Scene:The Hall ofPyrrhus'Castle, a rude stone building, with spears, swords, and armour hanging on the walls. A doorway in the back wall leads to the courtyard. At the extreme right is a fire burning; near it are two high seats for the King and Queen.
On a bench near the door areAndromacheandMolossusseated; on the floor near them is a small pile of carpets and tapestries, and a bowl with some metal ornaments and small weapons in it.
Andromache.
But when you saw him fall, and saw the pain in his face, did it give you no grief?
Molossus.
A little, it may be. Not more than when I struckmy first deer. A child might cry over the ox they are flaying now in the yard.
Andromache.
And a grown man, too, if it availed anything.
Molossus.
Mother, you are but a woman, and I am getting to be a man; I must grow past all that and throw it behind me.
EnterOrestesunnoticed: he stands in the doorway, leaning against a pillar.
Andromache.
May your eyes never see half the pain mine have seen! I grew past feeling for it, too, long, long ago. I saw men writhe and bite the dust, without caring for them or counting them. They were so many that they were all confused, and the noise of their anguish was like the crying of cranes far off; there was no one voice in it, and no meaning. And then, as it went on growing, and the sons of Priam died about me and the folk starved, and my husband, Hector, was slain with torment, all the voices gathered again together and seemed as one voice, that cried to my heart so that it understood.
Molossus.
What did it say, mother?
Andromache.
It spoke in a language that you know not, my son.
Molossus.
Did it speak Phrygian?
Andromache.
It spoke the language of old, old men, and those whose gods have deserted them.
[Orestesmoves forward as though to speak, but checks himself.
Molossus.
But you could tell me what it said.
Andromache.
[Looking at him, and not answering.] Why did you everwishto kill that herd-boy?
Molossus.
We had taken their cattle before. They always fight us.
Andromache.
Would it not be better that they should live at peace with you?
Molossus.
Why should I fear their blood-feud? I would sooner be slain than ask favours of them. My father would avenge me well!
Andromache.
And who will be the happier? Listen. Can you hear that little beating sound—down seaward, away from the sun?
Molossus.
It is the water lapping against the rocks.
Andromache.
There is a sound like that in the language I told you of. Old, old men, and those whose gods have deserted them, hear it in their hearts—the sound of all the blood that men have spilt and the tears they have shed, lapping against great rocks, in shadow, away from the sun.
Molossus.
But, mother, no warrior hears any sound like that.
Andromache.
Hector learnt to hear it before he died.
Orestes.
[Coming forward.] Before he died! Is that its meaning?
Andromache.
The stranger! [Turning.
Orestes.
Does it mean death, that sound?
Andromache.
Nay, methinks a man hears it when he has suffered enough, if he has the right ear to hear it.
Orestes.
But it is then that death should come, when a man has suffered enough.
Andromache.
Nay, death should not come for suffering. Death should come when there is no hope left for any one thing in the world.
Orestes.
[Broodingly.] One thing!
Molossus.
But, Mother, they called Hector "Slayer of Men." I want first to slay many, many men, and many wild beasts, and burn a town, that people may fear me, and call me "Slayer of Men." And after that—after that, I will be merciful, and slay only those I hate.
Andromache.
Shall you hate men still?
Molossus.
If they wrong me! [Andromachesmiles.] Shall I not hate them that wrong me? Do you not yourself?
Andromache.
Light of my age, if I hated, how should I live? There are three living souls that I love—you and your father and old Alcimus. And if I hated, whom should I hate more bitterly?
Molossus.
I know my father was your enemy once. But what did old Alcimus?
Andromache.
He was one of the three who slew my little child.
Molossus.
Astyanax? [She nods.] I wish Astyanax were alive, mother. I would take him hunting.—He would have no share, would he, in my heritage?
Andromache.
I know nothing of that.
Molossus.
And did you never hate them—not at the time?
Andromache.
[Looking at him, then passing her hand across her face.] Oh yes, I hated them!
Molossus.
But not me! I never did much harm to you.
Andromache.
Some day perhaps you will hurt me worse than any of them; but I shall not hate you.
Molossus.
[After a pause, handling the objects in the bowl.] Well, I give you my oath this time, Mother; but I will not atone for my next slaying.
EnterAlcimedonand Attendants.
Alcimedon.
The bull is finished, and a fine beast he was. [Seeing the bowl.] What is this?
Molossus.
[Shamefaced.] Nothing. Some pieces of mother's old stores.
Andromache.
The price for the blood of the herd-boy.
Molossus.
She made me vow it!
Alcimedon.
The atonement? That is right. I feared that Pyrrhus would be too proud to pay it.
Molossus.
You need not think thatIwanted him to pay it!
Alcimedon.
H'm! That was howItalked once, before I knew what a blood-feud was. And now I would pay a dead man's weight in silver to be clear of one. Ofcourse, with a stranger it is different, or a man who has no kin. [Examining the stores.] No need to pay too much, though. It was a little boy, they tell me, and poorly clad.
Molossus.
[Almost crying.] He was a big boy!—I hate the Napæans, and I will slay more of them!
Alcimedon.
There are the oxen as well. We have killed two; but sorry beasts, both, sorry beasts. Any two calves will more than make up for them.
Molossus.
But I hate them!
Alcimedon.
Hate them your fill; but make up the feud: we must not have Pyrrhus left childless.
Molossus.
What is it to me if Pyrrhus is childless? He can avenge his children.
Alcimedon.
Peace is better.
Molossus.
[Contemptuously.] Peace!
Orestes.
And what is the road to peace? The hate must eat itself out, till it stays for weariness.
Alcimedon.
A long road, stranger, too long and too rough to the feet. We want peacenow!
Orestes.
How can you get peace now, when the blood is still wet? He may give all his silver and his kine, but he will hate the men whose blood he has drunk; and though they swear by all the gods of their valley, they will hate him. And hate will out, in time, one way or another.
Molossus.
If ever they swerve a hair's breadth from their oaths——
Alcimedon.
And is there to be no peace at all?
Orestes.
Peace for this one—[touchingMolossus]—when Pyrrhus is childless, or when——
Alcimedon.
Your words on your own head!
Orestes.
——when the last of the Napæans has gone from the earth.
Andromache.
Nay; no peace then.
Orestes.
Not for the dead?
Andromache.
Do not men see the dead roaming the world, and hear them call for blood?
Orestes.
[Excitedly.] How knowyou, woman, that the Dead call for blood? [Gloomily again.] When the whole of a race is gone there may perhaps be peace.
Andromache.
But the whole of a race is never gone. Even from Troy there are men escaped who may make cities and seek for vengeance again. And if you blot out all the Napæans, there are those beyond the Napæanswho will hate you for that very thing. Make peace, swiftly, before you die, my son, lest there be no peace for ever and ever.
EnterHermione,withPriestof Thetis and Attendants; she is richly dressed, and her eyes bright and anxious. She passes up to the two high seats, and takes one. She talks with herMaids,andAlcimedongoes over to her.
Orestes.
[Detaching another pendant from his chain.] Woman, you can see men's hearts, and you talk not as these talk. Behold, there is no peace, for peace is nothing; there is either Love or Hate. [Throwing pendant into the bowl.] If gold can buy love where hate is, put that to the blood-gift!
Hermione.
[ToOrestes,across the hall.] Sir Stranger, this Priest tells me you are skilled as a bard.
Orestes.
I have little skill in music, but I have journeyed much.
Hermione.
You can tell us strange tales of your voyages?
Orestes.
Not of my own. But I was telling this boy a tale even now.
Hermione.
Nay, no boys' tales! Andromache, take your son and help with the ox flesh. [ToOrestes.] And sit not so far off, among the slaves' seats. Tell us someman'sstory.
Orestes.
[Approaching, but bringingMolossuswith him, whileAndromachegoes out.] Nay, I will keep the boy. It is a boy's tale, this, and of little meaning. But seeing I have begun—— [ToMolossus.] Have you heard of a man that once had a great feud—Orestes, Agamemnon's son?
Molossus.
Who slew his mother, and was driven by——
Priest.
Nay, name them not, child, name not those Holy Ones.
Alcimedon.
We love not his name in this house, stranger. Have you no other tale?
Hermione.
[Controlling her excitement.] Nay, what hurt is his name? It is only some boy's tale.
Orestes.
He took on him a great feud, greater than he knew. For his father called from the dead for vengeance on the woman who had murdered him. And the gods called, too, and put voices always about him calling for blood. And then they betrayed him!
Molossus.
Did his father betray him, too?
Orestes.
Nay, it may be that the voice was not his father's, after all. But the gods——
Priest.
See that your tongue offend not, stranger!
Orestes.
So be it. Well, in the end he recked not of the gods. He cared not how sore they hated him, and cared not if he lived or died.
Molossus.
And what did he do?
Orestes.
This is the last story I heard of him, from a Chalcidian man who had been in Sicily.
Hermione.
Had he gone so far away?
Orestes.
Beyond the end of Sicily to a kingdom of the Iberians. For he vowed that he would be like Paris, and win the most beautiful of all women for his wife; for, you must know, the gods had marred all the world for him, and made it all as ashes in his mouth, except beauty. For beauty is immortal, like themselves; and they cannot hurt it. So he sought and questioned where that woman might be; and men said she was queen of a land among the Iberians.
Hermione.
[Half divining his meaning.] Had he seen her himself?
Orestes.
Ay, long ago, they said.
Hermione.
And did he too deem her so fair?
Orestes.
[Looking full at her.] More beautiful than the flowers and the sunlight, so that in dreams her eyes haunted him.
Molossus.
Well, and what did he do?
Orestes.
He took his ship, with a hundred men well armed, and hid them in a bay of Iberia. And he went up alone to the king's castle and saw the woman. For he was not sure if she was really so beautiful, and wanted to see her again very close. So he stayed in the king's house and made a plot to bear her away.
Molossus.
But what happened?
Orestes.
I said it was but a boy's story. The Chalcidian knew not what had happened. Some said he won the queen to his ship, and fled away, wandering; and some said she told the king of his plotting, and theyslew him there in the banquet hall. [A slight pause.] So perchance even Orestes has found his peace; or, perchance he is still an outcast man, with a new feud following him.
Molossus.
But I wish I knew.
Orestes.
Oh, 'tis a foolish story, without an ending.
Hermione.
[Breaking out from her suspense; recklessly.] And a poor fool, your Orestes, whatever befell!
Orestes.
How so? What if he won the woman?
Hermione.
He only fled on the seas with her, an exiled man, with no comfort. Could he not get him a kingdom?
Orestes.
Belike he cared not for a little kingdom, being once robbed of his own great kingdom.
Hermione.
If a high seat is empty, shall not a great king'sson be bold to sit on it? Were his men good soldiers of Mycenæ?
Orestes.
Some, of Mycenæ, who had sacked Troy; some, pirates he had got in his voyaging; all good fighters!
Hermione.
Could he not slay that Iberian in his halls, and sit upon his seat?
Alcimedon.
By Thetis! that would have been a gallant deed.
Priest.
Unrighteous, very unrighteous; but doubtless the Iberian would have sinned against some god!
Orestes.
The Iberians may be brave fighters; I know not. And he knew of none to help him.
Alcimedon.
A hundred good Phthians might have tried it.
Hermione.
The queen might have had her own friends who would fight for her.
Alcimedon.
A very foul deed, very foul; but a gallant one! And if she would leave her lord—the hound!—she might well help to slay him!
Orestes.
He did not seek her for her righteousness; he sought her because her beauty spoke like a god to him!
[A moment's pause. A shout of several voices heard in the Court.
Alcimedon.
What is that shouting?
[Moves towards door, withMolossus;thePriestfollows.
Hermione.
I heard the King's voice in it. [To herMaids.] Go, quick. See what has happened. [They also go towards the door, leavingHermioneandOrestesalone. An instant of silence; then she makes a quick movement to him.] Oh, speak!
Orestes.
Either I will take you this night or I will be slain here in the hall!
Hermione.
Oh, take me, take me! I am half dead with wearying!
Orestes.
You shall weary no more. Go forth alone at midnight to the altar of Thetis——
Hermione.
The altar of Thetis—by night![She shows fear.
Orestes.
What do you fear? [Hermioneshudders, but does not answer.] You dare not? Then, let it end the other way!
Hermione.
Dare you slayhim?
Orestes.
That is no great thing!
Hermione.
And the witch, and the witch-child?[With frightened ferocity.
Orestes.
Slayher?
Hermione.
You will not? You will not? Oh, then, I dare not go to you!
[Oresteslooks at her with surprise and some repulsion; the women andAlcimusreturn, followed byPyrrhusandMolossus,with some armour: after themAndromacheand some retainers.
Maid.
A gift for Molossus! The King has given him a helmet and shield and spear!
Molossus.
And greaves, too, with bronze rims!
Pyrrhus.
Not yet, my boy! [AsMolossuswould fit a greave on.] Bad luck before a banquet.
Alcimus.
Wait till the morning, my lad!
Pyrrhus.
[With sudden displeasure, seeing the blood-gifts.] What mean all these carpets, and the bowl yonder?
Andromache.
They are gifts for the atonement.
Pyrrhus.
Atonement—to those dogs!
Andromache.
My King, it was the boon you granted me.
Pyrrhus.
[Turning towardsMolossus.] The boy never consented!
Molossus.
I—verily I liked it not—but I gave my word. Mother made me.
Pyrrhus.
You have just slain a man, and a woman can frighten you to promising your own dishonour?
Molossus.
She did not frighten me; she—I know not how she did it!
Hermione.
[With a laugh.] Others can guess well enough how she did it!
First Maid.
[Muttering.] Sorceress!
Second Maid.
[The same.] Phrygian witch!
Alcimus.
Hold your peace, little prating foxes!
First Maid.
Oh, we all know she has witched old Alcimedon, long ago.
Molossus.
[Half crying, asPyrrhusstands gloomily silent.] I would not make atonement to them, Father, for all the world!
Pyrrhus.
She has your word now, little fool; and mine likewise.—By the gods, woman, you have got your will, and shamed me in the eyes of all men.
Andromache.
Master, your honour is more to me than mine own. This thing shames you not; even Alcimedon deemed it wise and honourable.
Alcimus.
The boy is very young; if he were a man, belike——
Hermione.
Is Alcimedon the judge of his lord's honour?
Andromache.
But how should I ever seek to hurt your honour? Why should I wish it?
Priest.
[AsPyrrhusgoes silently back to the throne.] A barbarian woman never forgets a hurt.
First Maid.
'Tis the spite of a conquered Phrygian.
Hermione.
Let her be, King! She is thinking ever of her Hector, and Astyanax whom you slew!
Andromache.
My lord——
Pyrrhus.
Peace, peace! She knows well enough that Hector is dead—and beyond the seas too. Though I wereshamed to the dirt in mine own hall, Hector would not hear of it!
Hermione.
Are you sure?
Priest.
Hector himself is buried beyond the seas, but his ghost may have followed your ships to Phthia. [Coming up to the throne.] Yea, son of Achilles, though you like not my counsel, there be witches in Phrygia that can wake the dead, and tell them of shame come to their enemies, or of——
Alcimus.
There be none such in Phthia, old man! And if the deadshouldwake, your prating would even set them to sleep again.[Laughter, in whichPyrrhusslightly joins.
Pyrrhus.
'Tis well said, Alcimedon! These women and priests!
Priest.
Nay, but Iwillspeak!
[Talks toPyrrhus,round whom a group gathers, leavingAndromachealone, andOrestesnearAlcimedon.
Orestes.
[Apart toAlcimedon.] Old man, you have seen Helen. Was she more beautiful than your Queen?
Alcimus.
[Looking towardsHermione,then brightening.] Nay, this is a woman like another; Helen was goddesslike, deathless and ageless for ever!
Orestes.
[To himself.] For Helen I could have done it! Alcimedon, did yonder woman ever do Helen any great wrong, anything meet for vengeance?
Alcimus.
Andromache? Why, 'twas Helen didherall the wrong!
Orestes.
Even so; and therefore she must have hated her. Did she never seek, think you, to have Helen slain?
Alcimus.
I trow not! Why, she gave her home and shelter when the folk of Troy sought to stone her.
Orestes.
[Brooding.] If she had ever plotted against Helen, I could have done it.
Pyrrhus.
[Shaking off thePriest.] Enough, enough!—Is your stranger in the hall, Andromache?
Andromache.
He is here, my lord; a man of good counsel, methinks, and like to be faithful to his guest-oath.
Pyrrhus.
He is happily come to a night of festival.—Stranger, you stand far from the fire.
[OrestesandHermionehave been trying to read one another's faces. HereOrestesturns bitterly, looks to the suits of armour on the wall, and chooses a seat near one.
Orestes.
Nay, I have a good seat.
Pyrrhus.
We will call the bard and be merry.
Orestes.
[Gloomily.] I have heard your bard but now.
Priest.
The stranger makes minstrelsy himself, as many chieftains may.
Orestes.
Ay, give me a goblet, and I will sing. I am but a rude singer, but my songs may perchance be new.
Pyrrhus.
Take him the wine.[They bring wine and a lyre.
Orestes.
There are two songs running in my ears this hour past; and I know not fully even yet which of the two is better.
Pyrrhus.
Let it be something joyful, meet for a feast-day.
Orestes.
I fancied before that one of my songs was very joyful; but now methinks there is no joy at all in either.
Pyrrhus.
[After looking at him questioningly for a moment.] Then give us a good straight battle-piece, with no cowards in it, and no slaying by stealth.
Orestes.
[Excitedly.] That it shall be! No cowards, no slaying by stealth, and a clean, hard fight! Ay, and it is the easier too!
Priest.
You will call first upon the god, stranger.
Orestes.
Assuredly; and the god can choose the end of the lay.[Chanting.
"Lord of Man's hope, whom no man worshippeth,Heart of his fears, and burthen of his breath,Queller of hate and love, hear, O Most Strong,Most Wrathful and Unrighteous, hear, O Death!"
"Lord of Man's hope, whom no man worshippeth,Heart of his fears, and burthen of his breath,Queller of hate and love, hear, O Most Strong,Most Wrathful and Unrighteous, hear, O Death!"
Men-at-Arms.
Good words! Good words!
Priest.
God avert the omen![He goes and does purifications at the fire.
Alcimedon.
On his own head! By Thetis! this stranger has run over with evil words ever since he came.
Pyrrhus.
Choose another song, Sir Stranger! Men like not the name of Death.
Orestes.
Not death! Shall I sing of women, then? They come nearest.[Chants.
"O Light and Shadow of all things that be,O Beauty, wild with wreckage like the sea,Say who shall win thee, thou without a name?O Helen, Helen, who shall die for thee?"
"O Light and Shadow of all things that be,O Beauty, wild with wreckage like the sea,Say who shall win thee, thou without a name?O Helen, Helen, who shall die for thee?"
Alcimedon.
[Starting up.] Now, by Thetis, stranger, in shape God has made you kinglike, but within a very fool!
Hermione.
[Piteously.] My mother Helen neverwishedthe men to die!
Orestes.
My singing mislikes you, old man? Or is it women that like you not?
Pyrrhus.
Stranger, some gayer song would better suit a day of rejoicing. Are the songs of Acarnania all sad?
Orestes.
Do the men of Phthia wince at the name of death?
Alcimedon.
We have our own bard, who can sing to our liking; and his lays will tell whether we fear death.
Orestes.
Your own bard will sing your own valour, belike? That I can ill do; for I have heard but little of the deeds of Pyrrhus.
Alcimedon.
The name of Troy has been heard, perchance, even in Acarnania?
Orestes.
But the praise of your ancestors I could make into something—something gayer, you said? Was Æacus the first of your house?
Alcimedon.
Æacus, son of Zeus.
Orestes.
[Twanging the lyre carelessly and improvising.