My Life as Athena
By
Daphne Ignatius
A day can press down all human things, and a day can raise them up again. But the gods embrace men of sense, and abhor the evil – Athena to Odysseus
My Life as Athena
Copyright © 2014 Daphne Ignatius
All Rights Reserved
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No offence was intended for the various religions and/or deities discussed in this book.
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Concertia Press
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For my father K.A. Ignatius,
who taught me to love books at an early age
And
For my mother Elsie Ignatius,
who taught me the value of independence and self-reliance
Table of Contents
Prologue
The True Beginning
The Family
The War of the Giants
Typhon
Maiden Goddess
Pallas
The Underworld
The First Woman
Persephone
My Inventions
Athens
Ascension
Changes
Love
Consequences
Erichthonius
Hephaestus
A Favor
The Age of Heroes
Isis
Troy
A New World
Valhalla
Expansion
Alexander
Decision
Conquered
Roman Goddess
A New Religion
Opening Gambit
Interlude
End Game
Aftermath
How to Help the Author
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Prologue
197 BC
I stood in my chariot on the hill of Cynoscephalae, facing down the Roman army ranging out in front of me. Around me massed a combined army of Macedonian and Greek warriors, twenty-five thousand strong. Directly behind me rattled the famed charioteers of Greece as they moved into position, eager to do battle to protect their homeland.
What are we doing here, you ask? Shouldn’t you start your tale at the beginning? My answer to you is that this is a beginning. The beginning of my end. This is the moment of my greatest shame: the moment I started to realize my family might not be good for the people who worshipped us.
Catching the excitement in the air, my creamy white horses snorted and stamped their hooves, tossing their silken manes, eager to get moving. I stood, arrayed in my finest armor, helm on my head, preparing to inspire and lead the men behind me. On my distant left, my half-brother Ares was doing the same with the Macedonian phalanxes that he would lead into battle. Standing past Ares was his wife Enyo, leading the light auxiliary and poised to dart out invisibly into the Roman ranks.
The three of us had fought together for a thousand years, and our skills combined to make us a formidable team. Strategy and tactics were what I brought to the table. Ares’ strength was the ability to inspire courage and battle lust in the warriors around him. Enyo’s ability was to sow panic and discord among the enemy’s troops, demoralizing them into easy pickings. This was a winning combination that we had executed successfully many times before, facing the Persians and the Gauls. These Romans, these descendants of Aeneas the Trojan, were just one more in a long line of would-be invaders.
The sun broached the horizon on my right. It was time to unveil myself. Normally, Ares, Enyo, and I were invisible to mortal eyes, but in order to inspire and comfort the vast army behind us, we had to communicate that we were here. As the pale morning light touched me, I started to unveil. Just a touch, just a little sparkle to outline a shadowy presence. The sunlight flashed off the silver helm that I wore, the sharp blade of the long spear that I held in my right hand, and the edges of the engraved shield braced on my left arm. A flurry of murmurs broke out behind me. I smiled involuntarily before remembering that I needed to be Athena, the stern and dignified Goddess of Wisdom and War.
The sun rose over the horizon, flooding the plain ahead of us with light. Cheers broke out behind me and behind Ares as we came more clearly into view. Only we immortals noticed a lithe figure floating down from the heavens towards Ares—Hermes, my father’s personal messenger. I stood for a moment before slowly veiling myself again. One glimpse of divine protection was often enough to charge up our men’s hearts and give them the faith that they would be victorious in this conflict.
Once I had faded fully from mortal eyes, I thrust my spear into the holder by my side and pulled off my helm. My heavy, golden braid fell from the helm and tumbled down my back. Before battle, I would tuck it down the back of my tunic to secure it. But first, I had to get out of the ornate armor that I had worn especially for the men. I unsnapped the buckles at my side and lifted my breastplate over my head. It was beautiful and impressive, but far too cumbersome for what I was about to do. I preferred to fight light and fast, unencumbered by armor that would jab into me at inconvenient times. Beneath the breastplate, I wore my gold aegis wrapped tight around my chest. Lovely in its own right, my aegis was just as impenetrable as the breastplate, without all the weight.
My task would be to lead the first charge, softening up the Roman infantry for Ares. Unfortunately, the Romans had a similar chariot brigade on their side and they would be trying to do the exact same thing. I needed to move faster than the enemy and do as much damage as possible to their infantry, before turning to deal with their charioteers.
Hermes landed beside my chariot as I tied the ends of the reins to the silver girdle around my waist, to ensure that I wouldn’t lose them once I was in the thick of things.
“Lady Athena, I bring word from your father! Zeus has commanded that you and your siblings retire from the battle immediately!”
“What?” I barked as I lifted my eyes from the knot at my waist. “That makes absolutely no sense! We can’t abandon our people. This would be a betrayal of their faith in us!”
“Nevertheless, those are your orders,” he replied. “You are to return to Olympus immediately. Ares is telling Enyo as we speak.”
I looked past Hermes. Indeed, Ares had left his post and was talking to his wife on the far side of the army. I stood back on my heels, flabbergasted. As God and Goddess of War, we were duty-bound to support our people in times of battle. And yet, we were being ordered to abandon them by our father Zeus, King of the Gods—the father I loved and loathed in equal measure.
I stood poised in the chariot, staring at Ares in the distance. With my excellent sight, it was not hard to see his dark expression as he conversed with
Enyo. Ares, with his single-minded focus on honor and glory, would be much offended by this order. As if feeling my eyes on him, Ares swung his sculptured head to look back at me, his gaze flat and angry. This was dishonorable, yet we had no choice but to obey our father. I had felt Zeus’s thunderbolt once in my life and I had no desire to experience it again.
Sickened, I nodded to Ares and turned back to my horses, my gaze skipping over Hermes as if he didn’t exist. Gritting my teeth, I unknotted the reins from my girdle and snapped them. The team stepped forward, leaving Hermes behind. My horses picked up speed and then took off into the air, whipping my chariot skyward.
I heard the horns blow at ground level. Glancing down over my shoulder, I saw both the Greek and Roman chariot brigades roll forward, picking up speed. I didn’t watch as the descendants of Aeneas began to take their vengeance, in payment for the destruction of Troy a thousand years before.
The True Beginning
3000 Years Earlier
The first thing I remember was being wrapped in a cocoon of love. It was a reddish cocoon with gold flashes, and came with the resonant voice of my mother, Metis. She whispered to me through the long stages of my gestation, telling me of her life and her hopes for me as my limbs grew and my brain developed. As I grew, she diminished and grew transparent, until I could see right through her, to the darkness of my father’s body. I was cocooned twice, you see. Inside her and inside my father: Zeus, King of the Gods.
Metis was one of the Titans, the original deities of the Greek peninsula. They were eventually overthrown by the Olympians, their descendants, and by my father in particular. Oddly enough, my mother didn’t hold that against Zeus. She chose to lie with him and helped him overthrow the Titan Kronos, who was both Zeus’s father and her uncle. You’re getting the idea now. Familial relationships mean nothing in the Greek pantheon. It was literally eat or be eaten. Kronus swallowed his children. Zeus got him to throw them all back up again with Metis’s help, and then Zeus swallowed Metis.
“It was prophesied that I would bear children of extraordinary power and intelligence who would eventually eclipse Zeus himself,” my mother whispered to me as she cradled me within her. “He grew jealous, unable to bear the thought of being overthrown, as he had overthrown his father. He brooded on it. Then one day, he challenged me to a shape-changing contest. Laughing, we morphed into all kinds of fantastical creatures, great and small. Eventually, I changed into a fly and it was at that point that he leapt upon me and swallowed me whole.”
My mother’s voice grew bitter. “I was the Titan Goddess of Wisdom, and I was bested by a suspicious oaf. But I will have my vengeance. Zeus underestimates females. He believes that only another god can be a threat and that, my daughter, will be your greatest advantage. I say this to you: You will be the one to eclipse him, not some imaginary son. So be careful with Zeus,” she cautioned. “Do not ever trust him. Remember that he betrayed his own father and me. He will not hesitate to destroy you if he suspects you to be a threat. You will need time to grow into your power, so play the dutiful daughter and win his affection. If things become difficult, act! Go to my grandmother, Gaia. She detests Zeus, and will aid you for love of me and your Titan blood. She will shield you from Zeus and the other Olympians, if need be.”
I stirred within her, stretching my limbs but unable to answer her. Pulses of energy flared and flowed into me from my mother. I felt myself expand, greedily absorbing all that she had to give.
“Your name will be Athena, and you will take my place as Goddess of Wisdom.” Her voice strengthened. “I bequeath you my divinity, my cunning, and my power.” Her voice grew to a roar, shaking my world. A short white chiton formed on my naked body. Silver sandals materialized and bound themselves to my feet.
“I also bequeath you these mystical weapons that I have created. Use them to protect yourself and defeat your foes.” A helm clamped down on my head, restricting my vision, and a silver breastplate formed on my chest. “Fight your battles with your head, not your heart, and have no mercy on those who challenge you.” A kilt of studded leather wrapped itself around my hips and tightened, protecting me from waist to knee. An engraved sword appeared in one hand and a spear in my other. Things were moving quickly, but I felt no fear. I tightened my grip on my sword.
“There is nothing more that I can do for you except to fade, so that you may break free. Now, GO!”
There was a blinding flash as my mother’s being contracted into me, giving me her final bequest of power. When I recovered, I was in darkness, alone, with my mother’s power seething within me. For the first time in my short life, there was no maternal voice, no divine guidance. Shifting my grip on my spear, I stabbed at the dark walls of my prison repeatedly. How long I did this, I know not. But eventually, a gash of light appeared above me.
Taking my chance, I leapt up and grabbed hold of the edges of the gash, ripping it apart with all my strength. Crawling out into brilliant white light, I leapt out and away, weapons in hand. As I travelled, I felt my body expand, unconstrained at last.
I hit soft green grass and rolled to my feet, still growing in size. I slowly opened my eyes, letting them adjust after an age in darkness. The first thing I saw was a pair of concerned golden eyes set in a broad yet gentle face. Behind him was a gory mess of a giant, who was pressing together the two halves of his head. Even as I watched, the two halves began to merge. A recognizable mouth set in a dense beard appeared, then a nose and two eyes. A moment later, my blood-spattered father, Zeus, regarded me in disbelief. He got to his feet, showers of rubies falling from his robes as his blood transformed into precious gems. The two gods glanced at each other. When my father looked back at me, I saw the deep distrust in his eyes.
“I am Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.” I heard my own voice for the first time, strong and resonant. My mother’s bequest of cunning came to my aid. “And daughter of Zeus,” I added boldly. I dropped to one knee in front of Zeus and laid my weapons crossed at his feet. Lifting my head, I looked up at his face and watched in satisfaction as the wariness in my father’s eyes cleared.
The Family
Zeus, not exactly an involved parent in either legend or reality, delivered me to his queen Hera to be looked after. It was early in Earth’s lifetime and so there were only a few gods on Olympus, and those in existence were still fairly young. Zeus himself was a burly man, dressed in royal purple robes, with solid gold armbands clamped around his muscular upper arms. His long hair and thick beard were a deep black.
Hera was a regal beauty, dressed in emerald green to match her eyes, with rich auburn hair piled behind the gold diadem on her head. Hephaestus, who had helped release me from Zeus’s head, was on the other end of the spectrum. He was a well-built man, less handsome than the other gods, but still attractive by any other standard. He was dressed simply in a belted black knee-length chiton and wore engraved wristbands, the hallmark of an artisan.
So there I was, finally out of my prison, standing on real ground on what felt like a bright spring morning. I have seen Olympus portrayed as a misty, white marble temple with gods and goddesses wafting around in white robes. The reality was completely different. Hera’s villa was open and airy, populated with a seemingly never-ending supply of handmaidens dressed in bright colors. Their giggles and voices strained my nerves, unused as I was to sound from my long imprisonment. Goddess or not, I was rapidly becoming overwhelmed. Sharp-eyed Hera noticed my dazed look and swiftly guided me to a quiet room to “rest.” She then withdrew to get an explanation from the others.
When Hera returned, she found me regarding myself in a full-length bronze mirror propped in a corner of the chamber. I had shed my armor, the better to see myself. The ornate bronze mirror reflected an imperfect image, lending everything a golden haze, but it did show a slender young woman, dressed in a simple knee-length chiton with honey-colored hair tumbling loose down her back. My face was fine-boned but handsome, rather than beautiful. I squinted at the mirror, trying to see th
e color of my eyes, with no luck. The best that I could ascertain was that they were some kind of dark color.
When I saw Hera’s image in the mirror behind mine, I turned to face her and inclined my head respectfully, but as one goddess to another. Her lips thinned, but she did not react otherwise.
“Athena,” said Hera in a low, rich voice. “I am your stepmother. Your father has just related the tale of your birth. He claims that you were born from his head and not of a goddess.” She made an incredulous face. “It’s hard to credit, but my son Hephaestus confirmed it…” This gave me information that I filed away: So my father did not know of Metis’s part in my creation, or had chosen to deny it. So be it. My mother’s caution to keep him unsuspecting came to mind.
“That is correct, stepmother,” I responded, choosing my words carefully. “I have been growing within Zeus and was released today by Hephaestus, I believe. It is good to be out in the world at last.” She nodded and then sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing for me to join her.
“So you have been in there for some time?” I nodded. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” I responded innocently. “All was dark and silent. All this,” I gestured around me, “is new and wondrous to me.”
“You did not hear your father’s voice or perhaps other voices?” she pressed, looking at me intently. Clearly she was concerned about something that I might have overheard. Unfortunately for me, I truly hadn’t heard anything but my mother’s voice.
“None, Majesty,” I replied truthfully.
Hera made a graceful motion with her hands. “Call me Hera. You are part of our family, after all.” She leant forward, putting her hand over mine in a maternal fashion. “You must be overwhelmed, so I hope you will allow me to help you.”
Surprisingly, I had to force back a sudden rush of hot tears. I had not known what to expect from her, but compassion had to be at the bottom of the list. Yet, something within me warned against trusting Hera. Not yet, at least. But it had already become obvious to me that I was woefully unprepared for this world. Despite my bold declaration to my father, I was too clueless to be the goddess of anything.
My Life as Athena: The Private Memoirs of a Greek Goddess Page 1