Amazon

тwᴇʟvᴇ

Rhea stared at it, she was curious, “Can we please enter?”

“Certainly,” Bastian licked his dry lips, “But be careful, the Gods are known to striking down those who had wronged them in their temples. I cannot promise you we will leave unscathed.”

“If the Gods strike us down then so be it,” Rhea replied stubbornly, lifting her chin to show that she was not bothered if she was struck down.

Bastian could not help but appreciate her bravery, even he was terrified he would be struck down and he knew many men who would never enter a temple after they had wronged the Gods. Bastian gulped, Rhea jumped off the back of the horse and he slid off the back. He rubbed the back of his neck and slowly began to walk toward the temple. Slaves waited with their respected families, girls were with their escorts and people stared at them. He heard one of the woman gasp at Rhea, at how scandalous she was wearing something so tight and so bold.

Most people in Athens and everywhere else in Greece wore loose clothing so they did not look barbaric. Rhea sure looked barbaric compared to the other women.  Rhea did not turn to yell at them or sneer at them like any other woman would; instead she ignored them and entered the temple. Bastian rushed after her, waiting for them both to be struck down by one of the Gods but it was safe to enter. Bastian took a deep slow breath, running his fingers through his hair and slowly making his way toward Rhea.

Rhea stood in front of one of the large statues erected of Athena. She stared and stared, her eyes never wavering. She held her hand to her heart, her eyes fluttered shut as she began to pray. She begged for forgiveness, she hoped her Goddess would hear her begging and her apologies, she had not meant to offend. When she was done, she stepped back, bowing her head in respect and did not look back at the large statue.

“You should pray,” Rhea hit him, “Beg them for forgiveness because you did not help your brethren, instead you chose to run with a mere woman.”

Bastian glared at her, “Do not insult me Rhea.”

She kept quiet but watched as Bastian did what she asked, falling to his knees as he buried his two fists under his chin and bowed his head as he began to pray. Rhea found it odd, she had never prayed like that and she did not understand why he was doing it. No one she knew of had ever gotten on their knees to pray to the Gods, it was weak, but it seemed Bastian’s people were weak.

He stood up and rolled back his shoulders, he rubbed his hands together and she wanted to ask who he prayed to, but she did not. She kept her mouth glued shut and stared down at the stone floor, the holy place making her feel unworthy.

“We must move on,” Bastian began to stride toward the entrance, “I hope we will make it to Athens by nightfall.”

“Of course,” Rhea agreed as she strode out of the temple, her head held high. She hoped Artemis had listened and would help her back to her people, help them forgive her for the mistakes she had made in not helping them and running away with a man.

Bastian hopped on the back of the horse and Rhea hopped on behind him, they both left sufficient space between each other and Rhea held his shoulders again. Neither of them spoke as the people stared, Rhea turned her head as she watched young girls run out onto the street. Their mothers and chaperones ran after them, ordering to not step out of line again. Rhea frowned, there was no freedom here, and women were treated disgustingly. Rhea’s stomach churned, why did they act as if women were a different kind of species, the wrong kind?

Rhea suddenly felt angry, she wanted to tell the men where they were wrong and tell them that they could not control the woman like that, that they would not be silenced. But these women were not like her and would listen to the men, they would keep their mouths shut and would obey the men without caring how they were being treated. It made Rhea mad, she wondered if Bastian had grown up like that and it made her want to kill him more. How could men treat women like they were nothing? She had no understanding of their culture.

-

Delia, a round, dark haired woman stared at Maximos as he glared down at his wife. Maximos had always terrified his wife, but she kept her mouth shut, if she spoke out against him it would be a crime. Delia was Larisa’s older mother, her husband had died and she was forced to live with her tyrannical son-in-law, her daughter and their two warrior sons.

She—for years—had seen her daughter broken over the fact her sons left her in the hands of the devilish Maximos. Yet Maximos was dying, he had a disease that he begged the Gods to cure, only they didn’t. Delia was relieved, perhaps they could see the way he treated Larisa, she did not wish to see her daughter treated in such a horrid way.

“Delia,” she turned as one of the slaves that lived with her moved forward, Clea had her head bowed. Her hair was blonde and braided back; she wore loose clothing and looked as if she had just arrived back from a temple since she was dressed in the best clothing she could find. “I have received word from your eldest grandson, Deacon.”

“Oh please,” Delia told the slave girl to hand the message over to her, her eyes skimmed briefly over it and looked up. She knew now why her son-in-law was mad. Deacon’s men had been slaughtered by Amazons; they were heading back to Athens with their heads hung in defeat. Delia loved her grandsons, but Deacon said nothing of Bastian, had he been killed?

“Mother,” Larisa walked into the room where her mother stood, “Did you read the message?”

“Of course Larisa,” Delia replied, “Is that what has gotten Maximos so mad?”

“Yes,” Larisa’s eyes began to well with tears but she knew better than to cry, “There is no word of Bastian, my last child.”

“I know my dear,” Delia sighed as she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “But we mustn’t lose hope, the Gods would not lead such a powerful, loyal man astray.”

“What if he has been taken?” Larisa whispered, “The Amazons are cruel, they kill men!”

“Your boy has always been a charmer,” Delia smiled, “They would possibly break his heart Larisa, but he is strong. He will make his way back to us, perhaps before Deacon does. And how do you think he will be treated then?”

“Maximos always said he would have more love for the son who arrived to the city first,” Larisa whimpered, “But they need to be loved equally.”

“But Deacon has a wife,” Delia reminded Larisa, “And where is Anthea?” Delia asked as she peered around the room, trying to spot the small, frail woman Deacon treated horribly.

“He does not know she is with child,” Larisa spoke quietly, “She lost the last one, yet she will give birth to this one within days. She does not want him to yell at her and crawl into bed with more whores if she loses this one; she is at the temple, praying like she does every other day.”

Delia pursed her lips, “The Gods will lead your sons home, have no fear Larisa.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading and for all the love I have received on this story :)