Home is the Hunter

by Helen Macinnes

  EUMAEUS

  It was Ulysses who gave me that.

  PENELOPE

  (Angry)

  And who has kept you in it? The villagers wanted you driven away. You know that.

  EUMAEUS

  Yes, they’d have driven me away, all right. But they never offered to chase away those young toughs downstairs, did they? No, they might have been hurt doing that!

  PENELOPE

  Don’t sidetrack me, Eumaeus. The village has been terrorised too, and you know it... I’m angry with you. You’ve betrayed my trust.

  EUMAEUS

  I’ve never done that!

  PENELOPE

  You’ve taught my son—

  EUMAEUS

  No, never! I’ve taught him nothing. Except what I’ve become. Once, I was a prince, and look at me now... Women, wine, and dice. That’s a sobering lesson for any lad. And that’s all I’ve taught him. I swear it, Penelope!

  PENELOPE

  You’ve taught him to deceive me! Something has happened this morning. He knows. You know. And you are both hiding it from me.

  EUMAEUS

  (Relieved)

  We’re hiding nothing, nothing to worry about.

  PENELOPE

  You’re lying to me, Eumaeus. And even with all your years of practice, you aren’t doing it very well. What do you think I am? A complete fool? That story about a fishing rod! Why, only three days ago, he was complaining that there were no fish left in our streams.

  (EUMAEUS’ ugly face is lined with worry.)

  Why are you sending him to your hut? Why is he so eager to go? Why, Eumaeus, why?

  (EUMAEUS shrugs his shoulders.)

  There’s only one person in this world who could make you keep silent like this. And that’s Ulysses. Is it Ulysses who waits in your hut?

  EUMAEUS

  I—I—There’s no one in the hut, except an old beggar who needed a place to rest.

  PENELOPE

  (Standing over the hapless EUMAEUS, who tries to avoid her eyes)

  A beggar... A beggar?... It couldn’t be. Or is it? Is it Ulysses?

  (Her voice rises with joy and amazement. She claps her hands, then she turns back to EUMAEUS, her voice low, intense.)

  Oh, Eumaeus—you wouldn’t lie to me about this? Oh, Eumaeus, you wouldn’t...

  EUMAEUS

  (Frightened)

  I said nothing about Ulysses!

  PENELOPE

  No... You didn’t, did you? You are not supposed to talk about him? Is that it?

  EUMAEUS

  I—I—

  PENELOPE

  The truth, Eumaeus! Or I’ll go down to your hut, myself.

  EUMAEUS

  But the men would follow you—

  PENELOPE

  Why worry about that, if they’ll only find a poor old beggar? Or is it Ulysses they’ll find?

  (She relents as she sees how miserable EUMAEUS is. She calms her voice.)

  All right. Let’s put it this way. Penelope has been making wild guesses. How wild are they?

  (She waits tensely, EUMAEUS stares unhappily at the ground.)

  I only asked a question about Penelope. Is she wrong in her guesses? Is she?

  EUMAEUS

  No.

  PENELOPE

  (In sudden joy)

  Oh! Dear Athena, kind, sweet Goddess of Reason—you’ve won, you’ve won. You’ve brought him home.

  (Almost weeping)

  Thank you, thank you.

  EUMAEUS

  And I’m a dead man before sunset—for answering a question that only dealt with Penelope.

  PENELOPE

  No, I’ll keep this secret, too... But why didn’t Ulysses come here? Why all this mystery?

  (She is suddenly hurt.)

  If this is supposed to be a joke, it isn’t funny one bit.

  EUMAEUS

  If Ulysses had returned—now I’m not saying he did—if he had returned, if he had heard that a lot of men were in possession here, and if he was alone, then what would you expect him to do?

  PENELOPE

  (Shocked)

  He’s alone?

  EUMAEUS

  Now I only said that if he were to return, he might be—

  PENELOPE

  How can he drive out eleven men, by himself?

  (She has a sudden idea, begins to smile.)

  He must have a plan... Yes, that’s it. He’s planning something.

  EUMAEUS

  Why bother? They are leaving, aren’t they? That will save him a lot of trouble.

  PENELOPE

  Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?

  (Annoyed)

  Really! He decides to come back at last, and he expects to walk in here and find everything perfectly normal. Why, he could never even guess the trouble we’ve had.

  (Angry, now)

  He might even begin to think my story was just the usual female exaggeration!

  EUMAEUS

  All he wants is peace and quiet. He’s had enough excitement—

  (The door is thrown violently open. MELAS, one of the more ardent suitors, thrusts CLIA aside, and enters. He’s a powerful, handsome, dark-haired man of about thirty. He stands facing PENELOPE.)

  PENELOPE

  Melas! How dare—

  MELAS

  So you let the pig-man visit you. But we have got to stay down in the hall.

  PENELOPE

  That was your promise! If you break it, you break my promise too. Get out of here, or I’ll slash this work to pieces.

  (She picks up the embroidery knife.)

  MELAS

  I came to tell you we’re moving on. There isn’t enough food left to feed the servants we had with us. We’ve sent them ahead of us to the harbour. The ship sails at noon.

  (He looks over his shoulder at the open door, lowers his voice, and comes nearer to PENELOPE.)

  I’ll be back. I don’t waste three years of my life.

  PENELOPE

  The others may have the same idea. They’ll slip back here, one by one...

  MELAS

  I can deal with them singly.

  PENELOPE

  And are you so sure that they will come back singly, just to oblige you? Or even that you’ll get back here, first?

  CLIA

  Let them leave, Penelope. Let them leave!

  (She watches PENELOPE anxiously, and a little puzzled with this talk. PENELOPE walks around the embroidery frame, looks at it, drops the knife, and begins to laugh. CLIA exclaims)

  Penelope!

  PENELOPE

  (As MELAS comes over to the frame to see what amuses her there)

  So you were going away, were you!

  MELAS

  It’s almost finished! Why didn’t you tell me?

  (His voice is angry, PENELOPE blocks the embroidery from his sight, as she looks up at him smilingly.)

  PENELOPE

  But didn’t I?

  CLIA

  Penelope! Are you insane?

  MELAS

  (Stares at her, and then begins to laugh)

  You have your own brand of humour, haven’t you?

  ERYX

  (He speaks from the doorway, suddenly, and everyone swings round in surprise to see he has been listening, lounging against the doorpost, his hand on the knife at his belt. ERYX is another of the suitors, about thirty-five, red-haired, lean, crafty.)

  Which you were going to share with us, Melas? But of course you were...

  PENELOPE

  (Moving to the centre of the room)

  Leave, both of you! Before we have the whole mob up in my room.

  ERYX

  (Soothingly)

  I only came to keep an eye on him.

  PENELOPE

  And who is keeping an eye on you, Eryx?

  ERYX

  Now, now, Penelope. You don’t seem to trust us.

  (But he gives a quick look over his shoulder.)

  Yet, here’s one you can trust.


  (He taps himself on the chest.)

  See, I haven’t put a foot inside your room, have I? And all I’d like to know is when that work of art will be finished. Today, tomorrow, or the next day?

  PENELOPE

  (Silencing CLIA with a gesture)

  The next day.

  ERYX

  Hear that, Melas, old pal? Don’t tell me that you distrust the lady’s word. Come on, leave her in peace.

  (His voice, when he is addressing MELAS, is always hard, biting, sarcastic.)

  MELAS

  (Moves away from the embroidery frame)

  A couple of days should finish it.

  ERYX

  I’ll take Penelope’s word for it.

  (To PENELOPE, his voice now dripping politeness, and yet all the more menacing)

  At your service. Always. You’ll remember that?

  (He bows, and then leaves.)

  PENELOPE

  (To MELAS)

  Now it’s your turn to show me how noble at heart you really are.

  MELAS

  (Pointing to the embroidery frame)

  Tell me, what’s wrong with it?

  PENELOPE

  Aren’t you leaving? Eryx will now be halfway toward the Hall. He won’t like it if—

  MELAS

  What’s wrong?

  (He still points.)

  PENELOPE

  Wrong?

  MELAS

  It’s as rough as a five-day beard.

  PENELOPE

  Oh... that! Isn’t it natural that I have been thinking of Ulysses, and that I’ve wept? Tears don’t help embroidery. But that’s all over now, all over.

  (She smiles to EUMAEUS, who looks nervously back, while CLIA is horrified.)

  MELAS

  You’re worth waiting for. A woman who can weep for a man long after he is dead is a wife worth having.

  PENELOPE

  I wish Ulysses could have heard that.

  (She looks at EUMAEUS again.)

  EUMAEUS

  It’s just as well he didn’t hear talk like that from a good-for-nothing drunk. And you listening to it!

  PENELOPE

  Ulysses jealous? Why, he never was. But then, I never gave him cause to be... Was that my mistake?

  MELAS

  (Who has advanced on EUMAEUS, meanwhile, and forced him to retreat behind the embroidery frame for safety)

  Who’s a good-for-nothing drunk? Get back to your pigs, or you’ll find yourself skewered over a fire with an apple stuck in your mouth.

  (MELAS has drawn his sword, but EUMAEUS picks up the knife from the table and faces the advancing man.)

  EUMAEUS

  (Suddenly dignified)

  I wasn’t always a pig farmer. I’ve killed better men than you, in my day.

  PENELOPE

  (Moving swiftly between the men, as MELAS raises his sword to strike)

  There’s to be no killing, here! Eumaeus, drop the knife and get back to your job.

  (She pushes him toward the door as he drops the knife on the table, keeping herself between him and MELAS. As EUMAEUS leaves, MELAS takes a step after him, his sword still drawn.)

  That would be foolish. For I’ll never marry the man who kills anyone who belongs to this household. That’s one man I’d never choose.

  MELAS

  (Hesitates, then sheathes his sword)

  I’d do that for no one else except you.

  PENELOPE

  (Looking over her shoulder toward the doorway)

  Isn’t that silence very odd? What are they plotting? A surprise for you, Melas?

  MELAS

  (Moving quickly to the door)

  Two more days, Penelope, and you’ll choose a husband. Right?

  PENELOPE

  Two more days.

  MELAS

  You’ll remember all I’ve done for you?

  PENELOPE

  I’ll remember.

  (MELAS smiles and leaves. She closes the door behind him, securely, and then begins to laugh quietly.)

  CLIA

  (Her rage and dismay at last bursting free)

  Are you out of your mind? What have you done? Penelope, what have you done?

  PENELOPE

  D’you know, I believe that ruffian thinks he is my protector.

  CLIA

  (Seizing PENELOPE’s shoulders and shaking her as if she were a child)

  I’ll tell you what you’ve done: you’ve kept these men here. You could have let them ride off, but you—

  PENELOPE

  (Freeing herself angrily)

  Let them ride off and escape the punishment they’ve earned? Let them sail away and invade some other island and keep its people in misery?

  CLIA

  But—

  PENELOPE

  Stop fussing, Clia. I know what I’m doing.

  (She hesitates, lowers her voice almost to a whisper.)

  Ulysses has come home.

  CLIA

  (Terrified now)

  My poor girl, my poor girl!... She’s out of her mind... Penelope, can you hear me, can you understand me? Ulysses did not come back. Three men arrived by the fishing boats, this morning. But not one of them was Ulysses.

  PENELOPE

  (Startled)

  Who gave you that news?

  CLIA

  Eumaeus. He told me. There’s still no Ulysses. Penelope, what shall we do?

  PENELOPE

  (Smiling)

  I’m going to rest. And to think. To think of a plan. Keeping those men here was only the first step... Now I must plan the next one, and the next...

  CLIA

  ...She’s waited too long... she’s lost her reason.

  PENELOPE

  (She has walked over to her bedroom door, paying no attention to CLIA’s hand-wringing. She pauses there, turns to say in a clear firm voice)

  They’ll leave, Clia. They’ll all leave. But as I wish them to leave... I’m the mistress of this house. And Ulysses is still its master.

  (She goes out. The bedroom door closes quickly behind her, and the curtain falls.)

  SCENE 3

  Later that morning.

  PENELOPE is sitting room is bathed in sunlight. Its door opens, a babel of mixed sounds follows CLIA and an elderly man into the room. He is white-haired, with a splendid head and good features. There is nobility and kindness in his face. He still wears his travelling boots and dusty cloak, and he carries a small harp.

  He is HOMER.

  CLIA

  (Calling excitedly as she enters and stands aside for HOMER)

  Penelope! Oh, she is still in her bedroom. Just a moment, and I’ll fetch her.

  (She has closed the door, after calling for PENELOPE, and the room is quiet once more.)

  HOMER

  Please don’t disturb her. I’m quite content to wait here, if I may. That’s a pretty rowdy crowd downstairs in the Hall. What are they celebrating?

  CLIA

  Victory.

  HOMER

  What victory?

  CLIA

  They think they’ve won. I don’t know.

  (She shrugs her shoulders helplessly.)

  I just don’t know anything any more. For three years, we’ve hoped they’d leave. This morning they were leaving. This noon,

  (She looks at the bedroom door and shakes her head.)

  they’re staying.

  HOMER

  (Walking over to the window, looking round the room, examining everything)

  I’ve never been in this room before. Charming. Cool, restful, quiet—just like Penelope herself.

  (CLIA looks at him.)

  I can remember hearing about Ulysses building this house: people didn’t approve of his modern ideas in architecture— taking the beds out of the Hall and giving them private rooms! But I rather like this idea of separate sleeping quarters. Especially with the kind of guests you have.

  CLIA

  Guests? Invaders, that’s what they are. Don’t b
elieve any of the stories they’ve been spreading around in the last three years. They can twist the truth quicker than a girl’s smile.

  HOMER

  (Turning away from the window to look keenly at CLIA)

  Invaders. So that’s the way it is. I must admit they weren’t exactly what I had expected. You know, Clia, the sooner we get the news back to the mainland about the truth of this matter, the better for all of you.

  CLIA

  (Bitterly)

  And haven’t we tried? And who would listen? Last year, we even sent young Telemachus to the mainland to do some travelling— and to spread the truth. But would anyone believe him?

  HOMER

  Well...

  CLIA

  Yes, I know. The men sent rumours and lies ahead of the boy. He was jealous of them, they said. He had one of those mother... mother something-or-others.

  HOMER

  Mother fixations. Yes, I heard about that.

  CLIA

  And you heard about his wild imagination, too? And his pathetic exaggerations? Poor little fellow, trying to pretend he’s a hero. Yes, they got everyone laughing at him, didn’t they?

  HOMER

  People so often believe what it suits them to believe.

  (He shakes his head sadly and moves to the centre of the room.)

  At least I’ve brought you one piece of hope. Odysseus is alive. That is fact. Not rumour. And I’ve also learned that he is on his way home. He will soon be here.

  CLIA

  Soon? And what good will that do us now?

  (She points to the embroidery frame.)

  In two days, mark you—two days, that embroidery will be finished and Penelope will have to choose one of the men as a husband and—