Translator’s Notes:

Here are the last two parts of Euripides’ tragedy. The reason I sat down to hash out a new version of this story goes something like this:

Two years ago I was trying to write a story about the Armenian Genocide. Poetry is my first love but it is hard to get one’s message out to a wider audience if the only way you can tell it is in iambic pentameter. The only problem I had was I’m not very good at writing fiction. The only thing worse than not doing something is doing it poorly. So I began looking around to see if I could find a story or play whose structure I could adapt to my own purposes. That was when I discovered Trojan Women, which seemed perfect. However, as they say, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. What I soon discovered was that out of all my friends and family I showed the finished product to none of them had any idea what the story of Trojan Women was and didn’t like what they read. I was told the play seemed “unrealistic” and was offered several suggestions as to how the ending could be “fixed” to make it more upbeat and positive. That this was retelling of Euripides’ work was lost, somehow, on them.

This is why I am publishing the source material first before re-blogging my Armenian version of Trojan Women; to show the reading audience where the ideas came from. I think that might clear up a lot of the troubles my friends first encountered when trying to get what the play was all about. We shall see. Either way it has been an interesting ride and thank you for coming along with me on it. Cheers!

* * *

ACT III:

ENTER MENELAOS WITH GUARD.

MENELAOS:
What a glorious day, this is! Finally I shall be holding my wife, Helen! I – Menelaos – I and all the Greeks have suffered a great deal. I come to bury Troy, not to praise it; not because of a single woman but because I wished to punish the men who treated my hospitality with contempt, the men who deceived me; stole my wife from within my own palace walls! Bah! That man and all his land have now been punished. We Greeks saw to that. So now I have come for her. I have come for … eh, I get no pleasure in uttering her name, that woman who, I admit, once was my wife. She’s here, in these huts, among all the other Trojan slaves. The soldiers who have suffered so much fighting on her account left it to me to either kill her here or, if I wanted, to take her back to Greece alive. I’ve decided not to kill her here but to take her back and punish her at home. Hah! Guards, go inside and drag the murderous beast out by the hair. Bring her here where the winds are favorable for revenge.

GUARDS ENTER ONE OF THE HUTS.

HECUBA:
Zeus! You who can do what you is impossible for mortals to do. Hear my prayer, my lord; whether your ways are silent or scream in rage, Zeus, you drive all human stories towards justice!

MENELAOS:
Eh? What do you mean by this asinine complaint?

HECUBA:
I praise to you, O Menelaos, for wanting to kill your wife. Let not her eyes fall upon your, or she will tempt your passions. Yes, her eyes! Her eyes can enslave any man, she can burn any city; set all their houses on fire. You know those eyes very well.

ENTER THE GUARDS FORCING HELEN OUT OF THE HUT. SHE IS WEARING EXPENSIVE, GLITTERING, SHOWY CLOTHES … A STARK CONTRAST TO THE HUMBLE, DIRTY CLOTHES WORN BY THE QUEEN AND THE CHORUS.

HELEN:
This is a horrendous start to a new play, Menelaos! Your thugs have dragged me out here — in front of these huts and against my will! Yes, yes, I know you hate me. I have no doubt about that … so tell me, what future do you Greeks have for me?

MENELAOS:
No, no major discussion have been made about you. The army has decided that since it was me you’ve hurt, I should have the power to save or kill you.

HELEN:
To kill me? La! Would I, by any chance, be allowed to make my case against this decision, to try at least show that such a punishment would be unjust?

MENELAOS:
No, I’m not here to argue with you, Helen my dear, but to kill you.

HECUBA:
Let her speak, Menelaos. Let her not die without doing this but let me be the one who’ll put to her the other side of the argument. You, conquering Greek, know nothing of the true measure of Troy’s suffering. Let me speak! I can assure you that my story will result in her death.

MENELAOS:
A waste of time, woman! Still, let her speak, if she wants. I give her my permission, not because she has asked for it but because of you, Queen Hecuba, because you have asked for it.

HELEN: (TO MENELAOS)
In that case, since you see me as your enemy, you won’t respond to my arguments, even if they are just. So, all I can do is argue against the accusations I think you’ll be making against me. (TO HECUBA) First of all, it was she, this Hecuba, who gave birth to Paris. That was then when our troubles began. The destruction of Troy came about because of Priam, her husband, who should have killed Paris while still in the womb cravenly did not. He should have murdered the baby as the gods decreed. But listen to what followed after the birth of Paris. It was this man who judged the three goddesses in a beauty contest. Palas Athena bribed him by promising him that he would head the Trojan army against Greece and destroy them utterly. Hera’s promise, on the other hand, was that he should be made ruler of all Asia. Aphrodite, who admired my beauty, told him that if he declared her the most beautiful of the goddesses she would give me to him. With no nay or yea on my part. So, now listen to what happened after that. Aphrodite, of course, won the contest and you, for some strange reason, went against the gods’ will to try and reclaim me. You were neither beaten by a foreign army nor were you conquered by a foreign king. You benefited from my misfortune. Because of my beauty I was made a slave by a goddess. But that’s not good enough for you, is it? Now you treat me with disdain as if I had done all this myself. You don’t turn your rage upon the goddess Aphrodite, oh no, who was with Paris when he stole me from your walls. It was much easier, you despicable man, to blame me than to cross Aphrodite. Ten years of war could have been avoided if you weren’t such a little worm, Menelaos. Because if you must punish anyone, Menelaos, then punish the gods! Come, are you strong enough to do that? Punish the goddess who stole me! Go on! Punish her! This is where you say something wise. You could say that since Paris is dead the guilt of my god-driven abduction has been forgiven. You could say, my husband, that after all I have survived and after all that has been done to me that you should be giving me an award for bravery instead of trying to kill me. Bah! Another man made me his slave. And you don’t even argue against the will of the gods? If that’s what you want to do then you are a cuckold and a fool.

THE CHORUS:
Come now, my Queen, defend your dead children, speak up, save your country!

THE CHORUS:
Her speech was strong, persuasive, forceful, even, I think, eloquent.

THE CHORUS:
You must destroy her words because she is guilty of all our destruction!

HECUBA:
First, let me represent the goddess; at the same time, prove that this woman is a liar. There’s no way that Hera or the virgin Athena would have lost their minds to such an extend that the first one would sell Greece to the barbarians; the second would subjugate the Athenians to the Trojans. Nor have they ever gone to Ida to engage in some silly beauty contest. Why would they want to do a thing like that? Why would the mother of all the gods, the Mighty Hera, suddenly be overwhelmed by such a silly desire to boast about her beauty? She’s a fucking goddess! And Athena? What was her motivation in such a stupid tale? Marriage with a mortal? She ran away from her marriage bed by asking her father to grant her eternal virginity! Think about it. No, if you’re trying to make the goddesses look stupid by dressing them up with human flaws that’s your fault not theirs. This will not persuade anyone with a bit of sense. Then you say that the mighty Aphrodite was swayed by my own son? Ha! How ridiculous that is! Laughable! Why would she want to come down all the way from the Olympus to do that? Why should she even bother? The truth is that Helen found in my son, Paris, a handsome man. She took one look at him and head spun. Aphrodite’s lust? Ha! Rather she thought Greece was far too meager in her wealth so she decided to leave Sparta and come over here to where the gold overflows. Menelaos’ palace didn’t quite meet the needs of her lavish debauchery. All right, so be it. Be that as it may you also say that Paris took her away by force. So say now that he kidnapped you? Really, golden hair? Did you scream for help at all? Did any other other soul hear you? So you came racing over here with the Greeks following right behind you. Then the war started in all its deadly rage and whenever you got news that Menelaos was winning you would sing his praises everywhere! I lived with for ten years, I know everything you think and do. And when the news declared that the Trojans were winning, ha, well then, it was as if Menelaos didn’t exist! Your morals, Helen, followed the wind rather than any sort of virtue. You also claim to have tried escaping Troy by lowering yourself over the walls with ropes because, you said, you were kept here against your will. Well, tell me, then, has anyone ever caught you tying a noose around your neck or trying to sharpen a knife to gut yourself? Now that’s what a brave woman would have done, if she really loved her husband! Not only that but how many times have I, personally, advised you to leave Troy and end this war? “Come, daughter,” I said to you, “Come, my son will find another wife. Let me take you secretly to the Greek ships so that this will put an end to the war.” But, of course, you didn’t like that advice since never followed it. Ten years is a long time to be anyone’s slave. No, while you were in Paris’ bed you could do as you pleased. You loved all the attention that your barbarian slaves lavished upon you. That was the thing, wasn’t it? All those slaves milling about you! Now look at you! Look still wear rich Trojan clothes! Vulgar woman! You should be spat upon! You should have come out here dressed in humble, ragged clothes, shaking with fear. You should have shaved your head like I did, humiliated because of the evil deeds you’ve done. You should be behaving with decency, not with such crass hauteur of a goddess. (TURNING TO MENELAOS) So, little man, listen to what I have to say. They are directed at you. I say, kill her! She deserves death!

THE CHORUS:
Lord Menelaos, do justice to your ancestors. Do justice to your house.

THE CHORUS:
Punish Helen in a way that will show your nobility in the eyes of your enemies.

THE CHORUS:
Prove that you are not a cuckold.

MENELAOS:
Hmm. So you say that Helen has fled my house of her own volition, jumping into the bed of an interloper? That Aphrodite had nothing to do it? That Helen introduced the goddess into her tale merely to boast? Hmm. Go now, Helen! Go to the men who will stone you to death. It will be a swift death. A swift payment for the evils you’ve committed. That will teach you to defile my name.

HELEN: (FALLS BEFORE MENELAOS, PUTS HER ARMS AROUND HIS KNEES)
No, Menelaos! I beg you! Don’t kill me for something that was caused by the gods! Forgive me!

HECUBA:
Don’t listen to her, Menelaos. Don’t betray the dead who were killed for her sake. I beg you, on their behalf, on behalf of all my sons!

MENELAOS:
That’s enough, old woman. I don’t care at all about what happens to her. (TO HIS SOLDIERS) Greeks, take her to our ships. We’ll send her off to Sparta.

HECUBA:
In that case, Menelaos, don’t let her get aboard the same ship as yours.

MENELAOS: (LAUGHING)
O, why is that? Has she gained that much weight?

HECUBA:
No, but there’s no lover who can’t justify committing evil for love’s sake.

MENELAOS:
Perhaps but it depends upon the heart of the loved one. In any case, I shall do as you say. We won’t put her on board the same ship with me. You’re quite right about that. Once we get to Greece, one way or another, she will serve justice.

EXIT MENELAOS, HELEN AND THE SOLDIERS.

* * *

ACT IV:

THE CHORUS:
Hark us, Zeus! This is your work. You have surrendered your Trojan temple to the Greeks.

THE CHORUS:
The sacred ethereal flame of the burning myrrh.

THE CHORUS:
The holy citadel of Pergamon.

THE CHORUS:
The ivy growing valleys of Ida, nourished by the rolling waters of the melting snow, rushing down from her peaks!

THE CHORUS:
Ida’s peaks, the first to catch the light of the Sun god. Earth’s most sacred boundary.

THE CHORUS:
Hark us, Zeus! Your sacrifices are all wasted!

THE CHORUS:
The joyful songs of your dancers!

THE CHORUS:
All the night long vigils for all the gods!

THE CHORUS:
All the statues, wrought in gold.

THE CHORUS:
The twelve sacred Trojan breads baked in the full of the moon.

THE CHORUS:
Hark us, Zeus! I want to know if you thought about all this?

THE CHORUS:
Sitting as you are on your heavenly throne.

THE CHORUS:
Can you see my city now?

THE CHORUS:
It’s a city destroyed by blazing fire!

HECUBA:
O, my dear husband! Your soul is wandering about. Your corpse is left unburied. Deprived of the burial bath.

THE CHORUS:
Oh, may the gods burn the ships that carry us!

THE CHORUS:
Oh, Zeus! Burn Menelaos’ ship with a dreadful lightning bolt! Burn it just as it sails through the Aegean waves.

HECUBA:
Burn it, Lord Zeus, as it takes me from my Trojan home. They are taking me into exile as a slave!

THE CHORUS:
Your daughter, Zeus! Lady Helen! will hold up a golden mirror!

THE CHORUS:
A golden mirror! What a delightful toy that is for girls!

THE CHORUS:
I hope she never reaches her father’s home in Sparta!

THE CHORUS:
Or Menelaos! I hope she never gets to the city of Pitana; nor return to the temple of Athena of the golden doors.

THE CHORUS:
Menelaos, husband of the most shameful woman in Greece, hear us!

THE CHORUS:
Helen, who brought great grief; destruction to the rivers of Simois!

ENTER TALTHYBIUS WITH FOUR SOLDIERS, TWO OF WHOM ARE CARRYING THE BODY OF ASTYANAX ON A HUGE, BRONZE SHIELD. HECUBA AND THE CHORUS IMMEDIATELY RUSH IN HORROR TO LOOK AT THE BODY.

HECUBA:
Oh! Oh!

THE CHORUS:
Despicable act!

THE CHORUS:
Despicable fate!

THE CHORUS:
One disaster falling upon another!

THE CHORUS:
Look upon the corpse of Astyanax!

HECUBA::
Murdered by the Greeks!

THE CHORUS:
They’ve hurled him down from the walls!

TALTHYBIUS:
Hecuba, there’s only one ship left in the harbor now. It’s heading for Thessaly. On it are the rest of the spoils that belong to Achilles’ son, Neoptolemus. This child, Hector’s son, will be buried here. This child breathed his last after he was hurled down from the towers. Andromache begged that the boy’s corpse be handed to you, personally, so that you may look after it appropriately. Wrap it up with a shroud and put garlands over it. Andromache couldn’t bury the poor child herself since her master had to leave in such a hurry. Hurry now; obey these orders. Oh, I’ve taken care of one little task for you. As I was crossing the Scamander river, I stopped; washed the child’s corpse; cleaned its wounds. Now you must dig a grave for him. We should work together to make the task easier for us both. The sooner we finish, the sooner we’ll sail for home.

EXIT TALTHYBIUS WITH HIS TWO SOLDIERS

HECUBA: (TO THE SOLDIERS CARRYING THE BODY)
Here! Put this bronze shield down here! Oh, what a dreadful sight! Oh, child! My eyes can’t bear what they see! Such a bitter sight! Greeks! So frightened of this little boy! So frightened that you had to murder him! Why? What were you afraid of? That he would rebuild his devastated city? That he would resurrect Troy in his lifetime? Well, let me tell you why you are afraid, Greeks! You are afraid of a little boy because you are nothing! You have killed Hector who fought gloriously with thousands of other Trojans; you have burnt our city. You have killed thousands of brave men and yet you were afraid of this little boy! Ha! Fear! Fear without a reason is not what the brave feel!

SHE KNEELS BY ASTYANAX’S CORPSE. THE SOLDIERS MOVE BACK.

HECUBA:
O, my darling! Had you been killed in a battle defending your country, my boy, had you grown up; married; become a king, equal to the gods, you would have been blessed. But no, my darling. The beautiful locks on your head! Locks that your mother fondled so often, so lovingly! How she kissed those locks! Now! What they have done to your poor, beautiful head! The tumbled down walls of your father’s city, my child, the walls that Apollo himself built, they were the cause of your death. O! O! I can’t utter the words! Here, through these crushed little bones, I see the smile of death! Death, this bloody gash on your face, screams out! O, these little arms! Broken. And your lips! The things you used to say! You used to jump into my bed; saying, “Grandmother, when you die, I’ll cut lots of my curls for you; I shall come over to your grave and sing for your our blessings!” But child, I am an old woman without a city. What an unlucky corpse I must bury! What will the poet write upon your tombstone, my boy? “Here lies a child killed by the Greeks because they were afraid of him!” (TO THE GREEK SOLDIERS) What a shameful epitaph for the Greeks! (BACK TO THE BODY) You’ve lost all of your father’s inheritance. (SHE RAISES HERSELF UP, ADDRESSING THE CHORUS) Come now, Trojan women, adorn this poor little corpse! Bring whatever you have. Whatever our ill fortune allows us. (TO THE CORPSE) From me, too, my son, I’ll give you all I’ve got left. Only foolish men rejoice in their prosperity, thinking it is everlasting. Fortune behaves like a crazy man, jumping now this way and that. No fortunate man is fortunate forever.

VARIOUS WOMEN COME OUT OF THE HUTS; FROM BEHIND THE WALLS CARRYING FLOWERS. OTHER ADORNMENTS WHICH THEY OFFER TO HECUBA.

THE CHORUS:
Oh, child! How you’ve touched my heart! How you’ve touched my heart, dear child!

THE CHORUS:
You are Astyanax! You are the lord of a ghost city!

HECUBA: (LIFTING UP A CLOAK)
Here, little child! This is the fine cloak you’d be wearing on your wedding day. Here! I’m wrapping your dead little body with it now. (PICKS UP A GARLAND) You who my son, Hector, loved so much! Accept now this garland from my hands. You will enter the underworld but you will not die.

THE CHORUS:
O! O, my child!

THE CHORUS:
What bitter grief that the dark earth will receive this sweet child!

HECUBA:
O! My lost little boy!

THE CHORUS:
Cry, mother, cry the dirge of the dead!

HECUBA:
My boy! My poor little boy!

THE CHORUS:
Poor old woman! Unbearable grief, grief that will stay with you evermore.

HECUBA: (TEARING STRIPS OF CLOTH FROM HER DRESS AND USING THEM AS BANDAGES)
Let me bandage your wounds with these strips, my child! Your father will take care of you better, my child, when you meet him in the underworld.

THE CHORUS: (BEATING THEIR HEADS AND BREASTS)
Beat your heads, Trojan women!

THE CHORUS: (BEATING THEIR HEADS AND BREASTS)
Beat your breasts, Trojan girls!

THE CHORUS: (BEATING THEIR HEADS AND BREASTS)
Beat your heads, Trojan women!

HECUBA LIFTS HERSELF UP. SUDDENLY THE LOUD LAMENT STOPS. A TENSE MOMENT OF QUIET. AGITATED, YET SUBDUED BY SOME INNER-THOUGHT, HER ACTION IS SOMEWHAT EVOCATIVE OF HER DAUGHTER CASSANDRA’S EARLIER.

HECUBA: (WHISPERING)
Dear friends (PAUSE) My dear friends (PAUSE) My dear (TRAILS OFF INTO SILENCE)

THE CHORUS:
What is it, Hecuba? You are whispering.

THE CHORUS:
What are you thinking about, Hecuba?

THE CHORUS:
Tell us, Hecuba, we are your dearest friends!

THE CHORUS:
We are with you!

HECUBA:
It’s obvious now, my friends. The gods, my friends! The gods had only one thing in mind when they caused all this: to bring dark fame to my city! By bringing more hatred to Troy than to any other city on Earth! All our sacrifices were of no use, my friends. Still, there is some good in this because if the gods did not turn everything upside down then the world would not have heard of us. The world would not be singing about us. The Muses would have no cause to sing about us to the coming generations of mortals. (TO THE SOLDIERS) Ha! Go on, you Greeks! Take this child; bury him in his poor grave! What difference does it make for the dead if they have a rich funeral or a poor one? Wealth for the dead is a hollow display for the sake of the living.

THE SOLDIERS APPROACH, PICK UP THE BODY; LEAVE. SOON OTHER SOLDIERS APPEAR WALL. THEY ARE HOLDING LIT TORCHES.

THE CHORUS:
O, poor child! Your poor, unfortunate mother!

THE CHORUS:
Poor Andromache! All her dreams about you have been turned into ashes.

THE CHORUS:
So blessed with a princely son so horribly murdered!

THE CHORUS: (NOTICES THE SOLDIERS NEAR THE WALL)
Look there! Who are these men over there?

THE CHORUS:
They are waving lit torches about!

THE CHORUS:
Is this a new disaster for Troy?

TALTHYBIUS: (SHOUTS FROM WITHIN)
You, captains! You’ve been ordered to burn down Priam’s city to the ground, so don’t just stand there with the torches lazily. Burn the place!

TALTHYBIUS: (ENTERING WITH SOLDIERS, STILL SHOUTING AT THOSE ON THE WALL)
The quicker you burn this place the quicker we can set sail for home! (TO THE CHORUS) As for you, daughters of Troy, let me say two things for you: Be ready, so that when the captains sound their trumpet we can leave this damned place. You, you poor old wretch, you follow me. Odysseus has sent these men here to take you to him. Luck of the draw, old woman. You’ll be his slave in his country.

HECUBA:
This then is the crown of misery? They’re burning my city; they’re taking me far away from my land. Come old feet! Move a little faster. (TO TALTHYBIUS) Wait. Wait. Wait. Let me say goodbye to Troy. My Troy! So glorious in the days! So glorious among the barbarians! Soon, the glory of Troy will be forgotten! Gods! Gods! Hear me, gods! (PAUSE) But why am I calling upon them now? They didn’t come when we had dire need. They didn’t listen.

TALTHYBIUS: (TO HIS SOLDIERS)
Come on, men, come; take her away quickly. Take her to Odysseus. She is his prize.

HECUBA:
Zeus! Son of Cronos, can you see this? Can you see the our suffering?

THE CHORUS:
Of course he can, Hecuba! Of course he sees it all but our great city, our great Troy (PAUSE) is gone!

THE CHORUS:
Our Troy no longer exists!

HUGE CRASHING NOISE FOLLOWED BY THE ROAR OF RAISING FLAMES BEHIND THE WALLS.

HECUBA:
O, look there! Look there! All the houses, all the houses; all the city’s towers are ablaze!

THE CHORUS:
Just like smoke, billowing upon the wind, our city falls apart.

THE CHORUS:
Land, palaces; men, all have fallen!

HECUBA:
My land, my land! Nurse of my children! This is your mother’s voice. Do you not know it?

THE CHORUS:
Your sad voice is calling the dead, Hecuba!

ALL THE WOMEN KNEEL DOWN; BEAT THE GROUND WITH HER HANDS. THEIR VOICES ARE DIRECTED AT THE UNDERWORLD

HECUBA:
The dead! The dead! I bend my aged legs! I fall upon my knees! I beat the earth with both my hands! The dead! The dead!

THE CHORUS:
We, too, beat the earth with our hands. We, too, call out to our dead husbands beneath the soil!

THE CHORUS:
My husband!

THE CHORUS:
My son!

THE CHORUS:
My love!

HECUBA:
They are taking us away!

THE CHORUS:
These are the voices of grief!

HECUBA:
They are taking us to be slaves!

THE CHORUS:
Slaves in another land!

HECUBA:
Priam! My Priam, poor husband! You are gone, my dear husband! No grave for you Priam! If only you knew of my misery!

THE CHORUS:
A black death has covered our eyes.

THEY GET UP. HECUBA LOOKS AROUND HER FOR THE LAST TIME.

HECUBA:
All the temples of the gods destroyed, my beloved city!

THE CHORUS:
Ruined!

HECUBA:
Ruined by the murderous fire.

THE CHORUS:
Our beloved Troy!

THE CHORUS:
Soon you will crash down upon our beloved earth.

HECUBA: (POINTS AT THE SMOKE RAISING BEHIND THE WALLS)
Just like smoke, the dust will raise to the sky.

THE CHORUS:
Our city is be gone!

THE CHORUS:
There will be no Troy for us any more.

A LOUD CRASH FROM BEHIND THE WALLS.

HECUBA:
O! Did you not hear that?

THE CHORUS:
Yes, yes! All the towers are falling!

MORE LOUD CRASHING. THE END OF THE WORLD.

HECUBA:
The whole earth is trembling! The whole city! O! Help me! I’m shaking. I cannot walk. Help me, my friends! Come, my friends, let us enter together this fate called slavery!

THE CHORUS: (RUNS TO HELP HER)
O Queen! O! Our poor city!

THE CHORUS:
Pathetic Troy!

THE CHORUS:
Come then, let us all go to the ships of the Greeks!

EXIT ALL. FINI.