

  (He crashes his fist on the table.)

  ERYX

  (Injured innocence)

  A trick? I’m playing no trick—we’re just going out hunting on the Green Mountain. That’s all.

  MELAS

  Nothing but a god-damned trick.

  (He reaches for the wine.)

  ERYX

  You’re drunk. What do you think y
ou’re celebrating anyway? Get out of that chair!

  MELAS

  Leave me alone.

  (He drinks and waves ERYX aside.)

  I’ve some thinking to do.

  ERYX

  You?

  (He laughs, but then falls silent as MELAS rises suddenly and stares at the door which leads to PENELOPE’s room. ERYX looks at CLIA, who is obviously afraid.)

  What’s been going on?

  CLIA

  Nothing... it’s nothing. Just a silly story that Amaryllis invented. And he believed her!

  (She tries to sound amused.)

  ERYX

  Just a silly story, eh? And aren’t you going to share it with the rest of us, Melas? Or do I have to hear it from Amaryllis herself?

  MELAS

  Then get set for a shock. Penelope has been ripping out that embroidery, night after night.

  ERYX

  WHAT?

  MELAS

  (His voice rising)

  She never meant to finish it. She’s turned weeks into months, months into years. We’ve been swindled, all of us.

  CLIA

  (Quickly)

  I tell you, Amaryllis is crazy with jealousy, she’s—

  ERYX

  Sure, sure. Jealousy is a liar. But it can also tell a sharp truth when it chooses.

  (He takes a step forward, threateningly.)

  MELAS

  Don’t waste your time on her. She’d swear blue is yellow to protect Penelope. But she gave away the truth when she rushed at Amaryllis.

  HOMER

  That isn’t any proof at all. It would never stand up in court.