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What do mortals know that the gods do not?
Read the new epic novel by M. A. Hills: "Creator" to find out more
C H A P T E R 1
In the days of yore when the Christian God sent his only son to save the wretched
human race, the Olympian spirits sent a saviour of their own. Unlike Jesus, the
saintly pagan son was not without sin, nor error; nor would he ignore temptations,
and desire. Ill-fated from the start—he would not become a humble carpenter
either, but one who is skilled in warfare, thievery, and deceit. To be sure, if
the gods had great ambitions for their Olympian saviour, it seems they were
inclined to keep him in the dark. For he who would begin his life without a
name, or an inkling of whence he came—the last descendant of a vanishing legacy—
would someday be called to perform great miracles, whether he liked it or
not. His providence was to become a creator; and now his story will be told.
Thus, during the month of Martius, in the year 1 AD, Virginia Marius
became pregnant in a very extraordinary way. She had neither a boyfriend, nor
any kind of sexual relationship. Her doctor swore he had never seen anything like
it before, swore she was still a virgin. Her father swore it was the work of iniquity:
of the mischievous spirits of the dead. Worse still, he would see to it that the child
was cut from her belly—like they did to save the life of Caesar—and exterminated.
Virginia’s father was not a sponsor of progressive medicine, an abortionist, nor
did he enjoy the idea of dissecting his only daughter. He was a wealthy Governor
from a respectable patrician dynasty, and since a brilliant military career had
earned him the admiration of many influential officers, he was Caesar’s most
important ally. To be sure, he, Gaius Antonius Marius, could not afford to waste
his time with a pregnant teenager, no more than he could afford his enemies the
pleasure of damaging his respected name. If word got out that Virginia had
involved herself in wanton behaviour, what then? In Roman society, there was
nothing that could stop a malicious rumour. Soon they would be talking in the
public baths; soon the forums across the Empire would be covered with slanderous
graffiti. Moreover, they would sing vicious songs, and denounce the great
name of Marius in the markets, in the theatres, in the Senate! By the mercy of
Fortuna, his good fortune had abandoned him at last. He had no other choice
now: he was forced to challenge the gods, forced to defy the evil beast growing
inside of her. Nonetheless, even though perplexing, his daughter’s condition did
not surprise him. Virginia was wicked, disobedient, and blasphemous: that was
why she was being punished. Gaius sustained that the gods had been angered by
the sacrilegious gibbering of her wild imagination, and as retribution, they had
sowed that amoral seed inside her womb. Then that thing would swell, and be
born a vengeful agent of the underworld. It would strike down the shrew that
bore it as sure as Jupiter poops lightning bolts! There seemed to be no other
explanation. For already the sands of time warned of the embryo’s celestial genesis;
in no less than a month the seed had gained the astonishing weight of a baby,
and if he did not rush to remove it, that thing would gain its malicious nativity
too, and his daughter; a ferryboat ride to Hades.
So he brought her to their summer estate on the island named Corsia, located
ten Roman sea miles from the anchorage of Ostia. It was surrounded by high
crags, and deserted of all untrustworthy eyes. It was a grand garden hideaway covering
ten square miles, a realm of solitude and luxury. It was the perfect place to
go about this unethical surgery in utter secrecy. Hence, everything went according
to plan, that is, according to the plot of the gods.
Copyright ©2004 by Michael A. Hills ... all rights
reserved.
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