A decent boldness ever meets with friends. – Homer, Odyssey (VII, 67)
Tartessos. By Theia, what a dump.
I suppose it was my own fault; I should’ve known better than to trust Derinoe. She was always restless, constantly talking about leaving Amazonia to see Man’s World before being tied down with children and a farm. Besides, she pointed out, in peacetime there wasn’t exactly any way for us to distinguish ourselves as warriors, which meant that we’d either be stuck tilling our mothers’ fields or having to endure the back-breaking labor of clearing new land without slaves, since we had neither war in which to capture them nor money with which to buy them from the traders. And though I couldn’t argue with any of that, something told me that signing on as mercenaries to fight in a war at (literally) the edge of the world probably wasn’t an idea which came straight from Metis. Yet I ignored my misgivings and let Derinoe fill my head full of stories about the Silver Kingdom and the riches we were sure to win.
So now I’m stranded among barbarians with neither money nor food nor knowledge of the gibberish they speak in this benighted land; Derinoe and the others are all dead, and I haven’t the faintest clue of how to get home even if I cared to endure months of travel on one of those awful galleys (a method of transportation so dangerous and uncomfortable only a man could’ve invented it), which I most certainly don’t. Riding the whole way would be out of the question even if I had a horse, because all I know is that Amazonia lies in the direction of the sunrise and that nearly every nation between here and Colchis is hostile; though I trust my skill with sword and bow, I also know the difference between confidence and suicide.
If I were still a girl I would cry, but I’m a grown woman of seventeen and our goddesses expect Amazon warriors to have courage in the face of adversity. I can’t just sit here feeling sorry for myself and dwelling on my misfortunes; I need to take stock of my assets. Let’s see; my wounds are quite minor, my helmet and shield are undamaged and my sword is vastly superior to any of the crude excuses for weapons I’ve seen in the past few months. My bow is in good condition and I still have (six, seven) eight arrows before I have to start hunting materials to make more, which won’t be easy in a city (assets, now, not liabilities!) And I have the protective talisman my mother gave me before I left. Oh, and when fighting men I have the advantage of surprise because they expect me to be as soft and useless as these frail Western wenches.
But that’s about it. And I’m hungry now. I can hear the noises of the marketplace from here, and though I’m sure I could probably steal a melon or a loaf of bread I won’t disgrace Amazon honor by stooping to common thievery; I’ll just have to hike out of the city and carefully stalk some game. That’ll give me food for at least a few meals, assuming I can find something bigger than a rabbit or one of these filthy sea birds that foul this whole city with their noisome droppings. There now, that’s a plan at last, thank Metis! Now to figure out which is the quickest way out of town; I think if I follow this large and well-travelled road from the marketplace I’m bound to come to a gate sooner rather than later.
How now, what is that racket? Even in a place where people habitually shout at one another, that sounds like trouble. Well, it won’t hurt to take a look and…NO! I know these people’s ways are different from ours, but this just can’t be right; this girl is no warrior, yet a man beats her as one would beat a dog who had stolen sausages. By Themis, I cannot ignore this! It’s over in an instant; the drunken fool never hears my approach, and before he can strike the terrified girl twice more I lay him low with a sharp blow to his head from the edge of my shield. As he collapses to the ground, his victim’s eyes grow wide and she looks back and forth from him to me as if she doubts the evidence of her senses.
Within moments, I am surrounded by other women, chattering like a pack of squirrels in their incomprehensible gobbledygook. They’re pointing at my weapons and looking at my fallen foe, and though I can tell from their inflections they’re asking me questions I just shake my head and hold my arms wide in exasperation. Suddenly, out of the meaningless sounds I hear a few recognizable words; they are spoken in the tongue of Crete, whose people come often to our land to trade! I immediately turn to the woman who spoke them and let her know that I understand her. The others quickly grow quiet, and she says that the women are grateful to me for saving their friend and that they wish me to stay for dinner.
As my interpreter conducts me inside, she tells me (I think) that her education enabled her to guess my race, and she asks how I came to be so far from my native shores. I explain as best I can in my limited command of her tongue, and she repeats it in Tarshi to their captain, to whom I have been presented. Before long we eat, and though the Cretan woman tries to explain what kind of place this is, and why the man was assaulting the hapless girl, I am not quite sure that I understand. There is no word in the Amazon language to name this place or the trade of those who live here, and when she eventually gets me to understand that men pay these women generously just to mate with them for an hour I decide that the men of the Outer World are all quite mad. But mad or not, I exclaim a prayer of thanksgiving when the Cretan, on instruction from her captain, offers me employment here as a guard at a wage five times that I was promised as a mercenary!
Later that evening, my belly full, I do my best to learn a few words of their babble while on duty in the atrium, watching the women’s customers come and go; only once are my services needed, and even then my scowling presence is enough to cow the fat little man into what I take to be an apology to the woman he had apparently threatened. The Cretan has apparently been assigned to teach me, for she remains with me all night and patiently explains (through constant repetition and rephrasing until I understand) some of the strange things that men pay the girls for beside mating. She even tells me that tomorrow I will be paid a bonus equal to half of my daily wages if I agree to whip a customer as one whips a disobedient slave, in other words to hurt but not injure. Obviously I must not understand correctly; I’m sure I’ll grasp it better when the time comes. But one thing is for certain: in spite of herself, poor Derinoe set me on the right track after all. In a few years I will be able to return home far wealthier than most women my age, without having to live in filthy camps or face death every day to accomplish it.
Glorious! Thank you, that made my day. (And I’m a man!)
Thank you, Tom! She was a fun character to write. 😉
Historians are still debating whether or not there was such a thing as a Land Without Men, but the Amazons probably existed nontheless.
The general (legendary) consensus seems to be that the Amazons had a festival with the neighboring Scythians once a year, at which time they mated and turned over any male children from the previous year to their fathers. Supposedly the two tribes eventually merged together to form the Sarmatians, who had warrior women up into Roman times.
Another myth tells of Niall, a Scythian prince who settled Galicia (in northern Spain) and whose descendants, the Sons of Niall (MacNeill in Gaelic) went on to conquer Ireland. The people ruled by the MacNeills were named the Scots from Scota, Niall’s wife, an Amazon princess. According to this myth, the feistiness of Scottish and Irish women is due to a strong strain of Amazon blood. 🙂
Well, it’s no secret which myth you prefer 😀
Seriously, though, the Sarmations are usually the ones whom the idea of the Amazons are based upon.
Ah, The Amazons and the Celts, the essence of feisty femininity. Is it wrong to be male and susceptible the charms of such an archetype?
My internal compass says “no matey, not for a second” 😎
Interesting tale. I hope more is added to the story.
🙂
Maggie – Nice story. You are an Amazon with a fertile imagination. A fertile imagination is a great asset for any female military commander .It ensures that when making war she is full of suprise, speed and audacity ,always capable of unlocking the enemy’s centre of gravity, causing paralysis and shock, thus forcing the enemy to capitulate. This fertile imagination is also a great asset to freinds and allies of the great Amazonian female miltary commander because she brings the war to an EXPLOSIVE CLIMAX in favour of her allies.However nothing stirs the sexual fantasies of the enemy commander like the thought of defeating the great Amazon commander and taking her prisoner , then he will be able to subdue this female generalissmo in bed , dominating her in his command tent , making up for all the defeats in the battle field with a triumphant conquest in his imperial bed.She will be a great spoil of war he says to himself , if only i can take her prisoner , his third leg stirring at the thought of what he will do with such a prized prisoner.
Just ask Heracles… 😉
This stirring can cause him to bypass chances to kill the enemy commander in the field. Another advantage for the Amazon.
lol………..
You have given us a nice story and so I hate to get pedantic but the whole women-as-fierce-warrior thing, imho, does not pass the smell test.
For the most part, these stories begin life as propaganda generated by the opponents of the side that is allegedly using women fighters. They generally say that the women are at least as formidable as their men-folk (but never more formidable than ones own men). This has the effect of putting down the other guys and helping along the process of dehumanizing them in general but especially their women so that killing them when the time comes would be easier. This applied absolutely to the Romans and Nazis who used a lot of this kind of propaganda.
It is also a way for the side regarding themselves as more civilized than the other to emphasize how they protect their womenfolk in war rather than needing to use whatever fighting prowess they possess.
Finally, these stories typically have deliberately non-refutable origins. The Romans could write anything they wanted about the Celts/Gauls/Britons and get away with it because those tribes had no really useful written language with which to put out a counter version. Likewise, the Nazi stories about fierce Russian women were normally in regard to things like snipers and night-bomber pilots – where no one could tell the gender of the fighter on the German side. Never about anything up close and personal.
There is no question that Russian women in WW2 stepped up the job, however. But then again, all Russian soldiers were brave. Thousands were executed for the first hint of unbravery. It was all – “fight hard against the Germans and you might live or fail to do so and surely die’.
You needn’t apologize, Rum; I learn a great deal from reader comments! I do feel compelled to point out, though, that this story is set in a mythological past (around the time of Perseus, perhaps) or a legendary one like Howard’s Hyborian Age (“…Between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas…”) rather than in the world of objective history. 🙂
Leaving aside any questions of the Amazons, there have always been female warriors, and they have always been considered something unusual. The elite bodyguard of the king of Dahomey was all female, and the Norse (who gave us Vikings and Berserkers) had the rare and occasional female warrior.
All that being said, this is a story set in the world of mythology, and as has become expected, you have done well.
Thank you! 🙂
“She was a fun character to write. ”
She was a fun character to read! I hope we’re going to have further stories about her.
Funny, but I’ve never really thought about doing more than one story with any of my characters! But if I were going to attempt it, it might very well be with Aella (that’s her name, though it wasn’t stated in the text) because she has a certain versatility which might adapt her to further adventures. 🙂
I have to second Inmoangel, Maggie. You should write further stories about this character.
I mean, for real. It’s good feminist fiction, but from a pro-sex work position. That isn’t done very much, and you could even publish a book with this character and the culture she comes from.
Oh, here’s an idea. You can continue with Aella and the Cretan woman. Yeah, Maggie. Amazon sex-workers. The Cretan courtesan becomes an Amazon. Never been done before.
That’s a thought; they could become friends and the Cretan offers to guide her home. The only thing I would need to be careful of would be the inevitable comparisons to Xena and Gabrielle.
“The only thing I would need to be careful of would be the inevitable comparisons to Xena and Gabrielle.”
True. I suppose that can be rectified by including more characters as companions to the main one.