This is my current pet project. My historical fiction which is set in Ancient Rome. I don't have a set year just now, but it will be after A.D. 50. This is the prologue, which seems to be out of fashion with a lot of agents, but I can always blend bits of it into the main text later if necessary. There are a still some parts I need to rework but I think it does a great job of giving you some background on Artemisia's character. So here it is. :)
Kneeling, Calliope wiped the sweat from her brow and plunged the rag into the filthy water once more. With a grunt of effort she bent forward and continued to scrub the tile floor. Her enormous belly made the task even more difficult than usual, and the heat of the July sun did not ease her discomfort.
A wave of pain ripped through her abdomen and Calliope’s arms gave way beneath her weight. She rolled onto her side, gritting her teeth as she waited for the pain to cease. When it did, she went back to scrubbing. The baby was coming but it would be some time yet, and if she left the task unfinished her lanista would be angry. Childbirth was a natural function and no excuse for a slave to abandon her work.
When the floor was spotless, Calliope waddled into the courtyard and tossed the dirty water onto the sandy earth. She doubled over, stumbled and fell as another contraction seized her.
“Calli!” Augusta rushed to her side. “The baby comes?”
Calli nodded, unable to speak. Augusta helped her up, and whispering encouragement led her toward home. Laurentus had made their dwelling comfortable during the years of their marriage. As his fame as a gladiator grew he’d been allowed to keep a larger portion of his winnings, and Calli was grateful that her child would be born into a household of plenty.
“Lie back, dear.” Augusta lifted Calli’s feet for her and helped her to lean back against the wall.
“I’ll fetch Herminia.”
Calli wanted to beg her to stay; the last thing she wanted now was to be alone. If she were still at home in Thebes her mother and sisters would have been by her side. She took a deep breath as the pain ebbed. This was not her first labor. The previous two had borne her only silent babes. But Herminia was a devotee of Venus, the Romans’ name for Aphrodite, goddess of motherhood. Her presence would surely bless this birth. She closed her eyes and tried to relax.
Soon she heard footsteps and opened her eyes to the sight of Augusta ushering in Herminia who carried a branch newly broken from a poplar, Venus’ tree. She placed it on Calli’s globular stomach and smiled.
“May Venus watch over us during this blessed time and bring to you a healthy babe with the strength of its father and the cunning of its mother.”
She leaned down and kissed Calli’s brow as another contraction contorted her face, forcing a primordial growl from her lips. A warm gush of liquid against her thighs warned her that the pain was about to get much worse. She said a silent prayer to Aphrodite, took the hand which Augusta offered and squeezed it with all her strength.
It was growing dark outside. Calli could hear snatches of distant conversation from the men waiting outside when she paused to catch her breath. Augusta wiped her face and throat with damp cloths and did her best to offer comfort. Herminia had tied the poplar branch in place over her stomach to ease the babe’s exit from her womb. It was not helping.
Calli screamed.
Herminia urged her to push.
At long last she heard the cries of her newborn babe and Augusta whispering in her ear, “It’s a girl, Calli. You have a lovely girl.”
As Herminia placed the tiny child in her arms another burst of pain wracked her exhausted body. But that could not be. The pain was supposed to stop once the child was born. Augusta whisked the child away with a worried frown. Laurentus appeared in the doorway a grin of relief upon his bearded face.
“Get him out of here,” Herminia barked over her shoulder. In a voice meant only for Calli she said, “There is another babe yet to bring into this world.”
In her muddled state Calli did not understand fully what she had heard. Another?
“Push,” Herminia ordered. “Oh merciful Venus, look over this woman in her distress.”
Calli only wondered for a moment if she’d been meant to hear the prayer as well and then obeyed. If pushing this second child out of her body was the only way to end the suffering, then she would find a way to do so.
******
“You may come in, Laurentus.”
He looked up from his seat upon the ground outside at Augusta’s pale, tired face and sprang to his feet.
“The babe? Calli?”
“Come and see for yourself,” she whispered and shuffled back inside.
His wife lay upon their bed, her beautiful, round face streaked with dirt. Her flaxen hair clung to her face in sweaty clumps. Her eyes were closed. She was so still, so peaceful. It was as if the hours of pained screams he’d heard had never happened at all.
A tiny movement drew his eyes away from her face to the bundle in the crook of her arm. It mewled like an animal and Laurentus reached down to push back its wrappings. A wrinkled, purple face blinked up at him.
“Say hello to your daughter,” Calli whispered without opening her eyes.
Relief poured through his veins, warmer and sweeter than the feeling which came with having drunk too much wine. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s cheek.
“She will have to strive hard to match her mother’s beauty,” he murmured against her salty skin.
“And your son will have to work equally hard to be as dashing as his father.” She replied opening her eyes at last and hoisting a second bundle cradled in her other arm.
Laurentus dropped to his knees, with a mixture of elation and shock. A son and a daughter in one day? He would make certain to give Venus a proper sacrifice, for it was only through the goddess’ divine guidance that such a miracle could be possible. He had only time to kiss each of his babes on the tops of their heads before Herminia and Augusta hurried him out again so they could tend to Calli.
Eager eyes met him as he stepped into the fresh air once again. So great was his joy that Laurentus could only grin at them. Cassius spoke first.
“Well man, tell us the news. Have you a son or a daughter?”
Clamping a hand upon his old friend’s shoulder Laurentus shook his head in disbelief. “My dear Cassius, I have both.”
******
“Artemisia! Apollo!”
Putting her fingers to her lips, Artemisia implored her twin to keep silent. Their mother would punish her for it, but at seven the temptation to play games was far too great.
“Arrr-te-m-iii-sia! A-polll-o!”
She was closer. Apollo choked, trying to hold back his laughter. Artemisia cuffed him on the back of his head and scrunched her brows. He buried his face in both hands to further muffle the sound.
Footsteps approached their hiding place and stopped.
“Alright you two, come out of there.”
Artemisia pinched her lower lip between her teeth and stood. The bags of wheat reached only to her knees and without anything to cover them, they’d been easy to find. Apollo’s sweaty fingers intertwined with hers and squeezed.
“Mana, we’re sorry,” she whispered looking down at her dirty feet.
“Then hurry home so that you can help me finish the supper and chores,” she snapped, hands on her slender hips.
Artemisia scurried homeward, pulling Apollo behind her. Mana just missed her backside with a swift swat. Papa waited for them outside the hut door. His ruddy hair stood out in sweaty spikes from his hours of training in the yard. He ran his hand through it, making him look just as Artemisia imagined Jupiter himself did.
“So, where have you two been while your Mana was calling you?”
Her stomach felt like it was trying to leap out through her skin and she didn’t understand how her knees still had the strength to keep her from crumpling into the sand but Artemisia looked up at him. His eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black, smiled at her despite the frown on his face.
“We were only playing a game, Papa. We won’t do it again.”
“Hmm, best convince your Mana of that. She’s nearly here.”
Papa pointed behind them and in unison the twins turned to face her. Sunlight glinted off her beautiful golden hair, dancing along its curls. Artemisia wished she had curls as lovely as Mana’s. Her sky blue eyes snapped with irritation as she addressed Papa.
“Have they told you what they’ve been up to, Laurentus?”
“That they have.”
“Well, I’ve half a mind to switch the both of them until sitting would be a chore on its own.” She clamped a hand on first Artemisia’s shoulder and then Apollo’s and pushed them inside. “But I suppose this will have to do instead.”
Artemisia blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the cool dimness inside after the brilliant heat of the July afternoon. Familiar shadows dotted the hut. That black lump in the corner was the pallet she shared with her twin. The round blotch near the center of the room was Mana’s big cooking pot. Two strange shapes beside it drew her attention. They hadn’t been there before. At last she could see clearly.
The bundles were made of cloth. Mana handed the green one to Apollo and the deep blue one to her. “Happy birthday, my babies,” she whispered with tears shining in her eyes.
Artemisia cradled the bundle in her arms. It was heavy and tied with smooth, lavender ribbon instead of rough twine. She touched the luxury, feeling it slide effortlessly between her fingers. Apollo was already tearing at the cord binding his package. Not to be outdone by her younger brother, she pulled at the bow and gasped as it came open with ease. The cloth was a new tunic and the ribbon was meant to tie it at her waist. Nestled inside the tunic was a wooden sword, like the gladius Papa practiced with in the yard, but made just her size.
The new tunic forgotten, she took the weapon in her hand. It was solid and cool against her palm. She gave a tentative slash through the air. Seeing it, Apollo rose to challenge her.
“Stand up and defend yourself with honor,” he said, shuffling into a clumsy guard position.
“I will cut you down where you stand!” she shouted with glee.
“Not in here you won’t,” Mana warned. “Outside, both of you.” Then to Papa she said, “I knew those swords were a bad idea.”
As Artemisia rushed past him out the door she heard him chuckle. “They’re only children, my love; to them it’s only a game.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She heard no more of her parents’ conversation. The clack of her sword against Apollo’s drowned out all other sounds. When they’d worn themselves out, they went back inside where Mana had supper waiting. Barley porridge again.
After supper it was time for bed. Dawn would come early and she had to accompany Mana to The House. They would begin scrubbing the main hall’s floor tomorrow. It always took twice as long as the other rooms because the lanista, his family and guests tromped back and forth through it, heedless of the slave woman and her daughter who toiled at their feet.
But for tonight Artemisia was content. She fell asleep cradling her new sword. Her dreams were filled with battles in which she always emerged victorious.
******
One afternoon, not long after their birthday, Mana called Artemisia and Apollo to come and sit with her. With one twin snuggled beneath each arm she began.
“Have I told you the story about why I gave you your names?”
“Yes, Mana.” They intoned in unison. They’d heard the story so many times they both knew it by heart.
“I have?” She raised her delicate eyebrows in mock surprise. “But,” she whispered, suddenly secretive, “have I told you all of the story?”
“Yes, Mana.”
She grinned. “Are you sure?”
Artemisia felt her insides squirm. Was there really something new that Mana hadn’t told them before? A few moments passed in silence. She couldn’t tell what Apollo was thinking, but he seemed to be searching his memories just as she was.
“Please, tell us, Mana,” she begged at last, squeezing closer to her mother’s side. “Tell us all of the story.”
Mana kissed them each on the brow. “Alright, but you must promise not to interrupt, even if I tell you something you’ve heard before. It is all very important.”
“We won’t,” they answered together.
“The night you were born was very warm. Your Auntie Augusta was there and so was Herminia. They helped me bring you safely into the mortal world. But before that, you dwelt with Zeus and Hera on Mount Olympus, in Greece.”
“Mana,” Apollo whined, “you’ve told us this part before.”
Artemisia jabbed her elbow into his ribs, “Shh!”
Mana smiled and shook her head. “I thought you promised not to interrupt.”
Sorry, Mana.”
She gave Apollo a quick squeeze. “It’s alright, my treasure. Let’s see now, where was I? Oh of course, you were given to me by the gods as a blessing. It was only through their care that I was allowed to keep you both with me. Because you were born a girl,” here she kissed Artemisia on the nose, making her squirm and wipe the moistness away, “and you were born a boy,” she gave Apollo an identical kiss, “your names were already chosen. Zeus was blessed with his own twins –”
“I know! Let me tell this part, Mana! Please?” Artemisia couldn’t contain herself. This was her favorite part of the story.
“Very well, go ahead.”
“Um, Zeus’ twins are Artemis the moon goddess who never, ever got married and hunts with her friends and lots of big hounds.” She paused to glance at Mana who nodded encouragement.
"And Apollo the sun god who gives us warmth so crops can grow. Oh! And sometimes he helps his sister Athena in wars. Right?”
“Yes, Artemisia, you are right. But do you remember they were born of a mortal woman, just as you were? They were blessed with gifts and nothing could stand in their way. Let nothing stand in your ways either my babies. Your births were a miracle and your lives will be nothing short of extraordinary. Never doubt it. My heart knows that one day you will know more than the lives of slaves.”
“How do you know, Mana?”
“That is the part of the story I haven't told you yet, Artemisia.” She leaned down closer and whispered. “I know because the gods have told me in my dreams. When you are older, your names will be the most well-known in all of the Roman Empire.”
Artemisia gazed into her mother’s beautiful, solemn face and somehow she knew it would be so.
