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

by Daphne Ignatius

  “Tell her that she is welcome to teach him a lesson. We won’t retaliate. The boy is out of control.”

  If you know your history, you know that even mighty Egypt failed to stop Alexander. However, it put up enough of a fight that he was impressed, and left it undisturbed even after conquering it. He moved his armies onwards to take Babylon, and then targeted India.

  But young Alexander made a fatal mistake. He forgot my warning on hubris. After his foreign provinces started regarding him as semi-divine, he sent instructions back to Greece, ordering them to worship him as a god. Arrogance in a child can be forgiven, but not in a thirty-one-year-old man. Alexander was cut down at the height of his power by a mysterious and debilitating disease, courtesy of a real god.

  Decision

  After the Roman Victory at Cynoscephalae

  As I drove alone through the clouds from the battlefield at Cynoscephalae, the chill of the air in the higher elevations helped calm my temper. Zeus’s order for us to abandon the field of battle was unlike him. He was vain and emotional, but he tended to favor the traditional ways over the radical. There had to be a good reason for him to change the approach this late in the game.

  I broke through the cloud layer to soar over Olympus. Leaning over the edge of my chariot, I saw the crowd that had gathered around the Agora. I didn’t bother to go home to change for council, but rather guided my team down to land a short distance from the Agora. Tying the reins to the wicker railing of my chariot, I sprang down and headed for the crowd. As I expected, Ares and Enyo had beaten me back to Olympus and, indeed, Ares stood on the steps of the Agora, gesturing passionately as he spoke to his fellow council members. My steps hastened, as I had a bad feeling that it was him against everyone else.

  As I neared the crowd of deities clustered on the grass at the foot of the Agora, Hestia broke away from the group and came towards me. Ever the peacemaker, Hestia had voluntarily vacated her council seat when Zeus pressed the council to admit his semi-divine son, Dionysus. It was a terrible trade, in my opinion.

  “Zeus has declared that we will favor the Romans over our people in this conflict,” she told me in a low voice. “Apollo has had a vision in which he foresaw the Romans conquering Greece and most of Europe. Zeus means for us to ride that wave, to increase our power.”

  My mind reeled. Zeus did have a good reason for pulling us from the field—a selfish one, but one that would appeal completely to the gods gathered here today. I wish I could say that I wasn’t tempted myself but, in truth, I was intrigued by the idea.

  “Aunt, where do you stand on this?” I asked Hestia.

  “Our people have been loyal to us for two thousand years. How can we forsake them in a time of need?”

  I fell silent. I could always count on Hestia to be the voice of my conscience. Behind her head, I saw Ares stop gesticulating and fall silent. I reached out, squeezed Hestia’s hand briefly, and then slipped by her to mount the steps of the Agora, stopping beside Ares. He glanced at me when I reached him, tension coming off him in waves.

  “You’ve heard?” he asked me in an undertone.

  “Just now.”

  “Where do you stand?” more loudly now, so everyone could hear.

  I took a deep breath. Was this the right moment to mount a challenge against my father? Not really. I had neither expected nor prepared for it. Then again, if there was a topic to make a stand on, this was it.

  “I stand with you, Ares,” I replied. “I stand with the people of Greece who have honored and worshipped us since their creation.” It was time to find out if the relationships I had cultivated for centuries had been worth the effort.

  Zeus glowered at me. “The majority of the council stands with the Romans.”

  “That’s not true,” Aphrodite spoke up clearly. “I, along with Artemis and Demeter, stand neutral. We recognize our obligation to the Greek people, but we acknowledge that Apollo’s prophecies are never wrong and that our involvement will probably not change the outcome.”

  I scanned the council from end to end, to gauge their reactions. I saw Hephaestus nod at me. One on my side. Ares behind me as well. That was two. Apollo would go with the Romans because it was his prophesy. Poseidon, Dionysus, and Hermes would do whatever Zeus wanted.

  I saw Hera swallow convulsively, and hope surged. If I swung her, I would likely swing all the other goddesses. With my vote, I would have the seven necessary for victory.

  I stepped forward, mimicking the orators I had watched in Athens. My hands rose to add gravity and depth to my points.

  “So, the Greek people who have worshipped us for millennia will become enslaved? Their women and children sold far away from home? The civilization that we have all worked to nurture scattered to the winds?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Hera tighten her grip on the arms of her throne.

  Zeus leaned forward to answer me, a steely look in his eyes. “Not necessarily. The Romans barely have a culture of their own. I have watched them, and spoken to one of their generals. They were drawn here by Greece’s wealth, no doubt. But they also see the value of the learning, the art, and the grace here.”

  He sat back in his throne. “Slavery is the inevitable fate of the defeated, but it does not need to be permanent. I have insisted on that. Every slave will have the ability to earn money and buy their freedom, if they put their minds to it. In a hundred years, the two races will have intermarried and become one nation. And we will have lordship of an area four times the size of Greece.”

  “But this is still a betrayal, plain and simple!” Ares exploded beside me. “I, for one, won’t blame our people for abandoning us in droves!”

  “They won’t even know,” said Zeus. “They saw you, Athena, and Enyo at the battle, and so will assume that you were in the fight. They will never find out that you withdrew from the field.”

  I decided to target Hera directly. “Hera, my queen! Are you in agreement with this? You speak for the human women and their families. You know that they will be the first to suffer if Greece falls.”

  “Athena, this is happening, whether or not we agree with it,” Hera said, her lips tight. “We can either throw our lot in with the conquerors or be conquered along with our people. This way, we have a chance of staying relevant, of helping our people survive. It’s as simple as that.”

  A shocked silence reigned at her brutal analysis of the situation. Hera met my gaze. Her eyes revealed deep pain, but also a rock-solid resolution. She would not break. My heart sank. I had cast the dice, and failed.

  Zeus leapt into the opening that Hera had left for him. “It is time for the final vote. There will not be any abstentions. Everyone here will need to make a decision, so there will be no backpedaling afterwards. Who votes for the Romans?”

  As I expected, all the males except Hephaestus and Ares raised their hands. Hera raised her hand, as did Artemis. Seven votes for the Romans. Zeus smiled.

  “Who votes for the Greeks?” Hephaestus, Ares, Demeter, Aphrodite and I raised our hands. It had not even been close.

  “The decision has been made,” Zeus said, a victorious note in his voice. “We will stand with the Romans.”

  “There is no honor in this,” muttered Ares as he stepped forward to stand beside me.

  “I agree, brother,” I said. “But as Father just pointed out, it does not matter. The decision has been made, and by the oaths that we took when we joined the council, we are bound to see it through.”

  Zeus relaxed visibly at my words. “So be it. No Olympian will oppose the Romans or aid the Greeks, on pain of destruction.”

  Conquered

  I only broke my commitment to the council once, and that was when the Roman legions reached Athens. Athens lay early on in the path of the Roman advance, and was among the first cities to fall. It was clear the crisis was near, because the volume of prayers I received suddenly spiked. Prayers for aid, prayers for protection, prayers for the sons, fathers, and brothers who were going to war. A
nd then—inevitably—the soft desperation of a final prayer. The volume increased steadily until my mind rang. I did not go down to Athens to see. What was the point?

  Until one day, amidst the desperation and despair, I heard the familiar voice of my chief priestess, Lydia. She knew it was her final prayer and she begged me to accept her into Elysium. I gasped, shimmering to the Parthenon.

  I appeared just in time to see her stabbed in the chest. She stood at the entry of my temple, arms spread wide in a vain attempt to keep the Roman soldiers from the young acolytes, huddled at the foot of my statue. Lydia swayed for a moment, and then crumpled into a heap without a sound.

  I uncloaked myself, grabbed the oversized spear that my statue held, and rammed it through the stomach of the soldier who had killed my priestess. There were screams from the maidens behind me. Not a word from the soldier I had speared as he looked at me, eyes widening in shock. I stepped closer to him, close enough to smell the metallic tang of his blood as it flowed down his legs, and looked deep into his eyes.

  Softly I whispered in Greek to the soldier impaled on my spear. “No salvation for you today.” I gave the shaft in my hands a slow twist before releasing it. The weight of the spear pulled the dying legionary to the ground, but my attention had moved elsewhere.

  I stalked forward, drawing my silver sword from the scabbard at my waist, and called my armor to me. The remaining legionaries froze, bloodied swords in hand, as disbelief shifted into fear.

  “WHO DARES VIOLATE MY TEMPLE?” My voice boomed in divine fury as I moved beyond the entrance into the sunlight. It didn’t matter to me if the remaining soldiers understood Greek or not. They must have, however, because they dropped their weapons and fled. As they ran down the hill, I saw my city laid out below me, black smoke billowing in the western quarter. The faint cries from the streets echoed those in in my mind. Then the wind shifted and a whiff of smoke, sweat, and death reached me. The smells of war in my fair city…

  I turned away from the sight and returned to Lydia, lying on the scuffed marble floor. Her blood had drained down her side, staining her formerly bright white robes. I bent to place a hand on her heart; Thanatos had already been to collect her soul. I straightened and looked at the young acolytes who were still clustered at the foot of my statue. Most of them were weeping, their faces hidden from the horror in front of them. One brave maiden got to her feet and met my gaze head-on, the accusation clear in her eyes. How can you let this happen to us? Shame struck like a dagger to my heart.

  “Children, you are safe,” I told them gently. “Bar the temple doors, and lay your chief priestess out with the dignity that she deserves. I will take care of the dead soldier.”

  I grasped the spear and its associated soldier, and dragged them out to the front gallery of my temple. Turning the spear vertical, still with the legionary impaled on it, I rammed its butt into the marble floor, sending large cracks running in all directions. The message was cold and clear.

  It was at that moment that Hermes appeared by my side. “Your father requests your presence immediately,” he said quietly. In response, I simply dematerialized.

  There were only a few onlookers at the Agora in Olympus, as most of the gods were in their own homes. Zeus stood in the middle of the dais, looking thunderous. I materialized in front of him, still in my regalia.

  “Athena, you have broken your word to the council,” he said in a low voice, so that the onlookers could not hear.

  Zeus’s words tripped something within me. Shame and rage surged again, this time focused on him. My hand shifted to the hilt of the sword at my waist, as the song of thousands of voices crying and screaming in my head rose to a crescendo, urging me to vengeance. I was losing hold of myself. My mind had turned into a mass of cold fury and evil thoughts. Thoughts of vengeance, of patricide, of setting everything and everyone around me on fire. I had never learned to produce a thunderbolt, but at that moment, I felt as though I was turning into one. I took a deliberate step towards my father.

  “No one touches what is mine,” I ground out. Zeus must have read the danger in my gaze because he regarded me silently for a moment, spun on his heel, and left me without a word.

  Honestly, I don’t remember much beyond that. Days later, when I awoke in my own bed, the voices had finally abated, but I was surprised to find a female arm clamped around my middle. I had not shared a bed with anyone since Hades, and it was disconcerting to have someone in it now. I knew Lito and Iris would never presume, so I turned my head to look over my shoulder. It was Hestia.

  Hestia told me later that I had looked and acted so strangely that she had feared for my sanity. She refused to leave my side, should I need to be restrained. Looking back, she was right to be concerned. My connection to the Athenian people had channeled their terror and pain straight into my brain, which overloaded. For a few days, I had actually become temporarily insane.

  Hestia told me then that Athens had fallen, and the Roman legions had established martial law. Athens’ many temples were being respected, and Athenians had started using them as sanctuaries. The looting and violence had decreased and a deathly quiet had descended on the city, as both sides accustomed themselves to the new reality.

  I was not the only one who went half-mad during the transition. Over the next few decades, each of the Olympians displayed similar levels of stress as their patron cities were attacked and defeated. A pall hung over Olympus as, one by one, immortals quarantined themselves in their villas. Even those who remained healthy retreated inwards, weakening the bonds of family.

  Hephaestus moved to the island of Lemnos permanently to keep Cabeiro and his new children safe, so I lost one of my anchors. Aphrodite retreated to the island of Cyprus, and rarely returned to Olympus. Her power and influence faded, as this was an era for survival, not love. Zeus and Hera endured the most, as the prayers for protection and victory didn’t ease for decades. They grew haggard, but I could not bring myself to feel pity for them.

  It took fifty-one years for the Romans to take Greece fully, but with the battle of Corinth, the death knell of Greek independence sounded. Publically, I always appeared stoic, but I retreated to Gaia’s cave whenever I needed respite. She tried to comfort me, but I know that she was puzzled by my distress. Borders and nationality were meaningless to her. The Romans were her children, just as the Greeks were, and she couldn’t see the difference in one group having the upper hand versus the other.

  Once the war ended, the Roman soldiers ordered to keep Greece secure were awed by its soaring marble architecture, graceful public spaces, and lovely women. Greek culture seduced them with its unique combination of sophistication and pragmatism, which stood in counterpoint to the rough and ready lifestyle of Rome. As the poet Homer later wrote, “Captive Greece captured its rude conqueror.” Zeus’s gamble had paid off.

  Roman Goddess

  I was renamed as Minerva. Though Rome imported us along with Greek culture, they rebranded and remade us in the Roman image. If you still believe that we gods were all-powerful, think again.

  The physical changes occurred slowly but inexorably. Zeus became Jupiter, and was no longer a middle-aged man. He had turned completely gray, becoming the epitome of the wise Pater familias. His white beard grew down his chest in luxuriant waves and he no longer wore chitons, but adopted the toga. It actually suited him quite well.

  Ares became known as Mars and transformed from the lean, toned Grecian ideal. Rome’s militaristic culture preferred muscle and toughness, and so that’s what he became: the picture of a seasoned centurion. Much as Ares refused to admit it, he found his true people in Roman soldiers. They made him the second-most-powerful god in the pantheon, much to my father’s dismay.

  Hades became Pluto and grew a beard that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how many times he shaved. Poseidon became Neptune, becoming a bit older and bulkier. And so on.

  Interestingly, the goddesses were largely unaffected, as the Greek ideal of womanhood turned out to
be appealing to Romans, as well. Hera became known as Juno, adopted the stola, and lost the softness in her face. Aphrodite became Venus and was completely unchanged. Hestia unexpectedly picked up a great deal of power when she became Vesta, the goddess who governed the institution of the vestal virgins. As Diana, Artemis ignored the Romans entirely, which oddly made them love her more.

  Sad to say, of all the major goddesses, I was the one who struggled to adapt. As a rigidly patriarchal society, Romans were repulsed by the idea of a woman having dominion in war, even with respect to strategy. They refused to acknowledge me as the Goddess of Warcraft, but focused solely on my other aspects. The downgrade was humiliating, but even their combined will couldn’t take what my mother had gifted me with. I continued going on campaigns with Ares and Enyo, and encountered new civilizations and gods the Roman way: through conquest.

  Rome held Spain within a hundred and fifty years of taking Greece, but endured a series of civil wars that kept it from expanding further. After the wars, an ambitious proconsul named Julius Caesar conquered Gaul in spectacular fashion. His successor, Octavian, accomplished a real miracle, defeating Queen Cleopatra and the Egyptian gods on their own territory. Afterward, Rome turned towards Syria and Judea, and acquired them as client kingdoms. Rome was on the move, and we were growing with it.

  To our credit, we Olympians never insisted on forcing our worship in the newly conquered provinces. Occasionally, a governor here or there would get overzealous and force our worship on the local people, but on the whole we acquired converts honestly—usually when the conquered people wondered why their own gods had failed in protecting them against us.

  Oddly, conversions went the other way, too, as newly built roads opened the empire to unfamiliar cultures and ideas. After her resounding defeat in Egypt, Isis came back strong and gained a foothold in the Italian and Greek peninsulas. We never quite went back to being comfortable with each other, but achieved a cordial coexistence.