a trilogy by Andrew Rissik - Scriptus Books€¦ · King Priam And His Sons was first broadcast by...

T R O Y

a trilogy

by Andrew Rissik

Praise for Troy

Easily the radio drama event of the year… a triumph. No one could have

wanted this compulsive, gripping epic a second shorter ... stupendous ... a

Trojan War for our time.

Ken Garner, The Express On Sunday

Irresistible. A magnificent marriage of the epic and demotic. Is there

anywhere else in the world that this kind of work can be found?

Radio 3: trail this, promote it, cherish it, and above all repeat it.

Anne Karpf, The Guardian

Anyone who doubts the right of Radio 3 to exist should be locked in a

darkened room with tapes of Troy ... for Andrew Rissik's trilogy is

probably the greatest radio drama he could ever hear. In these plays,

passionate love, bloody revenge and furious argument are expressed in

language that is spare, poetic, beautiful ...

Sue Gaisford, The Independent On Sunday

A considerable achievement both in scale and quality. Troy is one of those

triumphs that belong to radio, that use and love the medium.

Martin Hoyle, The Financial Times

An enduring tribute to the enchantment of radio. Rissik's achievement is

to use this enthralling parade of human fallibility and selfishness to

illuminate through its allegorical power those metaphysical and moral

conundrums of every age: free will versus predestination; the maintenance

of imperial domination; the corruption of idealism and love by realpolitik.

John Whitley, Country Life

Poetic, ambitious, highly wrought and densely woven ... the experience is

one of those that gives drama on radio such power. The value of art

which aims high is immense. The continuous artistic scrutiny of that

tradition, in a world which deafens itself with chat and drowns in

sentiment, has never been of greater value.

Gillian Reynolds, The Daily Telegraph

Fine drama ... a superb cast ...

Michael Vestey, The Spectator

Gripping, fluent, unpretentious, straightforward, thoughtful. I think it's

beautiful.

Ruth Padel, Nightwaves, Radio 3

First published in 2015 in Great Britain by Scriptusbooks Ltd 46 Murray Road London SW19 4PE Scriptusbooks.com Copyright © Andrew Rissik, 201 5 The right of Andrew Rissik to be identified as author of this work as been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 This books is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Printed by printondemand- worldwide.com-

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British

Library

ISBN 978-0-9564466-0-2

Cover illustration based on a watercolour by Hilary Ruttley

T R O Y

a trilogy

by Andrew Rissik

SCRIPTUS BOOKS

Contents

Part One: King Priam And His Sons 1

Part Two: The Death of Achilles 113

Part Three: Helen at Ephesus 245

Andrew Rissik 355

All rights whatsoever in these playsare strictly reserved and applicationsfor permissions to perform them, etc,.

must be made in advance before

rehearsals begin to Berlin Associates,

7 Tyers Gate, London SE1 3HX

Part One

King Priam And His Sons

King Priam And His Sons was first broadcast by

BBC Radio 3 on Saturday 28th November 1998

with the following cast:

Hermes Paul Scofield

Hekabe Deborah Findlay

Priam Julian Glover

Paris Michael Sheen

Oenone Abigail Docherty

Anakreon Ian Hogg

Hektor Michael Maloney

Achilles Toby Stephens

Helen Geraldine Somerville

Menelaos James Laurenson

Andromache Emma Fielding

The play was directed by Jeremy Mortimer, with

music composed by Nicholas Russell-Pavier, and

sung by Mia Soteriou

Part One - King Priam And His Sons

1

I

Silence.

Half-darkness.

The city of Troy,

shortly before dawn.

The god Hermes enters, alone.

He is tall, simply dressed,

austere in his manner,

an old man.

The light grows gradually

as he speaks.

Hermes The hour before dawn.

A time

when dreams are as drowsy

as nectar,

as sweet as honey.

In the sky

the stars are fading

as the light grows

but Hekabe, Queen of Troy,

King Priam's wife,

does not stir from her deep slumber.

Dreams drop upon her

as she sleeps,

like dew

upon the morning grass.

Her eyes,

fluttering beneath their lids,


2

throng with images

which only the gods,

or their messenger,

Hermes,

the bringer of dreams,

can make sense of.

In a matter of hours

Hekabe will be delivered

of a second child,

a second son,

yet she takes no joy

in the life

swelling in her womb

and longing to be born.

Her heart weeps

because the child's father,

her husband Priam,

who built this great city,

does not love her.

Even in sleep

her spirit cries out

to heaven

for heaven's justice.

I am Hermes,

the son of Zeus

and the goddess Maia.

I come,

out of the air,

like fire or thought,

to serve the gods

of whom no testimony exists

beyond the minds

of mortal men and women.


3

When they see

what cannot be seen,

or hear

what is forbidden,

or think

they have glimpsed

some image, some reflection,

of eternity,

then truly it is said

that a god

is walking beside them.


4

II

Hekabe's bedchamber.

Hekabe lies, heavily pregnant, on a wooden bed,

exhausted but unable to sleep.

Hermes stands before her.

Hekabe

Who are you?

Hermes

I am the god Hermes.

Hekabe

Why do you come?

Hermes

I come because you have need of me.

Hekabe

Will the child I carry be a boy?

Hermes

Yes, he will live

and grow strong and healthy.

Hekabe

I dream

that with his birth

my life on earth will end.

Hermes

You will die


5

the moment he is born.

For a moment she is silent.

Hekabe

I am content.

Often,

in my prayers,

I have offered my life to Zeus

if only Zeus will give me

a second son.

I did this

out of love,

for Priam's sake,

but Priam does not love me.

Lord,

tell me this,

will you punish Priam,

after my death,

for the way he has treated me?

Hermes

Is that what you desire, Hekabe?

Hekabe

Yes.

But do the gods

hear our prayers?

Do they listen

to our innermost thoughts?

Or are the gods themselves

and everything they teach

only the shadow which the mind casts,

like a fire,

when it dreams or sleeps?


6

Priam

is the greatest king on earth.

He has built a city

with twelve tall gates,

and walls of granite

which are fifteen paces wide.

But it was I

who gave him the strength

to do what had to be done.

In the first winter of our marriage

the wooden city,

which Priam's father had built

on the estuary

of the river Scamander,

was sacked by invaders

from the Greek mainland.

Priam raised an army

and, after a single battle,

he drove the enemy into the sea.

He took no prisoners.

They died on the beaches where they stood,

or were drowned.

Then Priam rebuilt the city.

He hardly slept.

I had to force him to eat.

He shouted,

'I am a king, Hekabe,

and a king worth the name

sees that his men are fed first'.

I answered,

'Without you, they'll be nothing,

these people. Eat.'

And so he ate.


7

Hermes

I see that, once,

you loved this man and honoured him.

Hekabe

Yes,

I loved him then.

That year,

at harvest-time,

our first child, Hektor,

was born.

Priam nicknames him,

'Hektor the Long-Faced.'

Hektor would laugh –

he would not be

strange and tongue-tied

in his father's presence –

if Priam spent more time with him.

I hoped

that if I could give him

a second son,

then he would love me again

as he once did.

There was a time

when all he lived for

was to please me.

He taught me how to love him.

He wore me like a brooch.

But I am no longer young.

My brow is lined,

my thick, black hair

will soon be white.

Priam has taken from me

my youth, my hope, my beauty.


8

Yet, in his heart,

he knows what all men know.

One day

he will come back to me,

but I will not give him

what he needs and wants from me.

I will reject him.

She is weeping.

Hermes

Do not weep, Hekabe.

The gods love you,

and they will deal justly with you

You must not be afraid.

Hekabe

I do not fear death, lord,

only the pain of dying.

Hermes

Life is nothing, Hekabe.

A bubble

upon an ocean of silence,

a star

in an infinite darkness.

Strength,

youth and beauty

dissolve into the past

and are lost like smoke.

But the spirit does not die

as a flame dies.

It lives and burns forever,

with a light which is immortal

and more brilliant than the sun.


9

Hekabe

I hear your voice so clearly, lord,

but when I wake

I will forget who you are

and what you have said to me.

Hermes

No, you will not forget.

When you wake

Priam will be at your side.

You will think this is a dream,

but it is not a dream.

Remember.

At once Hermes is gone.


10

III

Priam enters.

He is an imposing man in early middle age –

calm, powerful, confident.

Priam

Look.

The moon has set

and the cool of the dawn

prepares the earth for the day's heat.

In the gardens,

there are roses soaked in dew,

and dense thyme.

I watch the walls of the city

grow bright

as the constellations fade.

The Pleiades. Orion.

The Great Bear.

They melt into the glare

like drops of water dissolving upon sand.

Hekabe, my beloved wife,

is near her time.

Each evening, so her women say,

she weeps.

If she loses the child, it will be my fault.

I am Priam.

I am king of Troy.

Hekabe has woken.


11

Hearing Priam, she calls out.

Hekabe

Priam?

Priam

I am here, Hekabe.

Hekabe

I have waited for you a long time.

Priam

I understand.

But I could not come sooner.

He sits beside her, studying her as he does so.

You are pale.

Hekabe

The child will be born tonight, Priam.

Priam

Your women say

it will be three more days.

Hekabe

They are wrong.

Priam

Let me touch you.

But she flinches as he runs his hand across her belly.

Is my hand cold?

Hekabe

Yes, a little.


12

Priam

A healthy child.

I can feel it kick.

Hekabe

He will be a boy.

Priam

How can you know that?

Hekabe

What else,

for a man like you?

Priam

I hope so.

A king is not secure with girls.

A king needs boys.

Hekabe shouts.

Hekabe

How can I give you boys

if I never see you?

Priam

Ah, Hekabe,

I know I have neglected you.

I know it has hurt you.

But I cannot always be

here, in Troy, at my wife's side.

My work is hard,

harder than you can imagine.

You know well

that in my father's time

Troy was a barren country,


13

half desert and half marsh.

Our enemies

stole corn and cattle from us

as it pleased them,

while we fought amongst ourselves.

I organised

the people of this nation

for the first time in their history.

I imposed strong laws

and put an end

to the factional quarrelling

of petty village chieftains.

I caused the marshes to be drained,

the desert to be irrigated.

Now the land is fertile,

and the tribes,

which once owed allegiance

only to themselves,

are proud to call themselves Trojans.

They acknowledge

one language, one coinage, one law.

Make a home for me, Hekabe.

I cannot lead

the mild and gentle life of a woman.

Hekabe.

Hypocrite.

When you want comfort

you take it wherever you find it.

If I behaved as you do

you would renounce me.

For years I've had to stomach

your wretched infidelities,

the absences which you said

were caused by your work

but which a wife understands well enough.


14

I know you, Priam.

I loved you once

because you were ruthless and cruel,

because you never hesitated,

because your dreams

were full of grace and energy,

strength and daring,

and because your body

was everything I desired.

But I am tired of you now,

sick of your casualness,

and your arrogance,

the way you always ignore

my fears,

my unhappiness,

the way you always think

that weakness is contemptible.

Pray heaven

that something you love

is taken from you.

Pray heaven

there is something you want

but cannot get.

Priam

What are you saying?

Hekabe

I am saying

that the birth will be violent.

The child will tear me open

the moment he tastes the air.

Priam

You are wrong.

That is only a woman's superstition.


15

Hekabe

I am not wrong.

Dreams invade my sleep.

I cannot shut them out.

I see the gods.

I see things

which I cannot put into language.

I dream of a flame

issuing from my body

which devours all of Troy,

which leaves nothing

only parched earth, blackened rock.

Priam

No,

you are angry, Hekabe,

and you want to punish me.

That is why you say

that you are going to die.

But what you see

when you dream

is only the image of your own fear.

Look.

You are strong and healthy.

You will bear me fifty sons.

Do not be frightened of shadows.

He rises.

If I have made you angry,

think of the past

and of the good times we have known.

Remember the night

this boy was conceived

and how I loved you then.


16

And he leaves.

Hekabe is alone.

Hekabe

I remember well

the night this boy was conceived.

Priam had been absent

for many days,

but he sent no word to me,

as he had promised.

I waited for him

until the moon had set,

and, when he did not come,

I cursed him.

In the hour before dawn,

a man,

or the image of a man,

stood before my bed.

I think now it was the god,

and not Priam,

who came to me that night,

and planted this child inside me.

I think,

in his fickleness,

the god took pity on me

because he knew

how my body ached,

and how my mind

was full of longing.

When at last I awoke,

Priam was beside me.

Wine had helped him

to a deep sleep.

I did not wake him,


17

but went out

into the garden, alone,

where I gave thanks

to the goddess Aphrodite

for her gifts of love and fruitfulness.

She cries out.

O Priam,

what have you done to me?

Because you did not love me,

and my body

could not please you,

the god has entered me.

He will give you a son

whose soul

will never be tempered

by a mother's softness and love,

who will be not a child

but a great, tempestuous fire,

a bloody and devouring flame.

A low rumble, like the noise of distant thunder.

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