Checkmate

90AD, Rome

In a small home in the dead of night, a young woman sat on her knees, head bowed in prayer. Her clothes were shabby and worn, no longer the brilliant white they once were, but a dirty brownish-grey. They did little to ward off the biting wind that blew in through the open windows and the large cracks in the wall. The woman herself was once very pretty, but age and poverty took their toll on her features and prominent wrinkles lined her eyes and mouth, even though she was barely thirty. The rug on which she knelt was thin and threadbare, worn through in some places and covered in soot from the small fire crackling in the hearth. The woman’s voice rose up over the sounds of burning wood but not loud enough to combat the howling wind that shook the woman’s home.

“Oh, please. Anyone, hear my prayer. Please bless me with child. I am aware of my condition, but my husband has gone, and it is unlikely that he will ever return, and my nights have become cold,” looking up at the ceiling of the home she begged one final time for a baby before rising to her feet and moving to the pile of blankets and laying them out where she had previously prayed. Lying down on the worn animal furs and linin blankets, the woman rolled on her side and allowed the crackling fire to send her to sleep.

That night the woman had strange dreams. Dreams of men and woman, laden in fine clothing conversing while being served food and wine. While she could not make out the whole conversation, she caught snippets here and there from her seat a few feet away.

“We should-”

“It’s risky-”

“We haven’t had-”

Watching the discussion take place, the woman couldn’t help but wonder and the recognition she felt upon watching the group. They were obviously much richer and more important than she, but she couldn’t help but feel like she knew them. To add to these confusing swirl of thoughts whirling around her mind, she had the distinct impression that they were talking about her. She knew the signs. Glancing at her periodically and speaking in hushed tones. The woman was used to it as everyone in her village spoke like that when she walked past. The strange woman who was not quite a widow, but not quite a wife. But why would these noble people be talking of her? She was of no consequence to them, so why should they care about her.

Unbeknownst to the woman, the people in her dream were the gods she had tried to contact only a few minutes before. They were all standing in the small room, discussing who should impregnate the sleeping woman. Jupiter thought himself the obvious choice. He was the god of gods. The king of them all. But, as Mercury pointed out, he could not provide the child with useful skills like he, himself could do. The god of gain, trickery and luck. Each god wanted to father the child and each could give the child abilities beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. It was Venus, the goddess of love, who suggested that they each penetrate the woman sleeping before them and then wait and she will see who the child is fathered by after it’s born. Agreeing to this, each god bedded the woman and attempted to impregnate her with his child. After this, once they had all left, speaking excitedly about the son they were each certain they had sired, Venus bent over the woman and used her power of fertility to make sure that the child the woman now a child, and used her ability to ensure that the child the woman had in her womb, was a girl.

“Let’s se how he will react to that,” for, she and she alone knew the true sire to the baby inside the poor woman sleeping in front of a dying fire.

The gods and goddesses watched the progression of the woman’s pregnancy and began to gamble on who they think is the true sire of the baby. Once the time came for the child to enter the world, the gods watched with bated breath as the woman brought the child into the world. They watched as the new mother held the child in her arms and named her Camilla.

“Well now Venus. The time has come to tell us which one of us was successful in fathering the child,”

Calmly, Venus pointed her finger at Mars, who immediately began to celebrate his success over his fellow gods.

“and,” Venus steadily spoke, easily drowning out Mars’ celebration, even though she did not raise her voice a bit. Everyone settled down and watched the goddess curiously. What did she mean by ‘and’? They knew who the mother is and who the father is. There is no ‘and’. Surprised eyes fell on Minerva when the goddess of fertility pointed at her.

“The mortal woman was simply a vessel for the perfect warrior. The child of the god of war and the goddess of strategy. She will be army of her own if trained properly,” standing up and brushing off her dress, Venus glided to the exit of the room which the gods had gathered in.

“You two will converse as to her proper education. My work is done.” and with that, the Goddess left.