PERSONAXES
XASÓN
MEDEA
NENO
VELLA
CABO
GARDAS
Monte.
Inverno.
ESCENA PRIMEIRA
Noite de inverno. Tiros na montaña.
Xeme o vento na fraga, aterecido.
Na ponte cruzan sombras. Os tricornes
deteñen, asomando, o breve grupo.
CABO
Identifíquense.
XASÓN
Eu son Xasón e esta é a miña muller, Medea.
CABO
E ese envurullo que leva a muller?
XASÓN
O noso fillo. Aínda non fixo un mes.
MEDEA
Se nos dividen, que el veña comigo.
CABO
As vosas armas?
XASÓN
No refuxio.
MEDEA
Alí as deixamos para máis lixeiros camiñarmos.
CABO
Entendido. A muller, para a casa. O home vén connosco.
MEDEA
Para onde nos levan, Xasón?
XASÓN
Non temas. Eles cumpren co tratado. Ti cóidame do fillo e non padezas, que esta separación é provisoria.
MEDEA
E os que fican atrás?
XASÓN
É a cabeza, non o corpo da partida, o que procuran. Chégalles coa miña entrega.
MEDEA
Entón, a loita terminou?
XASÓN
A nosa loita agora é polo fillo. Todo o futuro alenta nel. Adeus, Medea. Xa nada nos ata ao monte. Poderemos vivir sen sobresaltos.
MEDEA
Para onde te levan?
XASÓN
Non temas. Eu nacín neste lugar e sei que me han tratar correctamente.
MEDEA
Verémonos algún día, meu amor?
XASÓN
Fixemos un trato, non te lembras? A nosa rendición contra o desarme da partida. E garantías para os tres.
MEDEA
Mais ti acreditas nesa xente?
XASÓN
Calma. Todo foi pactado. Deixa de te preocupar. Agora teño que ir con eles, mais axiña hei voltar e entón o tempo será todo noso… Tempo de paz, tras esta guerra que nos vaciou.
MEDEA
Da guerra nunca receei. Receo desta paz que me rouba unha noite.
XASÓN
Que é unha noite, Medea?
MEDEA
Nada. O tempo acaba sendo nada se ti non estás.
CABO
Acabouse o tempo. Leven a muller. Eu fágome cargo do home.
XASÓN
Criarasme o rapaz? Daraslle o peito?
MEDEA
Por que me fas esa pregunta? É que non pensas regresar?
esCENA SEGUNDA
]'[oite de inverno. Arrefecer e cae saraiba.
Dous ollos desde o lar espreitan finos.
[tirnosa, a vella atiza co caxato
as brasas do lar. Vánse os tricornes.
VELLA
Garda a navalla. Aquí non a precisas.
MEDEA
Onde estou? De quen é esta vella casa?
VELLA
De Xasón. Os seus pais aquí morreron.
MEDEA
Cando? Quen eran eles? Por que nunca me falara Xasón desa familia?
VELLA
Un día os gardas encontraran uns fuxidos e aquilo fora a morte para todos. Só Xasón, que andaba fóra, a mocear, se zafara das balas. Mais á volta, en vendo os corpos aí na cerca, non o pensara dúas veces e botárase ao monte. Até o día de hoxe, en que a prudencia aconsellou parar…
MEDEA
Para onde o levaron?
VELLA
Como queres que o saiba? Eu non son máis que alguén que ten encomen- dada a túa garda. Estará no cuartel, para asinar os papeis e responder ás preguntas do cabo… Polo demais, non hai temor. El será libre e ti tamén, cando se cumprir a segunda do acordo…
MEDEA
De que segunda e de que acordo estás a falar?
VELLA
Entón, é certo que non sabes?
MEDEA
Sei que nos entregamos, logo de disolvermos a partida, e que descemos á vila con esa garantía, da cal agora Xasón estará a responder… Eu, de segundas, non sei nada.
VELLA
Dicíase que eras valente. Unha muller acaída para Xasón. Mais xa non estades no monte. E se el non quixo confiarche algúns segredos, as súas razóns tería.
MEDEA
Son de Xasón, iso xamais o vou negar. Mais tampouco que el é un horn libre e que os seus actos son seus unicamente. Dime: esa segunda p e arte garda relación comigo ou co meu fillo?
Soa unha descarga.
MEDEA
Que foi iso?
VELLA
Unha descarga, para alá das Pedragosas… Apañaríanos. Era de esperar.
MEDEA
Quen apañarían?
VELLA
Non o sabes? Se cadra, é o mellor para todos… Eses fuxidos non quixeron entregarse. Preferiron continuar no monte, malia o trato que Xasón fixo por todos… Agora teñen o que merecen… E ti, podes durmir tranquila xa.
MEDEA
Iso que dis, muller, é unha infamia. Xasón nunca sería quen de abandonar os compañeiros, e moito menos de entregalos aos nosos inimigos… Non, el non faría iso. O acordo fora baixo a condición de eles deixaren o monte sen garda, para os nosos poderen fuxir… Había un home aquí, na vila, que resolvería… Quen é ese home? Coñécelo ti?
VELLA
Non pensaba contarche o que sei, pois non te imaxinaba tan incauta… Xasón fixo o que fixo por el, mais tamén por ti e polo meniño. As vosas vidas eran o primeiro. E non me digas que iso che resulta tan difícil de entender. O teu home tratou coa autoridade o apresamento da partida… Foi obri- gado a formar no pelotón que fusilase os vosos compañeiros, e mesmo a cavar o foxo onde habían ser enterrados… Iso é o que estará a facer agora, se as cousas non se torceren…
MEDEA
Non podo acreditar. Afasta!
VELLA
Onde pensas que vas?
MEDEA
Tras el. Non confío no que dis.
VELLA
E deixas o teu fillo só?
MEDEA
Fica contigo!
VELLA
Ti non sabes que a porta está gardada e que o teu xesto é unha lousa para Xasón? Queres axudalo? Canto tempo vai que vos coñecedes? A vida de Xasón non comezou no monte. El ten vellos compromisos… Por exemplo, un amor que non medrou como debera e que agora lle salta ao camiño, pois ela é a filla do home que o salvou… O Caranguexo.
MEDEA
Afasta!
VELLA
Que é o que vas facer, coitada? O Caranguexo é un home poderoso! El manda nos brigadas e foi quen retirou Xasón do monte, coa teima de casalo coa filla!
MEDEA
Non acredito en nada do que dis!
VELLA
Xasón é para Lucinda! Iso ti non o podes torcer!
MEDEA
El nunca me falara desa moza. Non será todo un conto de alguén para me retirar?
VELLA
Lembra que Xasón abandonou a loita armada, enterrando os seus propios compañeiros… Acepta o que queira ofrecerche, pois algo por ti fará, cando se vexa un home libre…
MEDEA
Agora sei que te puxeron nesta casa para me renderes, bruxa! E foron os inimigos de Xasón…
VELLA
Non foron tal, que o fixo don Miguel, directamente! O Caranguexo… Non te rebeles contra el! Como che dixen, é un home moi poderoso… Poderías tintar de sangue o teu camiño até Xasón e, mesmo así, ningún rego sería tan longo que chegase até a súa porta… Máis che valera agardar. Ha ser Xasón quen traerá novas persoalmente…
MEDEA
Díxocho el?
VELLA
Sei que o fará. Coñézoo ben.
MEDEA
Eu tamén imaxinei que o coñecía…
VELLA
Agora, a descansar! Deita o meniño e ti fecha os ollos e descansa. A paz virá cando adormecerdes…
ESCENA TERCEIRA
Tremecente no leito, a guerrilleira
rememora do amor os precipicios.
Unha noite de balas era menos
do que un beixo na herba, aínda xeada.
MEDEA
El adorábame, sabías?
E que dicir da teima
que puña en atraparme
alí onde tempo houber:
na touza, nun camiño,
nas pedras, sobre a herba,
de día, de noite, ao raso,
con sol, con frío, na braña,
se enxoito non había…
Ves esta cicatriz?
E estoutra? Son as marcas
do macho que se asaña
coa femia. Así era o seu
comigo: unha batalla
de igual a igual nos felgos,
debaixo dos acivros;
un remedar os lobos
no bravo e no impaciente;
un salvaxe rosmar,
unha guerra de beixos;
Xasón sobre min e eu
enriba de Xasón.
Combate entre guerreiros
que eu daba e que perdía,
cando el, baril e destro,
gozoso me montaba
e eu o meu ventre morno
feliz lle concedía.
Era o cabelo crecho
de meu o seu triunfo
nas mans aqueloutradas,
feridas de desexo…
E eu, máis emocionada
canto máis el tecía
de dor o meu pracer,
que ao seu pracer cedía…
E era o fusil alerta,
as balas na canana,
e aproveitar os chíos,
o gurgullar das fontes,
unha brisa nas follas,
o máis leve susurro,
para aprender a nosa
diferenza na herba…
Pois hai unha distancia
entre o macho e a femia.
El, primeiro, calcula,
despois persegue, ataca,
loita até nos consumirmos…
Mais tras a dura briga,
no cómodo, o seu corpo,
leixado, estira e vaise
virando nunha cousa
que non dá máis de si,
que apenas se prolonga
á forza, por vergoña,
até se esvaecer
nas nosas mans ansiosas…
Nós somos, pola contra,
constantes; cada día
que pasa amamos máis.
E canto máis o home
das nosas mans se esvae,
máis a nosa ansiedade
o seu furor reclama.
E porque o cerco aperte
e estreite a súa vontade,
nos tornámonos nais,
o meniño aleilando…
E é entón cando el se anica
e escusa as súas faltas
e foxe e adoutrínase
na rúa, na taberna,
de esmorga cos amigos,
rabaño que nos furta
a lei que el nos gardaba.
Por iso os inimigos
da femia namorada
non son as outras femias,
son os amigos del,
xa que o home non salta
dun leito compracente
para outro, que o seu salto
é do leito á taberna.
O macho é máis ben torpe.
Non ten a sutileza
que é do noso carácter
virtude e vicio a un tempo.
Para nos desfacermos
dun home, precisamos
non máis que de palabras;
mais se un home quixese
zafarse da muller
de vez e para sempre,
tería que matala.
Eu sei que o meu Xasón
non é quen de deixarme
por ningunha muller
que o lazo lle botase…
Coñezo as súas idas
e voltas e domino
do seu cabalo as rendas,
e que non se desboque.
O meu temor non é
por moza que o enlouqueza,
levándolle os sentidos,
roubándolle a memoria,
mais da foula dos seus
amigos e comparsas…
Temor de que lle rouben
memorias da montaña,
dos tiros, dos asaltos,
das mortes impensadas.
Temor de non saber,
cando na noite espero,
que os anos teñen meses,
que os meses teñen días…
Temor de o meu silencio
saltar, aqueloutrado,
no fondo da tobeira
onde seu fillo crío…
Temor de que no monte
non haxa máis cabalos,
nin xestas nos socalcos,
nin na ribeira xuncos…
Temor de ser Medea
se el me deixar un día
por alguén ou por nada,
co meniño nos brazos…
Temor de me chamar
muller e de pagarlle
con sangue… Eu teño medo
de min, non de Xasón!
ESCENA CUARTA
O lume arde no lar. Consola a Vella
cun codelo o degoiro do meniño,
que chora e se revolve. Desde a porta,
Medea, engruñada, a escena espía.
VELLA
Non lle dás de mamar? Unha pinga de leite chegaría para o contentar…
MEDEA
O meu leite está revolto.
VELLA
Como pode unha nai falar así?
MEDEA
Se tanto che magoa velo desnutrido, como é que non llo levas a Xasón?
VELLA
Estás furiosa contra el e faslle pagar ao meniño.
MEDEA
Para non che ser nada, aínda saes polo fuxido…
VELLA
Dáme coraxe ver como o desprezas!
MEDEA
Moito o defendes. Nin que lle tiveses dado de mamar.
VELLA
Cala, muller! Non sabes o que dis!
MEDEA
Xasón imítate nos beizos. E o meu fillo, tamén…
VELLA
Que dis, muller?
MEDEA
Digo que ben podías ser ti a súa nai.
VELLA
Eu?
MEDEA
De maneira que a historia dos pais que aquí moraban debe ser un embuste fantástico…
VELLA
Non é ningún embuste. Matáronos aí fóra, como penso que che dixen…
MEDEA
Mais non eran os pais de Xasón…
VELLA
El si…
MEDEA
E ela?
VELLA
Ela era unha boa muller… Pediume o fillo para crialo… E nunca lle ocultou ao neno a súa orixe… Estoulle moi obrigada…
MEDEA
Agora queren facer o mesmo comigo… Ti que lles dirías?
VELLA
Eu?
MEDEA
A pregunta está de máis. Ti limítaste a facer o que che mandan.
VELLA
Non sempre. En todos estes anos requirín noticias do meu fillo e ninguén quixo darmas. Nin Xasón se comunicou comigo, influído talvez pola morte do pai, que non puido evitarse, pois xa andaban atrás del cando a guerra… A primeira noticia tívena hai tres días, cando me chamou o Caranguexo…, don Miguel…, para me dicir que fose arranxando a casa, pois o meu fillo viña acompañado e…
MEDEA
Sabías de quen viña acompañado?
VELLA
Falábase dunha muller e dun meniño… Por certo, o coitadiño está famento. Non lle había ir nada mal mamar un pouco…
MEDEA
Que che dixo o Caranguexo?
VELLA
Díxome que Xasón traía familia e que ma deixaba encomendada. Eu pre- guntei os pormenores e acabei aceptando a misión… Que outra cousa podía facer? Nós debémoslle moito a don Miguel. Primeiro, que el apadriñara o meu Xasón, mesmo sendo nai solteira e criada de servir, que nunca na vida pasei de aí… Tamén é ben de agradecer o xesto que tivo contigo, permi- tíndoche vivir, malia seres unha rival para a súa filla e unha muller de vida desastrosa… Agora o neno poderá ter un honroso porvir na súa familia… De pensares coa cabeza acabarías aceptando o acordo que che ofrece.
MEDEA
E o meu amor por Xasón? Non significa nada?
VELLA
É un amor ilegal. A túa vida no monte, guerrilleira…
MEDEA
Afasta! Quero falar con Xasón!
VELLA
Xa falarás! Agora tes que ser prudente… Pensa que hai moita xente que aínda non desculpou os mortos que fixestes! As cousas, como son, muller. Ti fai por que Xasón non acabe lamentando terte coñecido!
MEDEA
Por que morreron os vellos? Quen os denunciou?
VELLA
E quen sabe, despois de tanto tempo?
MEDEA
Por que non mo contas ti?
VELLA
Para que?
MEDEA
Penso que nese episodio pode estar a orixe da vocación guerrilleira d0 home. Illeu
VELLA
Un día apareceron no barranco, con dous tiros na cabeza… Entón non e raras as vinganzas… Xasón botouse ao monte e iso foi todo o que houb::U Maís agora está a salvo, grazas a don Miguel… E se foses honesta, ti tamé. · · axudarías… De marchares agora, ninguén che faría mal ningún. Poderí~ vivir co diñeiro que che desen, que che dese o Caranguexo… E o rapaz esta- ría sempre ao lado do pai e da nai adoptiva, e mais nunca tería necesidades…
MEDEA
Quen delatou os vellos?
VELLA
Como dis?
MEDEA
O pai de Xasón e mais a súa dona?
VELLA
Xa che dixen que…
MEDEA
Fuches ti?
A Vella cala.
MEDEA
Dime unha cousa: como conseguiches que Xasón non o soubese? Que non se decatase de que eras a asasina do seu pai? Foi unha idea túa ou dese home o de te librares dos vellos? Por que o fixeches? Para teres unha casa?
VELLA
Estás tola.
MEDEA
E agora queres fuxir de min… Pensas que vou ser unha presa fácil?
VELLA
Fuxe, agora que aínda podes! Fuxe!
MEDEA
Para acabar o mesmo que os outros? Todo estaba amañado para que voltase ao monte, non é certo? Todo amañado para ser cazada como fixeran cos vellos… Á noite, no camiño do monte, con dous tiros na cabeza… Non era ese o destino que tiñades pensado para min?
Medea mata a Vella.
ESCENA QUINTA
Amence sobre as lousas novo día.
Sen tiros, a montaña é simplemente
un sombrío e calado promontorio,
de miñatos e voitres azotea.
Morre o lume no lar. Xace o meniño
sobre o escano. Vizosa, a nai insomne,
un tras outro, os freixós tira da pedra
para a artesa, onde amornan e gorentan.
MEDEA
As túas filloas, vella.
Agasallo de sangue para quen quixer.
Eilas na artesa, o teu xacigo.
Xantar de festa para quen as fixo.
Panos de angustia para o convidado.
Polo teu sangue, solimán magnífico;
pola túa morte saberá Xasón
do cruel veleno da mentira. Cando
a túa substancia teña degustado,
un nome, vella, o teu, virá seguido
para que nunca máis ouse chamarlle
á vida compañeira. Entón, o lume
non arderá a eito e na montaña
a neve perderá a súa friaxe…
E el saberá, meu valedor, que esta muller,
Medea, a infernal, irá no vento,
sobre o lombo do voitre, enfariñada
na nube do seu crime… Porque, vella,
matar é proceder contra o misterio.
E morta ti, non hai misterio. Cando
Xasón entrar por esa porta, aprenderá,
pois traizoou o noso amor, que este descansa
no regazo sen luz da eternidade.
Ao Neno.
MEDEA
O vento xeme, meu amor, e as follas mortas
pisaron e asombraron os camiños…
Para que serven os camiños, meu amor?
Por que saír ao frío da mañá,
ao son da néboa que apaga as pegadas
e nos deixa sen flores e sen beixos?
Acouga, meu amor, durme o teu soño
de escumas, en silencio, tenramente,
como un anxo gozoso que sucase
o ceo de algodón, con doce música…
Medea mata o Neno.
ESCENA SEXTA
Abre a porta Xasón. Un vento frío
saltarica con nubes de borralla.
Hierática figura no limiar
sospeita na muller estraños pálpitos.
XASÓN
Medea?
MEDEA
Xasón?
XASÓN
Quixera unha palabra ter contigo.
MEDEA
Unha palabra só?
XASÓN
É unha maneira de falar.
MEDEA
Por favor, senta. Quererás unhas filloas?
XASÓN
Non teño moito tempo. Uns minutos
é todo o que podo ficar.
MEDEA
Quen te limita?
XASÓN
Non importa.
MEDEA
Catarás as filloas?
XASÓN
Quen as fixo, a miña nai?
Por certo, onde vai ela?
MEDEA
No río. Foi lavar unhas roupas…
XASÓN
E o neno?
MEDEA
Deille o peito e agora dorme.
XASÓN
Os freixós están bos.
Hai tempo que non os probaba así, de sangue.
É estraño que non me esperase a miña nai.
Ela sabía que ía vir…
MEDEA
Eu tamén o sabía…
XASÓN
Nótote diferente.
Que é o que está a acontecer aquí?
MEDEA
Non sei… Non eras ti quen tiña que nos informar?
XASÓN
Desculpa por non ter falado antes do tema…
MEDEA
De cal tema?
XASÓN
A miña nai non che contou?
MEDEA
Ela contoume que era a túa nai…
XASÓN
E non che falou de Lucinda?
MEDEA
De Lucinda?
XASÓN
Da miña prometida…
A filla do noso protector.
MEDEA
O Caranguexo?
XASÓN
El merece un respecto.
Axudounos a sobrevivir.
MEDEA
O home compasivo… O defensor do guerrilleiro… Continúa.
XASÓN
Por que as túas palabras me parecen
preñadas de ironía?
MEDEA
Eu pensei que os da nosa partida
foran salvos polo noso sacrificio…
E resultou ser todo unha trapela.
E o que acharon os coitados foi a morte
máis infame saída das túas mans.
XASÓN
Fun un covarde, si… Mais eu tamén
pensaba en ti e no neno… Mais o certo
é que non vin outro camiño
para vos salvar de morte cruel
ou, no mellor dos casos, dunha vida de miseria…
Agora que o sabes todo, rógoche
que me comprendas…
MEDEA
Non, non te comprendo.
XASÓN
Tamén que me perdoes…
MEDEA
Tarde chegas, Xasón! O que está feito
xa non ten remedio.
XASÓN
Hai máis aínda… Polo ben dos tres,
teño que te deixar…
MEDEA
Só a min ou tamén ao meu fillo?
XASÓN
Diso quería falarche. El fica…
Tratei o tema con Lucinda e ela
está disposta a crialo, con outros que teñamos no futuro…
O neno estará ben…
Xa a miña nai te terá informado…
MEDEA
Certo… A túa nai.
XASÓN
Entón, estás de acordo en mo entregar?
Impórtache se o levo xa?
MEDEA
Non, non me importa.
XASÓN
Non queres despedirte del?
MEDEA
Hai unha hora que o fixen.
Dálle o envurullo ensanguentado.
MEDEA
Aquí o tes, enfardelado,
vestido de paz perpetua…
Canto á vella, boteina a durmir
na artesa, tras tirarlle
o sangue que precisaba
para facer os freixós de que tanto gustaches…
El afástase dos mortos con horror.
MEDEA
Devólvoche o teu sangue, Xasón.
Ambos os mortos levan
no corazón a marca da túa faca…
Se aínda tiveses lei de home,
farías ben en enterralos onde os mortos
non se extinguen, é dicir, na memoria…
Desaparece.
ESCENA SÉTIMA
Impensado corisco repenica
no lousado da choza, onde o guerreiro,
impotente, recolle os corpos irtos
da nai e do rapaz, para os chorar.
Coa batida da xistra a porta ábrese
e o terríbel bocexo da montaña
acorda os corazóns adormecidos,
a augurar unha lenta primavera…
CHARACTERS
JASON
MEDEA
BOY
OLD WOMAN
CIVIL GUARDS
Montse.
Winter.
SCENE ONE
Winter night. Gunfire on the mountain.
The wind whimpers in the forest.
Shadows cross over the bridge. The Civil Guards
detain and inspect the small group.
CAPTAIN
Identify yourselves.
JASON
I am Jason and this is my wife, Medea.
CAPTAIN
And the bundle in your wife’s arms?
JASON
Our son. Not yet a month old.
MEDEA
If you separate us, he stays with me.
CAPTAIN
And your weapons?
JASON
In the refuge.
MEDEA
We left them there to lighten our load.
CAPTAIN
Understood. The woman goes to the house. The man comes with us.
MEDEA
Where are they taking us, Jason?
JASON
Do not be afraid. They are following the arrangement. Care for our son and suffer not, for this separation is temporary.
MEDEA
And what of those left behind?
JASON
It is not the body, but the head of the party that they seek. My surrender is enough for them.
MEDEA
Has the fight ended, then?
JASON
Now, the fight is for our son. The very future lives with him. Goodbye, Medea. Nothing now binds us to the forest. We will be able to live without fear.
MEDEA
Where are they taking you?
JASON
Do not be afraid. I was born in this place, and I know they will treat me with dignity.
MEDEA
Will we see each other again one day, my love?
JASON
Do you not remember the agreement? Our surrender in exchange for the party’s laying down of arms. And guarantees for the three of us.
MEDEA
But do you trust those people?
JASON
Still your heart. This is part of the deal. Do not worry. I must go with them now, but I will soon be back, and then time will be on our side…A time of peace, after this war that has hollowed us.
MEDEA
I never doubted war. What I doubt is this peace which steals a night from me.
JASON
What is one night, Medea?
MEDEA
Nothing. Time becomes nothing when you are gone.
CAPTAIN
Time is up. Take the woman. I will escort the man.
JASON
Will you raise the boy for me? Will you give him breast?
MEDEA
Why would you ask such a question? Do you not intend to return?
SCENE TWO
Winter night. Cold air, falling hail.
Two eyes peer from the hearth.
Insistent, the old woman stirs the embers
with her cane. The Civil Guards leave.
OLD WOMAN
Put away the knife. You will not need that here.
MEDEA
Where am I? To whom does this old house belong?
OLD WOMAN
To Jason. It was here that his parents died.
MEDEA
When? Who were they? Why has Jason never spoken to me of his family?
OLD WOMAN
One day, the Civil Guards discovered a band of fugitives, and all were put to death. Only Jason, out sowing his oats, was spared their bullets. But upon his return, seeing the bodies there inside the fence, he did not think twice about taking refuge in the forest. Until today, when prudence counseled him to stop…
MEDEA
Where did they take him?
OLD WOMAN
How am I to know? I am merely the woman charged with your care. He must be at the barracks, to sign papers and answer the captain’s questions…Otherwise, there is nothing to fear. He will be free, as will you, when he fulfills the second part of the agreement…
MEDEA
What second part and what agreement?
OLD WOMAN
Can it truly be that you do not know?
MEDEA
I know we have dissolved the party and surrendered ourselves, and that we will go into town with that guarantee, the one Jason will now be answering for…I know nothing of any second parts.
OLD WOMAN
I had heard that you were brave. A perfect woman for Jason. But you are no longer in the wilderness. If he chose not to confide certain secrets with you, Jason will have had his reasons.
MEDEA
His secrets are his, I will never deny him that. Nor would I deny that he is a free man and that his acts belong to him alone. Tell me: does the second part have any bearing on me or my son?
A gunshot is heard.
MEDEA
What was that?
OLD WOMAN
A gunshot, near the Pedragosas…They must have been caught. It was to be expected.
MEDEA
Who must have been caught?
OLD WOMAN
You do not know? Maybe it is best for us all…Those fugitives would not turn themselves in. They chose to remain in the forest, despite the arrangement Jason made for everyone…Now they have gotten what they deserve…And now, you can sleep easily.
MEDEA
What vile speech, old woman. Jason would never abandon his comrades, certainly not if it meant handing them to our enemies…No, he would never. We agreed under the condition that they would leave the forest unguarded in order that our party could flee…There was a man here, in the village, who would settle it…Who is that man? Do you know him?
OLD WOMAN
I had no intention of telling you what I know, because I did not imagine you so heedless…Jason did what he did for himself, but also for you and the boy. Your lives came first. Surely that is not so difficult to understand. Your husband arranged the party’s imprisonment with the authorities…They have obliged him to join the firing squad that executed your comrades, and even to dig the pit where they would be buried…That is what he is doing now, so long as nothing goes amiss …
MEDEA
I cannot believe it. Begone!
OLD WOMAN
Where do you think you are going?
MEDEA
After him. I do not trust a word you speak.
OLD WOMAN
Would you leave your boy alone?
MEDEA
He stays with you!
OLD WOMAN
Do you not know the door is guarded and that it would be a death sentence for Jason? You wish to help him? How long have you known each other? Jason’s life did not begin in the forest. He has old commitments…For example, a love that did not grow as it should have, and now comes into his path, for she is the daughter of the man that saved him…O Caranguexo.
MEDEA
Begone!
OLD WOMAN
What will you do, my dear? O Caranguexo is a powerful man! He commands the local forces, and it was he who withdrew Jason from his mountain refuge, with the intent of marrying him to his daughter.
MEDEA
I do not believe a word you say!
OLD WOMAN
Jason is to be with Lucinda! You cannot stop it!
MEDEA
He has never spoken to me of this girl. It must be a tale to make me withdraw.
OLD WOMAN
Remember that Jason has given up the armed struggle, burying his own comrades…Accept what he offers you, for he will do something for you, once he is a free man…
MEDEA
Now I know that they put you in this house to break my will, witch! And it must have been Jason’s enemies…
OLD WOMAN
Not enemies. It was Don Miguel himself! O Caranguexo…Do not rebel against him! As I told you, he is a powerful man…You may drown the path to Jason in blood, and even still, no stream would be long enough to reach his door…You would do better to wait. Jason will bring news himself.
MEDEA
That is what he told you?
OLD WOMAN
He will. I know him well.
MEDEA
I too thought I knew him…
OLD WOMAN
Now, to rest! Let the boy sleep, close your eyes, and get some rest. Peace will come with sleep.
SCENE THREE
As she trembles in bed, the guerilla
recalls the precipices of love.
A night of bullets was less
than a kiss in the still-frozen grass.
MEDEA
He adored me, you see.
And what to say of his insistence
in laying his paws on me
wherever there was time:
in the woodlands, on a path,
on the rocks, in the grass,
by day, by night, in the open
in the sun, in the cold, in the reeds,
so long as there was no drought…
Do you see this scar?
And this one? These are the marks
of the male who discharges
his wrath on a female. As he
did with me: a battle of
equal against equal among the ferns,
under the hollies;
reminiscent of wolves
in wildness and impatience;
a savage growl
a war of lips;
Jason atop me and
me atop Jason.
Combat between warriors
that I undertook and lost
alongside him, virile and capable,
with pleasure he mounted me,
and as for me, my warm belly
I gave to him happily.
This ringleted hair of mine
was his triumph
run through by angry hands,
wounded by desire…
And I grew more excited
the more he wove
pain into my pleasure,
as I ceded to his own…
And he was a rifle at the ready,
bullets in the cartridge,
and we took advantage of the squeals
the burble of the fountains,
a breeze on the leaves,
the slightest whisper,
to learn of our
difference in the grass...
For there is a distance
Between the male and female.
First, he calculates,
then he pursues, attacks,
fights until we consume each other…
But after the hard fight,
in comfort, his clawed
body stretches and
turns into something
that gives no more of itself,
that can no longer extend
its strength, out of shame,
until it wilts
in our anxious hands…
We, meanwhile,
are constant; each day
that goes by we love more.
And the more the man
slips through our hands,
the more powerfully we thirst
for the ardor of his passion.
And because the enclosure constricts
and stretches his will,
we become mothers
to a little breastfeeding boy…
And that is when he falls to his knees
and excuses his failures
and flees and indoctrinates
in the street, in the tavern,
on a bender with his fellows,
a pack that robs
the respect he held for us.
This is why the enemies
of the loving female
are not other females,
but the friends of the male,
for the man does not jump
from one warm bed
to another, but rather
from the bed to the tavern.
The male is rather clumsy.
He lacks the subtlety
that characterizes us
a virtue and a vice.
For us to rid ourselves
of a man, we need nothing
more than words;
however if a man seeks to
free himself of his woman
once and for all,
he must kill her.
I know that my Jason
would not be able to leave me
for any other woman
who yoked herself to him…
I know his comings
And goings and I master
the reins of his horse,
to keep him from turning the wrong path.
My fear has naught to do with
a young woman driving him mad,
carrying away his sense,
robbing his memory,
but with the merriment of his
friends and co-conspirators…
The fear that they will rid him
of memories of the mountain,
of the gunfire, the attacks,
the unthinkable deaths.
The fear of not knowing,
when by night I wait,
for the years have months,
for the months have days…
The fear that my silence
will leap, in anger,
from the depths of the fox’s den
where I raise his child…
The fear that in the mountain
there will be no more horses
nor broom nor cultivated terraces,
nor reeds on the riverbanks…
The fear of being Medea
if he leaves me one day
for someone or for nothing,
with the little boy in my arms…
The fear of calling myself
his wife and paying him
in blood…I fear
for myself, not for Jason!
SCENE FOUR
The fire burns in the hearth. The Old Woman
sates the baby’s hunger with a bit of bread,
to stop him crying and fussing. From the door,
Medea, crouching, spies on the scene.
OLD WOMAN
Won’t you give him breast? A drop of milk would go a long way to placating him…
MEDEA
My milk has turned.
OLD WOMAN
How can a mother speak that way?
MEDEA
If it so pains you to see him malnourished, why do you not bring him to Jason?
OLD WOMAN
You rage is for him, yet you punish the boy.
MEDEA
He is nothing to you, yet you take the fugitive’s part…
OLD WOMAN
The contempt you have for him infuriates me!
MEDEA
So fiercely you defend him. One might think you had nursed him at your breast.
OLD WOMAN
Silence! You know nothing!
MEDEA
I see in your lips Jason’s own. And those of my son.
OLD WOMAN
What do you mean to suggest?
MEDEA
I mean to suggest that you could be his mother.
OLD WOMAN
Me?
MEDEA
So the story of the parents who lived here must have been a fantastical lie…
OLD WOMAN
It was no lie. They killed them out there, as I believe I told you…
MEDEA
But they were not Jason’s parents…
OLD WOMAN
It was his father…
MEDEA
And his mother?
OLD WOMAN
She was a good woman…She begged me for the boy, to raise him…And she never hid his origins from him…I owe her an immeasurable debt…
MEDEA
Now they seek to do the same with me…What would you tell them?
OLD WOMAN
Me?
MEDEA
I need not ask. You do as they tell you to.
OLD WOMAN
Not always. In all these years, I’ve sought news of my son and no one has given it to me. Nor have I received communication from Jason, perhaps due to the death of his father, which was unavoidable, because they were after him when the war broke out…I had heard no news of him until three days ago, when O Caranguexo…Don Miguel…called me to say that I should tidy up the home, as my son was coming with company and…
MEDEA
Did you know who that company was?
OLD WOMAN
He mentioned a woman and a small child…By the way, the poor dear is hungry. What would be the harm in letting him suckle a bit…
MEDEA
What did O Caranguexo tell you?
OLD WOMAN
He told me that Jason was bringing a family and that he would leave them in my charge. I asked the details and accepted the mission…What else could I do? We owed so much to Don Miguel. First, for becoming Jason’s godfather, even as the son of an unmarried serving girl, for my whole life I have been no more than that… We should also be grateful for what he did for you, allowing you to live, though you were a rival for his daughter and a woman with a ruinous life…Now the boy will be able to have an honorable future in his family…Use your head and you will come to accept their offer.
MEDEA
And my love for Jason? Does that count for nothing?
OLD WOMAN
It is an illegal love. Your guerilla’s life on the mountain…
MEDEA
Begone! I must speak with Jason!
OLD WOMAN
And you will! Now, you must be sensible…Remember that many people have yet to forgive you all for the many deaths you caused. That is the reality of things. Do not make Jason regret having ever met you!
MEDEA
Why did his parents die? Who reported them?
OLD WOMAN
Who knows, after so much time?
MEDEA
Will you not tell me?
OLD WOMAN
To what end?
MEDEA
I believe that episode holds the key to my husband’s guerilla vocation.
OLD WOMAN
One day they appeared on the roadside, with two bullet holes in their heads…Vengeance was not uncommon then…Jason took refuge in the forest and that was all there was to it…But now he is safe, thanks to Don Miguel…And if you were a good woman, you too would help him…If you leave now, no one will do you harm. You could live with the money they give you, that O Caranguexo gives you…The boy would always be with his father and adoptive mother, and he would lack for nothing…
MEDEA
Who reported his parents?
OLD WOMAN
What do you mean?
MEDEA
Jason’s father and his wife.
OLD WOMAN
I have told you…
MEDEA
Was it you?
The Old Woman goes quiet.
MEDEA
Tell me: how did you prevent Jason from finding out? From discovering that you were his father’s killer? Did the plan to get rid of his parents come from you or that man? Why did you do it? To have a home?
OLD WOMAN
You have lost your mind.
MEDEA
And now you wish to flee from me…Do you think I will be easy prey?
OLD WOMAN
Flee, while you still can! Flee!
MEDEA
Only to end up like the others? Everything was arranged for me to return to the forest, was it not? Everything was arranged for me to be hunted the way his parents were. At night, on the trails, with two shots to the head…Was that the fate you two had in store for me?
Medea kills the Old Woman.
SCENE FIVE
A new day dawns over the gravestones.
Free of gunfire, the mountain is simply
a shadowed and quiet promontory,
a terrace for kites and vultures.
The fire dies in the hearth. The boy lies
on the bench. Vigorous, the sleepless mother
tosses pancakes one after another from the stone
to the bread trough, where they cool and delight.
MEDEA
Your pancakes, old woman.
A gift of blood for whosoever wishes.
Here they are in the bread trough, your resting place.
A festive lunch for the woman who made them.
Trappings of anguish for the guest.
For your blood, a magnificent whitener;
with your death, Jason will know
the cruel poison of lies. When
your substance has delighted his tongue,
a name, old woman, yours, will come
so that he will never again dare
call life a companion. Then, the flame
will not burn ceaselessly and on the mountain
the snow will lose its frigidity.
And he will know, my protector, that this woman,
Medea, the infernal, will be in the wind,
on the back of the vulture, afloat
in the floury cloud of her crime…Because, old woman,
to kill is to act against mystery.
And now that you are dead there is no mystery. When
Jason enters through that door, he will learn,
for he betrayed our love, may it rest in the
lightless bosom of eternity.
To the boy.
MEDEA
The wind whimpers, my love, and the dead leaves
stepped and stunned the trails…
What purpose do the trails serve, my love?
Why go out in to the matutinal cold,
to the sound of the fog that muffles the steps
and leaves us without flowers and without kisses?
Take heart, my love, sleep your drooling
sleep, in silence, tenderly,
as a lovely angel that furrows
the sky with cotton, with sweet music…
Medea kills the Boy.
SCENE SIX
Jason opens the door. A cold wind
spits clouds of mist.
A hieratic figure in the threshold
suspects strange pulses in the wife.
JASON
Medea?
MEDEA
Jason?
JASON
I wanted a word with you.
MEDEA
Only one?
JASON
It is a figure of speech.
MEDEA
Please, sit. Will you have some pancakes?
JASON
My time is short. A few minutes
is all I can spare.
MEDEA
Who limits you?
JASON
It matters not.
MEDEA
Will you try the pancakes?
JASON
Who made them, my mother?
By the way, where is she?
MEDEA
At the river. She went to wash some clothes…
JASON
And the boy?
MEDEA
I fed him, now he sleeps.
JASON
The pancakes are tasty.
I had not had this kind, a blood pancake, for some time.
Odd that my mother is not waiting for me.
She knew that I would come…
MEDEA
As did I…
JASON
You seem different.
What is going on here?
MEDEA
I am not sure…Was it not you that to had news to tell us?
JASON
I apologize for not discussing this sooner…
MEDEA
Discussing what?
JASON
My mother said nothing of it?
MEDEA
She said that she was your mother…
JASON
She said nothing of Lucinda?
MEDEA
Lucinda?
JASON
My betrothed…
The daughter of our protector.
MEDEA
O Caranguexo?
JASON
He deserves respect.
He helped us to survive.
MEDEA
The compassionate man…The guerilla’s defender…Go on.
JASON
Why do your words seem to me
laden with irony?
MEDEA
I believed the members of our party
were safe thanks to our sacrifice…
And it all turns out to be a trap.
What the poor fellows found was a
most vile death by your hands.
JASON
I was a coward, yes…But I also
thought of you and the boy…Still, it is true
that I saw no other way
to save you from a cruel death
or in the best of cases, a life of misery…
Now that you know everything, I beg
you to understand me…
MEDEA
No, I do not understand you.
JASON
And forgive me…
MEDEA
You are too late, Jason! What’s done
has no remedy now.
JASON
There is more…For the good of the three,
I must leave you…
MEDEA
Only me, or also my son?
JASON
That is what I wished to speak about. He stays…
I spoke of the matter with Lucinda and she
is prepared to raise him, with the other children we have in the future…
The boy will be well cared for.
My mother must have told you already…
MEDEA
Indeed…your mother.
JASON
Then, do you agree to entrust him to me?
Do you mind if I take him now?
MEDEA
No, I do not mind.
JASON
You do not wish to say goodbye to him?
MEDEA
I did just that, only an hour ago.
She hands him the bloody bundle.
MEDEA
Here you have him, wrapped up,
swaddled in perpetual peace…
As for the old woman, I put her to sleep
in the bread trough, after draining
the blood I needed from her
to make the pancakes you so enjoyed…
He recoils from the dead in horror.
MEDEA
I return your blood to you, Jason.
Both of the dead carry
in their heart the mark of your dagger…
If you still comport yourself as a man,
you would do well to bury them where the dead
are not extinguished, which is to say, in memory…
She disappears.
SCENE SEVEN
Unconsidered, the sleet patters
on the stone floor of the hut, where the warrior,
impotent, collects the lifeless body
of his mother and his boy, to weep for them.
The violent storm throws open the door
as the terrible grimace of the mountain
awakens slumbering hearts,
to inaugurate a slow spring…
