Free Home is the Hunter by Helen MacInnes Page B

stands there, seeing but unseen.)
    PENELOPE
    Who—who’s this?
    ERYX
(Sarcastically)
    A beggar, I believe.
    ULYSSES
(Takes a step forward humbly, touching his hat)
    Asking your help, lady. Some food, a place to sleep.
    PENELOPE
(In a low voice)
    Oh, Clia!
    CLIA
(Apologetically)
    I haven’t had time to welcome him properly. At first, I didn’t see him, and then when I did, you came into the Hall, and—
    ERYX
    That’s right! Change the subject.
    MELAS
    Oh no, she doesn’t!
(Roughly, to PENELOPE )
    Announce the contest.
    PENELOPE
(Turning away from the door)
    Now?
    HOMER
    No! Penelope, don’t! Don’t give in!
    PENELOPE
(Ignoring HOMER , and smiling to MELAS and ERYX )
    What about the others? Shouldn’t they be here, too?
    ERYX
    We’ve had enough delay. You tell us; we’ll tell them.
    PENELOPE
(Pausing at the foot of the steps)
    I said the contest would be fair to all. None of you has ever shot with a great bow, has he?
    MELAS
    One of those old things our grandfathers used to shoot with? Why, there hasn’t been one of them around in years.
    PENELOPE
(Pointing to the unstrung bow that rests on the wall beside the door)
    There is one... I’ll marry the man who can string that bow and shoot an arrow through a hole bored in the head of an axe. We’ll drive the handle of the axe into the earth floor, over there, at the far end of this Hall.
(Now, she points to the back of the auditorium, and everyone on stage turns to look.)
    You are all good marksmen. You will all have the same chance. What could be fairer?
    ERYX
(Looks at the Great Bow)
    So that’s a great bow, is it? I always thought it was some old yoke for a pair of decrepit oxen.
    HOMER
(Angrily)
    It’s a noble contest—heroic, in fact. Too good for any of you.
(Sadly, to PENELOPE )
    So you no longer think of yourself as the wife of Odysseus? You feel free to marry one of them?
(He gestures with distaste to MELAS and ERYX .)
    PENELOPE
    I’ll marry the man who wins the contest. It will be open to everyone who is in this Hall tonight. Except Telemachus, of course—there’s no Oedipus complex in our family.
    ERYX
    See what you could win, Homer?
(He and MELAS enjoy this joke, but HOMER turns away from PENELOPE .)
    HOMER
    I want no part of this.
    (At his bitterness, PENELOPE ’s head droops. She covers her eyes, and runs toward the door on the dais. ATHENA shrugs her shoulders once more, and walks slowly back into the wall.)
    ERYX
(As he sees MELAS edging over toward the bow)
    Hands off!
    MELAS
    I was only looking.
    ERYX
    We’ll keep it that way. We’ll go up the Green Mountain and kill some meat. We’ll have a banquet tonight.
    MELAS
    You’re accepting the contest?
    ERYX
    We can talk it over with the others. Perhaps we’ll think of a better one, and use that old bow for kindling.
    HOMER
    Barbarians! Respecters of nothing except your own will-to-power! The history of that bow is—
    MELAS
    Save your breath and compose a wedding song for Penelope.
    ERYX
(To CLIA )
    Tell her we’ll be back, before the shadow reaches there!
    (As he speaks, he gashes a line with a sudden stroke of his spear on the sun-covered threshold. Then he elbows the beggar aside, and melas follows him with another shove at the beggar. They hurry out, grimly amused.)
    CLIA
(Covering her eyes)
    Oh, Penelope!
    HOMER
(Goes over to the beggar)
    Come in, come in. Don’t judge us by the company we are forced to keep.
    CLIA
(Remembering her duties)
    Yes, come in, you’re welcome, you really are.
(To HOMER )
    Oh, what are we going to do?
(To the beggar)
    Just go over there by the fire. Yes, there.
(To HOMER )
    I must go to Penelope. You hurt her. Did you see the way you hurt her?
(To the beggar)
    Sit down, sit down. I shan’t be a minute. I haven’t forgotten my manners; it’s just that we’ve a lot of trouble in this house.
(She hurries to the dais. From outside, there is a clatter of horses’ hoofs in the distance, diminishing)
    HOMER
    I didn’t think my words would hurt Penelope, not