You’re wondering: wait, it was a nation of all women. How did they have a next generation? Where did all the cute little Amazon killer babies come from?
Well, the Amazons had male slaves. I mentioned that, right? Some of those guys became the first househusbands, and they had just as many rights and privileges as women did in other countries, meaning none. Real nice.
Also, the Amazons had this weird arrangement with a neighbouring tribe called the Gargareans. The Gargareans lived on the opposite side of this huge mountain northeast of Amazon country. They were an all-male tribe, which I don’t get. Seriously, a tribe made entirely of dudes? You know the laundry never got done, the living room was a disaster zone and the leftovers in the fridge smelled worse than Phaethon lake gas.
You’d think an all-male tribe would be the Amazons’ worst enemy, but apparently not. Ever heard the old saying Good fences make good neighbours? Me neither. According to Annabeth it means something like Don’t touch my stuff and we’ll get along fine. In the case of the Gargareans and the Amazons, a big mountain made an excellent neighbour. The two groups never bothered each other. Once a year, by mutual agreement, they had a big potluck dinner and sleepover party on the mountaintop. Amazons got chummy with Gargareans. And what do you know? About nine months later, a whole lot of Amazons had cute little killer babies.
They kept the girls and raised them to be the next generation of warriors. The boys … well, who needed the boys?
The Amazons sent the strongest and healthiest ones to the Gargareans to raise. If Otrera thought the baby was too sickly and weak (he’s a baby; how can he not be weak?), she would leave the little guy in the wilderness, exposed on a rock and let nature take its course. Harsh and cruel? Yep. Life was a lot of fun back then.
Otrera led her warriors on tons of successful campaigns across Asia Minor and into Greece. They founded two famous cities on the western coast of Turkey – Smyrna and Ephesus. Why they picked those names, I don’t know. I would’ve gone with Buttkickville and Smackdown City, but that’s just me.
They fought the Greeks so many times that if you go to Athens today you’ll see tons of pictures of the Greek–Amazon wars. The pictures always show the Greeks winning, but that’s just wishful thinking. Truth was, the Amazons scared the Cheez Whiz out of the Greeks. Otrera’s warriors enslaved men. They fought like demons. And they definitely did not cook you dinner or scrub your floor.
Pretty soon the Amazon forces were so widespread they split into different tribes. Franchise towns started popping up all over the place. The Ancient Greek writers got confused when they tried to describe where the Amazons lived: ‘They’re over there. No, they’re over there. THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!’
Otrera was still Queen of the Whole Enchilada (I’m pretty sure that was her official title). She ruled from her capital of Sinope, and if she called for a war all the Amazon factions obeyed. You didn’t want to get on Otrera’s bad side. Unfortunately, when dealing with men, that was the only side she had.
Okay … I take that back. She did fall in love with a guy once. Their romance was uglier than any wartime massacre.
One day, Otrera had just finished a hard day’s work killing the neighbours. She and her warriors were walking along the shores of the Black Sea after a battle – looting dead bodies, enslaving survivors – when a red flash illuminated the clouds.
You do nice work, a deep voice rumbled from the sky. Meet me at the island on the horizon. We have things to discuss.
The Amazons weren’t easy to scare, but that voice freaked them out.
One of the queen’s lieutenants glanced at her. ‘You’re not going, are you?’
Otrera gazed across the water. Sure enough, a dark splotch of land was just visible on the horizon.
‘Yes,’ she decided. ‘A flash of red light and a strange voice over the battlefield … Either we are all hallucinating from last night’s casserole, or that was the god Ares talking. I’d better go see what he wants.’
Otrera rowed a boat to the island alone. On the shore stood the god Ares, seven feet tall in full bronze combat armour, with a flaming spear in his hand. His cloak was the colour of blood. His boots were speckled with mud and gore (because he loved to tap-dance over the corpses of his enemies). His face was ruggedly handsome, if you like that killer-Neanderthal look. His eyes glowed with pure fiery carnage.
‘Otrera, we meet at last,’ he said. ‘Dang, girl, you’re fine.’
Otrera’s knees shook. It’s not every day you meet one of your favourite gods. But she didn’t bow or kneel. She was done bowing to men, even Ares. Also, she figured the war god would prefer a show of strength.
‘You’re not bad yourself,’ she said. ‘I like those boots.’
‘Thanks!’ Ares grinned. ‘I got them at the army surplus store down in Sparta. They had this sale … But that’s not important. I want you to build me a temple here on this island. You see that big rock?’
‘What rock?’
Ares raised his spear. The clouds parted. A huge meteorite came hurtling down from space and slammed into the middle of the island. When the steam cleared and the dust settled, a black slab the size of a school bus was sticking upright out of the ground.
‘Oh,’ Otrera said. ‘That rock.’
‘That’s a sacred rock.’
‘Okay.’
‘Praying to the rock is basically a direct line to me. Build a stone temple around it. Every year, bring your Amazons here and sacrifice some of your most important animals.’
‘Those would be our horses,’ Otrera said. ‘We use them in battle. They give us a huge advantage.’
‘Horses it is!’ Ares said. ‘Do that for me, and I’ll keep blessing you in combat. You’ll keep slaughtering people. We’ll get along great. What do you say?’
‘Fight me.’
Ares stared at her with his nuclear-powered eyes. ‘What?’
‘We both respect strength. Let’s seal the deal with a smackdown.’
‘Wow. I think I’m falling in love with you.’
Otrera launched herself at the god. She slugged him across the face. They fell to the ground, kicking, gouging and doing their best to pulverize each other. It was love at first punch.
After they got through fighting, they decided to get married. From that day on, Otrera was known as the bride of Ares. It did wonders for her street cred. When enemy armies saw her riding towards them, they wet their bronze war breeches.
Otrera built a temple on the island, just like Ares had asked. To protect it, Ares sent a flock of killer birds that could shoot their feathers like arrows.
Every year, Otrera held a big festival on the island, sacrificing horses and talking to the large black rock. The killer birds didn’t bother the Amazons, but if anybody else tried to approach the temple the birds shot them full of feathers and tore them apart with their sharp beaks. In other words, the temple didn’t get a lot of out-of-towners.
Ares and Otrera had two daughters: Hippolyta and Penthesileia. Both names quickly shot to the top of the 25 Most Popular Baby Girls’ Names for 1438 B.C.E. list. From then on, Amazon queens and even the Amazons in general were known as the daughters of Ares. Some were literally his daughters. The rest did their best to act like they were. Aw, look! She’s got her daddy’s smile and his murderous rage. How cute!
Ares was happy. The Amazons were happy. But one important person had been left out of the Amazon Temple-Building & Deity-Appreciation Programme: Artemis, Otrera’s other favourite Olympian. Being a smart leader, Otrera figured she’d better show the hunter goddess some gratitude before it started raining silver arrows.
Otrera decided to build a temple to Artemis in the city of Ephesus, on the west coast of Turkey. She figured that would make it close enough for the Greeks to visit, since their islands were right across the Aegean Sea.
She didn’t use arrow-shooting birds this time. Those tended to reduce tourist dollars. Instead, Otrera built the temple on a high hill so it could be seen from all
over. She made it as beautiful as possible, with walls of aromatic cedar, floors of polished marble and ceilings inlaid with gold. In the centre of the sanctuary, a statue of Artemis was clad in a dress of amber teardrop ornaments so she glowed when light streamed through the windows.
Every year, Otrera hosted a big festival at the temple. The Amazons spent all day partying, doing ferocious war dances through the streets of Ephesus. They sacrificed jewellery to Artemis by draping it over the statue, so by the end of the festival Artemis looked like a hip-hop fashion model who’d been shopping at King Midas’s Discount Gold Warehouse.
The temple was a hit – Otrera’s greatest legacy. It outlasted her. It outlasted the Ancient Greeks. Heck, it almost outlasted the Roman Empire. It was destroyed a couple of times, but the Ephesians always rebuilt it. It was still around in Christian times when a dude named John went there to convert the locals.
The place was so famous it made the list of Seven Wonders of the Ancient World … along with the Egyptian pyramids and, um, those other ones. The first McDonald’s? I forget.
The temple paid off for Otrera in more ways than tourist dollars. One time, it saved her and her entire army from death by grapes.
How it happened: this new wine god, Dionysus, was rolling through the mortal world with his band of followers, teaching everybody the wonders of partying, drunken savagery and a good Cabernet with dinner. If your kingdom welcomed Dionysus, great! If you tried to fight him, oops!
He was on his way to invade India, because that seemed like a good idea at the time, when he happened through the land of the Amazons.
When he met the first Amazon scouting party, he was delighted.
‘Oh, hey!’ he said. ‘A nation of women? I can work with that. How about you girls party with us tonight?’
The Amazon scouts said, ‘Sure, why not?’
They decided they liked wine. They joined Dionysus’s group of super fangirls known as the maenads. Those ladies were mostly nymphs turned into wild party-hearty assassins who would rip the wine god’s enemies to pieces with their bare hands. So imagine what would happen if the Amazons became maenads. Yeah, kinda like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with no need for chainsaws.
Later, other groups of Amazons tried to stop Dionysus. They weren’t going to follow any man, especially since his army included a bunch of satyrs and drunken dudes who smelled like cheap Chardonnay.
The Amazons attacked. Dionysus used his godly powers to drive them insane and turn them into grapevines, and then stomped them to make more wine.
Otrera heard about these early defeats: some guy claiming to be a god, tromping through her kingdom and stealing her followers or turning them into deciduous fruiting berries. She decided to solve the problem in her usual diplomatic way.
‘Kill them all!’ she roared.
She summoned her entire army, which was a pretty impressive sight. Thousands of spears and shields glinted in the sun. Rows of mounted archers – the best cavalry in the world – prepared their flaming arrows.
The Amazons could destroy most enemies in a matter of minutes. Their reputation was so terrifying that other kingdoms would hire them as mercenaries to fight their wars. Usually, the other side would give up as soon as they saw the Amazons coming.
Over the years, Otrera had grown rich and powerful and confident. She figured she could wipe out a drunken mob, no problem.
Her fatal flaw? I’m thinking it was pride.
She forgot what had happened to those village guys who tried to smack her down in the old days. Never underestimate your enemy.
Dionysus was a god. It didn’t matter how chummy Otrera was with Ares and Artemis; they couldn’t help her against a fellow Olympian. The Amazons charged into battle and got thrashed. The maenads tore them apart with their bare hands. Satyrs whaled on them with clubs and old wine bottles. Every time Dionysus snapped his fingers, another battalion of Amazons went insane, turned into wombats or got choked to death in a thicket of grapevines.
Otrera quickly realized she was outmatched. She pulled her forces just before they were all destroyed. Then the Amazons fled for their lives.
Dionysus and his drunken army chased them halfway down the coast of Turkey. Finally, Otrera reached Ephesus and ran to the temple of Artemis. She threw herself in front of the goddess’s statue.
‘Please, Lady Artemis!’ she begged. ‘Save my people! Don’t let them be destroyed because of my foolishness!’
Artemis heard her and intervened. Or maybe Dionysus just got bored and decided to go kill somebody else. The wine god’s army turned away and marched off to India, leaving Ephesus alone. The Amazons were saved. Eventually, they rebuilt their army and managed to get all the squished grapes out from between their toes.
From then on, the temple of Artemis got a reputation as a refuge for women. Any woman who reached the altar and begged for protection would be shielded by the power of Artemis. No one could harm her. The priestesses of the temple and the entire town of Ephesus would fight for her if necessary.
After that, things settled down for Otrera. She retired to her capital at Sinope and ruled more or less in peace. She made alliances with her neighbours and brought safety and security to her people.
The only thing she couldn’t protect Amazons from? Other Amazons. Like what happened with her two wonderful, bloodthirsty daughters …
As I said earlier, the great Ares–Otrera kickboxing marriage led to the birth of two daughters. Because of their parentage, they were both cute, sweet girls who liked glitter and ponies and frilly pink stuff.
Yeah, not so much …
Nobody knows exactly when Queen Otrera decided to retire, but after a while all the battles and enslavements and wild dance parties got tiring. She handed control of the Amazons over to her elder daughter, Hippolyta.
At first, Hippolyta did a good job. Her dad, Ares, was so pleased he gave her a magical suit of armour to wear for special events like bat mitzvahs and siege warfare. He also gave her a magical belt that made Hippolyta super strong.
Unfortunately, Hippolyta had the bad luck of meeting a guy named Hercules. More on that in a bit. For now, let’s just say there was a big fight and the Amazons suffered their worst defeat since the invasion of the Wine Dude.
In the confusion of battle, Hippolyta was accidentally killed by her own sister, Penthesileia. The belt of the Amazons was lost (at least for a while). The Greeks got away. Penthesileia became the queen and, after mourning her sister’s death, she rebuilt the Amazon army yet again.
Even though it was an accident, Penthesileia never forgave herself for Hippolyta’s death. She also never forgave the Greeks. Many years later, when the Trojan War broke out, she signed up to help Priam, the king of Troy, so she could crack Greek skulls and avenge her sister’s death.
That didn’t work out so well. Penthesileia fought bravely and slaughtered a bunch of great warriors, but eventually she got killed by the most famous Greek fighter of all – Achilles. When Achilles retrieved her body from the battlefield, he washed her wounds so she could have a proper funeral. He took off her war helmet, saw how beautiful the Amazon queen was and felt super depressed. It seemed like a waste that such a brave and extremely hot lady should die.
Achilles waited for the next big truce, when Trojans and Greeks got together to exchange bodies for burial. Those meetings must have been fun. I’ll trade you George here for Johnny and Billy Joe. Oh, wait. I think this leg belongs to Billy Joe. I’m not sure.
Achilles presented the body of Penthesileia to the Trojans. He praised her bravery and beauty so much that one of his Greek comrades, a guy named Thersites, got annoyed.
A bunch of Thersites’s friends had been killed by Penthesileia. He turned to Achilles and said, ‘Dude, why are you praising her? She’s an enemy and she’s a woman. Are you in love with that dead girl?’ (He called her something worse than a girl.)
Achilles gently set Penthesileia down. He turned to his comrade and backhanded Thersites so hard all his t
eeth flew out like tiny white salmon leaping from a red stream. Thersites fell down dead.
Achilles faced the Trojans. ‘Please bury Penthesileia with honour.’
The Trojans, not wishing to get killed by major dental trauma, did what he asked.
I don’t know if Otrera was still alive when her daughters died. For her sake, I kind of hope not. Even for a battle-hardened lady like Otrera, that would’ve been tough to deal with.
Otrera and her daughters became legends, though – some of the greatest women warriors of all time.
Maybe you’re wondering why I included Otrera in this book, since it’s about Greek heroes and technically she wasn’t Greek. Maybe you’re wondering whether she was really even a hero.
I’ll admit she had her flaws: the occasional murder, a massacre here and there. She also liked Ares, which is just gross.
I have to get over my own prejudice, too. I had a run-in with Otrera once when she came back from the dead and tried to kill me. (Long story. Don’t ask.)
But here’s the thing. Women don’t get a fair shake in the old stories. Even Otrera, the most famous, successful and powerful woman of the ancient world, hardly gets a mention.
I have to admire her guts. She went from being a downtrodden Bronze Age housewife to the queen of an empire. The Amazons became so famous we named a river in Brazil after them, along with that modern company that has absolutely no connection to the ancient Amazon nation. (Cough, ahem.)
To all the women she saved and trained for battle, Otrera was definitely a hero. She gave them hope. She gave them control over their own lives. Me, I would’ve gone a little easier on the whole beheading-husbands thing and I wouldn’t have left baby boys in the wilderness to die, but she was a harsh lady living in harsh times.
So, yeah, I think she belongs in a book of Greek heroes. If she gives you nightmares, the way she did those old Greek writers, well … just remember, the Amazons aren’t around any more. They faded out of history thousands of years ago. (Wink, wink.) There isn’t much chance they’ll come after you. Like, a twenty percent chance at best. Maybe thirty percent …