Wine and Poison Chapter 1 - The Witch and the Young Wanderer of Mount Cithearon

“I can’t go on like this.”

 

The beautiful face was wet with tears. 

 

Her long, slender blond hair was pinned up and secured with a grape-shaped gold brooch, and her neatly clasped hands and form-fitting dress were noble and dignified, if somewhat boring.

 

Inashan, Queen of Thebes, crossed her arms and examined her husband’s closed eyes.

 

Frustration surged through her otherwise casual expression. Her husband thought of Thebes as a sacred fortress, unassailable by any evil. 

 

It was not unreasonable to think so, of course, since it was the home of the gods, and she had thought so a little. 

 

However, the problem that was plaguing her nowadays was far too vicious to be dismissed as something that would take care of itself.

 

“There must be an evil witch living in that mountain.”

 

“What’s the matter? Mount Cithaeron is not officially part of our Thebes.”

 

Irritation flashed across the King of Thebes’ wrinkled eyes. 

 

He wasn’t wrong. The mountain range south of Thebes was a mountain range that did not belong to Thebes. But it lay beneath it. 

 

‘In human terms, right under your feet!’

 

“You must be sleeping well, even with that ominous feather under your bed.”

 

At his wife’s sarcasm, the King of Thebes finally opened his eyes sharply.

 

“There must be someone living there; the people who climb the mountain wouldn’t be so frightened. But that doesn’t mean that no one has been harmed, does it? What if something happens when we send our soldiers out into that wilderness?”

 

“What do you mean, no one was harmed? My son sprained his ankle.”

 

Inashan whispered melancholy. 

 

The king of Thebes clicked his tongue. His youngest son was a daredevil, exploring wherever he was told not to dare. 

 

Most recently, he’d gotten himself into trouble for climbing Mount Cithearon, a mountain that a servant of his had ordered off-limits.

 

The King of Thebes muttered inwardly to himself that he would have to beat his youngest son’s greedy head against a brick wall. 

 

Wondering why his wife, who had acknowledged the mountain’s nuisance but refused to actively address it, was bothering him so much.

 

“He told me that there was an old hut in the mountains, and that something very hideous was living there, boiling something in a big pot the size of a child’s torso, and that it smelled foul, as if it were not something grotesque enough.”

 

“He’s always been a braggart, and I’m sure he’s exaggerating, but do you really believe him? You’re too weak for children.”

 

Meanwhile, her husband was far too cold.

 

“Our youngest has nightmares every night, and you wouldn’t be able to stand still if you saw the poor thing.”

 

But he was a father, too, albeit a rather cold one compared to her. He might be a bit of a troublemaker, but he’s a sweet boy.

 

At the mention of their son’s distress, his impassive face softened slightly, and Inashan spoke up.

 

“You also said that Dionysus will be visiting soon, and my youngest will no doubt tell him about that wicked witch, so why don’t we take care of it before the gods do? I’m not suggesting that we send a whole army of soldiers, just a few, to find out who she is.”

 

This time around, things seem to work. The husband being weak, the gods and the people being safe.

 

“I’ll pick a few soldiers with sharp feet.”

 

Inashan’s countenance brightened. 

 

The King of Thebes warned with a stern look in his eyes.

 

“We will only see if this person is dangerous or not.”

 

“Of course. There’s no way the soldiers will be in harm’s way.”

 

Inashan thought to herself, ‘If I can cure my youngest’s insomnia, what’s the harm in cutting a witch’s head off?’

 

🫧

 

Mount Cithearon, a place closely watched and guarded by the king of Thebes and his family.

 

The mountains, which bordered Thebes from the neighboring regions, were uninhabitable due to their high and rugged terrain, but their sparseness meant that herbalists risked their lives to climb them.

 

From oregano, which commonly used in cooking, to wild ginseng, a blue-leafed root herb whose leaves are said to prolong life if taken in a daily decoction, herbalists traveled to Mount Cithearon every day in search of wild herbs. 

 

These would be worth a fortune if released into the market.

 

Usually trudging along at the foot of the mountain range, the herbalist would venture deep into the wilderness with a smile on his face.

 

“This place is crazy! The deeper I go, the more precious herbs I find. My goodness, there are so many green leafy roots!”

 

The thought of making a fortune selling herbs made him drool. 

 

As he picked up every herb he could find, he cursed the old herbalists in the village who stopped him.

 

“What kind of witch is there in these harsh mountain lands. She must be out in the fields picking up lyre.”

 

Maenades was a term for a frantic woman, a follower of the god Dionysus with strong ties to Thebes. 

 

They were a group of women who drank, danced, and sang their way into ecstasy, but when things got out of hand, they would turn into ferocious monsters, overturning men twice their size.

 

In Thebes, women who were often addicted to alcohol or acted bizarrely were called Maenades.

 

In the city of Thebes, which had Semele, the mother of the god Dionysus, as its princess, the word meant something like that.

 

“Which Maenade live and wander fearlessly.”

 

Chuckling, the herbalist continued boldly into the depths of Mount Cithearon, until he came to a place not even marked on the herbalists’ well-traveled map.

 

The ground was gently sloping and dotted with long-branched trees. 

 

The branches and green leaves blocked out the sky, so it was dark even though it was still daylight. 

 

It was damp and soft, as if it had rained, and the footprints were clear. To his dismay, there was no sound, not even the common mountain bird’s whine.

 

‘This seems like a bad place.’

 

The herbalist frowned. He was what herbalists might call reckless, but as someone who lived off the mountains, he didn’t downplay the dangers that lurked there.

 

‘Wild beasts might live here.’

 

A chill ran down his spine. 

 

The herbalist slowly retraced his steps back the way he’d come. Then, through the dense foliage, he saw something familiar.

 

Upon closer inspection, it was a hut.

 

At first glance, the old hut was hidden in a place that would pass unnoticed.

 

“A house in this place?”

 

Puzzled, the herbalist paused for a moment. 

 

If it was a hunter’s home, it was better to pass by without touching it, they were usually blunt and rough, and if they saw someone trespassing on their territory, they might start a fight.

 

As he was about to turn back, the herbalist’s eyes caught sight of the bushes inside. 

 

Green leaves were peeking out from under the bushes. His eyes widened.

 

‘Is that wild ginseng?’

 

He swallowed hard, his feet halting.

 

‘Maybe it’s not a hunter’s home?’

 

Even tramps cast out of the towns sought out the mountains. If they learned to live in the mountains, they wouldn’t starve to death.