If you are not familiar with women from Greek mythology, this short passage may be confusing. To assist your understanding here is a list of the main players and who they are;
Phoebe – A fictional character.
Sappho – Greek poet and singer who lived in Lesbos approx. 600BCE. Yes, the word Sapphic is derived from Sappho’s name. Lesbos? Well you can figure it out.
Cassandra – Trojan princess and priestess of Apollo. Given the gift of prophecy but cursed to never be believed.
Medusa – Snake haired gorgon whose gaze turns living things to stone.
Penthesilea – Badarse Amazonian queen. Accidently killed her sister. In an attempt to die, she kicked some serious Greek booty at the Trojan war before being bested in single combat by Achilles.
Clytemnestra – Queen of Mycenae and wife to King Agamemnon (Commander of the Greeks at the Trojan war). She murders her husband on his return. Now I’m not justifying murder, buuut she had a good reason.
Medea – Princess of Colchis. Niece of Circe. Medea was a sorceress and assisted Jason on his quest for the golden fleece. Whilst fleeing Colchis on the Argonautica, she cut her brother in to small pieces and threw him overboard to slow her father’s pursuit as he stopped to pick up bits of his son. I really can't justify this one.
Circe – Magic using goddess best known for turning Odysseus’s crew in to pigs. 100% understandable if you are a woman in ancient Greece who has a crew of random sailors rock up on your isolated island.
Now to the story. Feel free to give me feedback. I’m not a writer, however, trying to learn.
Atalanta – F#ck Them Apples
Antaeus! Atalanta! Hippomenes! Come get your athlete figurines! Phoebe turned to the young merchants’ calls. Curious, she approached him asking ‘May I see your Atalanta figurines?’ The merchant mopped sweat from his brow before he handed Phoebe a small, misshapen female figurine, that bore no resemblance to Atalanta.
The day was hot. So hot, it seemed that today, Apollo’s will was to bake the earth. It was nice however, to be out. Women were not allowed around men in public, bar a few exceptions. Race challenges for Atalanta’s hand in marriage being one of those exceptions.
Phoebe raised her eyes from the crude figurine meant to represent her friend. ‘There are no Heracles figurines?’ she questioned.
‘All Heracles figurines sold out’ the merchant said impatiently, as he shifted from foot to foot in the anticipation of a trade.
‘So, you’re saying the man who murdered his wife and children is more popular than the son of Gia? Or the woman who took the first blood from the Caledonian boar?’ Phoebe raised her eyebrow.
The merchant looked confused. ‘Of course!’ he snapped, as he snatched the figurine back from Phoebe.
A snort of laughter caused Phoebe to turn, straight in to the glorious bust of an unknown woman. Phoebe sucked in a breath. Moments had passed before she finally stuttered ‘Mmma’am, your chiton!’
‘If it shocks you, maybe look at my eyes instead.’ Phoebe raised her eyes. She thought the woman’s bust was perfection, then she gazed upon her face. Phoebe’s mouth dropped open. ‘Umm yyyour…’ she had forgotten how to speak.
The woman linked her arm through Phoebe’s, and pulled her away from the agora in the direction of the stadium. ‘My name is Sappho.’
‘You don’t seem like you’re from around here.’ Phoebe stated, after gaining her composure.
‘I'm from Lesbos, actually. I'm also not from this time period, nor from myth. But don’t think too hard on that last point. Timelines in Greek myth and historical events can be sketchy. Just go with it.’ Sappho remarked, a sly smile tugged at her lips.
‘Huh?’ Phoebe was utterly confused.
‘I understand you are Atalanta’s handmaiden and masseuse?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Phoebe responded with a proud nod of her head. Sappho guided Phoebe towards a woman who energetically called out names and numbers whilst taking peoples’ silver. ‘Hippomenes will pay back five times your original weight. Atalanta - double.’
Sappho looked down at Phoebe ‘How has Atalanta been running lately?’
‘Oh, she has been getting so many challenges. It is hard on her body to maintain. I’ve had to do a lot of work on her right calf. That tendon which is yet to be named has been causing her pain.’
Sappho looked curious. ‘And are injuries all you massage?’
Phoebe’s eyes widened at the insinuation. ‘Excuse me ma’am?’
Sappho laughed. ‘Never mind. You can’t fault a woman for her curiosities. Well, Pandora may tell you differently.’
They reached the woman who stood near the entrance to the stadium. She now called ‘Heracles will pay four times your weight. Antaeus – double.’
‘Cassandra! I didn’t realise Heracles was that far into his labours.’ Sappho leaned into Phoebe ‘Guess I should not be questioning timelines either.’
‘Cassandra!’ Sappho repeated with a bright smile, ‘I’d like to place ten shekels on Hippomenes.’
Cassandra questioned alarmed ‘you want to bet on Hippomenes?’
‘Yes love. You do have Atalanta as the favourite, but as a priestess of the prophet God Apollo, I figured you may be privy to the outcome, no?’
Cassandra's eyebrows shot up, jaw dropped in surprise. ‘Umm sure’. She put her counterweights on the balance waiting for Sappho’s silver. Once balanced, Cassandra handed Sappho ten blue ribbons that represented her wager on Hippomenes.
‘You bet against Atalanta?’ Phoebe was disgusted.
‘I’m sorry honey. Thank you for your insider information though.’ Sappho turned back to Cassandra ‘You have Antaeus as the favourite over Heracles. I would assume that too. With Antaeus being the son of Gia, he would obtain endurance from his mother whenever his feet touched the ground. But I’m not sure this advantage is enough.’ Cassandra’s eyes tightened. ‘Betting has now closed for that match.’ She barked with finality.
‘Very well.’ Sappho stated as she pulled Phoebe into the stadium.
The stadium was spectacular. Canopies of large olive trees rose over the tiered seating. Men sat to the left of the entrance, women to the right. In the centre laid smooth dirt running track, a statue of Apollo holding a raised laurel wreath at the tracks end. Wooden poles on the starting line marked the athletes’ lanes. Matching poles at the far end of the track marked the turn around point. Two men stood either side of the starting line preparing a rope that when dropped, would signal the start of the race.
Phoebe looked over to see Atalanta bent down as she stretched her legs. Her oiled skin glowed gold from Apollo’s touch. Atalanta turned to spot Phoebe, then dropped her head shyly, as a small smile formed. ‘Just a masseuse huh?’ Sappho giggled. ‘Oh honey, your cheeks are pinker than Eos’ fingers at the dawn of a new day.’ she continued. As they reached the seats, Phoebe released Sappho’s arm to sit. Phoebe turned her head as heat rose up her neck.
There was a hum of chatter amongst the crowd. Phoebe was focused on Atalanta when a snake crossed her vision. ‘By the Gods!’ she screeched.
‘Oh, my apologies. I didn’t notice you sat next to me, or I would have warned you. My snakes are friendly.’ Phoebe just stared at the blindfolded woman with snakes for hair. ‘My name is Medusa.’
‘Oh hi. Why are you blindfolded?’ Phoebe asked as she scooted a little further away.
‘It is to keep people safe.’ Medusa replied, brow knitted in what looked like sadness.
A hand rested on Phoebe’s shoulder from behind, an unusual accent whispered into her ear ‘her gaze turns people to stone.’ Phoebe looked back to see a strikingly beautiful, yet very muscular woman seated behind her. ‘I am called Penthesilea of Thrace.’
‘Oh, the Amazonian warrior Queen!’ Phoebe grinned with excitement. ‘Wait. You still have both your boobs!’ Phoebe blurted out, then promptly covered her mouth.
Sappho laughed out loud. ‘Thank the God’s’ she said, as she admired both of Penthesilea’s breasts. Penthesilea’s mouth twisted in an amused smirk.
‘Those are just rumours. We do not have to cut off a boob for our arrows to fly true.’
Phoebe cringed at how silly she must have sounded. ‘I’m Phoebe. Atalanta’s handmaiden.’
An older woman with steel grey eyes, who wore an exquisite purple chiton, leaned across Penthesilea and questioned ‘Does she really kill them after she wins?’
‘No. She chases them into the woods. I suppose if they are never seen again, maybe Artemis turns them into stags.’
‘Pity.’ The woman stated flatly.
‘Clytemnestra!’ A motherly woman seated in the front row turned, her expression appalled. The conversation had caused the woman who sat at a loom to lose focused as she painfully un-weaved a shroud. Random, who brings a loom? Phoebe thought.
‘What Penelope? Not everyone can be perfect wife material, ok?’ the woman named Clytemnestra bit back.
‘What are Atalanta’s tactics to win her race today?’ Penthesilea asked, head cocked with interest. She ignored the two older women, who continued to bicker.
‘Personally, I’d find Hippomenes son, cut him in to small pieces, and leave them for him to pick up, that way I could gain an unbeatable advantage.’ All heads within earshot whipped around to stare silently at a dangerous looking woman with sharp features. Awkwardness fell over the conversation like a sheet.
‘Annnyway.’ Penthesilea broke the silence. ‘Don’t mind Medea. She has quite the imagination.’
‘She doesn’t have any tactics. She is just faster than the rest.’ Phoebe responded.
‘There will always be someone faster’ Penthesilea’s face turned thoughtful.
Cassandra had finished taking peoples’ silver. She now sauntered over with a tall, ethereal looking woman, with raven black hair flowing halfway down her back. She looked like a Goddess. ‘I will add my amber and gold bracelet to my wager Cassandra. Atalanta will win.’
Cassandra’s mouth curved up into a half smile. ‘I’ll take that bet Circe.’
The hum of voices lowered when an ancient looking man hobbled out into the middle of the running track. He raised his arms to the sky and called ‘May the swift footed Hermes bless todays footrace between Atalanta of Arcadia – daughter of Iasus, and Hippomenes of Arcadia – son of Amphidamas. If Hippomenes is to lose, he is to forfeit his life. If Atalanta is to lose, she must marry Hippomenes and bear his sons.’
Everybody in the stadium stood and cheered. Atalanta tuck jumped, then turned to look once more at Phoebe. She took a visibly calming breath, before she settled herself at the starting line. Sappho side eyed Phoebe with a knowing smile.
‘What is Hippomenes holding?’ Sappho questioned over the cheers.
‘Are they apples?’ Phoebe squinted, as light reflected off the golden objects in his hands.
Hippomenes joined Atalanta behind the rope, now held taut by the two start men. Phoebe forgot how to breathe. The crowds noise now dissipated into the background. The start men signalled, and the rope floated to the ground.
With a spray of dirt from underfoot, Atalanta and Hippomenes took off running. Phoebes heart pounded in her chest as Atalanta jumped out to an early lead. But from behind Atalanta, Hippomenes threw an apple. Atalanta’s gaze was captured. She slowed in order to pick up the apple, this allowed Hippomenes to overtake. Phoebe’s stomach knotted - he was cheating.
Atalanta regained her speed and by the turn around posts, she had regained the lead. Hippomenes then rolled another apple. This one off the track. Atalanta followed it.
‘No, no, no. What is she doing?’ Phoebe cried. Atalanta scooped the apple one handed, then put on a burst of speed, and once again, she caught Hippomenes. Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t take it. He still had one apple. If he rolled it now, he would win. She felt a tear roll down her cheek as her throat tightened. Hippomenes swung back his arm in preparation to roll the final apple, when a voice to Phoebe’s left said, ‘This is bullshit!’ Circe had flicked her hand towards Hippomenes and mouthed the word ‘agriogourouno!.’ Phoebe looked back as Hippomenes fell over, his body shimmered with light. The crowd gasped. His nose deformed, then elongated into a snout.
‘What in Hades?’ Phoebe whispered, eyes wide, as a tail sprung out from his loincloth. Then, an instant later the air shifted, as popping sound burst from Hippomenes. His entire body turned into a pig! The crowd fell silent as Atalanta crossed the finish line. Long moments had passed, the crowd sat stunned, as they witnessed a giant pig honk and roll in the dirt.
‘Can someone please tell me what is going on? And why can I hear a pig?’ Medusa broke the silence.
Still in shock, no one answered. All remained quiet until Circe finally exclaimed ‘fuck them apples!’ as she stood and left the stadium.
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