Edward Crichton - To Crown a Caesar

One piece depicted of the judgment of Paris, where he chose Venus’s gift over Minerva’s and Juno’s, sparking the Trojan War. Another showed Pygmalion sculpting a model of Venus to create an image of the perfect woman, only to fall in love with the sculpture. Yet another displayed Venus’ rescuing of either Aeneas or Paris at the hands of either Diomedes or Menelaos respectfully during the Trojan War. The final painting was another naked image of her wearing nothing but the cestus , a girdle forged by Vulcan that made her even more irresistible to humans and gods alike.

Her cestus always seemed redundant to me, since she was already supposed to be the most beautiful woman, mortal or god, in the eyes of all people, both male and female. It was always my impression that those who looked upon Venus saw in her what they considered perfect beauty. She was supposed to resemble the pinnacle woman, a paradigm, a true ten on any bar hoppers scale, and since every person’s opinion of beauty was different, so would she have to be as well.

I squinted at the closest picture, the one with Venus wearing the cestus and noticed two things. First, was that in each piece of art, Venus was always completely naked, hiding no shame, not that a goddess would have any to speak of. There were plenty of art pieces I remember from home that portrayed her naked, but most tried to maintain some semblance of dignity by covering up her goods with a fig leaf or something. The artists of these works were unaware of any such concept and left nothing to the imagination.

The second thing I noticed was that Venus’ face looked familiar, and it didn’t take long before I realized the model for these pieces was none other than Agrippina herself. I almost laughed at the vanity of the woman. By using herself as the model for the goddess of love, the most beautiful woman the world will ever know, she was practically claiming that mantel for herself.

But I had to admit, she made for a pretty convincing model.

“Are you seeing all this?” Santino asked, his eyes wide like a kid’s in a candy store.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“That’s Aphrodite isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I replied, pleased at his insight, even though since we were technically in the Roman era, Venus was probably more appropriate.

“She’s… naked, and… smoking hot.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said, still drinking in the details.

“Think I can…”

“No,” I said sharply, playing the part of his mother refusing to buy him something from the store. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Damn,” he replied, disappointment obvious in his voice. “That sculpture over there would go great in my bathroom, right next to my gold plated toilet.”

I looked at the sculpture in question. It was an image of Venus, wielding a sword and wearing armor fit for an Amazon. Some Amazonian armor allowed their breasts to hang out over them, so as not to constrict their movement, but according to at least one ancient writer, mothers of new born girls would use a special tool to cauterize the area where the girl’s right breast would grow, preventing its development completely. The absence of a right breast was thought to enhance the strength of the right arm and shoulder, making them more formidable warriors. While it was an interesting story, something told me modern science could probably disprove that theory.

Venus had never really been portrayed as a war-like goddess. That was more Minerva or Diana’s territory, but according to Homer, she had fought in the Trojan War, and was even wounded by the Greek king Diomedes after he was divinely influenced by Minerva’s powerful touch.

That said, despite her nakedness and warrior-like demeanor in the sculpture, I think the reason Santino really wanted that particular piece for his imaginary bathroom was because she was squatting and her face appeared as though trapped in a very tense moment.

This time, I couldn’t help but smile at my friend’s crude sense of humor.

I surveyed the rest of the room. It was large, almost the size of a tennis court, and at the far end of the room, set flush against the farthest rear wall of the ship, was a gargantuan bed. It was bigger than any I had ever seen and sat atop an elevated platform above the deck, complete with three steps leading up to it. Along the rear wall was a large open window as long as the room was wide, cut in a way that produced a number of long, wooden bars that ran horizontally along the window, a security measure that would keep both animal and interloper from entering.

Such windows dotted the exterior of the ship at various locations and elevations.

Draped with a fine lace netting that served as both decoration and bug control, the window allowed a large bright swath of moonlight to fall on the bed’s lone sleeping figure.

In the time it took me to process the imagery, and hold my small conversation with Santino, the two of us had walked about half way through the room. Reaching that point, I was able to identify the sleeping form as Agrippina. A very naked Agrippina. Lying on her back, her arms were sprawled out alongside her head in a sensual manner and her legs were spread just slightly.

I couldn’t believe how much corruptible sexual energy permeated throughout the room. The place was sexier than the most high end strip club on the planet. The level of sensuality was so intense that I found staying focused difficult.

“Watch the door,” I told Santino, taking another step towards Agrippina.

“What? Not this time, buddy. Agrippina’s legal.”

“Just do it.”

He looked at me sourly. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” he mumbled.

I pulled up short, pausing for a moment to reflect on his comment. Usually, that was something I would say to him, not the other way around. Did he really believe I was going to do something I’d later regret or was he just being himself? Santino wasn’t one to provide deep insights or clever observations during adult conversations, but he had been known to offer insightful commentary in very specific moments in the past. Often, such comments would call for considerable reflection later on.

I shook my head and made my way to the raised platform that held Agrippina’s large bed. It was situated four steps higher than the rest of the room and turned her sleeping area into a type of throne to receive dignitaries from. It seemed appropriate for her, but I wasn’t about to remain at the foot of the steps and allow her to pass judgment on me.

I crept into the room slowly, each step I took landing first on the outside of my foot before rolling flat. Even in a wetsuit, the practice of walking on your outsole was still the best practice for silent movement, and after another twenty paces, I reached Agrippina’s platform. I could see her nude form in front and above me, but I could not yet see her face, as it was turned towards the bulkhead behind her. I glanced one last time at Santino, who had dutifully taken up position by the door, crouching, and waiting for trouble.

I climbed each step carefully, hoping to avoid a creak in the wooden floorboards beneath my feet. With one last step, my silent climb was complete, and I inwardly thanked all those tireless Roman engineers and carpenters who managed to build a set of stairs that didn’t make a sound.

Agrippina was now fully visible, the movement of her chest and abdomen smoothly dancing to the rhythm of her soft breathes. Her eyes fluttered deep in sleep and I wondered what a woman like her dreamt about. I stared at her, a great many ideas drifting into my mind, but I dismissed them and reached out a hand to smother her mouth. I didn’t want her screaming before I questioned…

Something was wrong. Light shimmered and rippled across her prone form, a blue hue that made her skin appear like the serene flow of an ocean. I’d assumed the illusion was perpetrated by the light of the moon rebounding off the river and washing against her through the window, but now I realized that wasn’t possible. Her bed was below the window, resulting in the light from outside passing over her to hit the floor just behind me. The shadow left by her nose was also off, as though the light source was coming from within the room, just off to my right.