Wine and Poison Chapter 5 - Requiem

The faces of those who did not recognize the god at once went white, especially Inashan, who had been so insulting that she seemed to faint at any moment.

 

The god was merciful, but he was also heartless, and at times he was downright vicious. 

 

The anecdote of the virgin goddess who cursed a man to be turned into a deer for spying on her bathing was but a minor incident that illustrates the god’s single-mindedness.

 

The God of Wine.

 

The god of madness and revelry who returned from the dead.

 

A seductive demigod born of Zeus, king of the gods, and Semele, Princess of Thebes.

 

To escape the wrath of Hera, he drank goat’s milk instead of his mother’s, and was raised in the care of nymphs.

 

Dionysus, who occupied the twelve seats of the temple on Mount Olympus, was a very special god, especially in Thebes.

 

His mother, Semele, was the daughter of Cadmus, king of Thebes.

 

After Semele was seduced by Hera and burned to death by lightning, Cadmus’ daughters, instead of pitying their sister, claimed that she had fallen in love with a mortal man and that Zeus was to blame.

 

When Dionysus returned to Thebes as a grown man from the hands of the nymphs, Pentheus, then king of Thebes and son of Agave, Semele’s sister, insulted him, calling him a deceiver.

 

But Dionysus, who had brought his followers with him like a cloud, was not angered, he laughed and organized a festival.

 

At the celebration, Agave, driven to madness, mistook Pentheus for a wild boar and cut off her own son’s head, causing her to be forever insane.

 

Dionysus was still laughing softly at the time.

 

This story has been passed down through the generations by the royal family of Thebes by word of mouth. 

 

It was not written down, but was told to them from their mothers and fathers from an early age if they were descended from the royal blood of Thebes.

 

Do not incur the wrath of Dionysus.

 

For you are sure to know a sorrow worse than death.

 

The King of Thebes glanced up at the wanderer. His lips, peeking out from under his hat, were smiling as always.

 

Shuddering.

 

Children killing their mothers, mothers killing their children… His head spun. 

 

Such tragedy would be prevented by throwing himself down. The king of Thebes bowed so deeply that his head touched the ground.

 

“I will gouge out the eyes of this lowly creature who dared to disrespect the gods, so please forgive my wife for her insolence…!”

 

“Is there anything I need to forgive you for?”

 

“…”

 

“It was your wife, and not you, who spoke of cutting off limbs.”

 

“…”

 

“Forgiveness is not something you need me to ask for, is it?”

 

A faint chuckle sent a shiver down Theraon’s spine. There was no emotion in his voice to indicate that he wasn’t furious.

 

The natural laughter in his tone was more frightening than reassuring. 

 

Theraon had faced Dionysus as a child, but he had never been this afraid. 

 

An overwhelming sense of dread weighed on him, as if he had met another being.

 

He didn’t know when he had expected his visit, or how it had happened. Theraon could see the future. 

 

‘She would go mad. We’re all about to lose our minds!’

 

It was that moment.

 

“Ugh!”

 

A chilling groan pierced his ears. Thebes’s family, including Theraon, instinctively glanced up, and there they saw it, their father’s left eye gouged out.

 

“Ha, haa, ugh.”

 

A guttural groan escaped his throat. The eyeball, plucked right down to its crimson nerve cords, fell to the floor. 

 

Inashan’s pupils rolled back as she watched her husband writhe in excruciating pain. Thekion picked her up as she fainted. Staring up at his father, eyes bloodshot red.

 

“Ah, Father.”

 

His lips trembling, the king of Thebes picked up his own eyeball from the floor, ignoring Theraon’s attempts to support him. He couldn’t pick it up at once because one of his eyes was missing. 

 

He took the dirt-covered eyeball in both hands and held it out to the gods.

 

“I offer it to you as a penance.”

 

“Oh, no. You didn’t have to do that.”

 

The sweet voice brought a subtle dissonance to the warehouse full of moans and cries. 

 

The Wanderer took off his worn hat. 

 

Thekion’s bulging eyes moistened at the corners. He looked at the wanderer in that state.

 

Despite his voice, he looked ordinary. 

 

A man on the borderline of boy and manhood, with clear white skin and piercing black eyes that looked as if they had been shrunken and embedded in chestnuts, but with nothing special about his features.

 

Stories of the god’s shapeshifting appearance were often told, so there was no doubt that he was Dionysus, even if not in the glorious form they remembered. 

 

Only the peculiar cane, wrapped around the vines of a tree, suggested that it was indeed his. 

 

Why hadn’t they seen that first, and why hadn’t they told their mother as soon as their suspicions arose? 

 

Swallowing his bitter regret, Thekion spoke in his capacity as Thebes’ first prince and next king.

 

“I beg of the gods. Please…”

 

His voice trembled, even for a man who never blinked at anything.

 

“I dare hope you will forgive my family’s insolence.”

 

“What are you so afraid of, I had no intention of doing anything to you in the first place.”

 

Dionysus absentmindedly sailed the broken wine away, the red splatter on his cheeks looking almost like blood.

 

The generous words did not reassure Thekion. Everyone knows that Dionysus was a god to be reckoned with.

 

Thekion felt both helpless and awestruck, as all mortals do when they encounter a god. 

 

His father’s groan sounded weak, as if it might break. Theraon nudged him with his elbow, urging him on, but Thekion didn’t budge.

 

‘He didn’t order me to move away.’

 

He, the god they had worshiped and waited for, Dionysus, had not told them to step aside.

 

Having witnessed his father’s deeds before his very eyes, Thekion’s nerves were on edge. He was determined. 

 

‘I will do nothing to defy the judgment of the mighty.’

 

No wonder his father had given his eye so willingly. He would not make any more mistakes. 

 

His family was his to protect.

 

The family held their breath, as if they sensed the tension in Thekion’s hard, tense shoulders.

 

There was a silence, stiff and cold as an amphora.

 

Thump, thump—

 

Thekion’s heart beat erratically.

 

Dionysus had often visited Thebes unannounced, but never before had he been so lost. 

 

What was with the childlike diminutive figure, and why was he breaking the precious wine, unless he was angry…

 

“We will have a feast.”

 

Thekion’s shoulders twitched.

 

Dionysus turned away from the cellar, where there was nothing left, his whispers carrying with them the scent of grapes.

 

“I’m going to hold a festival in honor of my mother, Semele. I’m going to throw out all the old wine, and I’m going to put new wine in new pots.”

 

“Yes, as you command, I will do my best.”

 

A festival organized by Dionysus.

 

In Dionysus’ hands, what was once mere crushed grape juice is transformed into a wine of exquisite flavor. 

 

No need for the long process of fermentation and aging.

 

It was one of the reasons why everyone waited for Dionysus’ return. 

 

This festival would allow Thebes to rise to new heights. Even Theraon and the stunned Inashan talked eagerly about the wine festival. 

 

At any other time, she would have been flushed with excitement, but her mother has fainted and her father writhes in pain from the loss of his eye. 

 

Theraon wore a strange expression of mingled grief and joy, and Thekion’s face was darker than before.

 

Dionysus visits Thebes.

 

And Thebes finds itself in a state of madness.