Dionysus and Trage

Zeus was furious.

The lightings flashed blindingly throughout the sky as he desperately cried curses with all known languages of the world. The strength of his shouts trembled the earth, echoed over the mountains, villages and olive groves. Frightened children cowered underneath their beds as their mothers comforted them, and men run at temple, demanding to know reason for the storm.

The old priest just shook his heads.

“Zeus’ temperate,” He told, “Is most likely caused the thunderstorm. Undoubtedly he is once more having an argument with his wife. But it will pass, like every family fight.” He comforted the scared men; and relieved they returned back to the shelter of their homes, hoping the heavenly couple would deal their argument before the daybreak. The muddy streets were soon empty once more.

And as the thunder continued, it finally awoke a young man who had slept on a hay pile, until now, safe from rain. He staggered up and on the street. The pouring rain made him giggle. He jumped, clasped his hand like a child and swung madly around. The rain fell down on him and he shivered from cold, but he only laughed once, throwing himself on his back.

He chuckled and froze, feeling a pile of horse apples underneath his head. A thunder roared again. He stared the flashing sky and the falling raindrops; and the burning gaze vanished in his eyes.

Then he burst into maniac laughter and staggered on his feet. Half standing and still laughing, the madman continued his faltering journey and disappeared from the sight.

oOo

Indeed Zeus was furious. He was furious at Hera, at himself and at the nymphs whose mission had been to take care of Zeus’ son. But none of the other gods knew where he had disappeared, Zeus had no one to help him - even Rhea’s sanctuary was silent.

“I’m sorry …” The walls pulsated, and the echo repeated Rhea’s words. “…sorry…orry…rry…” Her voice was silent, her presence almost gone. It was still wintertime, and her powers were weak. “I can’t find a trace of your son…son…n”

Zeus stumbled down on the floor and his physical form shivered as he transformed himself into an old exhausted man. He lowered his face and buried it against his arms. “Mother!” His voice was just a desperate grunt. ”What can I do? Tell me! What have I done to earn this destiny?”

“You betrayed me!” It wasn’t the answer of his whispering mother.

Zeus raised his head and met the cold eyes of his wife. “Go away!” He shouted. A sparkling and shifting lighting materialized into his hands.

“Forget that, my dear husband…” Hera sneered at him, and walked pass him. The thousands peacock eyes in her dress stared at Zeus.

“Hera. I should have known…” His arms fell down

“Of course you should have, you fool!” Hera shrieked and turned around. “You betrayed me! You betrayed me with Semele, with Danae, with Europe and with many other mortal women. Did you truly think I would accept it?”

Zeus transformed into shiny armored knight. This time he faced her with a spear in his hand. But Hera only arched her eyebrow and smiled. She wasn’t afraid of him.

“Is it wrong to demand to be respected?”

“Do not aim your revenge on my son!”

A fleeting smile flashed on her face. “Why not? She asked, sliding her finger across the cold, marble walls of the temple. “My intention was to hurt you, as you have done to me, and now I have reached my goal.” Hera caressed the walls of the Rhea’s sanctuary. “I thought, you of all would have understood me, mother.”.

But Rhea remained silent, and Hera’s arm fell on her side.

“Destiny weaves as he sees.” The goddess said. “With your own actions you have caused this to yourself, earned my burning hatred toward you…” Her voice turned acid, “…and your dear bastard son, Dionysus.”

oOo

The man, who used to be Dionysus, wandered a long time without knowing who he had been. He didn’t remember who he was, what he had done or where he was going. In his cursed form, he had lost all his knowledge over the divine powers he possessed, and his body became fragile and weak. He became like one of the mortal the great Olympian gods so much despised.

Sometimes he met people who pitied him, for he was young and pleasing to the eye. Sometimes they beat and mistreated him, for such is the nature of men and gods alike. But he didn’t care, because as people disappeared from his sight, he forgot everyone, gentle and cruel alike.

But finally came the day when Destiny decided to alter the direction of his life. The road Dionysus followed let him into olive grove where he, hungry and cold, got lost, unaware of that the grove had been bestowed to Hera.

The great goddess didn’t live there, but instead her priestess, young and lovely Trage. The grove was her sanctuary and refugee.

Years ago, the royal kingdom of Mycenae had been plagued by a hideous disease. It was then, the king had learnt about a prophecy his youngest daughter was destined to die by the hands of the great goddess, Hera. It was prophesied; her death would change the history of the men. The king was sure it meant her death would cure the people of Mycenae, and so he lifted his dagger to cut his daughter’s heart.

But at the moment of the sacrifice, Hera transformed the Princess a dove and guided her to this distant grove. She ordered Trage to serve her as a priestess, and told her she would be safe. Trage obeyed and worshipped Hera as her savior. To her home, mad Dionysus finally arrived.

Trage was at the yard when she saw the first glimpse of the staggering man. Instead of backing away, she stayed on her place and watched the approaching vagabond. She understood the man was not dangerous but sick and weak.

He stumbled down on the ground and sighed, "Please…" Was the only thing Dionysus was able to whisper before he sunk into a deep unconsciousness.

Trage knelt down and touched him. The man was dirty, sweaty and smelled unmistakably of urine. Carefully Trage caressed his forehead and felt the fever burning his body. She sighed, got up on her feet and called her servants to help. The invisible spirit creatures obeyed. Trage followed them as they lifted motionless Dionysus on the air; and with a weak breeze of wind carried him inside her home.

oOo

Man slept. He dreamt, and his dreams were full of darkness and fear. He had been someone, he had been somewhere, and he had been in pain…He didn't know what had happened, but he knew that he didn’t want to return that way.

Even in his dreams, Dionysus was fighting against Hera’s curse. He rolled on his bed, unaware of Trage’s worried eyes. She had recognized the spell cast on him; and she used all her knowledge to conquer the sickness Dionysus was suffering from.

She had almost given up her hope when the fever, consuming man's body, reached its peak. The man opened his deep green eyes and screamed. His body was curved into an inhuman position; his back twisted almost into its breaking point. Trage did her best, calmed down the sick and hallucinating man and wiped his forehead with wet towels. Silently she thanked Hera and the powers the goddess had granted her knowing that without them the man would certainly have died.

The next time Dionysus opened his eyes, the fever was gone and he was sane.

“What…?” He whispered, his throat torched and dry. He was feeling very weak and frail. He didn’t even recognize the room he was in. Everything looked dark, strange; both crude and alien to his eyes. He turned his head, feeling a presence and noticed a young girl sitting next to his bed.

“Be at ease,” Trage soothed him. She leaned closer and took a hold on his hand. She squeezed it a little. “You’ve been very sick for a long time. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

He smiled weakly at her, feeling peculiar joy when he felt her small, fragile hand in his own. “I feel like I’ve been stamped over by couple of elephants.” He complained, and the girl chuckled.

“No, just me.” She told and caressed his forehead. “You didn’t seem to appreciate my efforts of saving your life in your fever, but I take you feel otherwise now?”

Dionysus looked at her. “I do.” He told and smiled. “Might I inquire the name of my generous savior?” He asked, and the girl returned his smile.

“Trage,” She told. “My name is Trage.”

He lifted her hand against his mouth and kissed it softly.

“Thank you. I own you my life, o’ lovely Trage.”

He was endeared to see how the girl looked shyly away, ashamed, and blushed.

oOo

He was annoyed. It was weeks from his recovery, but still he didn’t remember. He had only vague memories about the time of his wandering, and a feeling of suffocating rage burnt inside him. He remembered men beating him, humiliating him and taking advantage of his vulnerable condition.

Only mortals could behave that way! He thought bitterly, sitting in the shade of the olive trees and casting stones away. Suddenly he froze and whispered, "Mortals…"

"What?" Trage, never far from her patient, had very keen hearing. "What did you say?" She moved closed and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Trage…" He turned to look at the dark-haired girl, still shocked from his previous revelation. "I…I'm not sure…I think, I’m not like you…"

Trage didn't reply. She was aware that this young handsome man, who didn’t even remember his own name, was somehow different. How else could she explain his fast recovery? She knew any normal mortal man would have perished had he been in the same situation as long as this mysterious stranger.

She pitied him and his experiences; and she was worried about him. Sometimes she noticed a dark look in his eyes; and it made her scared. Not for her, but for him. She knew where the path of hate could leave him.

"I…" the young man covered his head, a sudden headache throbbing in his temples. He couldn't help it, a low moan escaped from his lips, and worried Trage kneeled before him.

“Everything is alright…” The girl comforted him. “I’m here to help you!”

But he didn’t hear her words. He was finally remembering.

oOo

He was in a forest, surrounded by lovely nymphs and cheerful satyrs. They danced and laughed, celebrating. The sunlight warmed his skin and he laughed happily with his companions, when they suddenly heard a lovely tune. It was delightful, teasing and entitling, and none of the satyrs or nymphs could resist its call. Laughing, they run in the forest and left Dionysus alone.

It was when she appeared. He tensed, recognizing her all-seeing peacock-dress immediately. “Hera...”

“Dionysus,” She nodded and glanced at the empty wine vases dispersed around the clearage, the clothes lying around. “I see you’re living up to your reputation.” She frowned, “Like your father…”

“What brings you here? You know, you’re not welcome in my home.”

She gave him a cold smile. “To bring you a gift.”

“I’m not in need of gifts,” Dionysus replied warily. “I have all I need, for haven’t I just invented wine?”

“Ah,” Hera answered, “But that, my dear boy, is what I want to talk about.” She stepped closer. “Since do you know what your great invention has done to the families I protect…?”

“I’m sure they praise wine as the greatest gift in their pitiful life!” Dionysus answered.

“Oh?” Hera asked. “Are you certain of that?”

“Of course I am!” Dionysus laughed. “Mortal life is so dull and boring otherwise. My gift lightens up their harsh life, and allows them to see sweet dreams.”

“And right you are, but did you know how their dreams differ from yours.” She asked. “The men are so intoxicated by the sweetness of your invention, they crave for nothing else. Some of them even say they dream sweeter than gods themselves.”

“Ha!” Dionysus snickered. “I find that hard to believe!”

“Then, please, allow me to show you the truth.” She said then, smiling. She raised her hand, and touched him.

He screamed.

oOo

His shout died when he noticed he wasn’t in the clearing, but lay down on a bed in Trage’s house. She was sitting next to his bed, watching him anxiously.

“How do you feel?” She asked, noticing Dionysus was finally awake.

The god didn’t answer. His face was grim, for he finally remembered the deception of Hera.

“I don’t understand,” He finally said. “Why did you help me? I was cursed by Hera. As her priestess you must have known that.”

She sighed and lowered her gaze. “Because I wanted to.”

“For what?” He frowned at her. “Did Hera tell you to do that?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Was this part of her plan to humiliate me?”

“No!” She denied with troubled face.

“Then tell me why!”

She shook her head while reaching to touch his hand, but he pulled hastily further away. “I made a promise to help those in need,” She sighed resignedly and lowered her hand. “It doesn’t matter who needs my help.”

“You should have let me die!” Dionysus hissed furious. He didn’t want to remember all that Hera had shown him through his madness, all that he had experienced and gone through.

“Don’t say that!” Trage snapped “All life is precious and valuable, be it humane or godly, mad or not!”

“What makes you say so?” Dionysus asked suspiciously. He couldn’t shake away Hera’s deed or his shameful memories; and he was certain she was lying.

Trage fidgeted nervously her dress. Finally she raised her head and met his stare. “Because, otherwise, I couldn’t live with myself.”

Her reply was unexpected, and despite his fury and his distrust, Dionysus realized he was curious to know her and to understand her better.

“What do you mean?”

Trage appeared uneasy and anxious, but finally she sighed resignedly and told him her tale. When she finished, the familiar feelings of longing and grief had returned in her heart. She wiped the tears from her eyes and drove the memories of her family at bay.

“I had no idea…” Dionysus touched her hand moved by her grief, understanding her. “It must have been horrible,” He silently said, feeling inside a new kind of admiration toward the unlucky Princess. “Your father wanted to kill you, yet you have forgiven him.” He shook his head and took her hand knowing he could have never even dreamt of forgiving Hera the way she had. “You are truly exceptional woman.”

“No, I’m just a human. Similar with rest of my kind.”

“Trage, you’re wrong. You’re kind and gentle. And I’ve never met a mortal as noble as you. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for your people!"

“Because I love them,” She told him. “And because I honor them. But a heroine I am not.” She stood up, giving him a weary smile. She sounded sad, and her words stung oddly Dionysus’ heart.

Despite his rage, the sight of her eased his feeling; his heart fluttered oddly in his chest. He didn’t understand this feeling, but suddenly Dionysus felt embarrassed for his previous thoughts about mortals. He knew Trage had proved herself a greater character than all the mighty Olympian gods. He was ashamed.

And it was she and her story that finally soothed Dionysus’ anger. He was still infuriated with Hera, but found out he didn’t want revenge on her. He lay down on the bed and pondered Trage’s tale and her words; and finally fell asleep.

oOo

So the days went by. Dionysus didn’t leave Trage, although he now remembered his divine origins. He knew his satyrs and nymphs must miss him, but he couldn’t leave Trage. He was curious and wanted to learn more about her.

And as the time passed even more, he realized he was falling in love with her.

His love consumed him. The mere sight of her made butterflies fly wildly in his stomach, until he couldn’t sleep or speak. He was afraid how Trage would react, should he tell her his feelings? And he knew about the prophecy of her life. But she deserved more than her present life, Dionysus thought. She was destined for more! And who said that he, as an almighty god, couldn’t protect her from Hera’s wrath? For wasn’t he Zeus’ beloved son whom the rest of the creation worshipped?

Finally, Dionysus couldn’t resist his urge any longer. He walked to Trage and kneeled in front of her.

“Princess Trage, I love you,” He told her. “I ask you to come with me. Leave this simple life and let me take you high up on mount Olympus. You will be served and admired there, the way you should be. O’ lovely and beautiful Trage! I promise I shall protect you from all harm. Please, let me repay the kindness you’ve shown me. Agree to marry me!”

Trage blushed and smiled. “I will,” She finally said, knowing she couldn’t deny his wish; nor did she want to. She had fallen in love with young Dionysus already when he was sick and helpless, and didn’t even remember his own name.

Dionysus, overjoyed by her reply, stepped closer and kissed her.

“I’ll fetch us a priest of Zeus,” He told and held her hands, “To marry us. I want my father to learn that I’ve found the woman I will honor, value and love throughout my life. I’ll return soon, my love.” He told her. “Wait for me here until then.”

Trage followed his departure with her eyes, and then started packing. She bid farewells to the olive trees, her old home and the spirit creatures that had accompanied her during her exile. Finally she knelt before her altar and said a prayer.

“Oh great goddess Hera. I want to thank you for your generosity and your help, but I must bid you farewell. I’m about to leave and get married with the man I love.”

Her prayer reached Hera’s ears, and she wasn’t happy to hear those words. Ungrateful brat! She thought infuriated. She was promised to me, and she will not leave!

After deciding this, Hera transformed into an eagle. She took off from the mountain Olympus and flew with fast pace through the sky. Soon she had arrived at Trage’s yard and transformed into her human form.

“Do you seriously think you can leave me?” Hera asked, trying to hide her fury from the girl. “Do you understand what it’ll mean?”

“I do,” Trage smiled. “I’m in love, and there’s no greater power in the world.”

“Stupid girl!” Hera hissed. “You were given to me already with your birth. You shall not leave me!”

But Trage didn’t shy away. She raised her chin and faced the infuriated goddess. “I will,” She told, “and I will marry Dionysus.”

“What!”

“I know of your hatred toward him, but I love him.” Trage replied unafraid of the furious goddess. She was certain she could reason Hera to understand her. “I beg you to forgive him. He is a great god and amiable person, and it saddens me to see you in dispute. Wouldn’t you bless us instead?”

Hera wasn’t moved by her words. She eyed Trage coldly and even more furiously than before. Just who did the girl think she was, talking to an eternal Olympian goddess the way she did?

“Bless that bastard son of my cheating two-faced husband and you?” She sat and thought for a while. “Very well,” She finally agreed, “I will bless you…” She said smiling and raised her hand to touch poor unexpected Trage. Thus it happened, as was prophesied, the goddess Hera killed Trage.

But during that time Dionysus, who had been on a journey to the temple, felt something was amiss. He had turned back just to see how Hera killed Trage. Paralyzed he witnessed her body falling to the ground lifeless, and only then did he free himself from his trance.

“No!” He ran. “What have you done?” Dionysus cried kneeling down and embraced Trage’s inert body in his arms.

Hera frowned at the sight of him annoyed to see him well and sane again, and understood that Trage had saved Dionysus. She enjoyed now her death even more.

“A lowly mortal like her?” She sneered. “What do you care of her kind?”

“She was my love!” Dionysus sobbed forlorn.

“What a pity. Maybe you’ll find her in the afterlife…” Hera gave him a cold smile. ”I gladly help you to meet Hades too.”

“And he will send me back with other gods,” Dionysus answered. “Unlike you, he honors the will of my father.”

“Ah, the unfortunate Zeus,” Hera spat. “What a pity, he so keenly protects his bastard sons…”

“Yes, I’m a bastard, but she wasn’t!” Dionysus raged. “Why did you kill her?”

Hera laughed. “Trage? She was promised to me since the moment of her birth. Did you two honestly think I would allow her to leave and, besides, with you?”

“I promised I would protect her!”

“She trusted in Zeus’ son?” Hera snickered. “Your father has succeeded only in lying and cheating. How on earth could you be different from him?”

“I am not Zeus!” Dionysus cried. “Zeus might have betrayed you, but I’m not to be blamed. Nor should she!” He let go of Trage and stood up with a furious gleam in his eyes, and nervously Hera took a step backwards. She had never seen Dionysus that way, not even under her curse.

But she was the high goddess of Olympus and she would not show him she was intimidated. Hera stopped and straightened her back. “And what can you do about it? You? A pitiful god of wine and celebration?”

Dionysus gave her a wrathful look. “I promise you this, Hera. Your deed shall not go unpunished,” Dionysus finally said. He stood tall and encountered Hera. “Know that I shall possess every poet and writer from this day onward and drive them mad.” His eyes were ablaze, “They shall write words that make people weep and cry. And all shall remember your crime against an innocent girl whose only wrongdoing was to be loved by a god. And so your crime will never truly be forgotten, those verses shall be called tragedies!” Dionysus shouted and covered his eyes. “For my love, Trage! The greatest art for my greatest love!”

He let out an inhuman cry, welcoming the familiar feeling of his previous madness. He cried once again, turning around and started running away. He vanished in the shadows of the forest, but she could still hear him repeating the name of his love; and the ground trembled with the echo of his voice.

"Trage…my Trage… my tragedy…"

Hera couldn’t move. The painful look in the eyes of her hated stepson had made her feel uncomfortable. Trage’s cold body lay down on her feet, killed by her as predicted; and Dionysus was mad again.

“Destiny weaves as he sees,” Hera whispered, but the words didn’t soothe her.

She stood still and waited for the comforting twilight of Minerva to arrive; and when the darkness fell, it finally hid the all-seeing peacock eyes in her dress.

But never her.