Wine and Poison Chapter 6 - Witch of Mount Cithaeron

As news of the upcoming festival of the god Dionysus spread throughout Thebes, there was a strange, palpable excitement in the streets. 

 

However, unlike the mishaps that usually accompany the city’s grand events, Thebes was unusually calm. 

 

Not because the king of Thebes was inexplicably blind, or for any other reason.

 

Rather, there was a sense of caution in the air, lest something unsavory should happen and spoil the occasion. 

 

If they did, and the festival was canceled, they would lose several days of sleep.

 

Wheezing—

 

Standing on the watchtower, Thekion gazed down at the citizens of Thebes with a complex face, working harder than usual. 

 

As he ascended the tower, he heard the chatter of the citizens in anticipation of the festival of Dionysus. Even the soldiers lamented that it was their day off.

 

“It’s our good fortune that Dionysus watches over Thebes, and those dull Athenians don’t realize how much fun we have.”

 

The common people knew that the festival was coming, but they didn’t know that it was organized by Dionysus himself. 

 

They assumed it was organized by the priests of the temple of Dionysus or the official maenades.  

 

If the mere borrowing of Dionysus’s name was enough to cause such a reaction, he would be horrified if they knew that Dionysus was actually staying in the palace.

 

‘Even if it were known that my father had his eyes plucked out for fear of incurring the god’s wrath.’

 

The people of Thebes loved Dionysus, the god of wine. Even his youngest brother, the most foolish of the Thebes royal family, was a deer in the face of Dionysus.

 

But Thekion didn’t see him as so beneficial to Thebes.

 

‘He is an ill-omened being.’

 

Athens, guarded by the wise goddess Athena, refers to Thebes as the cursed city. 

 

Thebes represents Dionysus, a god hated by Hera. 

 

He roams like a wanderer, unable to find rest, and the descendants of Cadmus are said to be a race of murderous, incestuous people, and Thekion sometimes heeds their words.

 

Would he truly honor and love this land that mocked his mother and humiliated him?

 

If anything, Dionysus was a blight on this land…

 

Thekion, who had been dazed, choked back his thoughts. It couldn’t be. No, it shouldn’t be. 

 

A curse on this land by a god conceived in the womb of Thebes.

 

He hastily erased the thought. If he continued, he might think something even more unholy. 

 

He stamped his foot down on the small surge of anger that rose every time he thought of his honored father plucking out an eye for his family. 

 

The gods had aided and abetted it, even urging it upon him.

 

He was the promising prince of Thebes, but in the face of the Great Gods, he was but a mere mortal.

 

🪶

 

A festival to honor the memory of my mother, Semele.

 

On the day of Dionysus’ command, a dark night fell over Thebes.

 

A great pyre burned in the great square in front of the palace. The smell of animals being roasted whole and skinned carried on the breeze. 

 

The smell of charred flesh whetted my appetite and excitement. 

 

Appetite was akin to lust, and the eyes of those who tore at the meat with their molars gleamed greedily as they searched for the opposite sex.

 

Those who freely tossed off their cloaks danced before him.

 

The dainty Lyre was not fit for this festival.

 

Clang, clang, clang!

 

The heavy notes of the timpanon carried on the wind, making people’s hearts beat faster.

 

Throughout the square, large, wide-spouted amphorae were placed, filled with well-aged wine. 

 

A special wine that gave the festival its name, Dionysus.

 

Each of them took a glass, freshly made at hand, and drank as much as they could, and then they danced and laughed all over again. 

 

They kissed men and women they’d never spoken to before. 

 

Embracing the opposite sex, whom they had always admired but never had the courage to confess. 

 

Clutched a sobbing woman’s breasts, slapped a fleeing rival across the cheek, and giggled instead of growled in response.

 

Not a word of intellect or sophistication came to mind.

 

Pleasure here, debauchery there.

 

Drink and lust, music and dancing.

 

Here lies the paradise of the world.

 

Those who refused to drink locked their doors, locked themselves in their homes, and turned away from the tempting songs and laughter outside.

 

A period of festivities organized by Dionysus. 

 

The three days of liberation from all morals and norms have arisen.

 

On the gates of the royal palace overlooking the square, Dionysus’ dark hair flowed gently as he stood on the border of manhood and boyhood. 

 

He held wine in his right hand, the staff of Thyrsus in his left, and looked down nonchalantly at the drunken fanatics.

 

‘Boring.’

 

The darkness deepened.

 

‘So much so that it’s killing me.’

 

The wine’s power gripped the men’s souls in a more potent way. The blinding darkness blinded their eyes to reason, and they pursued their instincts.

 

Sleepless, they recognized no distinction between one another. Siblings mingled, parents and children mingled in a lewd tangle. 

 

An obscene hell that could not possibly exist in this world unfolded in the form of heaven.

 

When the heavenly three-day festival was over, everyone would think they had dreamed. 

 

The seeds secretly conceived in their wombs would be the only trace of the day.

 

🪶

 

On the evening of Dionysus’s fourth day in Thebes, the royal dining hall echoed with the clatter of utensils. 

 

Despite the delicious food laid out before him, Dionysus only sipped his wine.

 

The royal family wore downcast faces or forced smiles. The King and Queen were the latter, the Second Prince the former. There was one who belonged to neither.

 

At the very last seat at the table, next to his brother, the blond Lancion, his eyes sparkling, glanced over at Dionysus as he sipped his wine.

 

Thekion glared at him in horror.

 

‘This imbecile.’

 

He was afraid that his father, who was blind in one eye, would incur the wrath of Dionysus if his youngest brother were to fall into the wrong hands. 

 

He was afraid he would have to gouge out the eyes of the entire family.

 

“Dionysus, you should try this. It’s very tasty,” said Lancion.

 

Undaunted by his brother’s glare, Lancion took the golden roasted chicken dish in front of him and placed it in front of Dionysus. 

 

Dionysus stared at the youngest prince with a piercing gaze. There was a collective gasp from the royal family, including Thekion.

 

Dionysus’s long eyelashes rose and fell slowly.

 

“Is there something you want from me, Lancion?”

 

“What? No, no, I dare not hope for such a thing…”

 

“Say it. When I’m in the mood.”

 

Lancion’s heart thumped like it was going to burst. 

 

Dionysus’s drunken, languid face made it impossible to tell if he was in a good mood or not.

 

His older brother had repeatedly warned him that Dionysus’s words were like poisoned honey, they might sound good, but the consequences might not be, but Lancion hadn’t listened.

 

They say Dionysus was a kind and amiable god. 

 

Look at him now. How gentle and kind his eyes are. 

 

His brother, unlike him, doesn’t know the god Dionysus, so he’s speculating for nothing.

 

An offer from such a great being. He sees this as an opportunity that may never come again. It was worth dragging his sore feet all the way here.

 

“I, I would like to be your disciple!”

 

“My pupil?”

 

Dionysus’s expression changed strangely.

 

“If I could make wine as delicious as yours, our city of Thebes could prosper forever. I would be your disciple and make Thebes a wealthy country that Athens would not be able to ignore.”

 

“You’re a bright boy, but being my apprentice is a grueling and arduous task. I cannot stay in one place for long, I must wander; I do not intend to stay in Thebes for more than a week, and you must leave the city with me, will that be all right with you?”

 

Lancion, who was content to stay in the royal palace for now and learn the art of winemaking from Dionysus whenever he visited Thebes, hesitated. 

 

As if he hadn’t expected him to have the courage to answer, Dionysus merely smiled sheepishly.

 

‘Boring.’

 

Alas, Thebes was a place devoid of excitement or emotion, except for the fun of mockery.

 

Lancion wiggled his toes in his shoes as his family stared at him in disbelief. 

 

Fearful that Dionysus would be disappointed in him, he felt compelled to say something.

 

“Well, actually, it’s because I hurt my foot. I went to exorcise a witch from Mount Cithaeron and fell for her cunning plan. If it weren’t for that, I would have followed you anywhere!”

 

“…A witch?”

 

Dionysus, pausing in his wine, gazed at Lancion. His face was somehow mundane now, but his jet-black eyes and intense gaze were disturbing, even for a man of his own gender. 

 

Blushing, Lancion was thrilled to have gotten his attention and told him all about the strange things that had happened to him.

 

In the story, the witch was portrayed as a very ugly and cruel figure, while Lancion was a poor boy who stood up for his people and barely managed to escape without being able to vanquish her. 

 

The stories were full of exaggerations, but some of them were true.

 

A herbalist had witnessed a grotesque old woman throwing away human bones.

 

And that her eyes were a bright yellow color.

 

Only two things were true.

 

Dionysus swirled the glass around. The wine’s rich aroma wafted up. Lancion’s expression grew dazed.

 

“Ah, yes, Dionysus, I want you to deal with the witch. If it were you, Dionysus, that fearsome witch would instantly bolt upright!”

 

Lancion, who worshiped Dionysus as much as Maenades, never knew. 

 

His laughter was more bitter than gentle, and his gaze toward Lancion was not unlike that of a lowly bug.

 

Thekion and his family glanced anxiously at Dionysus. 

 

Fortunately, Dionysus had no intention of punishing the youngest prince of Thebes, for his words were unexpectedly curious.

 

The golden eyes were the eyes of a beast. A human eye, the eye of a creature in an old woman’s form. 

 

Hearing the word witch in Thebes was different.

 

Breaking Hera’s curse was not in the cards for the time to come. 

 

One would have to seek out the wise goddess, the blessed one who could see all things, for answers, but at this time of year, she rests at the gates of the underworld, longing for her firstborn son.

 

A week in Thebes was my plan.

 

By the third day, I was getting tired of watching the festival madness. No, I’d already lost interest.

 

Perhaps it’s time to satisfy my curiosity…

 

A faint smile appeared on his bored face, like a child on the verge of some exciting adventure.