rest upon that of her child, no matter the sacrilegious and traitorous nature of the acts that may be needed to protect him. But to put words into an act, especially a heinous act, requires a determination beyond that which I harbor in my breast. My love for husband has not waned during these long years of separation and even grows stronger with his approach.
PROMACHOS: Mother, my feeling for my father is not as strong as yours for husband since I was still a youth when he left. My memories, not being plentiful when he left, have faded with time, as have feelings that I may have had upon his departure. And memories of my brother are just fleeting wisps like ghosts in the night, even though you have told me of how Admetus cared for me when I was young. My feeling for both father and brother are not so feeble as to not arouse revulsion at the thought of doing either of them harm. But I am afraid of my fate should circumstances change.
IPHTHIME: I could send you to live with my family in Athens, great capital of Attica. They could shelter you from harm and provide for you a warm and loving hearth. My family has great influence and wealth, and life with them would be on a standard greater than that you have here.
PROMACHOS: But to what purpose? Would I be beggar to live off family and friends in hope that one day I could replace my brother as king? Or would gold and secret talks with Pheraean powers result in my swift departure to Hades, while in the arms of mother Night? What life would that be; not knowing what fate awaits me with Phobos, that fearful offspring of Aphrodite and Ares, as my constant companion? Is that what you would wish upon a prince, your son, Mother?
IPHTHIME: This is not the fate I would wish for you, but what alternatives are there that would not violate the sanctity of Hestia, the goddess of hearth and family? We must rely upon Hestia to prevent the injustice of which we discuss; we must sacrifice to her and see if she supports our cause.
PROMACHOS: There is no time for sacrifices; action must be taken now. To preserve my life, we must end Admetus’. As to offending the gods, if one’s fate is written before he leaves the womb, how can one be subject to the wrath of the gods unless that was always his fate? His actions are ordained, so whether I chose to commit the crime we now discuss or not has already been woven into my life’s thread.
IPHTHIME: This cannot be. We must have the ability to choose right from wrong, life from death; the golden scales of Zeus in which are our lives are weighed must determine our fate. Without choice, we walk through life no better than wild animals, which interact with the world without thought.
PROMACHOS: Why do you cling to these deities when by their actions are no better than men: they deceive, they betray, they lust, they murder? Behold great Agamemnon who sacrificed his beloved virgin daughter to appease Artemis and was killed for it upon his return by his wife and her lover. Or mighty Achilles killed by a poison arrow from the Paris’ bow but guided by Apollo. Or strong Locrian Ajax who survived Poseidon’s tempest only to be destroyed by the vengeful Sea God anyway. Appeasing the gods does not secure protection from their wrath. I would prefer to take actions that will secure my fate than rely upon the whims of the gods, who only help those that are related or favored by them.
IPHTHIME: By talking thus, you guarantee your fate by your sacrilege. Even if your view of the gods does prevail, what of the crimes you are proposing? Violation of society’s laws will result in terrible retribution from those that love the prince and the King. How do you propose to commit such a heinous transgression without suffering the consequences?
PROMACHOS: His death must be seen as nothing more than the natural actions of Achlys of the Keres. A death that may not be expected, but one that could be accepted as occurring in the natural course of events. Hemlock administered late in the feast may be perceived as resulting from an overindulgence in Dionysian activities. More than one Danaan hero has been struck down by this cause, and with your persuasion, mother, it may be accepted as such.
IPHTHIME: You would make your mother an active participant in your scheme?
PROMACHOS: More than just revealed. Your unfettered access to the gold drinking cups of both King and stepson, provide you with ready opportunity to administer the poison.
IPHTHIME: You make me not only accomplice but also perpetrator of your crime? You ask me to murder a man I raised as my own, one for whom I hold a love almost as dear as for yourself. You ask too much of me.
PROMACHOS: If opportunity should present itself for me to be the purveyor of venomous hemlock, I would take this task and its consequences upon myself. As second son, my freedom is to be curtailed and my actions watched, leaving only slight occasion to complete said task. Though I will attempt this murder with or without your assistance, the likelihood of my survival without it would be smaller than that of a successful throw at knucklebones. Mother, my life rests upon the success of our endeavor; to fail will mean my eventual demise by the hand of one you say is nearly as dear to you as myself. You have to choose upon whom your future will rest.
IPHTHIME: I see the truth in what you say in brother killing brother, even when father and mother are the same. Even your father dispatched those of his relatives he thought a danger to his throne. I cannot abandon my only son to the risk of failure and a cruel death. I will assist you in this though my heart is not in this path we have chosen.
PROMACHOS: Let’s go to my room where I will give you the vial that holds the poison, and where we can discuss those details of actions that still remain in doubt.
Queen Iphthime and Promachos re-enter the palace. Teuthras moves into the open.
TEUTHRAS: Oh what vile words have found my ears. The Queen and young Prince plot to murder my friend and the King’s heir, Admetus. What a deceitful homecoming for two of the conquerors of Ilium and heroes of the Achaeans. Fair Admetus, beloved son of Eumelus, is rightful successor to his father’s throne. Queen Iphthime and Prince Promachos plan to poison the Prince at tonight’s feast to prevent him from becoming King upon the Eumelus’ death. Because of their successful tenures as rulers in the King’s stead, they may have acquired a love of power, and this may have turned their minds to this purpose, though Promachos claims to see his death upon my friend’s ascension to the throne. This traitorous talk of murder must be revealed to Eumelus. Having not seen my friend for so many years only to have him snatched away to the Underworld with but one night of companionship would be a sadness beyond coping. I will meet with the King in secret to convey this at the earliest opportunity.
Queen Iphthime and Promachos exit the palace and join Teuthras as the chariots of Eumelus and Admetus drive up. Demnosia rides with Eumelus and Henicea with Admetus. All step down from the chariots. Teuthras moves off to the side.
EUMELUS: I have returned triumphant to the arms of my wife and family. Troy now stands as ruins inhabited by the ghosts of former occupants, shorn of wealth, some of which I bring in following carts. Included in said spoils are two daughters of Priam, Demnosia and Henicea, awarded to my son and myself, who will serve the needs of our household. It is good to see my lovely wife whom I’ve long to hold in my arms these last eleven years; your visage is as radiant as the day I left. And that must be my youngest son, Promachos, who was but a small boy when I left and has now grown into a strong young man. I have heard that our ship of state has been well steered by both of you during my absence. It is good to know that my youngest son is being raised in the ways of diplomacy and leadership that may one day serve him as a ruler on his own right.
Eumelus embraces Iphthime and Promachos, then Admetus does the same.
IPHTHIME: My lord and husband, my heart has missed you as well these long years. I have worried of your fate with only sparse rumors to reassure me of your continued existence, as well as that of my stepson. Admetus, you have grown into a powerful man, who returns from war not only with spoils but reputation and honors. The warriors of Argos and Sparta have told us of your great deeds, as well as those of your father, at Troy. The people of Pherae sing your praises with equal enthusiasm to that of your father. We all wel
come back our triumphant heroes from bloody war in the windy lands of Ilium.
ADMETUS: Beloved mother, I thank you for your praise, though my glory pales when compared to my father’s. I have missed your care and counsel. Though you did not give birth to me, you are the only mother I have ever known, and my affection for you would equal any from a natural son. And, beloved brother, many years have passed since last I saw you. Even with many years between us in age, I remember sharing good times with you in play and helping you when in need. You have grown tall and handsome during these intervening years and are nothing like the young lad I saw waving to me as I departed this palace eleven years ago. There is much to talk of, not only of my adventures, but of yours as well. I want to hear all.
EUMELUS: A father could not be prouder of a son than I am of Admetus. He showed courage on the fields of Ilium that rivaled that of the greatest Achaean heroes. We stood together with the heroes of Achaea, Achilles, Odysseus, Diomedes, and Ajax, and slew the Trojans in great numbers. We were honored among warriors for our prowess in battle and washed our weapons in the blood of our enemies. We were even rivals