Twisted Mythology: Ariadne (4 page)

“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 satyr.  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.”