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AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION: Since the reader is not likely to have a background in classical mythology, a few words of introduction are in order. The Greek and Roman gods and goddesses often had various epithets or aspects, reflecting different qualities associated with them, and these were on occasion the object of special worship, often at temples being dedicated to a specific epithet of the god. Each of the different epithets of a single god usually had its own distinct feast day. Thus, for example, Venus -- the goddess of sex and love -- was also worshipped under the epithets Venus Felix (Venus the bringer of good fortune), Venus Cloacina (Venus the purifier), Venus Victix (Venus the bringer of victory), or Venus Vericordia (Venus the changer of hearts). One of the lesser-known epithets of Venus was Venus Castina, the Venus who protected the yearnings of feminine souls trapped in male bodies. This epithet of Venus is mentioned by the Greek historian Herodotus of Halicarnassus in the fifth century BC. Depictions of worshipers of Venus Castina show both men and women, all dressed in women's clothes. More information can be found in any serious reference book on classical mythology.

CHAPTER 1. A PRIESTESS TO BE. I was three years old when I made the irrevocable decision to become a priestess. My mother took me and my two older sisters to visit a temple and watch the festive rites being performed. I was absolutely struck by the grace, poise, and beauty of the priestesses performing the ceremony. One of them looked at me directly, transfixing me on the spot. Her gaze penetrated my soul and I knew, totally knew, that I had received a call. I too, when I grew up, would be just like her.

As we rode in a cart back to our home, I told my mother and my sisters of my decision. "Don't be silly," said the oldest of the girls, "boys can't be priestesses." "Yes I can be," I insisted. "Yes I can and yes I will!" Then I started crying. My sisters laughed.

My name is Antonius. My father, an officer in the Xth Legion, had died a hero fighting the barbarian peoples in Britain. A few years earlier, he had been granted a farm about two days' journey from Rome. The area was very fertile and we had a comfortable living from the income obtained by leasing our land to a large landowner nearby, whose son had served under my father's command and so took a personal interest in our welfare. We were not rich, but we were not destitute either. My mother was still very beautiful in her widowhood and everybody said that I looked just like her, even more than my sisters did. She was also very devout and took the worship of the gods very seriously. No major decision in our lives was concluded without the approval of a diviner or an oracle who checked to insure that it would be favorable to the dieties.

I continued to remain steadfast in my belief that I was destined to become a priestess. I would pretend to conduct rites and practiced the erect bearing, the slow and deliberate walk, and the vacant stare of those who cared only for the gods. My sisters kept on repeating to me that only a girl could be a priestess, and I would reply that, in that case, I was going to be a girl too. When my sisters did chores, cooked or spun wool into thread, I would beg them to let me do it too. Finally, just before my sixth birthday, my oldest sister, Publia, had enough. My mother had gone on a pilgrimage to an oracle, and the three of us were alone in the house. My sisters were busy with their chores and I was playing with a colored ribbon, which I had tied in my hair. "That's it!," she yelled, "I have had enough of Antonius saying that he wants to be a girl. If he wants it so much, let's treat him like a girl and see how much he likes doing all of these chores that we have to do." My other sister agreed. The two of them dressed me in one of their old tunics and gave me a pair of their old sandals. "Ok, Antonia," they said, "get to work cleaning the floors."

When my mother returned home two days later, she found me dressed as a girl, spinning wool into thread along with my sisters. Publia explained what she did. Surprisingly, my mother did not object strongly. She just looked vague and said "it is, perhaps, the will of the gods".

And so I became Antonia. At first, my sisters used to kid me and make fun of me, but after a few months of seeing that I not only took my girlhood seriously but that I also enjoyed it -- the joke became stale and Antonia was just taken for granted. I did my share of the household chores and learned how to cook and sew. I was very happy. My mother accepted me, and neither encouraged nor discouraged my change of lifestyle. She seemed to be waiting for some sign from the gods as to what to do.

The sign came in my twelfth year. It was evening, and my mother and I were outside, collecting skeins of yarn which we had set out earlier in the day to dry in the sun. We looked at the evening star in the sky, and suddenly a meteor flashed by it, touching it and heading down towards the horizon. After it disappeared, the horizon seemed to glow in a golden aura. "The gods are calling you, Antonia," my mother said slowly and without emotion, as though in a trance. "It is time." "Yes, mother," I replied softly, "it is time."

The next morning, I dressed in white, packed a small parcel of food, and set out in the direction of the meteor. I walked for three days, looking for a sign. Finally, on the third day I noticed, off the side of the road, hidden among the trees, the ruins of a small temple. The structure had obviously been derelict for many years -- vines grew among its stones and mosses covered the altar. An inscription, barely readable, showed that this had been a temple of Venus, built and dedicated by a local matron, who -- I assumed -- was long since dead. The temple cried out for a priestess to purify and rededicate it, and to resume the rites in it. I had found my place.

CHAPTER 2. A PRIESTESS IN BEING. The ruined temple was in a small wood, next to a sweet brook. There were wild berries and other fruits nearby, as well as vegetables, grapes, and grains growing wildly on a patch that the previous priest or priestess had tended years before. The remains of that person's very modest home were not too damaged, and I was able to repair them in a few days and make it livable. I then turned to repairing and purifying the temple itself, something which took more time and effort. However, within two months, I was able to light the sacred flame on the rebuilt altar, and perform the rites of rededication. I called upon the goddess to accept my service to her and shed her blessing on the temple.

tibi avscvltamvs et venvs alma
ambae te obsecramvs
aram amplexantes hanc tvam
lacrvmantes genibvs nixae
in cvstodelam nos tvam vt recipias et tvtere
illas scelestos qvi tvom fecervnt fanvm parvi
fac vt vlciscare nosqve
vt hanc tva pace aram obsidere patiare
ne invisas habeas neve idcirco nobis vitio vortas
minvs qvod bene esse lavtvm tv arbitrare

(Kindly Venus, we tearfully entreat Thee, as we kneel and clasp this, Thy altar. Take us under your protection and defend us! Punish the evil ones who have belittled Thy sanctuary; and in your good grace let this altar be our refuge. Be not offended with us, nor hold us at fault, if there be anything about us that to Thee is unclean. -- this prayer is quoted by the Roman author Plautus.)

That afternoon, there was a brief rain shower and, afterwards, a beautiful rainbow which arched over my modest domain. I took that as a sign from the goddess that she found my efforts good, and thanked her with all of my heart.

The road I had taken was not a major one, and for many a day no traveler would pass by my temple. Of those who did, only some would stop and say a prayer and, perhaps, leave an offering. I always had a jar of cool water to offer them, and words of comfort if they were troubled — as most humans are. There were a few men who, of course, thought that a solitary priestess of the goddess of love must perforce be a courtesan, and tried to take advantage of me, but I knew the art of protecting my virginity by sweet words and reason, and could usually dissuade them. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: Courtesans are not unknown at the temples of Venus. Strabo records that over a thousand courtesans were associated with the Temple of Venus in Corinth. However, at some temples of Venus all of the priestesses were — nominally at least — virgins.)

Once, a rather gross trader physically assaulted me and was about to take his pleasure with me, when another man, a poor peddler, happened along and rescued me from him. Before he left, I blessed the peddler and told him that, while I could not reward him, I was sure the goddess would. He left in good cheer, and, after a few hours, returned to me excitedly. He had not walked more than two miles down the road, he said, when he suddenly felt very tired and so lay down in a field by the side of the road, propping his head on a convenient stone. He had not slept for more than an hour when he suddenly heard what seemed to be the snarl of a wolf. Quickly he rose, seizing the stone which had been his pillow and raising it above his head to throw at any animal which approached him. But there was no wolf in sight. Moreover, when he looked down, he found that underneath the stone was a small sealed earthenware jar, which turned out to be full of gold coins, having on one side the image of Venus (AUTHOR’S NOTE: such coins were in fact minted in Rome around 50 BC). Needless to say, he was convinced that this was the reward of the goddess. He insisted on leaving several of the gold coins with me, as an offering to the temple.

The story spread quickly. Soon, my little temple became famous and pilgrims began to arrive especially to the temple and to present their requests and bequests to the goddess. I tried my best to help those who sought help, to comfort those who needed comfort, and to encourage those who needed encouragement. It was hard work for me, but fortunately two girls arrived asking to be taken on as acolytes, and I was able to train them sufficiently to help take care of all of the visitors. I used the money I had received in order to have a dormitory built for them and for any future acolytes who might arrive, as well as facilities to handle the natural (and other) needs of the many visitors and their animals. In fact, I was soon forced to contract with one of the local farmers to provide feed for the horses and oxen of the visitors.

CHAPTER 3. A PRIESTESS BECOMING. One day a tall, well-groomed matronly woman, obviously of noble blood, arrived at my temple in a luxurious carriage and stood at the side as my acolytes and I performed the rites for a crowd of around twenty people who had gathered. Afterwards, as I was approached by several of the worshippers and talked to them, I could sense that she was examining me carefully, though she did not approach me until they had all left. Only then did she step over and introduced herself. Her name was Octavia and she was, in fact, the senior priestess at the Temple of Venus Genetrix in Rome. This temple, dedicated to Venus the mother of Aeneas, was built by Caesar himself in the forum that bears his name. It houses, besides the cult statue of the goddess, also statues of Caesar and Cleopatra. She congratulated me on my performance of the rites, and on how I dealt with the people afterwards. She was impressed and asked me at which temple I had done my apprenticeship. When I admitted that I had no formal training, but had learned the rites only by watching them as a child, she told me that that is going to be a problem.

“Not every individual can set herself up as a priestess,” she explained. Apparently in order to be a priestess it is not enough to have the goddess’ approval — one also has to have the approval of a committee of senior priests and priestesses. I would have to cease performing rites, immediately. “But what will I do with the people who come here every day?” I asked. “I will send a licensed priestess to serve the goddess here in your stead,” she said, “and you will have to come with me to Rome.” She then asked me to dismiss my acolytes, so that she could talk to me privately.

I sent the acolytes to their dormitory, and I walked with her to a quiet corner of the temple area. “You were not born a female, were you?” she asked me. I looked at her wonderingly. “I am sure that nobody else can notice that, but I am a priestess of Venus after all, and I can see what others cannot. Don’t worry. I see that your true vocation is that of a priestess, and you shall be one, though you will have to undergo the years of formal training which we require. Venus has many more priestesses like you than people realize. Many of them serve in temples dedicated to Venus Castina, who looks after feminine souls trapped in male bodies, but some are in other temples too. I would be very happy if you chose to do your training at my temple.”

I had no choice to agree. The priestess left, and returned three days later, bringing with her the licensed priestess who would take my place. After I said farewell to my acolytes, and left them in her charge, I entered Octavia’s carriage, to be taken to Rome. “I am still puzzled as to how you were able, so quickly, to discern my physical reality. Nobody else ever said anything."

“Well,” she said slowly, “in this as in many other things, it takes one to know one.”

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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.