Beauty of Thebes - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Sly Dionysus  

“Brother A…” Dionysus smiled, “you know that your sister and I are at odds, don’t you?”  

“…What’s the point of telling that story now?” Apollo hesitated and cut off Dionysus’ words with a single stroke.  

‘Oh, he’s mad. He’s big mad.’  

Dionysus touched his forehead with the free hand, his other hand holding onto the golden chalice. He looked at the distant mountain.  

Eutostea drank the drink he gave at the festival and spent the night with him. What would happen should he spit out a long explanation about spending the night with Eutostea while knowing that Artemis had placed a curse on her, which works by faith in purity. Would it offset his crime of touching Apollo’s woman? Would Apollo notice that his presence inside her had disappeared?  

Dionysus gulped down the wine with a cold sweat.  

“What is the curse about?” Dionysus asked Apollo standing tall as if he had turned into a tree.  

“A declaration of war to pursue Eutostea to the ends of the earth and kill her.”  

‘Oh my Gods! What a crazy woman! Yeah, it’s a good thing I kept my distance from her.’’  

Dionysus’ mind spun crazily.  

“I had mistaken Eutostea for her second sister. I didn’t recognize her. I’m sure she was hurt and now I’m at fault that she’s been cursed to oblivion. No matter how much she knows of my existence, she’ll only forget me.”  

The curse of oblivion was an old, ancient curse led by the Underworld ruled by Hades. It required such intense hatred for the living to form to something powerful and wrathful.  

The curse was usually written to scold an ungrateful human being such as the hero of Athens, who still sits in a chair of oblivion to this day and doesn’t remember himself even now.  

‘Crazy woman, you actually used your brain,’  Dionysus muttered inwardly.  

Artemis wrote the cruelest curse to her brother. Apollo had almost lost Eutostea, her life at the edge of death and under Atropos’ will. He could do nothing but watch her, which he felt powerless. He had become the loser. Apollo, a god full of victory and splendor, had lost to Artemis. He even gave his laurel wreath away.  

“She said that this mortal woman will never be happy next to me,” Apollo said solemnly.  

But had he ever been happy with a woman? His love always brought onto them ruins. He should’ve expected that this obvious formula would’ve been applied to Eutostea.  

“Then she can stay by my side,” Dionysus said daringly.  

The silent Apollo looked at him with red eyes that would kill him if Dionysus spewed another joke one more time.  

“I’m serious, brother. Don’t glare at me like that.”  

Dionysus threw back the golden chalice he was holding. He straightened his posture to show that he was not drunk but with a clear mind. He needed to make this crazy lunatic realize that he was having a sincere conversation with him.  

“Are you going to protect her in Delphi? Artemis said she’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. You two have the same blood, so she’ll sniff you out right away. Will you put a chain all over the mountains of Parnassus? She won’t stop.”  

“You son of a b*tch,” Apollo recited in an angered voice.  

But he was silent again. It was his fault that he had killed her hounds and fanned Artemis’ anger.  

“Then where will you protect her? If you put her in Hyperboria, she won’t last a day. Are you going to bring back the woods? Will you give yourself months to make out with the flowers and turn it into greenery?”  

“…I won’t repeat the same mistake, Dionysus.”  

“You barely make any sense now,” looking at Apollo’s grief-stricken face, Dionysus grinned and continued, “so just leave it to me.”  

Dionysus patted his chest confidently.  

With a sullen look on his face, Apollo looked at Dionysus, wondering what he was up to.  

“In the upper reaches of the Pactolus River, there sits my temple, abandoned and without anyone looking after it. It’ll be a sanctuary for her. Artemis will never go there. She hates my guts. She’ll never find Eutostea hiding in my temple. I’ll make her my mistress so she can recover.”  

“Cursed you,” said Apollo.  

Dionysus shrugged slyly. “It’s not something I can solve either. Zeus won’t even be able to solve it should he decide to intervene. He might end up listening to Artemis’ grief. You’ll only end up giving Eutostea more troubles.”  

Downright lie…  

But the lie sounded like a truth that Apollo nodded and agreed to Dionysus’ plan, albeit hesitant.  

Dionysus prepared to receive Eutostea in his arms. The pockets of gold coins on his waist jingled.  

“She’s my woman. Be prepared to give up your life if you don’t take great care of her, Dionysus.”  

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s your right. We’re in the same boat. I’m only offering my voluntary help.”  

“Stop talking nonsense and get the hell out of this place before Artemis notices you. Her eyes are all over the place.”  

“Yes, yes,” Dionysus hugged Eutostea, answering like a rickety rascal.  

Embracing her in his arms, Eutostea fell asleep quietly like a baby.  

‘Oh beautiful woman, you’re back in my arms.’  

With a pleased smile that Apollo didn’t notice, Dionysus hit the golden sandals on the floor. His figure vanished like a cloud of smoke.  

Apollo was left alone in the temple. He wiped the bloodstains off his cheeks with an expression of disapproval. It would be a real shame if anyone caught him like this.  

“You know how to shed tears, too, Apollo.”  

When Apollo turned his head and looked at the altar, Hestia, wearing a hood, stood beside the brazier. Hestia caught her. Apollo felt hopeless. The goddess covered her mouth and laughed softly as she heard his pride crumble.