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  Artemis in Love

  Diana Laurence

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  ARTEMIS IN LOVE

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  LIVING BEYOND REALITY PRESS

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  www.livingbeyondreality.com

  eBook Publication: September 2006 by Living Beyond Reality Press

  Copyright © 2006 by Diana Laurence

  All rights reserved

  www.dianalaurence.com

  Cover art by Diana Laurence

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information or retrieval system, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and copyright owner of this book.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone, living or dead, bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual, known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention from the author’s imagination. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Artemis in Love

  By Diana Laurence

  “Glorious Hera,” I said to my stepmother, “I appreciate your point of view as always, but you must know by now I cannot change.”

  Hera stood outlined in the brilliant blue sky that shown in the arched window behind her. My father had designed this room for her, and it boasted the most spectacular view on Olympus, one I always envied her. “Will not change, Artemis,” she corrected.

  I swore we had had this precise conversation at least a dozen times. Losing patience would not help my cause, however. “I’m the patroness of virgins, I have a duty—”

  “That status does not hold you to celibacy yourself, daughter. You are likewise patroness of mothers.”

  I had known this would be her response, why had I even attempted this course of logic? I sat back in my chair, and stared down at the pattern in the brocade of the arm, frowning silently. I knew I was slouching and that that would perturb her. That was the main reason I did it.

  But Hera did not comment upon my posture. “You think I don’t understand your nature, but I do,” she said gently.

  My stepmother is exasperating in that while you may fault her for her stubbornness, she is also wise, gracious, and kindly to those she loves. And she does love me, in spite of the fact that my father sired me by another. I believed Hera took pains to be such way because of her responsibilities as Queen of Olympus. She could not be goddess of all without setting the proper example for the rest of us. She always shamed me a little because I could not be as altruistic. All right, correct that: wouldn’t be.

  I looked up to meet her eyes. “I think you know my nature, but don’t feel it. We are very different, Hera, I don’t expect you to understand. You look out upon an evening vista and are content to sigh at its beauty and turn away from the window and assume your responsibilities. Me, I mount a horse and ride off into the dusky night to see what is happening in its shadows.”

  Hera gave me an affectionate smile. “You will always be a child,” she said.

  “Does it make me a child that I wish to indulge my desires? Do I not also attend to the prayers of the supplicants, and appear when and where my father commands, and comport myself as a goddess among mortals?”

  Hera walked over to me and set her hand on my shoulder. “You do all this, Artemis, and I make no criticism of you on any count. I just ask that you find a mate. Among all the gods and mortals, surely there must be one who will please you. I think you make a point of not seeing him, and that I say is your mistake.”

  There was, of course, some truth in that. The Goddess of the Moon Artemis was not without feeling, and I had many a time found one young male or other beautiful and charming. But the price was too high to pay. I would not sacrifice my freedom. I stood so that my eyes were level with Hera’s and looked into her face. “I have no wish to be bound, that’s all,” I told her.

  My Queen regarded me intently. Being a goddess, she looked no older than I, but in her bearing there was always a maturity so substantial it seemed to color her appearance. We were nearly identical in height, but she always seemed taller. Her hair was golden, thick and wavy; mine was flaxen and smooth, more like a child’s. And her body bore more curves compared to mine, which was lean and muscular. I was sure that in that moment she wished very much to be emphasizing our similarities, but she only made me feel a girl to her woman.

  And after all, that was where the crucial difference lay.

  A light sparked in Hera’s eyes. I had seen that look before and feared for myself: it typically meant she had a plan. “Come to the window,” she said, and took me by the hand. I acquiesced, for I had no other choice. We went to the great window and looked out on the misty view below, the pastures and habitations of mortals that spread in the shadow of Mount Olympus. As Hera stood at my side gazing out on the panorama, I felt her power gathering. “You need a change of scene,” she said simply.

  “A change of scene?” I asked, now trembling a little. But at this point Hera was working deep magic and did not reply. I braced myself and waited.

  It happened literally in the blink of an eye.

  One moment I stood at the window, quivering at the side of the Queen of the Gods, and when I blinked, I was…elsewhere. In a thick woods, with my quiver slung upon my back and my bow in my hand.

  One had to travel far north of Olympus to find a forest so thick, and I had never seen one quite like this. The trees were of every possible variety, great towering oaks, whispering aspen with their silver leaves, fragrant fir trees, white-barked birch. And among them on the forest floor was spectacular undergrowth: vines with shiny emerald leaves, clumps of thick ferns, mushrooms in ivory and red, and flowers in every color from purple to gold to white.

  This place was populated with all manner of creatures: butterflies and bees, little rodents scurrying under the bushes, bright birds flitting in the branches above. I examined everything around me with a delight that dispatched my disorientation. Not only did I like this wood, it seemed quite deserted of human life, and that suited me just fine. Perhaps I could conduct a pleasant hunt of the afternoon, taking down some interesting prey with my arrows. I could see no reason not to make the best of the situation.

  So, I began to explore, keeping an arrow nocked and at the ready. I drew my bow a time or two at the sight of movement in the brush, but could never get a clear look at the target with so much
flora in the way. I’m not one to shoot at what I can’t clearly see; too many times mortals have been hiding and spying on the goddess and no good ever comes of shooting one of those. Likewise I had no heart to kill a juvenile creature, or a mother with young. I was in no hurry anyway, enjoying the scenery as much as the challenge of the hunt.

  As I roamed, I mused about my quarrel with Hera. If she had intended this “change of scene” to move my sentiments in her direction, I wondered about her logic. This was exactly the sort of place that reinforced my possessiveness of my freedom. It promised all kinds of mysteries to explore, adventures to experience…it reminded me of all I would have to give up if I ever chose a life of domesticity.

  Just then an interesting birdcall disturbed my reveries. It was a soft, melodious hoot, deep in the woods to my left. I followed the sound, hoping to spot the source. It repeated, each time becoming a little longer and a little more complex, until it ceased resembling birdsong and became the music of a human voice. As enchanted as I was by the beauty of it, at this point I grew wary. I knew such singing could only come from a god or a most clever mortal, and I didn’t like not knowing which.

  At this point I stood peering into the trees, no doubt looking like a dolt, with my brow frowning and my mouth hanging open. At any rate my musical companion found something amusing about me, for the notes ceased and I heard stifled laughter. A male. But from the sound not a large or burly one, so he could not be much of a match for me.

  I turned my bow toward the source of the laughter and cried, “All right, enough jesting! Show yourself or incur my wrath!”

  “Lower your bow, and I will,” said a youthful voice, still tinged with mirth and quite unafraid.

  I kept the arrow nocked but pointed it to the ground warily. “Come forth, then,” I said, mustering all the authority to my voice that I could.

  The thick hedge before me parted and out stepped…a boy. Or rather, a sort of man-boy, for he was just on the edge of adulthood and carried himself in a confident way that belied his age. Still, his face was young: smooth and dominated by huge green eyes. A beautiful face, truly.

  “This is my forest,” said the young man, hands on hips and a haughty look on his face. “And all the creatures in it are mine too. So if you wish to shoot one, you must ask permission of me first.”

  His cockiness was completely disarming. It was all I could do to keep my authoritative face on and not simply smile at him. “A goddess does not ask permission,” I said.

  His eyes widened. “You’re a goddess?”

  I had not been prepared for such an ingenuous reaction. I wondered how far I was from home that this boy knew nothing of me. “I am Artemis, Goddess of the Moon,” I told him, with a gracious nod.

  “The moon!” he cried, looking like he could hardly contain himself. But then he blinked and assumed a more formal air. “And I am Iason, but you may call me Jace.” He bowed with a great flourish, then extended his hand with all the self-confidence of a well-traveled merchant. “Pleased to meet you, Goddess Artemis.”

  I stowed both bow and arrow and reached to clasp his hand. He gave mine a firm shake and released it. I was used to mortals either quaking before me or fawning for attention; this fellow’s manner completely flummoxed me. He seemed impressed enough at meeting a goddess—or enthusiastic anyway—but didn’t seem to quite appreciate the import. He stood there boldly, his feet set wide apart…a lithe, slender figure clad in a motley little costume fashioned from animal hides, his russet hair long and tousled and adorned with a single crimson feather.

  “I am likewise pleased to meet you, Jace,” I said, assuming a mortal’s humble politeness.

  “Yes, and I shall call you Artemis. With your permission, my lady.”

  This was merely courtesy; clearly the boy considered himself entitled to familiarity with me. But how could I say no? “By all means,” I told him.

  “So, then,” said Jace with a take-charge air, “let’s take a walk and make each other’s acquaintance, Artemis.”

  To my disbelief he took me by the hand. What an intriguing boy….

  Jace led me through some bushes and between two close fir trees, and we emerged on a path I had yet to discover. We set out down this trail at an easy pace.

  “Tell me,” said Jace cordially, “what does the Goddess of the Moon do? Can you make it full any night you wish?”

  I laughed. “The moon does what she wants, no one commands her. That’s why she is like me.”

  Jace released my hand and exclaimed, “And like me too! I go where I want and do what I like, and in my opinion so should any free man. Or woman, for that matter.” Then he added, as if good manners required it, “And certainly should a goddess.” After a moment’s contemplation, Jace said, “Say, if you need someone to be God of the Moon, I might consider it.”

  I burst out laughing at this.

  “Seriously!” he said, although did not seem offended by my mirth. “What qualifications would I need?”

  “Well for one thing, you’d have to be immortal.”

  “I can do that,” Jace said.

  I paused on the path and put my hand on his arm. “Jace, I have no doubt that you meet most of the qualifications to be God of the Moon, but you are a mortal, you know. How old are you, by the way?”

  He lowered his chin and looked quite serious. “I don’t know. I’ve lost track.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I came here a long, long time ago. And this place is enchanted, you know. A person loses track of the time. I’m really not sure how old I am.”

  “Well, I would put you at, perhaps, fifteen at most.”

  “I was fifteen when I came here.” He pulled away from me and bent his knees, then leapt up and took hold of a branch that extended just above our heads. In a moment he had pulled himself up and crouched on the branch like a monkey. “No idea when that was, but it was a long time ago,” he said, looking upwards.

  I stared up at him, suddenly understanding. “Your age never changes here,” I said.

  “That’s right,” he replied, drawing himself up to a higher branch.

  “And you never tire of being a boy?”

  He looked down at me and laughed, his sweet musical laugh that was so reminiscent of his singing. “Should I tire of being able to play all day and do what I want, answering to no one?”

  It was a good question, and the sentiment of it rang quite familiar. I willed myself up into the tree then and appeared on the branch at Jace’s side. I was prepared to catch him if he startled and fell, but to his credit he kept his balance. Nevertheless he looked amazed.

  “Whoa! Here you are then!” he said.

  I laughed. “Another qualification you would need in order to be God of the Moon.”

  “Well, I can’t do that, I’ll admit. Although I can do magic. I’m just saving it for later, when the situation calls for me to give you a proper surprise.”

  I was skeptical, but also quite sure Jace could do something marvelous enough to imitate magic.

  He sat down on the branch and let his legs dangle, so I did likewise. It was really most amusing to be sitting up there. I turned to him and said, “I play all day and do what I want also. There are those who would like to change that, but I won’t let them.”

  “Sounds like you have parents.”

  I laughed. “Yes!”

  “Something to be avoided at all costs.”

  This time I didn’t even let myself smile; he seemed quite serious. I explained, “But you see, I have parents, and am full grown, but on neither count am I prevented from playing all day and doing what I want.”

  “I suspect that’s because you’re a goddess,” said Jace, “and more so because that your parents respect you as such.”

  It was a true insight. The boy was wise beyond his years, whatever they might be. I decided to try another line of conversation. “But do you never wish you were bigger and stronger, and able to do some of the things that grown men do?”
<
br />   “Bigger and stronger, yes perhaps. And I should like to grow a beard, too. Do you think a beard would suit me?”

  He asked this with one brow raised, and I sensed he really wanted to know my answer. In my thoughts I advanced another ten years upon him, and saw clearly he would be quite a fit and handsome fellow at that age. In fact, I did not wish to contemplate it long, lest I experience some inappropriate feelings for the young Jace.

  And that was the moment when I recognized Hera’s scheme.

  This was the fellow she had aspired to match with me?

  But Jace awaited my reply, so I said, “A beard would be most becoming on you, I think.”

  He nodded, stifling a flattered smile.

  Now that I had recognized in myself the attraction, I found it in every aspect of the boy. I liked his love of freedom that so echoed mine. His guileless vanity was charming. He was clever, well mannered, and full of spark. And I knew now that a summer or two elsewhere than this timeless place would change him into a very handsome young man.

  “But other than that, what has manhood to recommend it?” he asked me then.

  “Well,” I said, swinging my legs thoughtfully. “Men may be heroes by accomplishing mighty deeds.”

  “Mighty deeds? I’ve plenty of mighty deeds. I’ve climbed mountains, and made a map of this island, and barehanded fought and killed a wolf of immense size. Have the men of your acquaintance done mightier deeds than these?”

  He was adorable. I indulged him. “I’m sure they haven’t.”

  “Well then. So what else? What else reason do you have for my wishing to be a man?”

  In my present mood, a very significant reason presented itself. But of course I had no idea how to raise the matter to this boy. I decided to phrase it thus: “Would you never want to marry, and take to yourself a wife?”

  He smiled enigmatically. “I know I wouldn’t wish to marry, since a wife is no different than a parent.”