Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The group scattered about the theatre. I drew a deep breath, told myself that this was for Euripides – a playwright I much admire – and walked onto the stage.
I launched into a paean of victory: I proclaimed, triumphantly – with suitable gestures - that Paris was dead, Hector was slain, and Troy was totally destroyed. Agamemnon, King of Men, the son of Atreus, was victorious! (Boasting was obviously part of the herald’s job description.)
Then came my big speech. I raised my arms to heaven and called on Zeus, Apollo and Hermes to hear me. (I could hear my words ring round the theatre in such a way that I half-expected a thunderbolt from Olympus.) I ended with an exhortation: Welcome Agamemnon! Welcome the victor home!
You could have heard a pin drop. It was hugely satisfying.