Dionysus (Greek God Romance Book 1) (19 page)

“I am older than any man walking this damn planet, and I’m
still
as dumb as them.”

Every woman on the planet had the sudden urge to nod slightly.

He slowly exhaled and opened the front door. He carefully closed the door behind him and slid down to the floor in front of her apartment.

DID YOU HEAR THAT, BEATRICE? HE’S A GOD!

Dionysus’ followers were unique in that they had names and not simply named Dionysus’ followers. They were the maenads, and as introduced before, the satyrs. Which followers hung around him depended on his mood and attitude, he had been on a millennia long bender, and so, his chosen company had been the satyrs. The maenads during his time as a youthful god represented what would later be engrained in those who followed the theme: love, sex and rock and roll.

Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, and Janis Joplin all coincidentally led a lifestyle of sex, drugs and rock and roll. They all died at the same age. Their ancestors had encountered Dionysus and his entourage many years prior. The wildness had been passed down from generation to generation.

At this time as the world grew older, the satyrs, for the most part, kept to their ancient lifestyle of drinking and debauchery. The maenads, however, had grown up.

Dionysus sat down with a picnic made. There was an area in the forest around the outskirts of Olympus that he liked to clear his mind at. The maenads slowly trickled in. Eight remained from what used to be hundreds. They kept the same youthful appearance drawing the envy and jealously of any woman they encountered and lust from the opposite sex, and, of course, lust from the same sex.

Dionysus looked up. “Sit. Let us eat.” They sat down, smirking at him, knowing he wanted to unload what burdened him—and suspecting who it concerned.

The other part that made Dionysus’ followers distinct from others was that every maenad had at one time had relations with Dionysus. He had some weird, forgettable nights with a few satyrs as well, but those occurrences happened in his youth and in a haze of drunkenness while in the thralls of an orgy with the maenads.

“What brings you our way, Dionysus?”

“Let me tell you a story.”

He recounted the events as he saw them with Rebecca. The maenads stayed silent during his telling of the story. He may have acted shocked by their response but that was a façade. He had known all along what would happen when he did this:

“You idiot.”

“Moron.”

Another sighed. “I can’t believe it.”

Dionysus said, “What?”

The maenad always known to console approached and slapped him. “How do you
still
hold that woman in your heart? Has Hades told you?”

“Told me what?”

“He is deaf.”

Another shook her head. “Doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Can’t hear it,” another added.

The consoling one laid her hand on his. She said, “Theseus and Ariadne live blissfully in the Underworld together. They live the life she always imagined for them.”

Dionysus stared blankly.

“Is he serious?”

“He can’t be serious.”

“I never cared for that woman.”

Dionysus said, “I know.”

“Do you remember what happened when you first met Ariadne?”

He drifted to the past, hated it and stopped. “Of course, I remember.”

“Ah. . . He doesn’t touch it.”

“Never did.”

“Let me remind you, she cried for weeks for Theseus after he left. You convinced her there was more to live and saw the love in her but—”

“She never loved you back.”

“Never did.”

“Hated us.”

“Definitely.”

“You left us.”

“Until she passed.”

He said, “I had to.”

One shook her head vehemently. “No, you did not, you chose to not listen. You chose to be with her even though she did not love you back.”

“It was my prerogative.”

One nodded, the consoling one. She said, “Indeed, Dionysus. But when we all told you she was bad for you, you should’ve listened.”

He nodded solemnly.

“Do you remember the note she wrote?”

“I should’ve never told you about that.”

“You should’ve listened. You had to tell us. You knew her heart was elsewhere. Why do you still linger for her when Rebecca is here and loves you back?”

“Because—Because. . .” He knew it; he knew he had to say it to them too. “Because I am a god, I don’t
lose!
She should’ve been mine.”

“Here we go.”

Another rolled her eyes and gestured with her hand. “Oh. . . here we go.”

“Did you hear that, Beatrice? He’s a god!”

The fiercest of the maenads stood up. Her hair was fire red to match her eyes that pierced Dionysus. He would never admit it. But as the years gone by, he feared her more and more—especially her sharp tongue. “What makes you above the rest?”

“I am a god.”

“And?” She shrugged, moved her hand around. “This world grows old. I expected so much more of you, but at last, your head is stuck with the rest of the Olympians.”

“I am
so
much more progressive.”

“You haven’t seen the world these days. It moves, it flows, it cannibalizes itself. If you aren’t evolving with the times, you’re dust on the wind. Do you remember the chain book store, Borders?”

“I remember Apollo cursing the name.”

“Because he liked the independent bookstores.”

“Yes,” he said nodding along, “yes, he did.”

“What happened?”

“Borders came along and ate them up.”

She perused, “Exactly, there were books, toys, and activity sets. It broadened the horizon then it made the mistake of thinking it could exist as it was, always.”

“Borders is gone?”

She laughed bitterly. “Absolutely. It had to be this way because it didn’t evolve. It didn’t move and flow. Amazon came along, and poof”—she made a small explosion with her right hand, following it with her eyes into the air—“gone. Never to be seen again. Do you get where I’m going with this? You
need
to accept that being a god means nothing.”

He said incredulously, “Nothing?”

“Absolutely.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No. . . can’t be.”

She chuckled. “You
need
to accept that you can lose and will lose.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “It is sad this lesson
still
hasn’t come to Olympus.”

Dionysus did not reply, lost in thought and staring through her.
How have I done this to myself? To Rebecca?

He chose not to speak this aloud, having been wrong enough for one day and not caring to hear what they would say, what he
knew
they would say. He was wrong, so wrong, but like many burrowing creatures, kept himself hidden, afraid to come out to the surface, once more.

THE MYTH OF THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR

One of the great stories of Greek Mythology was the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur:

King Minos waged war against the Athenians after his son was assassinated. After his successful campaign, the Athenians had to pay tribute to King Minos by sending seven boys and seven girls every nine years to be devoured by the Minotaur. Theseus volunteered to slay the Minotaur in order to stop this tribute and save their lives. Upon arrival, Ariadne falls in love with him and gives him a ball of thread, so he can find his way out of the Minotaur’s home, the Labyrinth.

Theseus finds the Minotaur at the center of the Labyrinth and slays him while he sleeps. He uses the string to escape with the boys and girls, Ariadne, and her sister, Phaedra. They fall asleep on a beach in Crete where Athena awakes Theseus and has him set sail leaving Ariadne and Phaedra. Dionysus finds Ariadne weeping, consoles her then the two wed.

Or so, the tale goes. . .

THE TRUE TALE OF THE MINOTAUR AND THESEUS

The
true
tale of the Minotaur and Theseus as retold by Ariadne and then told by Dionysus himself was quite different then the one portrayed in Greek Mythology.

While it is true that a god never forgets, it does not absolve them from having their heart interfere or even their mind, to save their soul. Facts blur and fictions become truths, and so, in the depths of despair, Dionysus wrote down what he knew of the events in a journal.

The following is an excerpt from Dionysus’ journal:

King Minos lost his son at the Pan-Athenian games. He was assassinated by some particularly foul denizens who had lost a high wager because the boy defeated their favorite that they bet the house on—killing the boy was more out of cynical retribution then out of necessity.

During this time, Crete was annually sacrificing seven boys and seven girls to the Minotaur in the Labyrinth. The Labyrinth was designed to trap the Minotaur and keep it in a state of hibernation for all time; however, a Crete noble son of a distinct conniving and devious nature broke the seals and entered the Labyrinth with his girlfriend. They were lost in the Labyrinth. And by the time the parents alerted the King and Queen, they had been eaten by the Minotaur. Hermes helped relay the message to the citizens of Crete that the Minotaur would not consume them all if they sacrificed seven boys and seven girls annually. And this was how the people of Crete carried on for many years, the Minotaur woke for one day a year, devoured the sacrifices then hibernated until the next feast.

Word reached Athena about the incident with King Minos’ son, she was afflicted with horror by the vileness of the event. And in such a state of mind, she decreed that seven noble sons and seven noble girls would take the place of Crete’s children every other year to be sacrifices to the Minotaur.

This went on for a decade before Theseus came along. He, with the help of Ariadne, went to the Labyrinth not on the day of sacrifice but weeks before in order to slay the Minotaur while he slept.

Of course, what the two didn’t realize was that breaking the Labyrinth’s seals before the day of awakening voided all the seals and the agreement that Hermes had arranged with the Minotaur. This meant, if they were unsuccessful, he would rampage through Crete and the known world until stopped—if ever.

Their plan was of the highest folly, because although noble, it was doomed. The Minotaur had been alive during the reign of the Titans. He was an ancient, immortal beast that would take a god to handle or two or three. . .

Theseus and Ariadne’s foolish attempt had been fueled by love, lust and the desire to do good, which on it’s own can be mankind’s and a god’s worst idea.

This is a part of the story that I’ve based on speculation. I never spoke to Theseus about it. He never told Ariadne as far as I knew, but of course now, he may have told her. Theseus going into the Labyrinth should’ve been the end of him. I believe Hera came to him as he stepped inside, told him to wait in the peripheral and claimed to have followed the ball of thread back. She made a deal with Theseus and then the Minotaur. I know now what that deal had to be on both ends. But at the time, I was not privy to those events.

Athena rushed to Crete, hearing that Theseus intended to go inside the Labyrinth. When he came out, she waited by the beach with me. I thought if the Minotaur was released from the Labyrinth, I could coax him into a drunken stupor and a highly unexpected orgy then dispose of him in Tartarus and be done with him. Athena came to help, if brawn would be needed and to devise a plan that did not rely on me.

They came to the beach and told their story. Theseus claimed to have killed the Minotaur while it slept. He was alive and out of the Labyrinth. I was smitten by the sight of Ariadne and questioned no further. The night came and we all slept.

I went to get fresh fruit from a garden I knew nearby. When I came back, Athena and Theseus had left, leaving Ariadne alone. I figured Theseus leaving Ariadne to be one of those things, fleeting young love and such. I fell hard for Ariadne as we walked back to her home.

We grew close. . . or at least, I did. We married and then adventured around the world.

One day, she left me on a beach. I saw the Theseus’ sails on the horizon. I
almost
followed them to claim both their lives, but I loved her too much to do that.

I became an inconsolable heap, my maenads and satyrs left me for a time to roam and find joy elsewhere—only Silenus remained, but he was always on a drunken stupor of his own.

Years had gone by, I didn’t keep tabs on her but news of her offspring came to me. I decided to visit the beach where she left me and threw away our love. There, I found a golden apple inside a bush, discreet but meant for me to find.

The pieces started coming together. I ventured into the Labyrinth and found no bones, no Minotaur. I couldn’t believe it. I spent days trying to convince myself otherwise. But it was clear, Hera had been behind everything.