My Life as Athena: The Private Memoirs of a Greek Goddess

by Daphne Ignatius

  As this is a chronicle of my deeds as well as my missteps, let me now try to stack the scales in my own favor. I have been credited with inventing a vast array of useful objects. A lot of tales are true, some aren’t, and some of my more impractical inventions (the electric lyre) thankfully rest in the garbage pit of history.

  The wooden loom I designed for Hera and Hestia is still in use around the world. I was credited with the invention of the chariot, which you now know is incorrect, as both Hades and Helios had one prior to my birth. The bridle is mine, however. In thanks for my solution to his marital woes, Hades gifted me with a pair of splendid mares. Instead of being coal-black like his team, they were milk-white and I promptly named them Ice and Cream (Yes, I might have whispered inspiration to a French chef in the 1600s. You’re welcome!). Ice was a fine sprinter, and there were days when I just didn’t feel like waiting for the horses to be harnessed, so voila!

  I hastened off to Hephaestus’s workshop with a design for a lighter, high-speed chariot that my pair could pull. He produced one in wicker that I used to travel over the heavens and Earth. Ice and Cream seemed to float upon the clouds, and there still is nothing like the exhilaration of racing through the morning light in a fast chariot.

  The chariot harness itself generated ideas for the yoke and plow. I recruited an ox for my demonstration, thinking that I could not make my beautiful mares pull such a heavy apparatus. The poor ox performed beautifully, thus condemning itself to eternal servitude. I did feel rather bad about that.

  After seeing a working farm on Earth, I generated designs for the rake, hoe, irrigation channels, and water wheel in quick succession. The water wheel was a particularly big hit, I must say, as I still see some variations in use today.

  What else? A host of musical instruments. The longbow, the hammock, pockets, numbers, mathematics, concrete. The first ship that Jason used to seek the Golden Fleece. Oh, and olive oil. But that is a story in itself.

  Athens

  Pandora did a beautiful job and after several generations, humanity was well on its way. Humans tended to be a social bunch, and thus began to cluster in hospitable areas. One of the earliest towns was called Attika, and it had aspirations to be much more. It was therefore in need of a little divine patronage to get to the next level.

  I had a problem, as well. Ares had grown his first beard and, believe it or not, he was seated as the God of War. Our sibling rivalry had just officially escalated to a high boil. I needed to accomplish something that would earn a throne on Olympus, and not just because of some ridiculous facial hair or family connections. When Zeus called a conclave on Olympus to decide on Attika’s patron, I made sure to attend.

  There was only one problem. My other uncle, Poseidon, had arrived earlier and had already spoken with Zeus about Attika. Even I could see the logic in selecting him. Attika was in the process of establishing itself as a seaport and Poseidon would be able to guarantee safe seas in the adjacent waters, making it a preferred stop. Poseidon was way ahead of me in terms of experience, high-profile achievements (helping Zeus defeat Kronos), and he had an entire realm to his name. I, on the other hand, was going to position myself as the scrappy newcomer with great ideas (rake and plow, remember).

  When I spoke up in the conclave, Zeus looked both surprised and pleased that I was putting myself forth. Poseidon most definitely did not.

  “Athena is far too young and inexperienced,” he growled. Poseidon was a large, impressive figure of a man, dressing in full-length sea-green robes. His bare arms bulged with muscle and were bound with thick, silver armbands. Tiny silver fish swam charmingly through his drifting white locks.

  “And yet she has done much already to further human knowledge and self-reliance,” responded my father in a show of not-so-subtle nepotism. “The farms that implemented her irrigation channels and water wheel are producing record harvests. She has proven herself capable enough to try for the position, at least.”

  Poseidon subsided with a glower. Although he was older than my father, he was a follower not a leader, and tended to defer to Zeus far too much. I had no qualms about taking my advantages when I could get them.

  “Are there any others who wish to sue for this position?” asked Zeus, looking around at the other gods and goddesses. No one spoke. They all already had a number of responsibilities and some frankly just wanted the easy life. “All right, then, this will be a contest between Poseidon, Ruler of the Seas, and Athena, Goddess of Wisdom.”

  “So, it will be a contest of arms, then?” Poseidon perked up. He certainly outstripped me in terms of physical strength, but I was fast and had become good enough to challenge Ares, who was centuries younger and faster than Poseidon. Still, it was no guarantee that I would win and I opted for a more strategic approach.

  “How about a contest that puts the choice in the Attikan’s hands?” I said. “Each of us will present a gift to the Attikans, and they will choose which they prefer. That way, the choice is theirs and there can be no complaints later.”

  Zeus warmed to the idea instantly. I knew that dealing with complaints from humanity bored him to tears and as king of the gods, he couldn’t escape them. There could also be no accusations of favoritism if the decision was taken out of his hands. He leapt at the opening I had provided.

  “A wise suggestion, Athena. Let it be so. Let the choice rest with the petitioners themselves.”

  A week later, Poseidon and I met with the Attikan delegation on the rocky hill above the city. The delegates were mostly farmers and their wives, dressed simply in brown chitons and led by their king, Cecrops. When Poseidon and I unveiled ourselves to human eyes, they started and prostrated themselves in reverence. Poseidon preened, but I found myself taken aback by the excessive demonstration, so I bade them get back on their feet. After a flowery speech of welcome, Cecrops opened the contest.

  Poseidon stalked forward, being the alpha male that he was. He stabbed his trident into the rocky ground with great force. Immediately, water rose and formed a small pool, which then expanded and formed a rivulet that flowed down the rocky hillside. A babble of excited voices arose around us. The ground here was fertile but tended to be on the dry side, so Poseidon had made a wise choice that would enable the people to grow more food. I was dismayed. That, along with the advantages he could provide as the sea king, could sway the decision his way. Poseidon knew that as well as he stood, legs wide apart, smirking.

  Cecrops looked delighted and crouched by the pool to taste the water. As soon as he did, his face went blank. He tasted the water again. A wild hope awoke in me.

  “The water is salty,” Cecrops finally said, turning to his people.

  “Well, of course it is. I’m the king of the seas,” said Poseidon, baffled. I stifled a laugh. Poor Poseidon was either really dense, or knew nothing about the requirements for successful farming. It was my turn now.

  With great confidence, I moved towards the people of Attika and knelt gracefully to dig a small hole. From a pocket in my gown, I pulled out a seed that I placed in the hole and then covered with dirt. I then produced a skin of pure water that I drenched the ground with. Placing my hand a few inches above the wet earth, I willed the seed to sprout.

  The seed did indeed sprout, turning into a sapling that grew several feet over our heads in record time. It flowered, and small clusters of fruit began to form. When the fruit had ripened to a glorious purple color, I picked one off and handed it to Cecrops to taste. He did so hesitantly, but when he bit in, his face cleared and he smiled. As the murmurs began to rise, I gestured for the rest of the group to pick and taste the fruit as well.

  “This is a tree that I have named the olive tree. The wood is suitable for building, and the olive fruits are very nutritious, as they are rich in beneficial oils.” I demonstrated by squeezing a bunch of olives in my hand, releasing a fragrant smell and a few drops of green-gold oil. “It is also good for making cosmetics,” I added for the benefit of the women in the group.

&nbs
p; Cecrops drew himself to his full height as the Attikans examined the tree and its fruit. “Divine Lord and Lady, I thank you on behalf of my countrymen for these valuable gifts. I will discuss the matter with my councilors and render a decision shortly. Please partake of the humble food and wine that our women have laid out.” He pointed to a small tent set up a short walk away.

  Poseidon and I withdrew with dignity to let them discuss the matter among themselves. When we were seated under the tent and handed our cups of wine, my uncle and I conversed stiltedly, avoiding the topic of the contest entirely.

  A short while later, Cecrops led a small group of his councilors to the tent to render their decision.

  “We have selected the goddess Athena to be our patron goddess. Although the spring brings valuable water to this land, the olive tree can be used in a multitude of ways. I thank you, my Lord Poseidon, for thinking us worthy of your patronage.” The entire group bowed low towards my uncle, who was turning red in embarrassment. Exultation exploded within me, although I made certain not to let it show.

  “I wish Attika well. My niece will be a worthy patron,” he replied in a strangled tone before vanishing abruptly.

  I turned to face my new people, eyes glowing and holding out my hands, palms upwards. “I am honored to be your patron goddess. I pledge to you that I will take care of Attika’s interests as if they were my own.”

  All went down to their knees reverently as one. That’s when I felt it: A surge of raw energy, making me much, much stronger than I had ever been. I gasped in delight, staggering back a half-step from the impact of the surge. So this is what it felt like—the power that flowed from worship.

  Ascension

  After my victory at Attika, I was finally seated as a full-fledged goddess on Olympus. I will spare you the details, but it was sweet to be acknowledged as a power in my own right. Zeus was overflowing with pride as the second of his children joined the original six Olympians on the dais of the Agora. After he had seated me on my crystal throne, he presented me with a truly royal gift: his aegis, which was a metallic gold snakeskin impervious to weapons. It made my old engraved breastplate redundant, and was far more comfortable to wear. I thanked Zeus with genuine pleasure.

  To my relief, Poseidon got over his disappointment quickly and congratulated me sincerely on my ascension. Ares tried not to glower at me too much from his throne, while the other goddesses gave me kisses of blessing on my brow. Aphrodite’s came with an appraising glance and a wink. I blushed, as even I was not immune to her otherworldly sensuality. Hephaestus promised me a brilliant new shield, a gift which I happily accepted with a kiss on the cheek. As he turned away, I noticed that his limp seemed more pronounced than before, but I was so engrossed in the ceremony that I quickly forgot about it.

  After the ceremony, I went to visit my grandmother to tell her about my recent adventures. As a newly ascendant goddess, I felt a strong need to appear dignified and responsible in public. But we were all mere children to Gaia, so it felt good to sit cross-legged on the floor of her cave, spinning my tales with all the delight and energy of a youngster. Gaia rarely spoke back to me, but I knew she was listening because the rocks on the floor would rock gently when she found me amusing.

  Gaia’s ascension gift to me appeared a day later when I awoke. A rather large, speckled white owl was sitting on my bedpost, staring at me. It introduced itself in bird language as Glaukos, and told me it was to be my messenger. I never did figure out whether Glaukos was male or female, but I’ll refer to him as male because the name sounded so. I believe he was Gaia’s prototype of all owls, for he was much larger and heavier than the norm (the statues and paintings showing him standing on my shoulder were an absolute impossibility). Glaukos took off majestically with my very first message, which was a hearty thank you to my grandmother. He turned out to be an invaluable gift, as he enabled me to communicate freely to my network without relying on the services of Hermes.

  The most touching gift of all came from my people. The citizens of Attika had voted to change the name of their city to Athens in my honor. I felt the pressure of such a tremendous gift, for now I would need to prove myself worthy of their trust. Thus, I applied myself with enthusiasm to the task of improving the city’s status and power.

  In all modesty, I can say that I succeeded. Athens soon became one of the greatest city-states in Greece, growing in economic power as well as becoming a center of education and the arts. I can’t take credit for the innovative concepts that flowed from Athens, but I can say that I helped build the foundation that allowed such ideas to flourish. I used my power of transformation to cloak myself in the guise of a mortal to walk my city, observing silently and intervening when necessary. It sometimes only took a sentence or two to spark a new thought or approach. It came as a surprise to me that, though I was a noted inventor myself, I got the most satisfaction from supporting—and occasionally prodding—others on their creative journeys.

  Of course, along with supporting and growing the city, I had also become responsible for answering the prayers of the Athenians themselves. Most of my prayers came from the leaders and merchant class of the city, asking for the wisdom to run their businesses efficiently. A shocking number of them involved requests to stamp out the competition, and those I sometimes punished as a lesson. Eventually, the population of Athens grew so great that I became overwhelmed, unable to handle the volume of requests that flooded my mind constantly. It was Zeus who advised me to focus on the prayers that created the highest and lowest buzz in my mind. These outliers tended to come from the most desperate people, and those I made sure to address. Everyone else tended to be on their own and, frankly, they usually got their wishes though their own efforts. So there you have it: an inconvenient truth.

  The only unfortunate side effect from all of the changes in my life was that I once again put aside my goal of vengeance against Zeus, and focused on Athens for several centuries. For someone who was renowned for being logical, disciplined, and strategic, I did seem to have a problem with executing that particular goal. Freud had a field day with that one, believe me.

  Changes

  Centuries passed, and I was now an established and well-respected goddess in Greece. Due to improvements in farming techniques, medicine, and good old-fashioned sex, humanity had multiplied and spread all across the Mediterranean, taking our worship along with it. The Bronze Age was in full swing, thanks to Hephaestus sharing the secrets of the forge with his followers.

  Things evolved at a much slower pace on Olympus, however. New gods and goddesses were born. Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, and Dionysus joined us on the Olympian Council. Divine fashions tended towards the short end of the scale for both males and females. Apollo took things a little too far, though, because when he sat down at council, he flashed everyone in sight. Aphrodite was the only one who openly admired the view. (I did so much more discreetly.) My father continued to betray his wife while Hera turned a blind eye, thankful that he was finally sparing her his attentions. Unfortunately, everyone has limits and Hera reached hers when Zeus ran out of divine and semi-divine females to impregnate and started on mortal women.

  “Have you no dignity at all?” she confronted Zeus one evening at a family meal. “It’s one thing futtering the females of Olympus, who are at least of your own race! But humans? Don’t you remember that women are my creation? How dare you humiliate me in this manner?”

  I sat frozen at the table, my hands in my lap, while various siblings edged towards the courtyard.

  “Mind your own business, Wife,” Zeus growled in embarrassment, even as he continued to plow through his meal.

  “I will not,” Hera spat out. “I am the Goddess of Marriage and Family, and you are a disgrace to both institutions.”

  I decided that my siblings had the right idea and excused myself quietly. As I departed, I heard Hera say, “I promise you this. None of your human women will be safe from me. As their creator, they should have the decency, or at least the
brains, to deny you in my name. Such blatant disregard of my honor will be punished.”

  As I walked out into the warm evening, I pitied Hera deeply. Zeus had forced her into marriage by tricking and then raping her. Not a hopeful start to any marriage, but he had done nothing to make up for such a terrible start. It was clear enough to me that Hera didn’t love Zeus one bit, but stayed with him out of a sense of duty. I couldn’t blame her for exploding now that he was interfering with her worshippers, just as I couldn’t blame the human women for giving into Zeus. He was a god after all, and he usually fooled them into sex by taking on ridiculous forms. I had heard a rumor that he did so because Aphrodite had cursed him to be unlovable in retaliation for forcing her marriage to Hephaestus.

  My thoughts then turned towards Hephaestus, who had become a real friend thanks to our shared love of creation. He and Hestia were the most decent Olympians, both with strong moral centers, and I admired them both for it. My footsteps turned automatically towards his forge, which was still glowing in the distance. Hephaestus’s marriage was as bad as ever, and it was no secret that Aphrodite did not consider their marriage vows binding. So he tended to be in his forge more often than not. I often visited with him to chat at the end of a long day. All topics of conversation were welcome, except for those involving his marriage.

  When I reached the doors of the forge, Hephaestus was pounding on a new type of sword, his hammer blows forceful and rhythmic. His focus was so complete that he didn’t notice my arrival. I got the opportunity to observe him unnoticed and was shocked. I had somehow missed the fact that his body had changed over the centuries, becoming stockier. His back and arms now rippled with thick muscles, when they had been reasonably lean before. More disturbing were the changes in his face. His brow seemed to have expanded somehow, giving him a rougher aspect. He had been quietly attractive once, but no longer. I cleared my throat, announcing my presence.