“Yes.”
I answered. “It’s a gift from the gods.”
She sighed. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, just say so.”
I smiled again.
* * *
From The Tragedy of Silenus. Text corrected and translated by Ariadne
SILENUS WALKS ALONE THROUGH THE WILDERNESS.
CHORUS:
THERE HE IS, POOR OLD SILENUS.
HIS CLOTHING RAGGED, HIS BACK STOOPED.
PRAY THAT THE GODDESS DEMETER MIGHT END HIS WOEFUL SUFFERING.
HE SPOKE TO THE WIND AND TO THE SEA.
TO THE SUN-KISSED CITY OF ATHENS HE BEGGED PLEASURE,
AND FOR SOLACE FROM THE SATYRS OF THE WILD.
HE SANG TO A DRYAD AND SCALED OLYMPUS,
FOR NAUGHT.
DELPHI IS CLOSED TO HIS ENTREATIES,
THEBES LAYS SILENT,
AND SPARTA HAS NEVER KNOWN HIS GODS.
O LAMENT! WHERE DOES SILENUS GO NOW?
IS HADES WHERE HIS QUEST WILL END?
BUT LOOK! THE GODDESS APPROACHES!
(DEMETER ENTERS FROM THE CHORUS)
SILENUS:
GODDESS!
(SILENUS FALLS TO THE GROUND.)
DEMETER:
PLEASE RISE. YOU OWE ME NO ALLEGIANCE.
(SILENUS RISES)
SILENUS:
BUT I WILL GLADLY SWEAR IT.
DEMETER:
I EXPECT NONE. YOU ALLY WITH DIONYSOS;
I WOULD NOT CONTRADICT THAT.
SILENUS:
IT IS TRUE THAT MY JOURNEYS BEGAN AT HIS NOBLE FEET,
BUT MANY DECADES HAVE PASSED SINCE I ENJOYED
MY LORD’S RADIANCE.
I FEAR MY ALLEGIANCE IS FOR BARTER
IN THESE, MY LAST YEARS.
DEMETER:
YOU ARE A STURDY BREED. YOU HAVE MANY DAYS LEFT.
I DO DEMAND AN OATH OF YOU, BUT NO LOYALTY.
SILENUS:
WHAT OATH WOULD YOU REQUIRE?
DEMETER:
YOU HAVE SPENT MUCH OF YOUR SPAN SEEKING ME OUT
AND I HAVE DECIDED TO HEAR YOUR WORDS
FOR I CAN NO LONGER BEAR WATCHING YOU SUFFER.
BUT THE PRICE FOR MY RESPONSE IS YOUR OATH:
NEVER ARE YOU TO RETURN TO DIONYSOS.
SWEAR THIS.
SILENUS:
BUT THAT MY QUEST IS OF TWO PARTS.
FIRST, TO FIND THE GODDESS DEMETER AND ASK A QUESTION.
SECOND, TO RETURN TO DIONYSOS WITH HER REPLY.
THIS OATH WILL BRING ME NO PEACE
AND I WILL GREET CHARON UNFINISHED.
DEMETER:
I KNOW THIS.
WOULD YOU RATHER SATISFY ONE PART KNOWING THE SECOND
WILL NOT BE DONE? OR COMPLETE NO PARTS
WHEN THE COMPLETION OF THE FIRST IS IN YOUR HAND?
SILENUS:
THEN I SWEAR YOUR OATH.
FOR I SHALL NOT WILLINGLY CHOOSE IGNORANCE.
DEMETER:
THEN ASK.
SILENUS:
I HAVE SOUGHT ANSWERS FROM ALL MEN AND CREATURES,
GODS AND BEASTS.
THREE TIMES HAVE THE ORACLES ENTERTAINED MY QUIZZES,
AND RESPONDED WITH THREE QUIZZES OF THEIR OWN.
BUT NONE CAN ANSWER THIS:
DEMETER WATCHES DIONYSOS FROM AFAR
BUT DOES NOT APPROACH. WHY IS THIS SO?
DIONYSOS, WHEN SPYING THE GODDESS,
DOES APPROACH. AND THEN DEMETER IS ABSENT.
WHY IS THIS SO?
DEMETER WOULD SEE THE GOD BUT NOT BE SEEN.
DIONYSOS WOULD APPROACH THE GODDESS BUT IS NOT APPROACHED.
TELL ME, GODDESS, WHY IS THIS SO?
DEMETER:
THERE ARE THINGS YOU MUST UNDERSTAND FIRST, SILENUS THE WANDERER.
THE ONE YOU CALL DIONYSOS STRODE THIS REALM
LONG BEFORE THERE WERE GODS. AS DID I.
HE IS NOT AS HE SEEMS.
SILENUS:
IN WHAT WAY?
DEMETER:
LOOK AROUND YOU. SEE THE DEATH.
SEE THE VIOLENCE THAT MAN BRINGS WITH HIM,
AND TO OTHERS LIKE HIM,
AND TO THE TREES AND THE BEASTS YOU CLAIM TO SPEAK TO.
LOOK AT ALL OF THE THINGS YOU WOULD CALL TERRIBLE OR EVIL.
UNDERSTAND THAT DIONYSOS IS THE BRINGER OF ALL THESE THINGS.
SILENUS:
BUT THIS IS NOT SO!
MY LORD IS THE GOD OF MADNESS AND MISCHIEF,
BUT ALSO WINE AND SONG AND STAGE.
HE DECEIVES, BUT THERE ARE MANY GODLY DECEIVERS.
AND THERE ARE GODS THAT ARE RIGHTLY CALLED EVIL,
OR WHOSE ACTIONS BRING IT ABOUT.
DIONYSOS IS NO SUCH GOD.
DEMETER:
I SPEAK ONLY OF THINGS THAT ARE TRUE.
YOU COLOR YOUR ARGUMENT WITH LEGENDS AND THE SPIRITED DREAMS OF MORTALS.
NAME A GOD AND TURN HIS FACE,
AND YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF STARING AT YOUR LORD’S COUNTENANCE.
SILENUS:
HE DOES NOT SPEAK THESE FACTS, OR EVEN CLAIM TRUE GODHOOD.
I WOULD EVEN CALL HIM HUMBLE, IN HIS WAY.
ARE YOU SURE WE SPEAK OF THE SAME BEING?
DEMETER:
WE DO. AND HE IS MORE A CREATOR OF THIS WORLD
THAN ANYONE ELSE YOU COULD MEET.
SILENUS:
MORE SO THAN YOU?
DEMETER:
INDEED. AND MY INFLUENCE WANES DAILY AS HIS GROWS.
SILENUS:
BUT, EVEN IF TRUE, THIS DOES NOT ANSWER MY QUESTION.
DEMETER:
CAN THE WINTER MEET THE SUMMER?
OR THE SUN MEET THE MOON?
SILENUS:
UNLESS YOU WOULD ALSO BE SELENE AND MY LORD HELIOS,
OR BOREAS AND AURA,
YOUR COMPARISONS OFFER NO ILLUMINATION.
DEMETER:
EVEN NOW I SEEK TO EVADE YOUR QUESTION, FAIR SILENUS,
FOR I DO NOT WISH TO HEAR MY OWN VOICE SPEAK THESE WORDS.
BUT I WILL TALK MORE PLAINLY:
I WATCH HIM ONLY TO WITNESS HIS DOWNFALL.
SILENUS:
HIS DOWNFALL? YOU WISH THIS UPON HIM?
DEMETER:
I DO.
SILENUS:
BUT WHY?
DEMETER:
I HAVE ALREADY TOLD YOU.
THIS WORLD IS HIS, AND IT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE.
I WOULD SEE HIM FALL BY HIS OWN HANDS SO THAT I MAY KNOW PEACE MYSELF.
SILENUS:
AND HOW DO YOU SUPPOSE THIS WILL HAPPEN?
DEMETER:
I DO NOT KNOW, BUT IT WILL ONE DAY.
YOU AND YOUR ELDER HAVE SPOKEN FOR HIM FOR MANY YEARS.
IS THIS NOT TRUE?
SILENUS:
IT IS.
DEMETER:
AND YOU HAVE SPREAD WORD OF HIS GREATNESS ACROSS THE LANDS.
THROUGHOUT THE WORLD NOW, WHEREVER HE STRIDES,
HE IS SAID TO POSSESS TRUE GODLY POWER.
A DAY WILL COME WHEN HE MUST EMPLOY THIS POWER
AND IT WILL BE HIS UNDOING.
SILENUS:
DO YOU SPEAK PROPHECY?
DEMETER:
PERHAPS I DO. PERHAPS I SIMPLY KNOW OF OLDER GODS THAN EITHER OF US.
GODS WHO REJECT THIS WORLD HE HAS CREATED
AND WHO WILL MAKE THEIR DISPLEASURE KNOWN.
SILENUS:
YOU UTTER THE WORDS OF ONE ENRAGED
BUT NOT SO IN TONE. DOES YOUR HATRED BURN SO SOFTLY THAT IT NO LONGER ANIMATES YOU?
DEMETER:
I AM MORE AT PEACE IN HIS WORLD THAN HE IS HIMSELF.
BUT DO NOT MISTAKE MY INTEREST.
THE REASON I DO NOT SPEAK TO DIONYSOS
IS THAT I DO NOT WISH TO.
I DO NOT WISH TO SPEAK TO HIM BECAUSE OF MY HATRED FOR HIM
AND FOR THE THINGS HE HAS DONE.
SILENUS:
AND DOES HE KNOW THIS?
DEMETER:
HE KNOWS. BUT HE MAY NOT REMEMBER.<
br />
SILENUS:
A RIDDLE.
DEMETER:
KNOWLEDGE AND AWARENESS NEED NOT BE THE SAME.
NO MAN KNOWS ALL THAT GOVERNS HIS ACTIONS,
BUT THAT GOVERNANCE STILL COMES FROM WITHIN.
DO YOU NOW UNDERSTAND?
SILENUS:
YES.
BUT GODDESS, WHAT CAN I DO NOW?
I AM SWORN TO GET YOUR ANSWER, AND YOUR ANSWER IS THAT HE KNOWS THE ANSWER HIMSELF.
YOU TELL ME HE HAS DONE THINGS HE DOES NOT KNOW HE HAS DONE
AND CREATED A WORLD HE DOES NOT ACT AS IF HE CREATED.
YET IF HE IS A CREATOR GOD, HE IS SOMEHOW ONE WHO WIELDS NO GODLY POWER
AND WHO CAN BE FELLED BY MORTAL HAND
OR BY THE WILL OF THESE UNNAMED OLDER GODS.
NOT ANY OF THIS MAKES SENSE.
DEMETER:
IT IS ALL THE PLAIN TRUTH.
AND I ASK YOU AGAIN TO REMEMBER YOUR OATH.
SILENUS:
I REMEMBER. BUT THAT I HOPED YOUR ANSWER WOULD GIVE ME SOME MEASURE OF PEACE.
INSTEAD IT HAS INFLAMED MY CURIOSITY.
I BURN TO RETURN TO MY LORD FOR ELABORATION
AS I NOW HAVE AS MANY QUESTIONS FOR HIM AS I HAVE STILL FOR YOU.
DEMETER:
I WILL ANSWER NO MORE OF YOUR QUESTIONS.
IT IS AS CLEAR AS I CAN MAKE IT.
NOW GO, SILENUS.
SILENUS:
BUT WHERE?
DEMETER:
I DO NOT CARE. LIVE OUT YOUR DAYS HOWEVER YOU WILL.
ONLY DO NOT RETURN TO DIONYSOS AND SPEAK MY TRUTH TO HIM.
NEITHER WILL ANY OF YOUR PROGENY,
FOR I WILL KNOW IF THIS IS DONE, AND MY VENGEANCE WILL BE TERRIBLE.
(DEMETER EXITS)
SILENUS:
O GODS! WHAT IS THERE LEFT FOR SILENUS
EXCEPT TO CARRY THIS BURDEN TO DEATH?
DIONYSOS:
I AM HERE AS PROMISED, ON THIS, THE FINAL DAY.
LET ME SHAKE MY THYRSOS,
AND BLESS YOU WITH MY MADNESS.
From The Tragedy of Silenus. Text corrected and translated by Ariadne
Sunset on Azure Lake made for a beautiful picture, though it was slightly marred by a small army of eco-religious fanatics—and their kids—in brown robes, chanting ancient Greek blessings and stomping up and down in what I believe was an effort to exhaust themselves into a state of ecstatic frenzy. Or, they were trying to keep warm in unison.
The crates before the altar had been opened. Out of the first came crude wooden bowls, which were passed around to the celebrants. Then the men, women, and children waited for their bowls to be filled with the contents of the other crates, mainly kykeon. It had been prepared beforehand and shipped in vats. The ancient priestesses of Eleusis could be heard rolling in their graves.
It was so far removed from any proper Mystery Ceremony I had ever witnessed as to be something entirely different. For starters, it’s warm in early October in the Attic region, warm enough for all of the celebrants to be naked on the final night. Brown robes covering parkas, heavy pants and hiking boots didn’t come close to being correct. It also made the whole crowd look like a monastic football team, but that’s more of a sartorial observation than a religious one.
Also, we never indoctrinated children into the way of the Mysteries. Are you kidding? The Greeks didn’t even like children, but they would never give a child a hallucinogen on purpose.
And there were never this many mystai.
Ariadne explained that all of the people there had been accepted into the California version of the Mysteries already, and were no longer technically considered mystai, which meant that none of them should have been participating in this part of the ritual. But since Gordon had taken his oaths in the U.S. and then traveled to Greece to retake them, he felt that everybody else should experience the same thing, and bringing the kiste, the center of the Greek Mystery Cult to the U.S. was easier than bringing the U.S. members to Greece. Thus, a hundred new mystai.
We didn’t have a role to play for the bulk of the ceremony, so we got to sit in the snow on the forest floor next to the stage. Hippos had rejoined us, his hands also bound. It looked like his experience as a prisoner had been much worse than ours.
“Nice eye,” I muttered. The left side of his face was swollen, and the eye was nearly shut.
“Thank you,” he said. “I fear my people are not going to be very helpful regarding your cause.”
“I get that, yeah. Anything broken?”
“Bruised ribs, but I don’t believe any breaks.”
“I still have that icepack in my pocket, if you want it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Gordon was standing atop the altar in front of the tent, which was still closed. Gesturing with his thyrsos and wearing his loose white robes (cold weather doesn’t seem to bother the insane as much as it does the sane for some reason) he led the chants. It was in Greek, but nobody seemed to be having any trouble repeating it. I wondered if they even knew what they were saying.
From our vantage point we could also see Peter. He was sitting underneath the stage and doing something with his hands. I couldn’t quite make it out.
“What’s he doing under there?” I asked Ariadne, who was slightly closer.
“I think he’s calling the dryad.”
“Yes, but how? I don’t hear anything.”
Gordon reached the benediction and signaled to Boehan, and then the satyrs were traveling down the rows with the kykeon. The momentary quiet just emphasized the point that if Peter was calling the dryad, it wasn’t with an audible sound.
Or perhaps it was a sound that wasn’t audible to humans.
“Do you hear it?” I asked Hippos.
He nodded. “It’s some manner of woodwind, but nothing I have ever heard before.”
I squinted at Peter who was rocking side to side in a vaguely rhythmic fashion. The torchlight from the stage was not helping my night vision at all, but I did finally catch a glimpse of the stick in his hand.
“It’s a recorder,” I said.
“A tape recorder?” Ariadne asked.
“No, no, like a flute. I guess a Pan flute would have been too ironic.”
The distribution of the kykeon was carried out quickly and efficiently, and soon each of the mystai had a bowl in front of them that was at least half-full of the awful stuff.
In the old days, the bowls were filled one-by-one and blessed individually. Here the entire community held their bowls over their heads and waited for the hierophant to utter the sacred words—a phrase that literally meant “swallow for your life”, but had an idiomatic meaning along the lines of “drink up!” It had no formal ceremonial purpose. It was like having the priest shout Cheers! before drinking the sacramental wine.
As I thought about how amusing this was, and how difficult it would be to explain to the people with me that had probably been celebrating the Mysteries this exact way their entire lives, someone caught my eye.
It was one of the mystai. The front row was only about twenty feet away from us and with everyone dressed with their hoods up, robes on, and their winter clothing underneath, I could barely tell male from female. But since they were all acting in some measure of unison—bouncing up and down together, chanting together, kneeling together—any variation was immediately notable.
A few rows in and just to my right, there was a man who didn’t want to try his drink. He acted like he was drinking, but what he was really doing was pouring it into the snow in front of him. I looked around at the satyrs, but it seemed I was the only one who caught it.
I was nearly certain he had wanted me to notice him.
After polishing off their kykeon, the mystai placed their bowls before them and huddle down on their knees, heads bowed and chanting as they waited for the visions, which would be coming along presently. I stayed focused on my new friend. He prostrated himself along with the others, but after a ten count he lifted his head slig
htly and locked eyes with me, or so I assumed since the hood still blocked a decent view of his face.
From somewhere in the crowd, a woman screamed. She sat up and started babbling—what the Christians might call speaking in tongues, but which sounded to me remarkably similar to an old Slavic dialect. Then came the moaning, the laughing, and the shouting, as the others began their own spiritual journeys. I remembered how incredibly funny a crowd of hallucinating people could be. It was one of the best parts about the Mysteries. Much better when they were also naked, but whatever.
The prostrate supplicant who’d discarded his kykeon took his cue from the people around him and started flailing about and acting goofy. And in the middle of his gyrations, he tossed something at me. It struck me right in the chest—which hurt— and fell in the snow between my crossed legs.
I picked it up. It was a pocketknife. Inscribed on the side were the initials M.L.
Mike Lycos had made it to the party.
“Ariadne,” I muttered, “take this. Cut me loose.”
Gordon began chanting something new. This wasn’t from the text of the Mysteries. “Bring forth the old gods!” he boomed, in English and then in Greek and back again. Peter, still blowing away on his flute, made some changes to his finger work.
Hippos reacted.
“Did the sound change?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he answered. “It is more . . . urgent now. I expect the first melody was to awaken the creature and this new piece is to call it.”
Ariadne opened the knife. “Where did this come from?”
“It apported here from the spirit world,” I said.
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