Artemis in Love

by Diana Laurence

  I sympathized with that sentiment and wondered why Hera thought this boy’s influence would move me to think more like she did.

  Jace went on. “And I’m not sure what I think of girls in general.”

  “Have you known many?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But I remember being friends with one or two. It wasn’t easy though—they’re very strange and hard to understand.” He met my eyes and then blushed. “No offense to present company.”

  I laughed. “None taken—I’m sure I’m very strange and hard to understand too.”

  “Oh no, Artemis,” he said hastily, “you seem very sensible. And not strange at all.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  He looked down into his lap and his blush deepened. “And very pretty, too.”

  I put my hand on his, resting on the branch between us. “Thank you.”

  So he did have feelings for me, a man’s feelings. I felt hope flair up in my heart only to have reason douse it immediately. It crossed my mind that I could make myself into a young girl if I wished, but even a chaste kiss with such an innocent youth seemed almost indecent. And even though I had not allowed myself to seriously entertain the emotions glowing low in my heart, I knew well enough that a chaste kiss was not all I wanted.

  My curse was that I had let myself glimpse the man Jace was supposed to be, would have been had it not been for the magic of this island. And because he was old in soul, I could likewise see the man in his manner and behavior and hear it in his words.

  He would be a man of passion and conviction, tempered with a spirit of fun. He would be untamable, and would always love mirth and adventure. He would be brave, and clever, and endlessly amusing.

  He would be my soul mate.

  With sudden horror I realized Hera had been wise in her plot. I had never been a match for my Queen, and certainly wasn’t now. Curse her cleverness…what was I to do?

  I tried desperately to set these realizations aside, and fortunately Jace had filled the silence between us with a little brainstorm of his own. “Say,” he said suddenly, “I want to show you something. Let’s jump down.” Then he twinkled at me. “Or I’ll jump, and you can float, or whatever goddesses do.”

  “I think I’ll jump with you,” I said.

  We landed with equal grace on the ground below. “This way!” announced Jace, and dashed off up the path. I hurried after, sincerely excited about our mystery destination.

  Before long I heard rushing water through the trees, and then we caught up with a stream, which widened to eventually become a good sized pool into which tumbled a truly lovely waterfall. The stone over which the water poured, and the great boulders that stood around the pool, made it into quite a cozy little grotto.

  “Here it is, my waterfall!” said Jace, making a grand gesture with his arm.

  “It’s wonderful!” I replied.

  “Let’s swim,” he cried, seizing my hand again and pulling me toward the pool. “Can you swim?”

  “I’m no Poseidon, but I’m good enough to negotiate this pool.”

  “Good!” he cried, releasing me, and began at once stripping off his clothes.

  I wondered if he would stop at any point. I wondered too how well he had known the couple of girls he called friends. I hung my bow and quiver in a tree and took off my boots slowly. Jace, meanwhile, shed everything and stood before me as naked as the day he was born and thinking nothing of it.

  How tempted I was to view him again with my future vision. But I resisted; I suffered enough looking on his tan, muscular body as it was. He was lean but beautifully toned, with fine shoulders, long legs, and perfect buttocks that rivaled any god’s. But to all this he was oblivious; his only thought seemed to be that it was a fine day for swimming.

  “Hurry up,” he bid me, and waded into the pool with a great deal of splashing.

  I decided to imitate my host in all things and hope for the best. I shed my clothes without looking at him, left everything in a pile on the grass, and turned back to the pool.

  Jace was nowhere to be seen. I waded in, looking all around, and quickly concluded he was either underwater or behind the waterfall. I surmised he was plotting something but decided not to worry about it, and immersed myself in the cool water of the pool. I swam a little underwater, looking about but finding only weeds, rocks, and bubbles. The water under the falls was too lively to see through; no doubt my companion concealed himself there.

  I stood up again in the center of the pool, the water coming up to just below my shoulders there, and shook back my drenched hair from my eyes. “Jace, I give up on finding you. Come, show yourself.”

  I could see a shadow under the surface of the water make its way from the waterfall to my side, and Jace stood, blinking, his head streaming water. He wore a broad grin. “Like it?”

  “Very much. I’m sure it’s the best waterfall on the island.”

  “There are three, actually, but I chose this one because the others are too shallow for swimming. I thought you’d like it. Now come under here.”

  He seized my hand and drew me with him the few strides it took to wade to the waterfall. I squeezed my eyes shut as we pressed through it, then opened them when the flow of water ceased falling on my head. There wasn’t much space between the stream of water and the rock wall behind it, so Jace and I had to stand very close. “Look,” he said over the sound of the falling water, and turned me by the shoulders to face the waterfall. “It’s amazing how well you can see through it.”

  It was true. “So,” I said, “you must have had a good laugh at me looking all around for you.”

  “I didn’t fool you, you knew I was under here,” he replied with a serious tone. We stood silently for a minute looking through the water at the marbled green light of the forest beyond. One of Jace’s hands lingered on my shoulder, then released it. Finally he broke the pause, in a softer voice I could barely hear over the splashing. “Women are different from girls,” he said.

  I turned to him. He was only an inch or two taller than me, so his face was very close to mine. He met my eyes at first, but then lowered his gaze shyly. Of course that only brought it in contact with my most obvious “difference,” so quickly his eyes shifted to the side.

  My heart was pounding. Fifteen years old or no, he was naked and wet, as was I. Suddenly the chaste kiss sounded far better than nothing and I gave it serious thought for an instant. But I needed to speak, and quickly. So I said, “Yes, we are. How much of this do you understand?”

  He met my eyes again. I could see in his look that he was sorely torn between honesty and bravado. In the end bravado failed him, and he said, “Not much. Why do I feel so strange looking at you?”

  “It’s complicated…” I began.

  “Do you feel strange looking at me?”

  His naiveté was completely disarming. I watched my hand float up and cup his cheek. When my flesh made contact with his he blinked slowly, and cocked his head into my hand. I wanted to kiss him desperately. He’s a boy, I told myself.

  But the eyes that looked into mine were not a boy’s. There was the wisdom of years in them. The sum of many childhoods is not quite adulthood, but it is experience nonetheless. His eyes held questions long unanswered. And his barely parted lips beckoned to me.

  It was too noisy under the waterfall to speak of such things, which ought best be discussed in a place of tranquility. Jace knew that too. I wanted to answer him somehow, and it was in that spirit rather than one less noble that I decided to kiss him. I needed only to raise my face slightly and lean a few inches, and my lips were upon his. His mouth was cool from the water, slippery and wonderfully soft. He started a little bit, then relaxed and let me kiss him. I made it tender and brief, and then drew back.

  Jace’s eyes were closed and he opened them slowly. He seemed very far away, but abruptly came to himself. Then he raised his chin a little and said, “That wasn’t my first kiss.”

  So, his pride was always near at hand, ev
en now. I smiled and graciously replied, “I could tell, dear Jace.”

  Truly, I was quite surprised at how he took control of the situation. He took me by the shoulders and gently pushed me back through the falls. When we had both emerged, he gestured with his head to the far side of the pool and took off swimming. I followed obediently, noting the irony that a boy could command a goddess in such a way. Jace settled himself on a large submerged shelf of rock and I joined him. The water came to just below our chins.

  “Now it’s quiet enough that you can answer me,” Jace said.

  I nodded, gathering my thoughts. “When I look at you, I’m sure it is much the same.”

  “But I’m not beautiful like you,” he said soberly.

  “You’re just as beautiful, which is amazing, considering you’re a mortal. Perhaps you may aspire to godhood after all.”

  He did not even smile at my jest. I supposed then that were I able to see beneath the surface of the water, I would find a good sign of his state of mind. “Why do you think I’m beautiful?” he asked.

  “Because you make me feel as I do. I think we are kindred spirits, Iason. You are a wild thing, as free as the wind and the birds that sail upon it. I have not met your kind before among gods or men.”

  “And so, you feel strange looking at me.”

  “It’s strange to me because few men interest me. I think the reason it’s strange to you is quite different.”

  Under the water he kicked his feet slowly up and down. “I’ve had dreams about it,” he said, watching his feet through the water. “Very nice dreams.” He turned to squint at me quizzically. “But in real life it’s different. Much more confusing. Maybe if…maybe if I were a man it wouldn’t be so. Is that right?”

  I had taken to kicking my feet under the water in rhythm with him, and now reached over with one to tangle with his. I wanted to lighten the moment a little. “Maybe,” I said. “But from what I’ve seen, it is confusing to men too.”

  Jace dodged my foot and then attacked back, and for a couple of minutes it became a giggling little game. His feet were cool and pleasant when they probed my legs, and although I laughed over it, I felt heat rising in me again. Then suddenly Jace stopped and leaned over to kiss my cheek.

  He made me feel like I had just been born. I turned and kissed him back on the cheek. He smiled. We fell silent and went back to watching our feet swish under the water. Then Jace spoke. “Why did you come here?” he asked.

  “My stepmother sent me here.”

  “But why did she do that?”

  I opted for the truth, who knew why. “So I would fall in love with you.”

  I had no idea what to expect from him in reply to this. What he said was, “Is that what this feeling is? ‘Falling in love’?”

  His candor utterly undid me. “Oh Jace,” was all I could say.

  He didn’t look at me. “But you wouldn’t do that, not with me.”

  I wasn’t sure which was more cruel, the truth or a lie. As I hesitated, Jace raised a resolute face to look up at the sky. He squinted, and it seemed more from pain than the brightness of the light. Then he said, “I can fly, you know.” He turned to look for my response.

  “Oh!” was all I could say at first. Then, “Truly, Jace?”

  He kept his eyes on my face. I waited for him to speak, but his answer was to slowly rise from the water until he sat upon the surface of it, only his calves dangling below. “It’s too peculiar to really fly when you’re naked,” he said, looking down at me, “but let me get dressed and I’ll show you.”

  I had not expected this, neither the fact of it nor the timing. Jace seemed determined to let the subject remained changed, so I didn’t fight him. He settled back down to the ledge and then stood. I followed him out of the pool, wondering what manner of creature he was to have this magic.

  Water streamed off his slender brown limbs and he shook his head like an animal to cast the water out of it. Wet tendrils clung to his sturdy neck. He waited only a minute or two for his skin to dry before pulling his garments on. It was not so easy for me to get back into my tunic, for the fine fabric clung and tugged at my wet body. During all this we didn’t speak, but I gave much thought to the predicament in which we found ourselves.

  I could draw but one conclusion: Jace needed to become a man, or there was nothing for it. And he didn’t wish to be a man, nor was I sure I had any right to ask it of him.

  He finished dressing before I did, and wandered about the edge of the pool singing softly while he waited. He seemed to have regained all his composure, and after the emotional turmoil of our exchange, I imagined he was reluctant to lose it again. So when I was done, I stood humbly waiting for him to finish his song.

  He saw I was ready and completed the little performance. He gave me a nod, put his hands on his hips, and rose into the air. Then he straightened his arms and took flight.

  It was truly spectacular. He was as graceful as a hawk on the hunt, circling, diving, swooping out of my sight and then wheeling back into view again. Nothing in all my experience had quite prepared me for this, and I hopped up and down laughing like a child, forgetting utterly that I was a goddess who could make men tremble in fear and awe.

  When Jace descended lightly upon his feet before me again, he seemed to have recovered all his dignity and self-esteem. He offered me a low bow and came up grinning.

  “Oh Jace,” I cried, clapping my hands, “by what cleverness have you achieved such a thing?”

  “It’s the island I think, for I couldn’t fly before I came here. Although I have perfected it through much practice,” he said proudly. “So, can goddesses fly?”

  I hadn’t thought of it. “I suppose I can,” I said. “I’ve never tried such a thing, flying like a bird. But I suppose—”

  In an instant he had snatched up my hand and pulled me into the air with him.

  And truly, it was only a matter that I had never thought to try it. It was easy to imitate Jace, and although I hadn’t the practice to be quite as graceful, I managed well enough to keep up with him.

  We flew the rest of the afternoon, all over the island. We flew over lagoons and huge outcroppings of rock, over beaches and meadows. Jace pointed out to me the most interesting sights: a field of poppies so vast it appeared like a pool of blood below us, a herd of running gazelles streaking parallel across a plain, a mountain tall enough to be tipped with white snow and far too high to fly over.

  I wondered if Jace would ever tire. As the afternoon sun dipped low, it was hunger that finally moved him to conclude our flight. We descended at last into a thick part of the forest, in a clearing where a small house was built into the roots of an enormous tree, fashioned quaintly from all the materials of nature. Jace took me inside this, his home, apologizing at once for the clutter within. I found it delightful: he had collected little treasures from all over the island and they were actually arranged with an eccentric sort of logic.

  He made me a meal of some sort of game bird, with delicious berries and some vegetables he’d grown in a sunny patch in the clearing. The food was seasoned with tasty herbs and was as good as any I’d eaten in a long while. Jace seemed even less a boy in view of his self-sufficiency. But then, this was his way of life. Not all play after all, I noted, but perhaps in this context gardening and cooking were as fun as play.

  After the dishes were cleared away, Jace built up the fire and made us a sort of lounge near it out of logs covered with furs. I was content and relaxed after all the flying and sunshine and the sumptuous meal, and my host seemed quite drowsy.

  He reclined and closed his eyes. “Now you must tell me a story,” he said, as if I were his to command. It was silly to argue that point.

  “If I am to tell you a story, then you must lie in my lap,” I told him. He opened his eyes and gave me an inscrutable look. I beckoned him, and then he capitulated and shifted himself. I sat cross-legged and settled his head so it rested on my thigh. He turned his face to the fire and the light m
ade it look like gold. I stroked my hand over his tangled hair until he closed his eyes.

  “Some time ago,” I began, “a young woman named Amara prayed at my temple, and begged the Goddess of the Moon Artemis for a miracle. She had fallen in love with a very handsome hawk called Theron. Her ardor had grown to such excess that she could no longer bear not being able to make a life with him. So she prayed that I might transform her into a hawk, that she could be with her love.”

  “That way she could fly, as well,” interrupted Jace, not opening his eyes.

  “True, but hush,” I told him, pushing the tip of his nose with my finger. He smiled, but didn’t speak. “So,” I continued, “I bid Amara go home and wait for nightfall, and look upon the moon until the transformation was complete. When the moon rose I worked my best magic, assuming that all would be well. But the next day Amara came again to pray, in tears of disappointment, and very much still a woman. I didn’t know what to tell her, and had to send her away with no answer.

  “So I went to my father Zeus, who is the King of all the Gods and of course the wisest. He looked at his daughter with a knowing smile and said to me, ‘You cannot grant her prayer if it is not true. I would venture a guess that Amara, in her heart of hearts, does not wish to give up her human flesh to be a hawk. So for all your magic, she must remain a woman and live with loving one who is not her own kind.’ And of course, I knew my father was right.”

  This time Jace did open his eyes, and looked up at me sleepily. “This is a sad story,” he said.

  “The story is not over yet, my love,” I told him. He smiled at the endearment, then closed his eyes again as if this were the signal that he was ready to hear more. I continued, “So, I left my father quite saddened by this news, and wondering as I often do about mortals and their little tragedies. Days passed, and then on the third day, Amara again came to my temple.

  “This time she did not come alone, but with a comely young man with the most striking blue eyes I had ever seen. ‘Ah,” I thought, ‘mortals are fickle—already she has found a new love.’ The young man addressed me, asking for my blessing upon their marriage. ‘Are you certain it is wise to marry a woman you have known so briefly?’ I asked him. And he replied, ‘But glorious Artemis, she has loved me faithfully and long. My name is Theron, and for me she nearly gave up her life as a human woman.’”