Wine and Poison Chapter 11 - A Strange Cohabitation

Most gods take for granted the way humans treat them. 

 

Dionysus was no different in the grand scheme of things. 

 

However, he was, according to Zeus, a bit more cunning and devious than the other gods in that he took an inordinate amount of pleasure in playing tricks on humans.

 

Dionysus was momentarily confused, determined to make the old woman his worshiper, but not until she whispered to him that she loved him like any normal woman would.

 

He knew all about insanities, and among them were those who were mad in love. 

 

A destructive emotion that would give everything for the sake of another.

 

This eccentric old woman, whose name he still didn’t know, would be like that if she fell in love. 

 

Like Maenades, who made a lion of him, and stood up to a real lion, for his pleasure.

 

Dionysus smiled darkly. The old woman glanced at him, unaware of what her self-proclaimed pupil was thinking. 

 

Dionysus rolled his eyes reflexively and said, “Can I help you with anything?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

The old woman said bluntly and got up. 

 

Expecting her to just go back into her room, as usual, Dionysus prepared to clean up.

 

“You’ve eaten well.”

 

“…?”

 

“I’m going to be working on my research today, so I won’t be eating dinner, so just make sure you have something to eat.”

 

“In that case, I’ll prepare a quick snack for you instead of a meal.”

 

The old woman turned away without another word, which was her way of saying, ‘Do as you’re told’. 

 

Dionysus, absentmindedly thinking about the kind of snack he might make for dinner, turned his head again and looked toward the room where the old woman had disappeared.

 

The conversation, just now, was so natural.

 

He tilted his head to the side. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was feeling pretty chipper. 

 

This was exactly how he’d felt when he’d tamed the fierce dog that had been so wary.

 

It had only been a week, until today. The wise goddess would have already returned to her land. 

 

According to the original plan, he should have left Thebes, not just Mount Cithaeron.

 

But somehow, it was a shame to leave now.

 

Dionysus looked down at his bowl, still barely touched, and without hesitation tossed it into the trash basket. 

 

The dishes had been laboriously prepared, but their purpose had been to put the old woman’s guard down, so their job was done. 

 

As he cleared away the dishes, he hummed a tune.

 

His relationship with the old woman had evolved. Even though he was being treated like a cook who sacrificed every meal to help her, Dionysus was enjoying himself. 

 

The more difficult the prey, the more competitive he became. 

 

Compared to his lightheartedness when he first climbed the mountain, Dionysus was quite serious now. 

 

It was clear that his request to become a disciple was going to be a long one. 

 

The mountain that the old woman, whose name we still don’t know, lives on proves to be quite difficult to climb. 

 

Like this mountain, Mount Cithaeron, where she resides.

 

It didn’t matter if it took a year, two years, or years to conquer. 

 

The longer and harder one perseveres, the richer and sweeter the pleasure ripens, like a cluster of ripe grapes.

 

🫧

 

The old woman rarely made flippant jokes or spoke of personal matters. 

 

As Dionysus watched, she once went as long as a day without spitting out a word, and would have gone even longer if he hadn’t been a persistent lark.

 

After breakfast, the old woman tended to the herbs she’d gathered yesterday, trimming and chopping them. 

 

As the table was cleared, Dionysus stood behind her and watched her work. 

 

The old woman seemed uncomfortable with his presence, but she didn’t tell him to leave, so Dionysus shamelessly stuck by her side.

 

The sun rose high above the cabin in an uncomfortable silence. 

 

In the afternoon, the old woman threw herself into her work in earnest.

 

Dionysus watched as she lugged something from the room she used for storage to the fire pit. It was a large bag.

 

“I’ll do it, Master. Your back must be hurting.”

 

The old woman didn’t even pretend to hear him. Dionysus glanced at the offered hand, then shrugged and withdrew it.

 

The old woman opened the entrance to the bag. Dionysus peered inside curiously, and his eyes lit up. The old woman pulled a skull from the bag.

 

— “The herbalist says he saw the witch throwing away human bones, and there were a lot of them!”

 

‘So it was true.’

 

The bag, big enough for a full-grown man, was filled with human bones. 

 

An old, ugly hag squatting down and examining them one by one, she must have looked like a witch to most people, but to Dionysus, who knew she had no magic, she only seemed eccentric and strange.

 

Obscenity, depravity, despair — Dionysus enjoyed, even encouraged, the sight of all that filth, but he hated filth and dirt.

 

Human bones, drained of life and reduced to trashy husks, were too filthy for him to even want to touch. 

 

He watched with distaste as the old woman wiped the skull’s skullcap with a rag without gloves.

 

“Did you kill these humans yourself, Master?”

 

He asked with a frown, and the old woman glanced at him. The usually easygoing smile crumpled into a grimace, and her impassive gaze changed to one of interest.

 

“What will you do if I say yes, will you run away?”

 

Dionysus lowered his gaze slightly to stare at the old woman. 

 

It was refreshing to see her willing to think for himself.

 

The old woman had often been annoyed by his usefulness, but this time she seemed curious to see how he would respond. Her gaze lingered for an unusually long time.

 

Dionysus frowned and curled his thin lips.

 

“Of course not. Who will take care of Master’s meals when I’m gone?”

 

“…”

 

“I still have a lot to learn, and you’re going to kick me out already?”

 

The old woman shook her head as if his witty retort did not amuse her.  Dionysus leaned down and brought his lips close to the old woman’s ear.

 

“I’m a little worried, though.”

 

“Worried?”

 

“I’m not used to killing.”

 

Dionysus’s fragrant breath brushed against the old woman’s auricle.

 

“I suppose I’d be a little embarrassed if my master asked me to kill a human.”

 

“Oh, it would not be. I’ll give you something to do with a creature who can barely dodge my blunt arrows.”

 

The corners of Dionysus’s mouth, which naturally exuded fascination, hardened. 

 

Where else but Hera, who hated him tooth and nail, would he have been treated with such disrespect, especially by an old, ugly, cranky old woman.

 

He straightened up again and looked down at the old woman, who was grinding human bones in a mortar and pestle as if she were trying to figure out what had just happened. 

 

Suddenly, the old woman laughed. Dionysus didn’t laugh, but he kept his voice gentle.

 

“Did you think of anything funny?”

 

“Yes. It’s funny that you thought of that.”

 

“…”

 

“You seem to think I’m good at killing people.”

 

“…As far as the apprentice is concerned, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

 

“I’ve noticed all along, you have a very persistent tongue.”

 

“…”

 

“There’s no need to kill people to gain notoriety.”

 

Well, it seems he’d already earned enough of that. 

 

According to the rumors spread by the loudmouthed herbalist, the witch of Mount Cithaeron was a terrifying creature. 

 

They’re even said to eat children alive, so it’s hardly surprising that an old woman who doesn’t know the truth of the rumors would be the one to speak of their infamy.

 

“I didn’t think you’d care about such things. Aren’t you a simple fellow, Master?”

 

“I’m not going to live here forever.”

 

Dionysus raised an eyebrow at the unexpected answer.

 

‘Perhaps one fateful day I shall venture down to the city.’

 

The old woman said, shifting the finely ground dust slowly.

 

“I never wish to kill people, I’d rather be nice to them.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you wanted to be good, I thought you were the kind of person who lived freely, with nothing to lose.”

 

He scoffed, ‘Then why are you doing this to me?’ 

 

Though the tone was calm, the old woman’s face frowned as if she sensed something was amiss.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What?”

 

“Something about your tone offends me.”

 

“My tone? Well, what offended you?”

 

Dionysus squinted, unsure of himself. The old woman gave him a sideways glance, as if she was uncomfortable, and then looked away.

 

“If I want someone to give me a funeral after I’m dead, and a boatload of money to pay for a ride, then so be it.”

 

Dionysus narrowed his eyes at the mumbled words. He could see the old woman’s hunched back and the graying of every hair on her head.

 

He realized anew.

 

The old woman was very old.

 

“So that I may enter the other side and meet those I miss.”

 

The voice sounded grave and devoid of any hint of irony, but there was a cold solitude in it that sent chills down his spine. 

 

Dionysus, who had maintained his stiff posture, was struck with a newfound curiosity. 

 

‘Why does this old woman live alone in this place?’ 

 

“These mountains are dangerous, and there are many bodies that have fallen to their deaths. If anyone catches sight of me, they fall off at the trailhead. When the families come to claim them, the bodies that are left behind are brought here and cremated. Although I couldn’t offer a silver coin, I could give them a funeral. These are the bones left over from that.”

 

“You use them to make poison, as well?”

 

“Yes. The crystals, when boiled with fine salt, heat up on their own. I’m trying to figure out if it can be used in some way. What would you suggest?”

 

She casually asked his opinion.

 

“In my opinion, human bone powder should be compounded with animal poison rather than used with poisonous mushrooms…”

 

An old woman crazy about ‘poison’. When it comes to poisons, she gets very serious, and Dionysus’s childish jokes don’t work on her. 

 

Moreover, she was surprisingly calm despite her first impression, and curious like a child for her age.

 

“That’s amazing. Where did you get that knowledge? The temple of Apollo?”

 

The old woman’s eyes twinkled. She tried to pretend she wasn’t, but she couldn’t hide her curiosity.

 

“What?”

 

The old woman pressed for an answer. Dionysus politely spoke up.

 

“There was a man who taught me basic herbalism.”

 

“One?”

 

“Well, more than one, if I must say so.”

 

“So you had a teacher in the first place, but how did you end up here?”

 

“Because he was a problematic man in more ways than one, and there is only one mentor for me.”

 

Dionysus smiled, a kind of smirk that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

 

The old woman looked disgusted. At first, he was offended by the old woman’s return of the favor, but now that he had grown accustomed to it, he scowled even more shamelessly.

 

But he was not wrong.