| My name is Arachne. I am, was, a Maeonian
girl. I wasn't beautiful, and
my parents were only common dyers. But, my art was the most beautiful
ever seen! In fact, people flocked from all over the world to
watch me weave. They would exclaim my work was "inspired by the gods!" but I would always pull my mouth into a tight ring and reject that the work was the result of anyone's skill but my own! "Ha", I yelled out, "if she were here I would challenge her to show that she was better than me!" The
gods, after all, should only
get credit where it was due. I had never met Minerva before .
. . before that day.
I began weaving early because early light is truly the best to work to. My followers were already gathering on blankets and on top of pillows. I was finishing up a funeral shroud for my father when an old woman walked up to me and began to ask some very pushy questions. She wanted to remind me that I am only mortal, and that I should not show such disgrace towards a goddess so powerful. If I were only to ask it, Minerva would grant me pardon.
Well, what could I do? This woman just waltzes in and preaches to me! I put her in her place, and again invoked my challenge on that 'oh so powerful goddess, Minerva, whom I did not fear then.
Before my eyes the old woman transformed into a gorgeous woman with flowing black hair curbed by a shining helmet. "She is here!" yelled the woman. It took all the courage I possessed not to avert my eyes, or even run, from this terrible beauty. But I remained defiant in my stupid passion. I glared at that great gray-eyed goddess and walked over to set my loom, and she walked to hers. Without speaking we began to weave, and each of us told very different stories with our looms.
Minerva's loom wove the epic feats of the gods. The twelve Olympians appeared in their various guises ruling over mortal men and women. In each corner of her tapestry she tried to warn me of what became of mortals who challenge gods. Each corner cried out Danger Arachne! but I didn't listen. Peaceful olive-wreath made its way around the edges as her signature.
I, still enraged that the goddess had come down and challenged me in my territory, began to weave the treacherous deeds of the gods! I wove about all the pain and suffering those immortals have caused mortals throughout history, and I should have taken a warning from my own yarn. But, my anger drove me on to weave things even more scandalous. I also wove the Olympian men in their various conquests of mortal women, betraying their immortal wives. This, I thought, will show her and all the gods! My pride blinded me to the consequences I was reaping.
When both Minerva and I finished, we stepped back from our looms with satisfaction gleaming in our eyes. She and Envy looked at my tapestry, and neither of them could find a single fault with my work. In her anger at my truth telling she grabbed her shuttle and began beating me. Now, this was no light goddess beating me, but the mighty Minerva, goddess of war as well as weaving. She beat me until I could take no more. Crying for mercy I somehow crawled out from under her wrath, noosed my neck, and hung myself.
Only now did her pity set in. But, it was the pity of a goddess, great and terrifying, and nothing to be envied. She came and with one arm set me on the ground while I struggled to die. She commanded me and all of my children to live on, but hang forever from my own threads. And then the transformation began . . . .
My arms and legs stretched into pairs until I had eight, and then shriveled up on my stomach. My hair, nose, and ears fells off, and a shiny black chitin took their place. I shrank and shrank until I was no bigger than a thumbnail as the goddess laughed at her cruel joke.
And here I sit, spinning my web in the corner of some barn. Now, no one comes to watch me spin, and neither my children nor I will ever be able to forget the art I used to practice. Nor will they be able to forget my hubris that damned us all. |
