One of the most valiant of the Greeks at Troy, Ajax son of Telamon, fell out with his comrades when the armour of the dead Achilles was awarded by general consent not to him but to his hated rival Odysseus. Maddened by anger and jealousy he planned an assault on the leaders of the army but, in his demented state, achieved only a hideous massacre of sheep and cattle. On the realization of his ignominious downfall – witnessed by his captive-wife, his young son, his followers from Salamis, and his enemy Odysseus – he takes his own life; but the pleading of his devoted half-brother Teucer, and the repentance of Odysseus, secure for him an honourable burial and the reinstatement of his good name.
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CHARACTERS
Athena
Odysseus
Ajax
Tecmessa, captive-wife of Ajax
Teucer, half-brother of Ajax
Menelaus
A Messenger
Chorus of Sailors
Eurysaces, the young son of Ajax and Tecmessa
Agamemnon
Attendants
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The scene is before the tent of Ajax, in the camp of the Greeks near Troy.
In the dim light of dawn, ODYSSEUS is seen cautiously exploring the approach to the tent. ATHENA, a shadowy figure in the twilight, accosts him.
ATHENA:
Odysseus! What are you looking for? Still on the trail
Of some advantage over your enemy?
Yes, I have watched you, and I watch you now
Here by the seaboard where the tent of Ajax
Guards the furthest flank of the line; I see you,
Doglike, nose to the ground, reading the tale
Of his freshly printed traces, whither they lead,
Inwards or out. You’ll find him, if anyone will;
No Spartan hound has a keener scent for the chase.
He’s there, the man you’re looking for, his head
And hands sweating and blooded from the sword.
Leave peering and prying around the doors, and tell me
What is the purpose of your anxious search;
My knowledge can give you guidance.
ODYSSEUS: Athena’s voice!
Ah, lovely goddess! Yes, it is your voice
Beyond a doubt, although I cannot see you;
I hear and know it and my heart leaps to meet it,
As to the summons of the clarion tongue
Of brazen trumpets. You have guessed right, my lady;
Ajax, he with the great shield, he is the man,
He is the man I am looking for. Last night
He played us a terrible trick; or someone did;
We’re not sure yet, we’re still groping in the dark.
I’ve made myself responsible for the search.
This morning we woke to find our sheep and cattle,
The whole of our booty, butchered in cold blood,
And the drovers dead beside them, every one.
We all think Ajax did it. Somebody saw him
Running wildly across the camp, alone,
With blood on his sword, and told me what he had seen.
I got on his tracks at once. Some of the footprints
Are clearly his, but some I’m not so sure of,
They might be anybody’s. I’m glad you’ve come,
Goddess; you’ve been my pilot in days gone by,
And I shall still obey you.
ATHENA: Yes, Odysseus,
I know; and I lost no time in coming to meet you
To keep a watchful eye on your pursuit.
ODYSSEUS: Am I right then, lady, or am I wasting my time?
ATHENA: You are right. It was his work.
ODYSSEUS: What can have possessed him
ATHENA: He was crazed with jealousy
For the armour of Achilles, which was given to you.
ODYSSEUS:
But why should he vent his anger upon the beasts?
ATHENA:
He thought he was dipping his hand in the blood of men.
ODYSSEUS:
His own compatriots? Was the onslaught aimed at us?
ATHENA: It was, and would have succeeded had I been idle.
ODYSSEUS: A daring stroke. How did he mean to do it?
ATHENA: Under cover of night he stole out alone to find you.
ODYSSEUS: And did he find us? Did he get close to us?
ATHENA: He did indeed; he got to the tent doors
Of Agamemnon and Menelaus.
ODYSSEUS: What held his hand
Back from the brink of slaughter?
ATHENA: It was I that baulked him
Of that fell triumph, darkening his vision
With a veil of phantasy, which overpowered him
So that he turned his wrath upon the cattle,
The sheep, and all the unassorted spoil
That the drovers had in charge. On this horned host
He dealt his death-blows, hacking and slaughtering
To right and left; to his deluded fancy
Now it was the sons of Atreus he was mauling
And butchering, now some other of your leaders,
Striking at each in turn. This way and that
He plunged like one demented; I was there
To goad and drive him deeper into the pit
Of black delusion; till at last he paused,
And taking the beasts for human prisoners,
Roped up the cattle that were still alive
And all the sheep, and marched them to his tent,
Where he is now tormenting them, like captives
Bound to the stake.
And now you too shall see
With your own eyes this hideous spectacle
And tell the Greeks.
Stay; do not be afraid.
He shall not harm you; I will keep his eyes
Averted from your face.
She calls to AJAX within.
You, sir, come out!
Stop trussing up your prisoners, and come out!
Ajax, come out, I say!
ODYSSEUS: Mercy, Athena!
Don’t call him out.
ATHENA: Be quiet, and do not show yourself a coward.
ODYSSEUS: For pity’s sake, let him remain inside.
ATHENA: Why should I? Was not this the man you knew?
ODYSSEUS: The man I hated, and I hate him still.
ATHENA: Now you can laugh at him; won’t that content you?
ODYSSEUS: I’d rather leave him where he is.
ATHENA: Afraid
To see a madman face to face?
ODYSSEUS: That’s it.
I’d never fear him sane.
ATHENA: He will not see you,
However close you are.
ODYSSEUS: He still has eyes?
ATHENA: He has, but I will blind them.
ODYSSEUS: Be it so. Gods can do anything.
ATHENA: Don’t move or speak.
ODYSSEUS: I’d better not. Would I were somewhere else.
ATHENA: Ajax! Do you hear me? Must I call again?
Is this the way you answer your protectress?
AJAX appears, still possessed by madness, and holding a blood-stained scourge in his hand.
AJAX: Welcome, Athena! Daughter of Zeus, I greet you,
My faithful friend. You shall have golden offerings
To celebrate this victory.
ATHENA: Thank you, sir.
And is your sword well soaked in Grecian blood?
AJAX: Ay, that it is; and proud I am to say it.
ATHENA: You broke a lance with the two sons of Atreus?
AJAX: And once for all. Those two will never again
Insult the name of Ajax.
ATHENA: They are dead?
AJAX: Dead! Yes, they are dead. Now let them show me
Whether they’ll take away my prize, my armour!
ATHENA: But what has happened to Laertes’ son?
Have you let him escape?
AJAX: That crafty fox!
Do you want to know where he is?
ATHENA: Yes, where is Odysseus,
Your enemy of old?
AJAX: Ha, ha, my lady,
I’ve got him in the seat of honour, in there
Among my prisoners. I don’t want him to die
Just yet.
ATHENA: What else will you do with him? What moro
To add to your triumph?
AJAX: I’m going to tie him up
To a pillar in my private house.
ATHENA: Poor fellow!
What then?
AJAX: First whip him till he’s black and blue;
Then kill him.
ATHENA: Must you torture the poor man so?
AJAX: Athena, in all but this your will commands me;
His punishment cannot be changed.
ATHENA: Of course,
Ajax, you must do exactly as you please.
Leave nothing out.
AJAX: I’ll go to work at once.
And you be sure to back me up henceforward,
And be my faithful ally, as before.
He goes back into the tent.
ATHENA: And there you see the power of the gods,
Odysseus. Is it not great? Here was a man
Supreme in judgement, unsurpassed in action
Matched to the hour. Did you ever know a better?
ODYSSEUS: Never. He was my enemy, but I’m sorry
Now, with all my heart, for the misfortune
Which holds him in its deadly grip. This touches
My state as well as his. Are we not all,
All living things, mere phantoms, shadows of nothing?
ATHENA: Therefore beware of uttering blasphemy
Against the gods; beware of pride, puffed up
By strength or substance. Know that all things mortal
Hang in the scales; one day can tilt them up
Or down. The gods love goodness, and abhor
All that is evil.
She vanishes. The CHORUS of sailors approaches, and ODYSSEUS withdraws.
CHORUS:
To the Lord of the island fortress,
To the Son of Telamon, king
Of our seabound Salamis, hail!
All’s well with us, if well with you.
But what if the hand of God
Be heavy upon you, and angry tongues
Of clamorous Greeks beset you – then
Our hearts may jump, we are timorous doves
A-flutter with frightened eyes.
– Shameful tales were awake
Ere dawn was up, and a coil
About our ears: our master
Roaming the paddocks where the horses
Frisk their heels, and butchering
The captive herds, the unclaimed
War-spoil of the Greeks.
– A sword flashed in the darkness,
And beasts were slaughtered. Some such story
Odysseus tells with bated breath,
Whispering secret scandal
To credulous ears. Any tale he bears
Of you finds easy hearing now,
And the fun grows with the telling,
From mouth to mouth
The mocking laughter rises against you.
– That’s it. Aim at the great
And you cannot miss. Tell a tale like that
Against me, and who would believe you? None.
Spite creeps in the path of the great ones.
– Ay, but where would the little be
Without the great, when it comes to saving
A city-wall?
– Little and great
Together, is best. The great do well
When the little are there to help them.
– Which is more than fools can understand,
Like those that clamour against you now;
And we are helpless to answer them,
Without our king.
The starlings flock and chatter
Behind your back; once show your face,
And we shall see them in that instant
Cowering, silent,
Under the vulture’s eye.
’Tis a powerful tale they tell, and its offspring is shame
On all of us. Was it Artemis, daughter of Zeus,
Goddess who rides the Bull, driving our master
Into this raid on the cattle, the general property?
Was there some victory, and the price not paid,
Some glittering spoil or huntsmen’s gift withheld?
Is that why the goddess is angry?
Or was it the Lord of War,
The Destroyer mailed in bronze who fights with us,
Paying some score of jealous pride
By dark devices in the night?
One thing is sure, this crazy escapade,
This raid on the beasts, was no sane man’s intention.
If the gods come down to destroy the wits of a man,
Well, that’s another matter. However it be,
May Zeus and Apollo save us from ugly scandal
Among the Greeks. O Ajax, for pity’s sake,
While the great ones whisper against you
(Or that damned mischief-maker,
The spawn of Sisyphus), you must not stay
Hidden here in the tents by the sea,
Or you lose your name for ever.
Come, why are you sitting
This long time
So far from the fighting,
Of hate that rises
High in the sky?
Malice and hatred
Walk unhindered
In open country,
And loud tongues jangle
In angry chorus –
O the pity, the pity,
’Tis more than we can bear.
TECMESSA comes out of the tent.
TECMESSA: Shipmates of Ajax,
Sons of Erechtheid soil,
Sadness is here for all that love
The house of Telamon, that lies so far,
So far away.
Ajax our lord, our strength, our rock, lies fallen,
His mightiness brought low, his light
Darkened with clouds of woe.
CHORUS: This night has capped the day
With heavier trouble, then?
What can that be? What more?
You, daughter of the Phrygian Teleutas,
Have all our master’s love,
Bride of his battle-spear;
Tell us what more you know.
TECMESSA: How can I tell it? There are no words
To describe this deathlike thing.
Our noble master is mad; Ajax struck blind
With madness in the night.
Look into the tent and see
His offerings, his victims bleeding,
His handiwork.
CHORUS: It is plain. There is no escaping
From the awful thing you are telling.
His soul is a fire; and the story
Is loud in the mouths of the people,
And grows on their powerful tongues
To a mighty clamour.
I fear what is coming upon us.
He is branded with shame and marked for death,
If indeed it was his misguided hand,
His sword in the dark, that killed
Those beasts and the watchers of herds and horses.
TECMESSA: O then it is true! It was there he took
His prisoners, and brought them back,
A herd of captives. He brought them in,
He shed their blood on the ground,
He tore them limb from limb.
There were two white-footed rams he seized,
Cut off the head of one, tore out its tongue,
And flung them down;
Then tied the other to a post
Upright, and flogged it with a scourge
Of double harness-rein that sang
As the blows fell; while he cursed
With words no mortal power
Put in his mouth to speak.
CHORUS: There is nothing else but to cover
Our heads and creep away, then.
Or quickly back to the oar-bench
And pull for the sea, for safety
From the wash of the angry vengeance
Of our two leaders,
The sons of Atreus. Stoning
Is the death they’ll have in store for us;
I have no stomach for that encounter;
No, his is a fate that asks no sharing.
TECMESSA: But wait. The storm is over,
The lightning past, like the southern gale
When its first sharp rage is spent.
He understands; but now there is other pain
That he must bear, the bitter torment
Of seeing his own hand’s mischief,
The guilt that none can share.
CHORUS: If the worst is over, all may yet be well.
What’s past is soon forgotten.
TECMESSA: Which would you choose,
If you had the choice; to enjoy a pleasure yourself
At the cost of another’s pain, or both alike
To share a trouble?
CHORUS: I would say, my lady,
Two troubles must be worse than one.
TECMESSA: So now
The end of his malady is not the end
Of our afflictions.
CHORUS: How is that, my lady?
That’s hard to see.
TECMESSA: While Ajax was distraught,
He at least found happiness in his obsession;
We, sane, were pained to see him. Now he is well,
And free of the sickness, bitter grief torments him,
And ours is none the less. Are there not here
Two troubles in place of one?
CHORUS: Indeed there are.
I fear some god has laid a hand on him.
It must be so, if, when the fit is over,
He is yet no happier than while it raged.
TECMESSA: It is so, there’s no denying.
CHORUS: We grieve with you.
How did the trouble first descend on him?
Will you tell us what happened?
TECMESSA: You shall hear all that happened,
As if you saw it.
At the turn of midnight,
The last late lamp put out, Ajax arose,
Took up a two-edged sword, and started away
On some blind impulse. I called out to him,
‘What is the matter, Ajax? There has been no trumpet
Or message for you; what are you going to do?
The camp’s asleep.’ ‘Woman,’ he answered shortly,
‘Women should be seen, not heard.’ – the old, old story!
I kept obedient silence, and out he went
Alone. What passion then came over him
I cannot say. Soon he was back again
With a leash of cattle roped like prisoners,
Oxen, and sheepdogs with their woolly charges.
Then he began to slaughter them, beheading,
Slitting the upturned throat, cleaving the nape;
Or left them bound and savagely attacked them,
Tormenting them like human captives. Then
He turned and darted swiftly through the door
To parley with some phantom, talking wildly
Against the Atreidae – and something about Odysseus –
With shouts of mocking laughter about his triumph
And the trick he had served them in this escapade.
Then he came stumbling back into the hut
And slowly, painfully, regained his senses.
Looking about him at the scene of havoc
That filled the hut, he uttered a loud cry
And beat his brow, and tumbling to the ground
Over the tumbled carcases that strewed
The sheep-shambles, sat there with clutching fingers
Gripping his hair – sat for a long time silent.
At last he challenged me – and with what threats –
To tell him all that had happened, where he was
And how he came there. I was afraid, my friends,
And told him everything I knew. At that
He broke into such piteous cries of anguish
As I had never heard him use before;
For he had always taught me that loud crying
Was only fit for cowards and mollycoddles;
If he lamented it was with low moans,
A bull’s deep groaning – never a shrill complaint.
And so he still sits, utterly dejected;
Will take no food nor drink, but only sits
Still where he fell among the slaughtered beasts.
He clearly means to do some dreadful thing,
If there is any meaning in his words,
His bitter cries.
O friends, come in and help me –
I am here only to ask you this – come in
And help me if you can. In such a case
A friendly word may be the sovereign remedy.
CHORUS: This is sad news, my lady. To think our master
Should be so terribly bewitched.
AJAX (within): O! O!…
TECMESSA:
We have not seen the worst. Do you hear him now?
How he groans!
AJAX:O! O!…
CHORUS: Is he still afflicted
Or suffering at the sight of what he did
When the rage was on him?
AJAX: O my son, my son!
TECMESSA: He calls for his son Eurysaces. Ah why?
Eurysaces, where are you?… O what shall I do?
AJAX: Teucer!… Where’s Teucer?… Has he gone for ever
A-plundering, while I sit dying here?
CHORUS: I do not think he is mad. Open the door, there!
He may perhaps be calmer when he sees us.
TECMESSA: I’ll open it… Look in, and you shall see
The work of his hands, and how it is with him.
She opens the door; AJAX is seen sitting among the slaughtered beasts.
AJAX: Good shipmates, my only friends,
My only loyal comrades.
The storm has broken over my head,
I am tempest-tossed and drowned
In a sea of blood.
CHORUS (to TECMESSA):
Ay, then, you told us nothing but the truth.
It’s plain he is still disordered in his mind.
AJAX: Ho there!
My trusty mariners,
Who came aboard with me
To sweep the sea with flashing blades!
No one but you can help me out of this –
No one but you –
Come, make an end of me
And let my carcase lie here too.
CHORUS: No, God forbid, sir. Evil cannot be cured
By other evil; you only give yourself
Worse pain to bear by thinking so.
AJAX: Here is the bold, the strong,
The fearless fighter in the line!
See his brave handiwork
Among these innocent dumb beasts,
And laugh, laugh at his shame!
TECMESSA: Ajax, my lord, you must not say such things.
AJAX: Away with you! Out of my sight!
O! O!…
CHORUS: For the love of God, sir, listen and be advised.
AJAX: That I should be so cursed!
The devils, I had them in my hand
And let them go!
I let them go, and turned aside
To spill the rich red blood
Of these fine creatures.
CHORUS: Do not torment yourself for what is past.
What’s done cannot be undone.
AJAX: Where is Odysseus now,
That sharp-eyed instrument
Of all ill-doing, he,
The vilest creature in all our camp,
Shall he laugh at me now?
CHORUS: Laughter or tears, ’tis God that sends them to us.
AJAX: I’d meet him now, broken as I am…
Ay, now!
CHORUS: Be calm, sir. You are in no plight to boast.
AJAX: That vile smooth villain, O
Zeus, O father of my fathers,
Let me but kill
That fox, and those two brother-kings
Who lord it over us –
Kill them and die!
CHORUS: Nay, if you pray for death, pray too for mine.
I could not live without you.
AJAX: O darkness that is my light,
O night of death, my only day,
Take me, take me, I pray,
Into your house for ever. I have no hope
Of mercy from the gods, I am not worthy
To ask the help of man.
One irresistible
Daughter of Zeus
And how should man escape that enemy?
Where should I hide,
Now that my day is over, and revenge
Barks at my heels?
Here are the triumphs of my folly
There my armed comrades wait
To take my life.
TECMESSA: How can I bear it? How could so good a man
Be brought to such despair?
AJAX: Roads of the tossing sea,
Water-meadows and wave-washed rocks,
I have been too long among you,
Too long at Troy. You will not see me again –
Not see me alive. Ay, mark this, everyone –
You will not see me again.
Never again,
Friendly Scamander,
River we love!
This is the last of Ajax, such a man –
Yes, let me boast –
A man whose equal Troy has never seen
All of the men
That ever left the shores of Greece.
Now see him: here he sits
A man disgraced.
CHORUS: You must not speak so; yet you must; can I
Forbid or suffer you, fallen so low?
AJAX: Aias! Aias!
How fit a name to weep with! Who could have known
How well those syllables would spell my story?
Aias! Alas! Over and over again
I cry Alas! How am I fallen!
My father won the army’s first rewards
Here on this soil of Ida, and brought home
A prize of beauty and an honoured name
For valour. I, his son, came, strong as he,
To this same ground, and bore as brave a part
In action, and am now brought down to this,
Death, and disgrace among my countrymen.
One thing is certain – had Achilles lived
To name the champion worthiest to receive
His weapons in reward for valiant service,
They never would have fallen to other hands
Than mine. Instead of that, these sons of Atreus
Have filched them from me for a scheming rascal
And turned their backs on me and all my triumphs.
They’d not have lived to rig another verdict
Against a man; I would have seen to that,
Had not my eyes deceived me and my brain
Wheeled wide of my intention. I was foiled,
At the very instant when I raised my hand
To strike them, by the undefeatable,
The hard-eyed daughter of Zeus; she sent the plague
Of madness on me; and the blood of beasts
Is this that dyes my hands. They have escaped,
And laugh! It was not my doing. Little men,
When gods work mischief, may escape their betters.
And now what must I do? Hated of gods,
Hated of all the Greeks, hated of Troy,
And of this very soil – must I go home
Across the Aegean sea, and leave these shiproads,
And leave the Atreidae to their own devices?
How shall I meet my father, Telamon,
When I come there? How will he welcome me
When I come empty-handed, with no prize
To match the crown of honours that he wore?
I cannot do it.
And storm her fortress, single against them all,
And die in one last action of renown?
No; that would be too kind to the Atreidae;
That’s not the way.
What can I do? Some feat
To make my poor old father understand
He has no soft-bellied coward for a son.
Long life? Who but a coward would ask for it,
Beset by endless evil? Can he enjoy
Counting the days that pass; now a step forward,
Now a step backward, on the way to death?
Who’d be that man? To huddle over the coals
Of flickering hope. Not I. Honour in life,
Or honour in death; there is no other thing
A nobleman can ask for. That is all.
CHORUS: Ajax, none can deny you have spoken frankly
And like your true self. Yet do not be hasty;
Forget these bitter thoughts, and let your friends
Win your submission.
TECMESSA: Ajax, O my lord!
(O how mankind is cursed by Fate’s hard law!)
My father was a free and happy man,
A power among the Phrygians. What am I?
A slave. Say that it was the will of heaven;
But your hand did it. Well, let it be so;
I am your consort, and I wish you well;
And I beseech you by the God we worship
As man and wife, the bed you brought me to,
Do not consign me to the cruel taunts
Of those that hate you, and the horrid hands
Of my next master. On the day you die,
And dying leave me helpless, think of me
That same day roughly carried off by Greeks –
Your son too – to a life of slavery.
Think of the stinging insults aimed at me
By some new owner: ‘Look! Whom have we here?
Ajax’s woman – Ajax, the army’s hero –
O what a fall, from such felicity
To such subjection!’ Can’t you hear them say it?
The blow will fall on me – but on your head,
And on your blood, will fall the shame of it.
O Ajax, have you the heart to leave your father
To face old age without you? Have you the heart
To leave your mother a long legacy
Of lonely years? Think how she prays and prays
To have you home alive. Think of your son,
Your son, my lord; must he be left defenceless,
So young, without you, under heartless guardians?
Can you do such a thing to him, and me?
Whom have I left but you? Where can I go?
Your sword has made my home a desert. My mother,
My father, by another stroke of fate,
Were gathered into the house of death. What land,
When you are gone, will ever be home for me,
What fortune bring me joy? You are my all.
Have you forgotten me? Can any man
Forget what happiness has once been his?
Love must breed love. Not to remember kindness
Is to be called no longer noble.
CHORUS: O Ajax, can you not pity her, as I do?
Can you not say she is right?
AJAX: I’ll say she is right
Only when she can show she is obedient.
TECMESSA: I will do anything you ask, dear Ajax.
AJAX: Bring my son here to me. I want to see him.
TECMESSA:
O, I was afraid – I sent him out of the way.
AJAX: You mean, when I was… in trouble – is that what you mean?
TECMESSA:
Yes – thinking he might meet you… and be killed.
AJAX: That would have been a pretty piece of justice.
TECMESSA: I took good care it shouldn’t happen.
AJAX: Well done.
You showed good judgement.
TECMESSA: How can I help you now?
AJAX: I want him here.
I want to see him and speak to him myself.
TECMESSA: You shall. He is with the guards, not far away.
AJAX: Let him come here at once.
TECMESSA: Eurysaces!…
Your father wants you… One of you, bring him here.
Whichever of you is looking after him…
AJAX: Is he coming? Or can’t he hear you?
TECMESSA: Yes, he’s coming…
One of the guards is bringing him.
AJAX: That’s right…
Bring him into my arms… No son of mine, I hope,
Is frightened by the sight of fresh-drawn blood.
It’ll soon be time to break him in and train him
In the hard school where his father learnt. My son,
May you be everything your father was,
But less unfortunate. Then you will do well.
I would give much to be in your place now,
Seeing this trouble and not understanding
All that it means. There is no time of life
So happy as the days of innocence
Before you know what joy or sorrow are.
But when you come to know it, then, my son,
See that your enemies know whose son you are.
Till then, feed on the bubble air, enjoy
Your little life, and make your mother happy.
You will be in safe hands, even when I am gone.
There’s not a Greek will dare to lift a finger
To hurt or shame you; the ever-faithful Teucer,
Whom I shall leave to be your guardian,
Will give his all in your behalf, unsparing,
When he returns from business with the enemy
Which keeps him from us now.
And you, my men,
My fellow soldiers and sailors, you have a share
In this obligation; tell Teucer this from me –
To take the lad back home to my father’s house,
That he and my mother may have him for a son
To comfort their remaining years. My armour –
Tell Teucer this – is not for any umpire
(And least of all that enemy of mine)
To parcel out among the Greeks. Look, son;
This broad shield bears your name, EURYSACES –
Seven thicknesses, proof against any spear –
The hand-strap firmly stitched. Learn how to hold it…
There… it is yours. But all my other weapons
I will have with me in the grave…
Tecmessa,
Take him away with you, and shut your doors.
Women must weep, but let there be no weeping
This side the threshold. Quick, out of my sight!
Dirges and canticles are no prescription
For ills that need the knife.
CHORUS: You’re resolute, sir,
And sorry I am to hear it. This sharp speaking
Has an ill sound.
TECMESSA: O Ajax, O my lord,
What do you mean to do?
Possess yourself in patience.
TECMESSA: I am afraid.
O for the gods’ sake, for your own son’s sake,
Do not desert us!
AJAX: I cannot listen to you.
Do you believe I still owe any duty
Or service to the gods?
TECMESSA: That’s blasphemy.
AJAX: What of it?
TECMESSA: Will you not listen?
AJAX: I’ve listened to more than enough.
TECMESSA: My lord, I am frightened.
AJAX: Close the doors, I say!
TECMESSA: Have pity, have pity!
AJAX: You’re a fool, Tecmessa,
To think that I could change my nature now
On your instructions.
The doors are closed, shutting AJAX from sight.
CHORUS:
O glorious Salamis, beauty of the world
Set fast for ever in the washing waves,
Pity us here,
Stretched on our grassy beds. How long?
Months without number,
Year after weary year,
Waiting for nothing but our cold
Dark everlasting graves.
Ajax, your champion, whom you sent away
So valorous, lies here, a sorry sight,
Brooding alone,
Cribbed with a sickness of the mind
The great things he has done
Forgotten; such deeds our kings repay
With unforgiving spite.
His white-haired mother, numbering old days
Of many years gone by,
Will hear of this calamity,
This malady that eats his soul away,
And then, O pity, pity,
Who will bear
To hear her crying –
Not as the nightingale
With soft complaining,
But with loud wail
Of woe – and see her there
Drumming her breast,
Tumbling her snow-white hair?
It is better that death should take a man diseased
And wandering in the maze
Of madness – born to be the best
Of all the warring Greeks, now gone adrift
Out of his course, and lost
In strange uncharted ways.
How will his father hear
Of this undoing –
How will they tell
The unhappy sire
Of such vile shame
As yet befell
No other of his name?
AJAX comes out of the tent; his mood is now calm and resolute.
The long unmeasured pulse of time moves everything.
There is nothing hidden that it cannot bring to light,
Nothing once known that may not become unknown.
Nothing is impossible. The most sacred oath
Is fallible; a will of iron may bend.
A little while ago, I was tough-tempered
As the hardest iron; but now my edge is blunted
By a woman’s soft persuasion. I am loth
To leave a widow and a fatherless child
Here among enemies. This is what I must do:
I must go down to the meadows by the sea
And wash till I am clean of all this filth,
So that the Goddess may withhold her wrath
And spare me. I will take this sword of mine,
My adversary, to some secret place
And hide it, bury it out of sight for ever,
Consigned to death and darkness. It was Hector’s,
My deadliest enemy’s gift, and since I had it
The Greeks have done me nothing but ill. How true
The saying is, it is always dangerous
To touch an enemy’s gifts. I have learned my lesson,
To obey the gods – and not be disrespectful
To the sons of Atreus; they are in command,
And we are under them; that is as it should be.
There is no power so sacred, none so strong
As to defy all rank and precedence.
The snowy feet of Winter walk away
Before ripe Summer; and patrolling Night
Breaks off her rounds to let the Dawn ride in
On silver horses lighting up the sky.
The winds abate and leave the groaning sea
To sleep awhile. Even omnipotent Sleep
Locks and unlocks his doors and cannot hold
His prisoners bound for ever. Must not we
Learn this self-discipline? I think we must.
I now know this, that while I hate my enemy
I must remember that the time may come
When he will be my friend; as, loving my friend
And doing him service, I shall not forget
That he one day may be my enemy.
Friendship is but a treacherous anchorage,
As most men know… Well, never mind…
Tecmessa,
You must go in, and ask the blessed gods
To grant me all my heart’s desire. (She goes.)
And you,
My friends, to help me, join your prayers with hers.
Ask Teucer, when he comes, to see to things
As I would wish, and to look after you.
Do this for me. I must be on my way.
When next you hear of me, I shall be safe,
And all this suffering ended.
Exit.
CHORUS:
Now I could jump for joy,
Now I could fly
Light as a bird. O Pan, O Pan,
O revelling Prince whom the great gods follow,
Come from the rocky height,
Come from Cyllene’s white
Snow-crest, dance over the sea;
Let Nysian mode inspire,
And Cnosian measures, our fancy free.
Dance, dance to our heart’s desire.
From Delos, from the Icarian shore,
Come near, Apollo,
And be with us for evermore
Is lifted away,
Tempest of blood
Washed from the sky.
Praise be to Zeus, sun shines again
On our swift sea-rovers, now
Ajax is well and goes to pay
His vows to heaven, devout
And reverent, all his pain purged out
By all-destroying time.
Nothing is past belief, if now the wild
Fury of enmity is mended,
Ajax and the Atreidae reconciled
And passion ended.
A MESSENGER arrives from the Greek camp.
MESSENGER: News, friends!
Teucer is back from his raid in the Mysian hills,
And all the Grecian army in an uproar.
They heard he was on the way, and when he reached
The generals’ quarters, there were crowds about him
All howling at him in an angry chorus.
‘The maniac’s brother’, ‘the traitor’s brother’, they called him;
Nothing would do but he must be stoned to death
And torn to pieces. And it went so far,
Hands flew to hilts and blades were ripped from scabbards;
Till, in the nick of time, the intervention
Of elder voices settled the dispute.
But news must go to the proper ears. Where’s Ajax?
Ajax must hear of this.
CHORUS: He is not here.
He went away a little while ago,
A new man, and intent on some new business.
MESSENGER: Ill luck! The man that sent me on this errand
Sent me too late – or I have been too slow.
CHORUS: What errand? What’s the matter?
MESSENGER: Teucer said
On no account must Ajax be allowed
To stir out of his tent, until he came.
CHORUS: Well, out he’s gone, and for the best of reasons –
To make his peace with heaven.
MESSENGER: That makes no sense,
If we trust Calchas and his prophecy!
CHORUS: What prophecy? What more do you know of this?
MESSENGER:
I know what I saw. The leaders were in council;
Calchas was there, and soon he left his place
And went to speak to Teucer, out of earshot
Of Menelaus and Agamemnon; took his hand
In a friendly grip, and begged him earnestly
By hook or crook to keep Ajax at home,
Not let him out of sight this whole day long,
Or else he’d never see him alive again.
For on this day, no other, he was doomed
To meet Athena’s wrath. For, said the prophet,
The gods have dreadful penalties in store
For worthless and redundant creatures, mortals
Who break the bounds of mortal modesty.
And Ajax showed he had no self-control
The day he left his home. ‘Son,’ said his father –
And very properly – ‘Go out to win,
But win with God beside you.’ ‘Oh,’ said Ajax
With vain bravado, ‘any fool can win
With God beside him; I intend to win
Glory and honour on my own account.’
A terrible boast. And then another time
Divine Athena came to urge him on
And told him where to lay about his enemies;
He answered blasphemously ‘Holy One,
Give your assistance to some other Greeks;
The line won’t break where I am in command.’
This kind of talk it was that broke the bounds
Of mortal modesty; and his reward
Was the full fury of Athena’s anger.
But if he lives today, there: is a chance
We may yet save him, with the help of heaven.
When Calchas told him this, Teucer at once
Called me to where he sat, and sent me off
With these instructions for you. If we’ve lost him,
Ajax has not an hour to live, or Calchas
Is no true prophet.
CHORUS: Tecmessa! There’s bad news.
A messenger is here.
O poor Tecmessa!
’Tis touch and go for all of us, this business.
Enter TECMESSA, with EURYSACES
TECMESSA: What now? Must you disturb my rest again?
I thought this was the end of all my troubles.
CHORUS: Listen to this man’s news; bad news, I’m afraid,
Of Ajax.
TECMESSA: What, sir? Is there danger still?
MESSENGER: As to yourself, madam, I cannot say.
Ajax may be in mortal danger, though,
If he has left his tent.
TECMESSA: He has, he has.
O sir, why, what’s your message?
MESSENGER: Orders from Teucer
To keep your husband strictly in his tent,
Not let him venture out alone this day.
Teucer? Where is he? Why has he sent this order?
MESSENGER:
He has just returned to camp; and has good reason
To think that mortal peril threatens Ajax
If once he leaves this place.
TECMESSA: Alas the day!
How did you find this out?
MESSENGER: The prophet Calchas,
The son of Thestor, warned him of it; this day
Brings life or death for Ajax.
TECMESSA: O my friends,
Avert the fate that threatens me! Go quickly,
Fetch Teucer here at once! Some of you, search
The beaches, east and west, search every way
Where my unhappy husband may have gone!
The wretched man deceived me after all!
It’s plain he does not love me any longer.
O child, what shall I do? We must do something.
I’ll go myself as far as I can. Make haste!
We have no time to lose, if we’re to save
A man in search of death.
CHORUS: I’m with you, madam,
And good as my word. I’ll do what’s to be done,
As fast as feet can carry me.
They hurry out in all directions.
After a brief interval, AJAX appears. He has now selected the place of his death, and kneeling down he plants his sword by the hilt in the earth, fixing it firmly with careful deliberation.
AJAX: There. Now he’s ready. The executioner
Stands ready for his business. He’ll not fail.
Why should he? – now I come to think of it.
That sword was Hector’s; he was the man I hated
And loathed the sight of, more than any I knew;
And here it stands, in the grip of the soil of Troy,
Enemy soil. The edge is new, the stone
Has eaten the iron clean. And I’ve taken care
To fix it firmly so that there’ll be no bungling,
Only a swift and kindly death.
There, then; we’re ready.
Next, my prayers:
O Zeus, to thee above all, as I am bound,
I pray for succour. It is not much I ask.
Only that thou wilt send some messenger
To break this news to Teucer, so that he
May be the first to find me lying here
On this wet sword, and lift me in his arms,
Before some one of those I hate can get me
And throw me to the dogs and carrion crows.
Zeus, grant me this.
And this: when I thrust the sword
Through to my heart, may Hermes guide my way
Under the earth, and lay me down to sleep,
In one swift easy jump from life to death.
And this prayer too:
May the ever-living Maidens
Who watch for ever the sufferings of men,
The stern unresting Furies, see this death
And know that the sons of Atreus brought it on me:
And wipe them utterly out with deaths as vile
As their vile selves. Go to it, you swift avengers;
Drink deep, and spare not one of all their people!
And you, that ride the high ways of the heavens,
Great Sun,
Pull up your golden-harnessed horses
Over my native land, and tell this story
Of death and ruin to my aged father
And to my sorrowing mother. She will weep,
How she will weep, and fill the streets with weeping,
Unhappy mother, when she hears of this.
But now there is no time for tears. To work,
To work, and quickly. Death, O Death, come now
And look upon me. We shall meet again,
And I shall greet you in the other world.
But this bright day, this chariot of the sky,
I shall not see again. Farewell for ever,
Light; and Salamis, dear sacred land,
Dear homestead; and great Athens too, farewell,
Whose folk are kin to mine; farewell this Troy,
These fields and rivers, my bread and water; now
Ajax salutes you once, and speaks no more
Upon this earth.
He throws himself upon the sword, and dies.
There is a short interval of silence.
The CHORUS are heard approaching; half of them come into view on one side of the stage; they do not yet see the body of AJAX.
CHORUS 1: Well, trouble take and trouble make.
We’ve searched the country high and low
And not a thing to show –
What ho! Who’s there? Surely I heard a sound –
CHORUS 2 (approaching from the other side): Ahoy, shipmates!
CHORUS 1: What news?
CHORUS 2: We’ve covered every inch of ground
To westward of the ships.
CHORUS 1: And found?
CHORUS 2: Found heavy going, nothing more
Of what we’re looking for.
CHORUS 1: We too; no sign
Or trace of him along the eastward line.
(Severally)
With eyes awake
On his weary work
Might give us a clue –
Or a water-sprite
Of the Hellespont,
Or a nymph from Mount
Olympus’ height –
Such only could say
If our wandering lord
In his restless mood
Had come this way –
’Tis a shame to us all
If we can’t make shift
To overhaul
Our master adrift –
Meanwhile TECMESSA has reached the place where AJAX lies, and is heard lamenting.
TECMESSA: Ah me, ah me!
CHORUS: What cry was that? In the wood. Who’s there?
TECMESSA: Alas, alas!
CHORUS: It is poor Tecmessa, his captive-wife,
Dissolved in grief.
They turn towards her.
TECMESSA: Alas, my friends,
There is nothing left for me to live for.
CHORUS: Why, what has happened?
TECMESSA: Here is Ajax,
Dead, and the sword still sunk in his heart.
CHORUS: Dead! O master, master! This is the end,
The end of our homeward sailing,
Your shipmates, and your broken-hearted lady.
TECMESSA: We can do nothing for him
But weep, weep for his passing.
CHORUS: Who can have lent a hand
To help him to this awful end?
TECMESSA: No other but himself. Look, here is the witness,
The sword fixed in the ground, on which he fell.
CHORUS: Shed his own blood, O God,
And we – fools that we were
To let him out of our sight –
Knew nothing of it, O blind
And dull of wit. So dies
A wilful man, doomed Ajax. Show us,
Show us where Ajax lies.
TECMESSA: No one shall see. This cloak shall be his pall.
No one that loved him could endure this sight –
The crimson fountain gushing from the wound
His own hand made, and welling through the nostrils.
What shall I do? O Ajax, who is there now
To lift you in loving arms? Who but your brother
Should lay you in your grave? O where is Teucer?
Ajax, my Ajax, to have come to this –
Even your enemies must shed their tears
To see you fallen so.
CHORUS: It had to be;
That stubborn soul
Was doomed to its dole
Of misery;
Early and late
That venomous tongue
Of wrath had sung
Its hymn of hate,
On the Atreid kings.
These sufferings
Sprang from their source
That pregnant day
When a sword became
The prize in a game
Of bravery.
TECMESSA: Alas, alas!
CHORUS: Her heart must break. ’Tis a noble grief.
TECMESSA: Ah me, ah me!
CHORUS: Weep, my lady, and weep again.
You have good reason; he you have lost
Had loved you well.
TECMESSA: Well you may think – how well I know,
Alas, too well.
CHORUS: Ay, truly.
TECMESSA: And O my little son, what harness now
Shall bow our necks, what eyes watch over us?
CHORUS: Speak not of that: the brother-kings
Will have no pity. Only tears
Can tell what cruelty is in those hands.
God keep it from you.
TECMESSA: Was it not God
That brought it on us?
CHORUS: Truly his hand
Was heavily laid upon you.
TECMESSA: Pallas Athene,
The tyrannous daughter of Zeus, conceived this outrage
To please Odysseus.
CHORUS: The ‘much-enduring man’
Will laugh to his black heart’s content
Over this tragic tale of madness.
How he will laugh – O cruelty! –
Telling the tale to the brother-kings,
The sons of Atreus.
TECMESSA:
Well, let them laugh, and mock their enemy’s downfall.
A time will come for them to mourn his loss,
Though they despised him living – the time will come
In a turning-point of battle. Witless fools
Know not their own advantage till they lose it.
His death can bring no joy to them, to me
Nothing but bitter grief; but he lies happy.
All he desired was death of his own choosing,
And that he has. What right have they to laugh?
He died in the hands of God, not theirs, not theirs.
Find triumph in that, Odysseus, if you can!
Ajax is lost to them, and I am left
To mourn his going.
CHORUS: Hush now. I think I hear a voice. ’Tis Teucer,
And surely it is for this calamity
He cries so loudly.
Enter TEUCER.
TEUCER: Ajax! O my brother,
My brother… that dear face… O is it true,
And are you… as they told me?
CHORUS: He is dead, sir.
TEUCER: O great misfortune!
CHORUS: It is so indeed.
TEUCER: How shall I bear this heavy stroke?
CHORUS: Ay, heavy,
Heavy in truth.
TEUCER: Sad, sad… But what of the child,
His child? He must be somewhere in the land.
CHORUS: We left him by the tents.
TEUCER: Fetch him at once;
At once, before he fall into the hands
That wait to snatch the lion’s whelp away
When parted from its dam. Lose not a moment.
Go with her, you. Few can resist the chance
Of scoring off a fallen adversary.
TECMESSA goes, with one of the soldiers.
CHORUS: Ay, now I think of it, Ajax before he died
Expressed the wish that you should take the child
Under your care; as you are doing now.
TEUCER: O Ajax, Ajax! When did I ever see
So sorrowful a sight? Was any road
More galling to my soul than that which brought me
Questing upon your tracks to find you here
Fallen, as I had feared? Rumour was rife
About the camp, clear as a voice from heaven,
That you were dead. I heard, and even then
Could well have wept; but now that I have seen,
My heart is broken…
Uncover him; let me see everything,
However horrible…
Grim sight… And O what ruthless hardihood!
So rich a seed of sorrow planted here,
Which I must reap. Where on this mortal earth
Shall I go now, who failed you in your need?
What sort of welcome waits for me at home
When I go back without you? Can you see
The happy smile upon our father’s face?
Poor Telamon – as if he ever smiled
Even at good news! Now what names he’ll call me –
He’ll have no mercy on me – bastard brat
Of a captive concubine, coward and weakling
That like a traitor let his brother die
(The brother I loved!) or did it for a trick
To step into a dead man’s shoes. All that
He’ll fling at me in the ungoverned wrath
His age is burdened with; no straw’s too light
To give him cause for quarrel. I shall be branded
A slave, an outlaw – it will come to that –
Disowned and driven out. Such is the greeting
I may expect at home. While here in Troy
Dangers abound, and I am well-nigh helpless.
Your death has left me thus. What can I do?…
O brother… let me see if I can lift you
Free of that ghastly blade which gleams there still,
The evident destroyer of your life…
(He extricates the sword, and holds it in his hand recognizing it.)
You see, it had to be Hector after all
That did this thing, although he died before you.
By heaven, what a fate has bound these two
Together! The girdle Ajax gave to Hector
Became the rope that lashed him to the chariot
And dragged him to his death. Now Hector’s sword,
His gift to Ajax, has laid Ajax low.
Who but some Fury could have forged the sword,
What cruel craftsman but the God of Death
Devised the girdle? These, like all things ever,
I must believe are engines of the gods
Designed against mankind. If this be error,
Then he who thinks it so must go his way
As I go mine.
CHORUS: Sir, you have said enough.
’Tis time to think of your brother’s burial,
And with what answer you will meet the enemy
Who comes, I see, and comes, no doubt, to mock
At our misfortunes, like the knave he is.
TEUCER: One of our people? Who is it you see?
Menelaus, the man for whom we made this voyage.
TEUCER: Ah yes – there’s no mistaking his approach.
Some of the men stoop to raise the body.
Enter MENELAUS, with one or more attendants.
MENELAUS: You there, I forbid you to lift up that body,
Or lay a finger on it. Leave it where it lies.
TEUCER:
What right have you to give them such an order?
MENELAUS: It is my wish, and the wish of our commander.
TEUCER: And may we know your reason?
MENELAUS: This is the reason.
We brought this man from Greece, thinking we brought
An ally and a friend to Greeks; instead
What did we find him? A more dangerous foe
Than any Trojan; plotting the sheer destruction
Of all our army, stealing a march on us
At dead of night, to put us all to the sword.
Had it not been for some good god, who nipped
That venture in the bud, we should be lying
As dead as he; his doom would have been ours,
And he would be alive. But, as it happened,
The god drew off the assault, so that it fell
Upon our sheep and cattle. That is why
We say no man alive shall have the power
To put this body in a grave. We’ll throw him
Out on the yellow sand, and let the sea-birds
Feed on his carcase. – Keep your anger in! –
We couldn’t rule him while he lived; but dead,
Say what you will, we’ll keep him in subjection
Under our hands; he never in his life
Obeyed a word of mine. When common men
Dare to defy the powers set over them,
They show their evil nature. There is no law
In a city where there is no fear, no order
In any camp that is not fenced about
With discipline and respect. The strongest man
Must be prepared to fall, it may be, at a touch
Of small mischance. In fear and modesty
He has the surest shield; where licence reigns,
And insolence, the ship of state is doomed,
However fair her course at first, to plunge
To bottomless disaster. Fear, I say,
Should have its proper place; let us not think
That if we please ourselves we can escape
Paying the price of pleasure with our pains.
Our turn will come. This was a man once proud
And full of fire; now I’m the one to boast.
And this I warn you: take no hand or part
In burying him; for if you do, your grave
Will soon be ready for you.
CHORUS: Sir, your precepts
Are true and wise; but should you not beware
Of outrage on the dead?
TEUCER: O my good friends,
What wonder if a man of humble origin
Should act in error, when the so-called noble
Can speak so falsely.
(To MENELAUS) Come, let’s have it plain:
You say you brought him here, you found an ally
To help the Greeks? It was his own will brought him.
He owned no other master. Who made you
His officer? Who put you in command
Of those whom Ajax brought from home, his people?
You came as Sparta’s king, not ours. What title
Had you to give him orders? None; no more
Than he to govern you. You were not even
Supreme commander of this enterprise,
But under orders too; you had no right
To give commands to Ajax. Keep your orders
For those that follow you, and your rough tongue
For their chastisement. I will bury my brother
As piety demands; I do not fear
You or your brother-chief, say what you will.
It was never on your precious wife’s account
That Ajax took up arms, like the poor slaves
Who toil beneath your yoke; he had an oath
That bound him to this task, no thought of you.
He never worshipped men of straw. Your noise
Will not disturb me, though you come again
With twice this bodyguard, and your commander,
So long as you are what you are.
CHORUS: Such talk
In time of trouble, sirs, cannot be well.
Just or unjust, harsh words can only harm.
MENELAUS: The archer must enjoy his little triumphs.
TEUCER: What of it? It is no craft to be ashamed of.
MENELAUS:
As a fighter fully armed there’d be no holding you.
TEUCER: What! Empty-handed I’d be a match for you
And all your armour!
MENELAUS: Hear his valiant tongue!
TEUCER: Where right is, there’s excuse for boasting.
MENELAUS: Right?
What right confers a privilege on my murderer?
TEUCER: Your murderer? Are you risen from the dead?
MENELAUS: Thanks to a saving god. In this man’s books
I was as good as dead.
TEUCER: Then pay your thanks
With honour to the gods, who let you live.
MENELAUS: When do I not pay honour to the gods?
TEUCER: When you forbid the burial of the dead.
MENELAUS: My enemy’s burial – yes, I do forbid it;
Justice forbids it.
TEUCER: Was the feud between you
Ever declared?
MENELAUS: He hated me; I him.
You knew it too.
TEUCER: We knew you cheated him
By rigging votes against him.
MENELAUS: It was the court,
Not I, that brought him down.
TEUCER: Specious excuses
Would cover many of your shady dealings.
MENELAUS: Someone shall suffer for that insinuation!
TEUCER: We’ll see that someone suffers.
MENELAUS: That is all;
This burial is forbidden.
TEUCER: I reply,
The burial shall go on.
MENELAUS: I’ve heard a man,
A bully with his tongue, commanding sailors
To put to sea in dirty weather; aboard
And in the thick of the storm, you’d always find him
Speechless, hiding his head beneath his cloak,
And letting any man walk over him.
That’s you, and your bold language; come a gale –
A little cloud may bring it – and your bluster
Will soon be silenced.
TEUCER: I have seen a fool,
Mocking his friends’ misfortunes. One who stood by,
As it might be me, feeling as I do now,
Said to this person: ‘Never insult the dead;
You’re bound to suffer for it.’ So he warned
The wretched fellow to his face. I think,
Nay I am sure, he stands before me now,
And you are he. Is that a riddle for you?
MENELAUS: I’ll go. I’d be ashamed to have it known
That I was wasting words instead of using
The power I have to force you.
TEUCER: Go then, go.
I’m bitterly ashamed of having listened
To so much windy nonsense from a fool.
Exit MENELAUS.
CHORUS: There’s a mighty quarrel to come.
Make haste, sir, to find a resting-place
To keep in the memory of men
These last remains.
Enter TECMESSA and the child.
TEUCER: Here come his wife and son, just in fit time
To take their part in the sad ceremony…
Come here, my boy. Stand at your father’s side,
And lay your hand upon him. He was your father.
You are his suppliant. Now kneel, as if in prayer.
Here is my hair, and hers, and yours… Hold them;
These are the suppliant’s precious offerings.
If any man should offer violence
To move you from this dead man’s side – ay, any
That bears arms here with us – so may he die
An evildoer’s evil death, cut off,
Cast out unburied, his tree of life uprooted,
As I this hair do sever… Take it, boy,
And hold it; kneel and cling to him; let none
Remove you from this place. You others, stand
Like men, not weeping women, at his side,
And keep him safe. I shall come back again,
When I have seen, in spite of all of them,
A grave made ready to receive my brother.
He goes.
Will ever the days of our long sea-faring,
Ever the tale of our toiling cease,
On Troy’s wide acres warring, daring
Danger, sharing
The shame and agony of Greece?
Would Heaven or Hell had snatched to a living
Death that man who leagued for war
Our brother-lands, with all his striving
Strife contriving
And death for men for evermore.
From the wine of delight and the gay flute’s measure,
From cups and garlands and blissful rest
In the arms of night, from love’s dear treasure –
From every pleasure
Brutally banished at his behest
Here we must lie on our stiff beds aching,
Friends forgotten and far away,
Damp dews from our sodden pillows shaking,
From cold night waking
To well-remembered Trojan day.
From the fear in the night and the flying arrow
Ajax could shelter us; today
Grim fate has claimed his life; tomorrow
What but sorrow
And bitterness lies in our way?
For home, for home my heart is yearning –
To see where Sunium looks down
From her tree-topped brow on the white seas churning,
And, homeward turning,
To greet Athena’s holy crown.
After a short interval of silence, TEUCER returns, followed by AGAMEMNON.
TEUCER: On guard there! Our commander, Agamemnon,
Is bearing down on us; and if I’m not mistaken,
He means to unleash the fury of his tongue
Upon our ears. I saw him and hurried back.
AGAMEMNON: Is it you, sir, bawling blasphemies against us,
As I am told, and not yet smarting for it?
And you a captive woman’s brat! Great heavens,
Had you been nobly born, what huge conceit,
What strutting arrogance we should have seen,
If, being nobody, you’ve made yourself
The champion of this nobody. You claim,
So I have heard, that we, my brother and I,
Are not the rightful leaders of the Greeks
On land or sea, you owe us no allegiance,
And Ajax put to sea at no man’s orders.
Who ever heard such impudence from underlings?
Who is this man for whom you dare to make
So loud a noise? Has he been anywhere,
Fought anywhere, where I have not? Are men
So scarce among the Greeks? That arbitration
We held about the armour of Achilles
Will cost us dear, it seems, if we’re to face
At every turn the insults of a Teucer
Denouncing us as thieves, and, not content
To accept defeat and the clear verdict given
By vote of the majority, you assail us
With open threats or stab us in the back,
Because your luck was out. Heavens! at this rate
There’d be no setting up of law at all,
Were we to push aside the lawful winners
And bring the hindmost to the front. No, sir;
We’ll have no more of that. Put not your trust
In broad and burly shoulders; victory
Sides with the wisest heads in every battle.
Your big-boned ox needs but a little whip
To keep him on the road; some of that medicine,
From what I see, will soon be coming your way,
Unless you get some sense into your head
And curb that insolent tongue which wags so freely
About a man that’s dead and done with. Come,
Behave yourself; remember what you are,
And if you have a cause to plead before us,
Bring someone else, a free man, for your advocate.
I cannot listen to you; your barbarous speech
Sounds like a foreign language in my ears.
CHORUS: The best advice that I can offer is
That you should both become more reasonable.
TEUCER:
Who would have thought the memory of the dead
Could be so quickly blotted out, and gratitude
So soon turn traitor? Ajax, here is the man
For whom you fought, for whom you risked your life
At the spear’s point over and over again, and now
He has no single word, no syllable
Of tribute to your memory. All forgotten,
All thrown aside.
(To AGAMEMNON)
Yes, when you spoke so wildly,
So thoughtlessly, did you remember nothing,
No day when you were penned within your fences,
Routed in battle, given up for dead,
And he came single-handed to deliver you –
No day when fire was raging round your ships,
The stern-decks all ablaze, and Hector came
Leaping over the trench to assail your fleet?
And who averted that disaster? Who
But he, who never, as you say, was seen
Where you were not? Did he not serve you well
That day? Or when he answered Hector’s challenge
To single combat, under no man’s orders,
Picked by the ballot; for the lot he cast
Was not of laggard clay, but light and quick
To jump to the helmet’s mouth. This was the man
That did these things, and I was at his side,
Yes, I, the slave-son of a foreign mother!
Deluded man, how can you dare to speak
So bitterly? Who was your father’s father?
Was he not Pelops, a barbarian ancestor,
A Phrygian? Was not Atreus, your own father,
The perpetrator of that heinous act
The serving of his nephew’s flesh for meat
Upon their father’s table? You yourself
Came of a Cretan mother, and her own father
Condemned her, for adultery, to be thrown
To feed the silent fishes. Such was your origin,
And can you mock at me for what I am?
I am the son of Telamon, the man
Who won my mother as a prize for valour
And made her his; and she was royally born,
The daughter of Laomedon; my father
Had her from Hercules, Alcmena’s son,
A gift of special honour. Thus nobly born
From two such noble parents, should I blush
To stand beside another of my blood,
Here so unhappily fallen, whose burial
You would forbid and do not blush to say it?
I tell you, if you cast this corpse away,
Here are three others ready to be thrown
To lie beside it; better for me to die
In his defence, here, where all men may know it,
Than fighting for your wife – or brother’s wife.
Take care – for yourself, not me – for if you touch me,
You’ll wish you’d been less valiant than to tempt me
With this bold challenge.
Enter ODYSSEUS.
CHORUS: Odysseus, you have come
In the nick of time, if you have come to untie
This tanglement, not make it worse confusion.
ODYSSEUS:
What’s this, my friends? I heard from quite a distance
High voices raised, Agamemnon and Menelaus
Wrangling over the body of this good man.
AGAMEMNON:
And well you might; if you but knew the insults
This fellow has offered us –
ODYSSEUS: Insults? What were they?
I’d pardon a man who gave as good as he got
In wordy combat.
AGAMEMNON: I did not mince my words;
They matched the wrong that he had done me first.
ODYSSEUS: What wrong can he have done you?
AGAMEMNON: He refuses
To deny this body rites of burial
But will inter it in defiance of me.
ODYSSEUS: Will you allow a friend to speak his mind
Sincerely, and still pull his oar with you?
AGAMEMNON: I’d be a fool else. I’ve no better friend
Among the Greeks than you. Say what you wish.
ODYSSEUS:
It’s this. For the love of all the gods, think twice
Before you do so rash and vile a thing.
You cannot leave this man to rot unburied.
You must not let your violent will persuade you
Into such hatred as would tread down justice.
There was a time when I too hated him;
From the time I won the armour of Achilles,
He was the bitterest enemy I had; and yet,
Such though he was, I could not bring myself
To grudge him honour, or refuse to admit
He was the bravest man I ever saw,
The best of all that ever came to Troy,
Save only Achilles. It is against all justice
For you to treat him with contempt. God’s laws,
And not the man himself, you would annihilate.
Even if you hate him, it is against all justice
To lift your hand against a good man dead.
AGAMEMNON: Do you, Odysseus, take his part against me?
ODYSSEUS: I do. Yet, when there was a time to hate,
I hated him.
AGAMEMNON: Good reason to tread on him
Now he is dead!
ODYSSEUS: Such impious triumph
Should be no glory to the son of Atreus.
AGAMEMNON: What has a king to do with piety?
ODYSSEUS: At least he can respect a friend’s good counsel.
AGAMEMNON: A loyal friend should listen to his superior.
ODYSSEUS: Yet consider: here you have the chance to rule
By choosing to be overruled.
AGAMEMNON: Strong pleading
In such a worthless cause.
ODYSSEUS: He was my enemy,
But he was noble.
AGAMEMNON: Are you mad? Your enemy,
And dead, and you revere him?
ODYSSEUS: Yes; his goodness
Outweighs his enmity by far.
AGAMEMNON: There speaks
A man of fickle moods.
May be a foe tomorrow –
AGAMEMNON: And would you choose
To have that kind of friend?
ODYSSEUS: I wouldn’t choose
Obstinate intolerance.
AGAMEMNON: You’d rather see me
Branded a coward from this day on?
ODYSSEUS: No, brave
And just, in the sight of all the Greeks.
AGAMEMNON: You say then
I must permit the burial of this body?
ODYSSEUS: I do. Some day I too shall need that office.
AGAMEMNON:
Ay, there you have it: every man for himself.
ODYSSEUS: Whom should I serve if not myself?
AGAMEMNON: So be it.
Call it your act, not mine.
ODYSSEUS: Whichever you will;
You lose no credit for it.
AGAMEMNON: I tell you this:
For you I would do more, much more; but he,
On earth or under it, shall be for ever
My hated enemy. Do what you will.
Exit.
CHORUS: Odysseus, none but a fool would now deny
That you have shown yourself to be a man
Whom nature has endowed with wisdom.
ODYSSEUS: Teucer,
I have this to say to you: I am your friend
Henceforth, as truly as I was your enemy;
And I am ready to help you bury your dead
And share in every office that we mortals
Owe to the noblest of our kind.
I thank you for those words. You have proved me wrong
You were my brother’s bitterest enemy,
Yet here you have stood alone in his defence,
Refusing to be a party to gross outrage
Offered by the living to the dead – the outrage
Of our infatuated leader and his brother
Who would have cast the body out with ignominy
To rot unburied.
So may the Father of all,
Who rules in heaven above us, and the Avenger
Who remembers all, and Justice, by whose hand
The end is achieved, bring to those wicked men
A doom as evil as that which they devised
For this man when they wished to cast him out
In undeserved contempt.
But pardon me,
Good son of Laertes, if in this burial
I scruple to accept your helping hand,
Which might displease the dead; but be with us
While we perform the rites; or if you would bring
A fellow-warrior, he will be welcome too.
I will attend to all that must be done.
You have been good to us.
ODYSSEUS: I would have helped you
Gladly; but if you wish me not to do so,
It shall be as you wish, and I will go.
Exit.
TEUCER: Let us make an end. It is late.
You, dig the deep grave quickly;
You, the cauldron high upon the fire
Make ready for the cleansing rites.
The rest, bring from the tent
His body-armour.
Are strong enough to help me lift
Your father’s body.
Touch him with gentle hands.
The blood in the warm arteries
Still wells up dark and strong.
Come near, come quickly;
Here is a task
For every one that owns he is a friend
To this most perfect man.
CHORUS: Many are the things that man
Seeing must understand.
Not seeing, how shall he know
What lies in the hand
Of time to come?
EXEUNT