Venus Castina, II   By Melissa Tawn   Antonia takes her duty as a priestess of Venus seriously, and nearly rocks the empire.

AUTHOR’s NOTE: This story takes place in Rome at the beginning of the first century AD. It is necessary to read Part I in order to understand the main characters.

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From Octavia, high priestess of the Temple of Venus Genetrix in Rome to Livonia, high priestess of the Temple of Venus in Baalbek, Syria, greetings!

May the favor and love of the goddess be upon you, my dear sister in worship, as it has always been in the past. I am sending this missive to you by the hands of Antonia, one of my most talented and beloved priestesses, whom I have been preparing to succeed me in the administration of this Temple once I reach the age when I can no longer carry on my duties. However, as I shall relate, the situation here has now changed, and I must plead with you to detain her at your temple on some pretext or another (she does not know the content of this letter, nor do I wish that she should ever know it), since it would be dangerous for her to ever return to Rome. I am sure that you will find her as excellent as I have.

I make this request with a very heavy heart, and only because I am fearful for Antonia’s life. She has done her duty as a priestess, and has done it all too well. As you are aware, I am sure, these are not easy times in the capital. For the past two years, we have been experiencing the reign of the emperor Gaius (AUTHOR’S NOTE: the emperor Gaius, who reigned from 37 AD to 41 AD, is more frequently known in our time by his mocking childhood nickname, “Caligula”) who succeeded to the Principate upon the rather suspicious death of his grandfather Tiberius and after the “mysterious” death of his cousin Gemellus, with whom he was supposed to share power. At first we had high hopes that he would be like his honorable late father Germanicus, but these hopes have been repeatedly shattered. Gaius has been exhibiting all of the instabilities of an inexperienced young man — and you and I both know what young men can be like — given unlimited resources and power on one hand, and responsibilities with which he is incapable of coping on the other. As all boys are wont to do, he feels the need to reassert his absolute authority again and again, even in spheres where he has no authority.

Stories have probably reached you, even in far-away Syria, of Gaius’ demand to be inducted into the mysteries of the Vestal Virgins. How he dressed himself as a priestess and demanded to be treated as such. Those of the Virgins who objected to this were hacked to death by his guards. It is not, of course, that he feels that there is really a woman inside his male body, but simply out of his desire to show off his ability to be anything he wants whenever he wants. The whole affair was a scandal of monumental proportions.

What is less known, and what I am relating to you here in the strictest confidence, is that, after that, he also requested to be ordained a priestess of Venus Genetrix. One day, he showed up at our temple, supposedly incognito (though it was not difficult to guess who he was, given that several hundred soldiers of the Praetorian Guard were seen patrolling the Forum of Caesar and the surrounding streets). At the time, I was in Antium on temple business, and it was Antonia who received him. Antonia, as I am sure you have already guessed is — like the two of us — one of the special objects of attention of Venus Castina. She is extremely intelligent and perceptive, but also very gentle and almost childlike in her trust in the goodness of her fellow humans. Gaius came before her, under the assumed name of Marcus, and told her of his desire to be a priestess of Venus, she took him at his word and told him that if he truly felt the call, then the goddess would reach out to him.

As a first step, she had him bathed in an aromatic bath and gave him the robes of a priestess to wear. She then took the male clothes he had been wearing and put them on the altar and, with “Marcia” standing beside her, burnt them as an offering to the goddess. Gaius, needless to say, tried to object to the rite (it probably occurred to him that he would have a difficult time getting back to his palace without his male clothes), but she gently soothed him and told him that this was but a first step which all aspiring priestesses much go through. It was important to discard the physical symbols of one’s past life as it was to discard the habits of thought and relationships from that time. Marcia, she explained, had to be reborn.

Antonia’s manner is so meek, and her tone so kind and sisterly, that Marcia did not object strenuously. After Marcia’s clothes had turned to ashes, Antonia sat Marcia down on the floor and gave her a spindle. “We are now, symbolically, going to turn the wool of your previous life into fine thread, from which we will sew the garments of your new vocation,” she explained. “I want you to turn the spindle and, with each turn, to tell me an incident of your life which led you to the decision to come here.” At first, Marcia told the lies which he had prepared before coming, but after a few minutes he broke down and began to cry. Then the whole story came out … he admitted to being the emperor Gaius, he told of his unhappy childhood, of being shunted from military camp to military camp in the wake of his father’s postings, of the atmosphere of suspicion, intrigue, and fratricidal murder which characterized his family, and — most importantly — of the lack of simple love. “Venus is the goddess of love,” Gaius sobbed, “and love is what I have been looking for all of my life. I yearn to be her priestess.”

Antonia heard the whole story calmly and with dignity. She then hugged Marcia tightly. “You are now my sister, she said, and I have nothing but love to offer you. I will always be here for you, as will the goddess.” She then, however, explained to Marcia that it would be obviously impractical for her to remain permanently as a priestess in one of the main temples of Rome, where she was sure to be recognized. Instead, she suggested that a small temple be built in a secluded area of Rome and dedicated to Venus Castina. She would agree to personally officiate there as priestess whenever Marcia desired to be with her and serve as her assistant. She would, as time allowed, train Marcia in the duties of a priestess and the rites of the goddess, far away from the prying eyes of those who may wish her harm. Then, at the end of her apprenticeship, if Marcia still desired it, Antonia would sponsor her before the temple authorities (meaning me, I presume) for full ordination as a priestess.

Gaius wanted more, of course. He wanted Antonia to come to the palace, to become his advisor and confidant. He offered her gifts; he offered her promises of power and influence. But Antonia demurred. “I am just a humble priestess of the goddess,” she said, “that has been my sole ambition in life. I desire no more. Everything else is but vanity.”

And so Gaius agreed to Antonia’s terms and, somehow, made it back to his palace. When I returned a week later, Antonia told me the entire story. I was appalled. I knew, as Antonia did not, that the real power behind Gaius was the Praetorian tribune Cassius Chaerea, and that he would not tolerate this arrangement. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Indeed, Cassius Chaerea and other praetorian guards did murder Gaius in his palace after less than four years’ rule, and paved the way for the enthronement of his successor, the emperor Claudius.)

It is therefore imperative that I hustle Antonia out of Rome and as far away from trouble as I can. I am under no illusions, for I know just how ruthless Cassius Chaerea can be with women like us. You see, he is my brother.