Dion: His Life and Mine

by Anstey, Sarah Cate

  I took an afternoon walk around the palace gardens. It amazed me that, in a busy city like Athens, there was this secluded area of green peace and tranquillity. Hippolytus joined me. He was especially keen to hear about Oinopion and Staphylos and expressed his disappointment that they hadn’t come with me.

  “They’re busy working on projects on Crete.” I told him, hoping I didn’t sound curt.

  “I would have thought they would have come to an event that honoured their father.”

  “Like I said, they’re very busy and they like to keep out of the limelight as much as possible.” Hippolytus nodded his understanding.

  “Still, they must be so proud that their father was the lead singer of Libertia!”

  “Yes,” I said carefully, “they are very proud of their father and his … musical abilities.” It was the truth. His sons were proud of their father and recognised his genius. However, the man they loved bore no resemblance to the man Hipplolytus, and others like him, loved. This had been one of the reasons why they had, politely, declined the invitation that had been extended to all of us. They saw no reason to celebrate the life of a man they never knew, a life that had been created by strangers and so was remote from them. Dion, of Libertia-fame, was for the likes of Hippolytus. Their father was their own. It was a distinction I respected, initiated and instilled. Although, it was also true that they were busy with projects on Crete. They shared a united love of the place. Luckily, their relationship was harmonious. Whilst their love and ultimate goal was the same - the greater good of Crete, they had different interests, so there was no stepping on toes. Oinopion had followed in both his parents’ footsteps and had a particular interest in viticulture, whilst Staphylos had plans to build up Crete’s tourist industry.

  “It must be so cool to have a father as a rock god!”

  “Well, unfortunately, they don’t.” I, gently, pointed out.

  Hippolytus blushed.

  “It must be cool to have a hero, such as Theo, for a father,” I added.

  “But he isn’t, is he? Everyone thinks he’s a hero for killing the Minotaur, but he didn’t.”

  “He would have, if there had been one, or died trying. That’s what he had intended to do. Besides, he did kill the Minotaur. He met and saw my brother, for the person he truly was.”

  “It must have been awful to lose your brother like that.”

  “That wasn’t Theo’s doing. He would have stayed and fought with Aster. No, I meant that apart from his siblings and Daedalus, Aster knew nobody and was seen by nobody else. To the rest of the world he was a monster and I’m sure, despite the love we all lavished upon him, especially Andro, there must have been times, when he was alone, that he felt like one. Then your father came along - everything Andro had been and everything Aster wished he could have been. Yet, Theo never made him feel like a monster, ever. The friendship they shared made Aster feel human and for that reason your father will always be a hero to me.” It was only when I heard the words come out of my mouth, that I realised how much I meant them. “You must come and visit us all on Crete. I promise that you will get a warmer welcome than your father did.”

  “My father says he was treated very warmly on Crete, particularly by you and your brother.” Hippolytus sighed, “it must be nice to have brothers. Dad was always envious of your relationship with Aster and he says that Andro was an amazing athlete.”

  “Yes, he was and an even more amazing brother, which was more important to me, anyway!”

  “Of course, you were lucky to have him, and Oinopion and Staphylos are lucky to have each other. I often wish I had a brother I could confide in.” Hippolytus said this, as if the weight of the world had been placed on his back, while Atlas had a coffee break.

  “Well, Oinopion and Staphylos are sort of cousins and they can be the next best things.” This seemed to lift Hippolytus and at dinner we broached the subject with Theo and Phaedra. I suggested that Hippolytus travel back with me in two weeks’ time. Although Theo was pleased that I had extended a welcome to his son, he was also sad that Hippolytus wanted to leave Athens, so soon. He had only just returned from Troezen and would be visiting his mother’s relatives the following month.

  “Young people never seem to want to be at home! Do you have the same problem with your sons?”

  “I can’t honestly say I do. I think they spent their early life going here, there and everywhere, so that when we finally settled in Crete, they refused to budge again. That’s not to say they don’t like travelling, they just like being at home.”

  “Lucky you,” said Theo.

  “But look at me, Theo, I couldn’t wait to get away from home and you know I went through extreme heartache and tragedy to do so, and now where am I? Back on Crete, calling it home again. The difference is, I’m not forced to be there, and neither are my sons, which is why they stay.”

  “Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Phaedra said to my amazement. I didn’t think any suggestion from me would ever meet with her approval.

  “Besides, it’s not as if he won’t be with family, I’ll be going too.”

  “You will?” Hippolytus and I said in unison, although mine was from surprise. Phaedra had never shown any indication of wanting to return to Crete. Hippolytus’s outburst was more out of disappointment, possibly at the thought of his stepmother cramping his style.

  “Of course! Having you here, dear sister, has reminded me of the happy times we had on Crete and I am feeling nostalgic for it! Besides, it would be lovely to get to know my nephews after all this time!”

  Hippolytus shuddered. “Maybe, Dad is right, it’s probably best not to leave Athens so soon, the people might not like it.”

  I didn’t press Hippolytus for the reason for this U-turn; Theo looked so happy that his son had come round to his way of thinking. I simply said that the offer was open whenever Hippolytus wanted to take it up, which he assured me, he would.

  The festival went well. I remembered how nervous my mother had been before her first festival on Crete and appreciated effort Hippolytus’s efforts. Chorus tribute bands sang songs, but mainly the festival, to my surprise and delight, was focussed more on dramatic performances.

  “I wanted people to be able to express themselves and experiment with ideas, let out some of the emotions they keep bottled up inside themselves,” Hippolytus explained. I began to suspect that I had underestimated him. Theo had given money to Hippolytus, so he could build a theatre near the great Acropolis. Hippolytus called it ‘The Theatre of Dionysus’ and after the initial procession and music, the performances started. I laughed and cried with the rest of the crowd, enthralled with the talent in Athens. Over the years, I have heard that the festival has grown and grown. Competitions were introduced and some of the winners have been made famous all over Greece and as far as Crete. It is a festival Dion would have been proud to have given his name to and I wish both he and Hippolytus could have seen how it has flourished. Sadly, neither Hippolytus or I were able to attend another.

  On my last afternoon, Hippolytus and I had one last walk around the gardens together. Hippolytus’s disappointment at not coming to Crete with me had evaporated when his mother’s sister had brought his visit forward by a week. Theo couldn’t complain, as he was leaving, the day before, on a diplomatic trip. Hippolytus would be leaving a week after me and I could see he was counting down the days until his own departure.

  “I hope for your father’s sake that one day you will be as happy in Athens as I am, finally, on Crete. I know it would mean the world to him.”

  “Yes, but didn’t someone have to die, in order for you to feel happy on Crete?”

  I was thinking about this and what a curious thing it was for Hippolytus to say, when I realised we had come to a different part of the garden and that Hippolytus was hanging back.

  “It’s Phaedra’s garden,” he explained. “She doesn’t like anyone coming here.”

  “Phaedra’s garden?”

  “Yes,
it’s where she grows her herbs. You know, like the one she uses to treat my Dad’s asthma.”

  “Asthma?” It was the first I had heard of it.

  “Oh yes, his nurse at Troezen says I’m lucky that I haven’t inherited it. She used to be up with Dad all night, sometimes, when he was a baby.”

  I surveyed the garden. I recognised most of the plants and heard Bris’s voice listing their benefits: ginseng – for boosting energy; bilberry - for improving circulation; feverfew – for migraines, and ginkgo biloba – of course, for memory loss. This must be what Phaedra gave Theo, I thought, although I couldn’t for the life of me think why she should be so secretive about it. There was also another plant that I didn’t recognise and certainly hadn’t been indigenous to Crete.

  “She’s got quite a collection, hasn’t she?”

  “Yes, she gets a lot of them imported, some as far East as you can go without going West! It’s what she mostly asks from Dad for presents. That one,” he said pointing to the mysterious plant “is from China. It’s what Dad takes for his asthma.”

  “Oh,” I said then, trying to sound innocent. “You don’t happen to know what the name of it is, do you?”

  “Dad calls it ‘ephadra’, but I think that’s because it’s an anagram of Phaedra.”

  He turned to leave and I followed. That night I wrote a letter to the Mas. If they didn’t know what this strange plant was, no one would. I told them I had a friend who was an athlete who had trouble breathing and had been prescribed something called ‘ephadra’ and described the leaves for them. Should my friend be taking this? Did it have any side effects and was there something better for him?

  The next morning, after breakfast, I said my goodbyes to Theo, Phaedra and Hippolytus. Little did I know, as we made fruitless plans for further visits, that they would be final goodbyes. I took a ship to the island of Andro, where I posted the letter to the Mas and sent a message to Crete to say I should be back by the end of the week, so Oinopion and Staphylos had plenty of warning, to tidy up the palace. From Andro I travelled to Siros, relishing the time on my own after being a house guest. I spent three nights on Naxos, with Nyx, before catching the boat to Thira, bound for Crete.

  It was while I was stopping off on Thira, before the boat made its way to Crete, that I heard the news. Hippolytus was dead and Phaedra had killed herself. The papers were full of it and, as always, hadn’t bothered to do any proper research, never letting the facts get in the way of a good story. Until the truth came out, the race was on to see who could come up with the most sordid tale in order to sell the most papers.

  By the time I arrived home, the truth was out. When I left Athens, Theo and Phaedra had just finished packing to go to Sparta. They would be gone a week; the day before their return, Hippolytus was planning to leave to visit his relatives in Sarmatia. While in Sparta, Phaedra suddenly ‘remembered’ urgent business that she needed to return to, in Athens and left earlier than Theo. She arrived back, the day before her stepson was due to leave. It is unclear if Phaedra had made advances towards Hippolytus before. She certainly did enough to make him feel uncomfortable, which is why he never wanted to stay very long in Athens and why, I realised, he didn't take me up on my invitation to Crete, once Phaedra had invited herself. It is unclear as to why Phaedra chose this particular moment to declare her feelings for Hippolytus, but she did and demanded that he help her ‘get over him’ while his father was away or suffer the consequences. He, of course, refused and left Phaedra tearing her hair out and screaming down the palace. She had a night to decide upon her revenge.

  Theo arrived home the next morning to a scene of carnage. Phaedra, mascara running, sporting a black eye and wearing ripped clothes, told him what his precious son had ‘done’. She took his hand and dragged him to their bedroom so he could see the damage Hippolytus had caused. The door was off its hinges and the bed was smeared with blood.

  With so much evidence, and without his son there to testify to the contrary, Theo might be forgiven for believing his wife. She was, after all, extremely attractive, still in her prime and Hippolytus was ‘at that age’. They had also had an unconventional stepmother/stepson relationship, which Theo seemed to forget his wife had instigated when his son was only twelve. Theo had to make the painful decision of sending out a warrant for his only child’s arrest.

  Meanwhile, on the road to Sarmatia, Hippolytus was oblivious to what was being played out back home. Who knows what was going through his mind? He obviously felt he needed to get away from Athens. Maybe, he was planning to divulge everything to his mother’s relatives when he got to Sarmatia. Perhaps, he thought Phaedra would calm down and they could both pretend nothing had ever happened. Maybe, he was secretly relieved that what he had suspected, had finally come out, and hoped that they would both be able to move on, without his father knowing. We’ll never know. What we do know is that he never reached Sarmatia and he never returned to Athens. Hippolytus’s horses were startled by something and the beautiful boy was trampled under their feet until he was practically unrecognisable.

  When the news reached Theo, he was devastated. Hippolytus’s death saved Theo from having to confront his son. However, he was unable to avoid scandal. Phaedra, on finding that her plan was working, had been able to compose herself, but broke down, completely, when she heard that Hippolytus was dead. At first, Theo put it down to the recent trauma she had suffered, but then he found her, swinging from the bedroom ceiling, and her note. In it Phaedra admitted everything, including her ‘love’ (if you can call it that) for her stepson. Now he was dead, her life was not worth living. I cannot even imagine what must have gone through Theo’s mind. I wrote a letter of condolence, but he didn’t respond. It seemed our families were, forever, destined to do each other harm.

  My own sons greeted me when I got home and I clung to them for dear life. They’d heard the news and understood and devotedly embraced me back. When I had sufficiently composed myself, Staphylos gave me my post, which included a letter from Ma Three and what she had written was devastating.

  Ma Three started by saying that she was sorry that my friend was having such a terrible time with asthma. The plant I had described so well was indeed ephadra, and while it was true that it did help with respiratory problems, if taken constantly it had horrendous side-effects, including psychosis, stroke and memory loss. She suggested my friend tried gingko biloba instead. Not only would this help with asthma, but it would also increase memory, but surely I knew that already? She finished by saying that she hoped I had had a wonderful time with my sister and how happy she was that we were getting along. She hoped I would arrive home safely, that all the Mas sent their love to me and wanted to know when the two young scamps (Oinopion and Staphylos) would be visiting next.

  Snap shots of the past flashed before my eyes: Phaedra always sitting by Theo, at dinner in Knossos; Phaedra always offering to get Theo a drink if he needed one and a memory of the shelf where Aster kept his tools, the containers with Chinese symbols on them. Aster had said that Phaedra had books on constellations sent from China. What else had she learnt from the East? Of course, I had no proof that Phaedra had known of the side effects. She had evidently treated Theo’s asthma soon after he had arrived on Crete, for I had never even known he suffered from it. But then I also had no idea that my sister knew as much about plants as I did, if not, it seems, more. It may have been an innocent mistake or she may have given him ephedra in the hope that he would forget about me. I may be being unfair towards her. All I have as proof is that in her garden she had two plants that would help breathing problems - one which aided memory and one which didn’t, and Theo’s memory lapses seemed to happen when he was near Phaedra. Of course, she was clever enough to make sure he had periods of clarity and probably switched the doses so that no one got suspicious. I had no evidence, but I was always convinced that she switched the destination of the yarn in The Labyrinth and now I am convinced she was the reason Theo left me on Naxos.

  O
h, Phaedra!

  She had been, in some way, responsible for so many lost lives; Bris, Aster, Aegeus, Icarus, Hippolytus and finally her own. Yet, her actions had, indirectly, led me to Dion and, for that, despite all the destruction and heartache, I shall be eternally grateful.

  List of supplementary material

  Minos and Pasiphaë’s Wedding

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/minos-and-pasiphaes-wedding/4576636390

  Baby Aster

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/asters-arrival/4576636517

  Amazing Andro

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/andro-cover/4576636776

  Agave Alone

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/agave-cover/4576636998

  Athenian Expectation

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/theo-cover/4576637116

  Liberating Libertia Return to Naxos

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/naxos-newspaper/4576637180

  Theo’s Homecoming

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/theos-homecoming/4576637290

  Manic Minos

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/minos-and-daedalus-article/4577792081

  Pretty Princess

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/phaedra-article/4575842258

  Thiasus cover

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/thiasus-cover/4576637559

  Dion Discredited

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/dion-discredited/4576637682

  Dion and Ariadne’s Wedding

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/ariadnes-wedding/4576637780

  Interview with Pan

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/pan-interview/4577694339

  Semele Review

  http://www.mynovelideas.co.uk/semele-review/4577713011