Home is the Hunter by Helen MacInnes Read Free Book Online Page A

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 believe 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—
    HOMER
    Embroidery? What’s this about embroidery?
(He goes quickly over to the frame.)
    CLIA
    That’s what it is, whatever it looks like. It’s for the seventh and last chair. See—
(Points to the chairs along the wall)
    six of them finished; and that makes seven.
(She points to the frame.)
    HOMER
(Sharply)
    What’s this about seven chairs?
    CLIA
    It’s the promise that Penelope gave. On the altar of Athena herself. So that she could put off choosing a husband.
    HOMER
    Why, I always understood she promised to weave a shroud for her father-in-law.
    CLIA
    Oh, at the last moment she changed her mind.
    HOMER
    But why wasn’t I told about this change? I never heard about any embroidery.
    CLIA
    Embroidery or weaving, it’s all the