No doubt you’ve heard of the feats of Jason and his Argonauts, and of the long war against Ilium, which modern people call Troy. But perhaps you have not heard the tale of the hunt for the great boar in Calydon. It is a rare story, for it features that most unusual of phenomena, a woman who hunted.
For the modern reader, this might not seem strange at all. However, in ancient times, hunting required the strength to pull a bow. The skills of hunting are not far from the skills of war, for a bow, or spear, or mace can be used not only to kill animals, but people. Women gave life. For them to deal death displeased the gods.
All but one god. Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto, had claimed for herself the right to remain virgin. She sought only to fend for herself, and hunt in the forest with the protection of her dogs. Yet, because she had helped to birth her brother, the sun god Apollo, she also cared for children and watched over them as a mother bear guards her cubs.
So it was, that when a king abandoned his baby daughter in the forest, Artemis sent a she-bear to nurture the child until she was discovered by three men hunting in the wood. They raised the girl as best they could in honor of the goddess. But being men, they could only teach her what men knew and none of the womanly arts.
None-the-less, Atalanta, for that was the name they gave her, grew tall. If she could not draw a bow as great at those of her fathers, she was quick and accurate. As seemed natural, she dedicated herself to the lady of the woodland and hounds, promising to serve her in all things.
One day, Artemis spoke to Atalanta as she stalked a buck.
Atalanta. Hear me…
What the goddess asked made Atalanta’s blood run cold. But Atalanta had sworn. She would go as Artemis commanded.
The next morning, one of her three fathers draped a himation - the long rectangular shawl favored by the ancient Greeks - over her shoulders while another handed her the belt that held her long hunting knife. The third waited by the door, Atalanta’s bow and quiver of arrows in hand. Her fathers knew the dangers of hunting boar. Especially one that was large and sent by an angry goddess. Her fathers told her the news that the boar was in Calydon because King Oeneus had neglected to honor Artemis. His transgression was well-known, the king’s failure to make offerings during the festivals common knowledge.
But instead of begging the goddess’ forgiveness and changing his ways, the king of Calydon was organizing a grand event to dispatch the punishment she had sent.
Atalanta’s fathers did not try to dissuade her. But she could tell they wanted to.
Each gave her a tight, wordless embrace before she walked into the forest to participate in what was sure to be a bloody spectacle told through the ages.
Atalanta didn’t know why King Oeneus failed to honor her lady, but his hunt was counter to all reason. Perhaps the goddess was sending her to speak to the king; to convince him to be sensible and embrace humility before the gods.
She doubted it.
But Artemis was a goddess, and divine beings saw further than mortals. Atalanta shook off her doubts and kept moving.
Atalanta entered into the hall of King Oeneus with her himation draped over her head and her bow over her shoulder. Many heroes were gathered, for it is ever the case that young men seek risk, and what is a life without risk? Atlanta had not missed the goddess’ sneer at the word ‘hero,’ or the flash of anger in her eyes. Risk or not, how could they ignore that such a hunt was against the will of the gods?
The men were scattered about the hall and spilled out onto the shaded stoa - modern people would call it a porch or patio - that was open to the trees beyond. They talked loudly, eyes alight and excited as they bragged. Not all of their exploits involved hunting. Some had won races, others, feats of strength. Such talk was familiar to Atalanta.
As was proper for a guest at that time, Atalanta approached the dais where King Oeneus sat with Queen Althaea. At the queen’s side stood her brothers, Plexippus and Toxeus. If they stood a bit closer to her than seemed proper, or it was seen that the queen leaned toward them rather than her husband, none in the room chose to comment, even in whispers.
Oeneus stood tall and wide. His swollen nose and coloring said he was overly fond of wine. Beside him stood his broad-shouldered, son, prince Meleagar. Perhaps the prince felt the touch of Artemis as he turned glanced in Atalanta’s direction, feeling confusion for no reason he understood.
He would not have expected that the tall, hooded figure was a woman.
As Atalanta regarded the royal family, she felt Artemis’ anger and it made her blood heat. Artemis had not explained why she wanted Atalanta here, but with this feeling, Atalanta didn’t need a reason. The goddess’s anger became her own.
The king drank deeply from his cup and rose, lifting his hands.
“Hunters and heroes! Welcome!”
His voice was strong, echoing off the stone walls and making Atalanta’s gut clench. As a child, she’d flinched when her fathers were loud. This was a natural response for a girl child. Atalanta had learned not to show that particular weakness but had never been able to make go away completely.
Now she stood straight and silent, waiting for Artemis to guide her.
King Oeneus proclaimed, “I have invited you to my great kingdom of Calydon to assist in the slaying of a terrible boar who plagues my countryside.” The king shook his head looking sad. “My subjects are being tormented. Their crops are being crushed, they can barely leave their homes for fear of being gored or trampled.”
Atalanta was not impressed.
Arrogance.
She was not sure if the thought was her own or the voice of Artemis in her heart. Nor would it have mattered.
I am your instrument, Lady. Use me as you will.
The king spoke again. “My blessed son, Meleagar, will guide the hunt with the help of my brothers-in-law.” The king gestured to the men standing by Queen Althaea. “Plexipus and Toxeus. The prize is the right to keep the trophies of the hunt, the great boar’s tusks and hide! Is there anyone here who has not yet claimed a place in this great event? Now is the time to speak if you would join the ranks of heroes and have your name be remembered for generations!”
Atalanta hardly needed the affirmation she felt from Artemis to step forward and lower her shawl.
“I speak! I, Atalanta. Suckled by a she-bear and daughter of woodsmen.” She nearly added servant of Artemis. But her throat closed upon the words. Others had also stepped forward to introduce themselves but now all eyes lay upon her.
When the gods made the first woman, one of their gifts was that of fear. It is so, that women know when a man desires her, and whether or not he will respect her wishes. Women know when they are being seen as something to be pursued and captured.
Atalanta, trained as she was, remained a woman. She could feel the men’s regard and deliberately relaxed her shoulders, showing neither fear nor tension. Such things would certainly mark her as prey. While not all men are predators, some of these certainly were.
King Oeneus looked her up and down. She felt the internal tremor that is the gift of fear. It tingled up her spine making her want to run and hide. Instead, she returned his look with the same level gaze her fathers had taught her.
The king said, “By what right do you come here?” He gestured around the room. “These men are heroes. Why should I allow a girl to join my hunt? How could you be worthy? It would be an insult to everyone here.”
Atalanta smiled. For surely, this was exactly what Artemis intended.
As the king spoke, Plexippus and Toxeus stepped down from the dais to flank her. The tingling in her spine sped up and she carefully hid the increase in her breathing.
In a clear voice she said, “Not all in this room are known for hunting skills. Some are known simply for running.” She raised an eyebrow. “But unless they intend to run from the boar, I see no value in that skill here.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “Nor do I think anyone will be wrestling with the beast.” Atalanta turned, regarding the group of men behind her. Many looked embarrassed. She noted the ones who looked angry.
She said, “What is needed for a hunt is patience and good marksmanship.” Atalanta strode out onto the stoa. Pointing at the tree line outside, she said, “Who of you can hit those three trunks before I do?” She slid the bow off of her shoulder and dropped her himation to the ground.
The prince, Meleagar, jumped from the dais calling out, “I will judge! Who will compete with Atalanta?”
Plexippus spoke loudly. “It is for us to prove to this… girl… that she has no place here.”
Slaves rushed to bring the queen’s brothers’ bows, and quivers of arrows. Atalanta waited.
Meleagar raised a hand and they all readied their bows. He dropped his hand and shouted. For Atalanta, time slowed. She nocked and fired one arrow,
a second,
a third,
and lowered the bow.
The arrows had found their mark. She knew it. Felt it.
Plexipus fired a shot, then Toxeus.
“Cease!” Meleagar cried.
His uncles stared at him.
“She has won.” He said, looking at Atalanta with an expression that she had never seen but which made her feel warm inside.
Plexippus shouted, “What?”
Toxeus shouted, “That can’t be true!”
Meleagar pointed at the trees. “Her arrows are placed. I can see them. One in each. But let us all go closer together.”
Atalanta stood watching as the three men walked across the open space.
Toxeus swore and threw his bow to the ground. Plexippus looked back toward her and Atalanta knew she should never be alone with him.
With either of them.
The three men walked back toward the dais. Meleagar looked happy. He might have been less happy had he seen the expressions on his uncle’s faces. Or his mother’s.
Meleagar went to King Oeneus. “Atalanta has won. Father, I’ve never seen anyone shoot so fast and so accurately.”
The king nodded to her. He resented her win but could hardly turn her down now. “You may join the hunt.”
None of the other latecomers who came forward after her were required to prove themselves.
This did not matter to Atalanta. Having been raised in the wild, she was well aware of the danger they faced. Although the young men who filled the throne room were all accounted champions and heroes, that did not mean they had ever seen the damage a boar could inflict. Young men are ever ready to take risks, for this is how the gods made them. But Atalanta was a young woman. What she foresaw was blood and death.
King Oeneus stood and spread his arms wide. “Noble friends! Tonight we feast! Tomorrow… The boar dies!”
The men cheered. Atalanta thought about where she might safely get a night’s sleep. She had no wish to share the floor of the hall with the rest of the hunters. While surely it was the case that many would be like her fathers, good men, she had seen how Plexippus and Toxeus looked at her. If men in authority were predatory, there was nothing to stop others from doing so.
End part 1
Buy my books on Amazon.
Writing fiction is fun and compelling because I get to make worlds and characters that do what I want. It’s the only place I successfully get to be the control freak. Certainly, my cats don’t let me do that, although sometimes they humor me.