An Iliad
Page 6
ACHILLES Enough. Enough grief, enough tears. What good will our tears do? I won’t see my father again. You can’t bring your son back to life.
PRIAM (Springing up.) Give me my son! You took him from me! His body is rotting out there on the beach—I’ve had enough of this—LET ME SEE MY SON!
ACHILLES (A dark glance.) Don’t make me mad. You don’t know—the way my heart is—so full of rage—I’m sick with it, old man—don’t stir my rage, don’t make me angry, or I’ll—
POET And now here’s the thing. What I love singing, and I hope I can make you see: For once, Achilles, who is addicted to rage—as so many of us are, really, when it comes right down to it—this fighting man feels the rage well up in his heart … and he makes it disappear.
He just—(THE POET breathes out, showing how Achilles lets go of his rage.)
How did he do that?
Achilles lets go of his rage, and goes outside, and he lifts Hector up in his own arms …
(THE POET raises his arms as if carrying the broken body.)
… Achilles lifted Hector up in his own arms—
And laid him down in his father’s wagon.
ACHILLES OK, it’s done. I’ve laid him in your wagon, old man. No—don’t run out there now—I’ll have my men make a bed for you, out on the porch—in the morning, you will see him, and then you’ll take him home. Oh—one more thing: How many days do you need to bury Prince Hector?
PRIAM (Taken aback.) Well, we need time to set up his memorial … our city is far from the hills—we’d have to go out and haul in timber for the pyre … we’d need nine days to mourn him, and then we’d bury him on the tenth day, and one more day to finish his tomb, and have a feast in his honor … eleven days. We would need eleven days. And then we could fight again on the twelfth day … if that’s absolutely necessary.
ACHILLES Done. You’ll have your 11 days. I’ll make the Greeks stop fighting for 11 days.
PRIAM (Beat.) Put me to bed.
POET Priam reached out his hand, and Achilles took it, and led the old man to the porch. Priam slept, dreaming of the journey home, and Achilles slept, dreaming of his father, and the entire Greek army slept, dreaming of the next day’s battle …
… and the sentries guarding the walls of Troy slept, and all of the Trojan civilians slept, and all of the Trojan soldiers slept. And in the countryside, the farmers and the shepherds and the animals slept, and in the Greek ships the slaves and the oarsmen slept, and even, way up on Olympus, Zeus lay his head on Hera’s shoulder, and even the gods fell asleep …
(Pause.)
I don’t want to tell you about what happens next—I know you know—about the trick that did it—the Trojan Horse—I can’t do it—(He starts packing up.) how the Greeks pretended to leave, and Troy rejoiced and they thought it was over, the war was over—but that night Greek soldiers snuck out—and began the slaughter and the burning—the Sack of Troy, that’s not—I’m not singing that song … the song of the murder of Priam, the song of the death of Achilles … the song of Hector’s infant son thrown from the battlements—how the Greek soldier held him up in one hand, but the baby laughed, the soldier’s helmet made him think of his father, and this time he thought it was a game—the sound of the boy’s head splitting on the pavement … (He turns to get his coat.) the song of the Trojan women, all of them kidnapped and raped and taken to Greece, the song of Aeneas escaping with his father on his back, the song of Odysseus, trying to get home, no, it’s too much, all these songs …
(Grabbing his suitcase.) Imagine it for yourselves, the destruction of a city, a civilization, you know what that looks like … like …
… Alexandria, all that history lost … (Pause, searching …)
… like …
… Constantinople, burning for weeks …
… like …
… the Aztec temples, razed …
… like …
Dresden … Hiroshima …
like …
Sarajevo …
like …
Kabul …
like …
(THE POET stops. He seems to crumple, becoming a sad ancient pile of dust. After some moments, he stumbles up. He shuffles over to an old sink—and turns on the water. He splashes water on his face then takes a deep breath. He comes back downstage.)
I will tell you this:
Cassandra saw them first. Priam and the wagon and the body of Hector.
Priam told his people of the cease-fire, not to worry, there would be no war for eleven whole days, they could bury Hector the proper way. And so they built a pyre, and they mourned him, and on the tenth night they burned his body—until the sun came up.
(Taking another step closer to the audience.) At last,
when young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more,
the people massed around illustrious Hector’s pyre …
And once they’d gathered, crowding the meeting grounds,
they first put out the fires with glistening wine,
wherever the flames still burned in all their fury.
Then they collected the white bones of Hector—
all his brothers, his friends-in-arms, mourning,
and warm tears came streaming down their cheeks.
They placed the bones they found in a golden chest,
shrouding them round and round in soft purple cloths.
They quickly lowered the chest in a deep, hollow grave
and over it piled a cope of huge stones closely set,
then hastily heaped a barrow, posted lookouts all around
for fear the Achaen combat troops would launch their attack
before the time agreed.
(Slowly, with ceremony.) And once they’d heaped the mound
they turned back home to Troy, and gathering once again
they shared a splendid funeral feast in Hector’s honor,
held in the house of Priam, king by will of Zeus.
And so the Trojans buried Hector breaker of horses.
(THE POET stands there for a moment, silent. He looks out at the audience, expectantly.)
You see?
(Blackout.)
END OF PLAY
* We like to include one or two towns from the locale where the play is being performed. Feel free to pick a couple of nearby places that produce enlisted men and women, and insert them after Lawrence, Kansas.
* As time goes on, it may be necessary to add a war or wars at the end of the list to reflect current events. This should be done with great restraint and include only major conflicts. The same is true of the list of destroyed cities toward the end of the play.