Twisted Mythology: Ariadne

by Ashleigh Matthews

  “What ails you?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Nothing now,” he told her as he pulled her closer to him.

  “You seemed a long way away, my love, when I came to you.”

  Until sleep overtook them, he spoke to her of a satyr named Ampelos. “He was my friend,” he told her. “We traveled together, wrestled and competed in all sorts of games. I was always better than him. I always won. It hurt his feelings, so I started letting him win on occasion. But he knew what I was doing. He wanted to win in his own right, on his own skill. When I was busy elsewhere, he started training to improve himself. He started taking too many risks. He thought I would be impressed if he came into camp riding a bull. But the bull was too strong and threw Ampelos to the ground, killing him.”

  Dionysus dosed off a moment later. Ariadne stayed awake a few moments longer, listening to his steady breathing. Her mind drifted back to Crete and the riots of the previous year; they had been closer to the shrine that time and unlike previous years several people had been killed. Minos had announced more people would die the next year if they staged these foolish protests so close to the shrine. He also proclaimed the sacrifices to the Minotaur would not stop. She missed now the sound of her father’s voice, his encouragements, and his laughter. But even if she wanted to go home, the King would not take her back. Let him think that Theseus had stolen her away.

  She came awake near midafternoon when Dionysus pulled away from her. She opened her eyes and saw him sit up. Ariadne pushed herself into a sitting position behind him and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her chin on his shoulder. A visitor had come to Naxos, it appeared. He was slender with wings on both his sandals and his hat. He gave them no introductions and simply passed on a message.

  “Father Zeus needs your help, brother,” the messenger said.

  Dionysus let out a single laugh. “Only when our kin has need of me do they pay me the notice I deserve. Tell me, Hermes, what is it that I can do for the almighty Zeus?”

  “We are a vengeful lot,” the messenger god said, a grin on his face. “Hephaestus was born hunched and ugly. The sight of him disgusted Hera. The Queen flung him off Olympus, and in the process she lamed him even further. Our brother may say otherwise, but I know he spent his days plotting his vengeance on his mother. In the guise of forgiveness, Hephaestus sent up a beautifully crafted chair for Hera. The Queen was delighted by the gift at first.” Dionysus let out a deep chuckle at Hermes’ words. “But when she sat on upon it, the chair made her a prisoner. Our father asks for your help in convincing Hephaestus to get Hera out of her prison.”

  “And why should I? Hera did drive me mad. I committed sins I would not have done otherwise if not for her meddling. Will Zeus give me a reason to be of assistance?”

  “You will be welcomed on Olympus,” Hermes told him. “Father Zeus has granted you a place among the gods. And you will be no minor god. Your standing will be greater than even Heracles.”

  Dionysus lifted a hand and rubbed her arm. For a moment he stayed utterly silent. Was this not what he had worked so hard to attain? All the stories she had been told about him had hinted that he had sought to the opportunity to live among his kin at his father’s court. Did he really need to consider this one courtesy towards the goddess who had driven him insane?

  “Give me our brother’s location,” Dionysus commanded, “and let our father know that I will be on my way after I make one stop. Hera can suffer a little longer. It will be my vengeance upon her.”

  Hermes chuckled. “Lemnos,” he replied and then vanished.

  Chapter 7

  “Aceles,” Dionysus called. An aging mortal man hobbled towards where she and the god still sat. “Prepare the ship. Make certain there is a generous amount of wine stored in the cargo. I leave within the hour.”

  The man bowed and then bellowed out a list of names. Out of the corner of her eye, Ariadne could see several others rise from where they had slumbered. They followed the man called Aceles through camp; their paces quickened upon hearing what Dionysus had commanded of them. She could not keep herself from smiling at the sight of their loyalty to this new god. A moment later, Dionysus pulled himself away from her. He called out for a meal to be brought for her and for someone to fetch a donkey. He knelt down next to the elderly satyr who shared their fire.

  “Silenus,” he said softly. When the satyr did not budge, the god pressed a hand on his shoulder. Only then did the satyr show signs of life. He moaned and lifted his head to look at Dionysus who smiled. “Can you stand, Silenus? I only ask for I have given the command for us to move on.”

  “So soon?” the satyr asked.

  Dionysus chuckled. “We’ve been here for months, my old tutor. Come, let me help you to your feet.”

  Another satyr approached Silenus on the other side, taking him by the arms. First the satyr and the god helping the aging satyr to his knees and next to his feet. They kept a firm grip on him as he struggled to breath and swayed despite their hold on him. A moment later, an attendant appeared with a donkey in tow. He brought the animal behind where Silenus stood. “We’re going to help you onto the donkey now,” the god told him. He almost fell to the ground despite how firmly they held on to him as they turned around to face the donkey. As they pushed him onto his transport, another attendant came to her side with a platter of her favorite foods. Dionysus joined her a short time later, two goblets in his hands.

  He grinned as he extended a goblet to her. “This wine I made myself.”

  Ariadne accepted his offering, taking a generous sip. She smiled back at him. “I have never tasted wine like this before.”

  The god chuckled. “It will be the only wine you’ll ever be served from now on, I promise you.” He sat with her, enjoying the food until the man called Aceles approached.

  “We await your command,” the mortal said.

  “Very good,” Dionysus answered.

  He came to his feet and extended his hands for her to take. She stood quickly, slipping her fingers around his elbow. Aceles led them to the ship where the crew helped both of them on board. “Set sail for Dia,” Dionysus commanded. Moments later, the ship sailed through the harbor and into the sea. She stood near the helm with her god, his arms wrapped around her as they watched both the sea and the smaller islands pass them by. Near dusk, the crew guided their vessel to the docks on Dia. Dionysus commanded his crew to supply the ship for a long voyage as he guided her off the ship.

  “I will be taking my lady into the city,” he told Aceles. “Please keep a watchful on Silenus.”

  The helmsman bowed his head as her god led her from the docks. He smiled at her as they walked through this small nameless city to a shrine dedicated to Hera. “My beloved Ariadne,” he whispered in her ear while the priestess tending the shrine bound a pair of worshipers in marriage, “I will make you my wife.”

  She smiled at his promise as he entwined his fingers in hers. A heartbeat later, the priestess called them forward and mumbled the words that joined their lives together. After the final blessing, Dionysus guided her back to the ship just as the last of their supplies were being loaded. They set sail towards the island of Lemnos. It took many days of long traveling and one more stop to supply their ship. They eventually came to the volcanic rock where the blacksmith god had hidden himself. A large forge could be made out even from a great distance. By nightfall they had their ship tied to a dock barely large enough for them. When Aceles announced that the ship was secure, Dionysus turned to her, a touch of sorrow in his eyes.

  “I would like you to remain on the whip while I negotiate with my brother over Hera’s release,” he said, “in case he might try to take his anger out on you.”

  She smiled at him. “Take care, my love,” she told him. “I’ll be waiting for your return.”

  His lips curled up in a smile and he kissed her before turning around to order members of the crew to follow him to the forge with barrels of wine. In his absence, Ariadne tended to the aging sa
tyr. During the voyage, she had spent many hours listening to his endless tale, and he had another one on the tip of his tongue for her whenever she sat down beside him. There was a lesson of some sort in each one of his tales. She felt as though she had learned more in the several days listening to Silenus than in all the years in the company of the tutors her parents had employed to instruct her. Another satyr ensured that his goblet was rarely empty.

  “Why do you drink so much?” she asked him between tales.

  “It helps me forget my sins,” he told her. And before she could ask what he meant, he gave her a detailed accounting of Dionysus’ abduction by pirates. “Father Zeus asked me to not only tutor his son but looked after him as well. I’m not certain how much the lessons I’ve given Dionysus have stuck, but I failed to protect him as his sire asked of me. I know that boy does not hold it against me, he respects me too much for that.” He took another swallow from his goblet and smiled. “I have another tale I can tell you if you care to listen.”

  Ariadne smiled back and nodded. He was half-way through his story when a cheerful yet out of tune song came from the shores. She came to her feet to watch Dionysus leading two sailors who were helping Hephaestus to the ship. She had heard all the tales describing just how hideous the blacksmith god looked, but not one accurately described how ugly he truly was. Somehow his helpers got him onto the ship and into the cargo hold.

  “Keep the wine flowing until there is no more,” Dionysus commanded as he joined them on the ship. “Make sail for mainland Hellas.”

  An instant later the ship drifted from the docks, and Dionysus was at her side once more. Hephaestus continued singing the entire voyage. Sometimes Silenus would add his voice to that of the blacksmith. It made the remainder of the journey entertaining, and the days quickly passed for it. They disembarked as close as they could to Olympus and traveled by land. Along the way, groups of the Maenads joined their ranks. The citizens of mainland Hellas were welcoming, inviting them into their homes to rest. Several times, they stopped for days at a time to attend festivals that were held in Dionysus’ honor.

  No matter where her husband went, there was a never ending supply of wine. The majority seemed to go into Hephaestus’ goblet. Did her beloved husband think the blacksmith might change his mind if he were sober? Hephaestus enjoyed the drink and found good company in his brother’s tutor. The old satyr came alive for the blacksmith became a captive audience for the tales he had told a thousand times before.

  At the base of Mount Olympus, Dionysus took a pause as his followers began the climb to the top. He pulled her close to him so he might steal a kiss. Ariadne smiled up at him. Her husband took a moment to grin back at her.

  “You will share in my glory,” he told her.

  “It is yours, my love, not mine,” she whispered. “Come, let’s go home.”