The Gate to Women's Country

  "Did you ever read the Appendices?" Corrig asked, flipping rapidly to the back of the book.

  "I think I had to read them once for school. I really don't remember."

  "Persons of the Drama," read Corrig.

  Trojans

  HECUBA: Widow of King Priam of Troy and mother of Hector.

  ANDROMACHE: Widow of Hector.

  The infant, ASTYANAX: Hector's son.

  The Ghost of POLYXENA: Hecuba's daughter.

  CASSANDRA: Hecuba's daughter.

  Greeks

  TALTHYBIUS: A messenger.

  The Ghost of IPHIGENIA: Agamemnon's daughter.

  The Ghost of ACHILLES: A Greek warrior.

  HELEN, seen upon the battlements.

  Several soldiers and serving women.

  Scene: At the foot of the broken walls of Troy. To the right the stones of the wall have tumbled into a rough stairway which permits ascent to the top of the battlements. On the left a few warriors, who were detailed to stand guard on the women, are playing dice. Huddled together are Hecuba and Andromache, with their serving women asleep around them. In Andromache's lap is her infant son, Astyanax, whom she is comforting.

  ANDROMACHE There, baby, there. Take the nipple. Suck. Oh see, Mother Hecuba, he's too tired to suck. Poor baby. All the smoke and noise....

  HECUBA And howling. We've all been doing that. It's the crying's kept him awake, daughter. Well, I'm through crying. I cried for Hector, my son, and I cried for King Priam, my husband, and I cried for the city of Troy, and then I cried for me, and that's enough of it.

  ANDROMACHE I'm dry of weeping, too. (She looks up at the walls above her where a group of people have paused to gawk) Bitch!

  HECUBA (Looking up) You mean Helen.

  ANDROMACHE Well, she's not down here in the dirt with us, is she? She's not trying to find food for a baby or worrying whose slave she's going to be.

  HECUBA That one is no man's slave. Still, Menelaus vows he'll kill her.

  ANDROMACHE He'll not kill her. Kill the source of so much glory? Kill he topic of ten thousand poets' songs? She'll go back to being wife and honored queen, shown off like a prize cow. She'll sit in a carved chair with a silver sewing box and spin purple wool when all of us are dead. (Looks up at Helen laughing on the battlement) May her womb be closed forever. May she never bear another child. May she have boils in her....

  HECUBA Shhh, shhh. Your curses may bear fruit, and if they do you'll bring Erinyes down upon yourself. All those who curse their kin bring down the three avengers on themselves....

  "Stop for footnote," said Corrig, flipping to the back of the book. "What are Erinyes? I can never remember."

  "Furies," Stavia replied, taking another sip of tea.

  "Ah yes. 'Anger, Vengeance, and Jealousy, who return from the underworld to earth to punish certain acts, particularly the murder of relatives, et cetera.' Was Helen a relative? Were the Greeks?"

  "She was sort of married to one of their countrymen. I don't know, Corrig. I think in school they said it means all women are kin, sort of."

  "Hmm," he mused. "Well. Back to text...."

  ANDROMACHE I wasn't cursing kin. I cursed at her and at those Greeks who brought my Hector down. They are no kin of mine.

  HECUBA She's a woman, Andromache. A sister of ours. Perhaps she even thinks herself a Trojan. Long years she's walked the torch lit halls of Troy.

  ANDROMACHE One day was too long.

  HECUBA Even one hour's too long, Andromache, but do not risk what little we have left on her behalf.

  ANDROMACHE What little's that?

  HECUBA You are my son's loved wife, and you're alive. Your baby Astyanax is alive. And even I'm alive, though that may be sparse comfort for us both.

  ANDROMACHE Your daughters, Polyxena and Cassandra, are alive. Such as they are.

  HECUBA That's true, so let's not tempt the Furies down for the sake of mere cursing. (She takes the baby from Andromache) Oh, baby, baby. Little Astyanax. He's trying so hard to fall asleep.

  ANDROMACHE Speak of reasons for cursing. Here comes Talthybius. (Talthybius enters left)

  HECUBA (Fumbling in her skirt) Do you come like the raven, messenger, to croak dishonor in my aged ears?

  TALTHYBIUS I bring such messages as I am sent with.

  HECUBA They do not ever send you with good tidings, do they, Talthybius?

  TALTHYBIUS Priam's wife, if they had good to say, they'd come themselves with joy salving their lips.

  ANDROMACHE But you they send with vomit in your mouth and Hector's blood still warm upon your tongue.

  HECUBA Shhh, shhh, daughter. The messenger brings only what he's given. What are you given now, Talthybius?

  TALTHYBIUS Some word about your children, Priam's Queen. (He casts about for some acceptable part of the message) Cassandra. I bring word of Cassandra.

  HECUBA (Nodding) She went quite mad, you know. She ran throughout the palace, up and down, dancing with Hymen's torches in her hands, whirling until she'd set fire to her hair. We threw wet blankets on her, holding her until the flame was out. Her nuptials shall light a funeral pyre, or so she says. What else is there to know about Cassandra?

  TALTHYBIUS Agamemnon will take her home with him. She pleases him.

  ANDROMACHE One can account so little for some things. He's pleased with her? Then he is likely pleased to taunt the Gods and court his own destruction. What will he do with her?

  TALTHYBIUS He will bed her, I think, madam.

  ANDROMACHE He'll bed the virgin priestess of Athena! When he is done, then will he curse at Zeus and piss upon the image of Apollo? Or is he turned by madness that he seeks a mate most like himself... ?

  HECUBA Shhh, shhh, daughter. Do not curse the Greeks who seem well able to proscribe themselves. So, Talthybius. Agamemnon will take Cassandra. What of Polyxena?

  TALTHYBIUS (After an uncomfortable pause) She was assigned by lot, as were you all.

  HECUBA Where? To whom? What Greek takes Polyxena?

  TALTHYBIUS She has been assigned to serve the tomb of Achilles.

  HECUBA Slave to a graven tomb! How dreadful for her. She loves the lively arts, Talthybius. Dancing. Eating. To think that she must serve Achilles' tomb.

  TALTHYBIUS Count her as happy, Queen. Her fate frees her from troubles that still follow you....

  HECUBA What troubles have I? So, I'll be a slave. When thousands lie unburied on the field, when blood runs down to feed the summer trees, does slavery count for much?

  TALTHYBIUS You will be slave to Odysseus.

  HECUBA His ownership will be as short as my subservience, Talthybius. I am an old woman. See. My hair is white.

  TALTHYBIUS (Leaning down to look at her closely) You have years yet.

  HECUBA (She fumbles in her skirt again, then removes her hands and clenches them in front of her, staring at them. There is a pause) My daughter Cassandra says not.

  TALTHYBIUS No one believes Cassandra. As for Andromache....

  ANDROMACHE I'll be a slave. I know it already. I say with my husband's mother that my slavery will be brief.

  TALTHYBIUS But you are young yet.

  ANDROMACHE So I am.

  HECUBA Enough, Talthybius. You have told us enough for one visit. Croak somewhere else for a time.

  TALTHYBIUS Queen, I cannot.

  ANDROMACHE Oh? Do you bear some vomit yet?

  HECUBA Shhh, shhh.

  TALTHYBIUS Your son, Andromache....

  ANDROMACHE Do not tell me of any wickedness which would wrest a suckling from his mother's arms. Don't tell me he'll be taken from my care to grow to manhood in some other house.

  TALTHYBIUS I will not tell you that.

  ANDROMACHE He'll go with me? You would not leave him here?

  TALTHYBIUS (Sadly) Here, yes. On his father's soil. In his father's place.

  ANDROMACHE Whose words are these?

  TALTHYBIUS Odysseus spoke before the Achaeans, extolling Hector's glory. He said that they could ill afford to rear a her
o's son lest he rise up when he is grown and avenge him for his father's death.

  ANDROMACHE They will leave him here? With some shepherd, some potter, some lowly family?

  TALTHYBIUS Here among these stones. Thrown to his death from Troy's new-riven walls. So they have said.

  ANDROMACHE (Screams and clings to her child. Talthybius summons the guards who help him wrest the child from her. He then ascends the stair of tumbled stone, she crying after him) I call doom upon you, Talthybius, and those who sent you here. I call doom upon their ships and on their men. I call the Furies down. Oh do not, do not. Give him to me. He is only a little child. My milk is still warm on his lips. Gods, Talthybius, they'll curse you, don't... (She screams and weeps)

  HECUBA (Holding her) Andromache. Love. Daughter. Sweet girl. Oh why didn't I, when I had the chance, oh why didn't I? Oh here, hold on to me. How can they do this to a baby... ?

  (There is a cry from the top of the wall, a high, piercing sound, like a bird. They look up. Talthybius has thrown the child from the walls. The guards are all looking down. The ghostly figure of Iphigenia wanders near them....)

  "I think this is my entrance coming up," said Stavia, filling grain bowls for them. "Aren't you tired of reading, Corrig?"

  "I love the sound of my own voice. Now, get ready, you're almost on." He went on reading.

  HECUBA Who's that? Who walks on these walls among the warriors?

  "The cry comes again," quoted Stavia from memory, "and the ghost of Iphigenia is seen. In her arms, she carries the ghost of the child, as she descends the stair."

  ANDROMACHE Do warriors have no pity that they do these things? What stomachs them? Are men made up of iron? What do they use for hearts? Do they not see we are the same as they, our children like their children, and our flesh like that of women whom they left behind.

  IPHIGENIA (Crying like a seabird) What difference would it make? They do the same to their own.

  ANDROMACHE Who calls? Is that my child?

  IPHIGENIA (Holding out the baby) Your child? Or some other's child? Two children dead. One virgin girl, one suckling boy. See, here we are, wandering together. (She dances)

  HECUBA (Frightened) Who are you?

  IPHIGENIA Agamemnon's daughter, come from Hades' realm to seek revenge on him who killed her.

  HECUBA Daughter of Agamemnon? The man who says he'll take Cassandra?

  IPHIGENIA Ah well, we know the truth of that, old woman. He will not take her far nor keep her long. And you need not curse him. I've cursed him quite enough without your curses.

  ANDROMACHE Is that my child?

  IPHIGENIA If I am my father's child, this is your child. No, this is a better child to you than I to my father, for this babe does not curse you. See, he smiles.

  HECUBA You curse your father?

  IPHIGENIA I curse him who killed me. And him who tricked my mother into letting him.

  ANDROMACHE Give me my child. (She reaches for him but cannot hold him)

  IPHIGENIA He is beyond your grasp, unhappy queen. But see, he smiles again. Be glad he's come to me. He has kinfolk who walk among us ghosts. Polyxena will rock him in her arms and give him buds of asphodel to suck.

  HECUBA Polyxena dead! But Talthybius said she served Achilles' tomb.

  IPHIGENIA She was slain on Achilles' tomb, if that is service.

  HECUBA Oh, false Talthybius, to riddle me these serpent's words. My daughter dead.

  IPHIGENIA Her throat was slit above Achilles' corpse as mine was cut above Artemis's. They like the smell of virgin blood, these men.

  HECUBA They tell us that the Gods are pleased with blood.

  IPHIGENIA Oh shhh, shhh, don't curse the Gods, old woman. It's man who puts the blood-stink in their noses and clotted gore upon their divine lips. Would you drink human blood instead of meat? Do not the Gods have cows? Don't they have cooks?

  (Enter, upon the battlement, the ghost of Achilles)

  ACHILLES I seek my servant, Polyxena!

  Stavia's eyes were closed as though she might be asleep.

  Corrig watched her for a moment, then asked gently, "Who's going to play Achilles?"

  "Joshua, I think. He has several times before." She blinked.

  "Good old Joshua."

  "Good indeed," said Stavia. "You know, Corrig, I remember once when I was about eleven, Myra was reading the play for me, cueing me, just the way you were.... " Her voice trailed off as she thought of Myra.

  Corrig didn't speak for a time. Then he asked, "Have you seen Myra lately?"

  Stavia came to herself with a start. "Not for months. I only see her if I happen to run into her at the market or somewhere. I guess she's never really forgiven Morgot for asking her to move out."

  Corrig shook his head slowly. "No, she's never forgiven you, Stavia. Because you stayed."

  LYRA'S LEAVING Morgot's house had been inevitable from the moment Myra met Barten. Not that Barten had intended it or Myra foreseen it or Morgot known it would happen. No one knew, but it was inevitable just the same.

  On the day the rift between Myra and Morgot began, Stavia had just turned eleven. She and Myra were in Stavia's room, going over the opening lines of the play, both of them already more than a little bored with it.

  "You know, Stavia," Myra said in her dramatically fed up older-sister voice. "You've got most of the lines all right, but you seem to keep forgetting this is a comedy!"

  "I don't forget," Stavia objected, rolling over on her bed to stare at the low ceiling. Last winter the rain had come in through the roof tiles and left a long, swirling stain that sometimes looked like a man with a long beard and sometimes looked like something else. "I do fine until they get to that bit about throwing the baby over the wall, then I think of Jerby and it doesn't seem funny."

  "Well you've seen it every year, for heaven's sake. You go with the rest of us, just before summer carnival. They use that crazy clown-faced doll for the baby. It doesn't even look like a real child. It isn't supposed to be a real baby. The old women aren't real old women. The virgins aren't really virgins. It's supposed to be a satire, you know?" She frowned, trying to remember something an instructor had said. "A commentary on particular attitudes of preconvulsion society."

  "I know." Stavia knew it was a commentary, but knowing and feeling were two separate things. She felt the play in ways she didn't know it.

  Myra went on, "Hecuba and Andromache are all tarted up, like a pair of river Gypsies, with red on their cheeks and their lips as bloody as Talthybius's are supposed to be. And where he says Andromache's young yet, he puts his hand on her, you know? Then Achilles comes down the stairs with that great dong on him, sticking way out and bobbing around like anything, looking for Polyxena...."

  "I know, Myra! I just keep thinking of Jerby, that's all."

  "He'll be all right," Myra had said, not sounding as though she believed it. She no longer talked very much about Jerby. His being down at the garrison confused her. She did want him to come home, and yet men who did come home were cowards and tit-suckers, according to Barten, the young warrior she'd been spending a lot of time talking to from the top of the wall. Cowards and tit-suckers and impotent, too. Or else gelded when they came back. All the warriors said so. Until recently she had not thought of Joshua as a coward and a tit-sucker, and she wasn't sure what gelding really did to a man, but she supposed he must be if Barten said so. "Jerby'll be coming for a visit soon."

  "It's only two months to midsummer carnival."

  "I know." Myra got up off the floor where she had been sitting to cue Stavia in her part. "Oh, I know." She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head from side to side, striking a dance pose with her arms.

  "You're going to have an assignation, aren't you?"

  "Maybe." She tossed her light red hair. "One of the warriors has been courting me."

  "Is he good-looking?"

  "Mmmm." Myra rolled her eyes and made fainting motions. "Shoulders out to here, with the cutest bottom, and blue, blue eyes
and his hair and eyebrows are black, and he has these lips that curve down in the middle...."