Ariadne

Ariadne did not awake, until long after Theseus and his Athenians had gone. By then the sun was beginning its decline in the late afternoon sky and winds from an awful storm were blowing huge waves onto the jagged rocks of the beach. At first Ariadne didn't remember where she was, but then visions of her father's harbor burning and the laughing faces of the Greeks filled her head and she knew all too well where she was. Ariadne began searching the island for her companions, but they were nowhere to be found. Only footprints in the sand told the story of their ever having been there.

Her heart gripped with fear, Ariadne began to climb the jagged rocks that projected out into the sea. She cut her hands as she scrambled over them, Ariadne whose hands had never felt harder work than tending her father's garden. Stepping in shallow water between two boulders, she cut her feet on the black spines of the sea urchin, but she paid no attention to her wounds, and let the blood flow as she clambered over the rocks, hoping beyond hope to spot the ship of Theseus. Its black sails had long since passed beyond the horizon. With the certain knowledge of her abandonment, Ariadne gave up all hope. Theseus' sweet words had brought her to this fate, but it was her own folly that had caused her to accept their deception. For a pretty-faced hero she had betrayed her father, betrayed her brother, betrayed her people - is it any wonder that she had been betrayed in turn? Ariadne wondered at her father's fate - it was a thing too bitter to contemplate for long. Commending her spirit to the Gods, Ariadne passed into a deep sleep from which she hoped never to awaken.

This, then, was how Dionysos found her. Ariadne was slumped against the rock, with waves washing up over her naked frame, the ocean having long since torn her delicate dress to shreds. She was covered in innumerable scrapes and bruises, and harsh sand from the beach coated her lovely body. Ariadne barely lived; she longed for the comforting embrace of death, and the sweet oblivion that would come with it.

Dionysos stooped down and picked the girl up in his arms. Careful not to cause her any harm, the God carried her out to sea, and the waiting ship from which he had come. The whole of the ship was covered in strands of vine and ivy, as if it had been made from these plants, and hundreds of grape clusters hung from the mast like a giant purple sail. For oars it had snakes, its crew were satyrs and nymphs and horse-men like Silenus, and upon its prow was mounted the head of a bull, Dionysos' symbol, which moved about with life, and spoke many things, especially when it neared land. This was the ship that once had belonged to the pirates of Tyrrhenia, those fools who had conspired to ransom off the God, whom they mistook for a lost prince, walking aimlessly along the shore. Dionysos confounded them however, slaying them with his wild beasts and turning those who fled into dolphins. He kept alive the good helmsman Acoetes, who carried word of the God to many people, and the pirate ship, which Dionysos delighted in.

As Dionysos carried the girl across the sea, Ariadne roused, and, looking up into the God's face, let out a sigh. Never before had she seen one so beautiful. The God's hair was black and curly, for black is the color of youth, as white is the color of old age. His eyes were like wine, sweet and deep and full of secrets man will never know. His head was crowned with ivy and laurel, and his skin was golden as the sun which shines above. He wore long flowing robes from Asia and smelled of Arabian incense and hot desert days. With her gentle hand, Ariadne reached out and touched his beautiful face, and even then she wasn't sure that all this was really happening, for he was too beautiful to exist in the drab and dismal world she had been plunged into. Dionysos smiled at her touch, kissing her tender fingers, and Ariadne felt a wonderful calm come upon her, a peace for which there are no words.

When they reached the ship, Dionysos carried her aboard and placed her gently on his couch, calling for his wine-cup to be brought. Holding the girl's head, the Lord bid her drink, and the wine was sweet as it passed over Ariadne's lips. The sweet wine washed away the bitterness of her heart, and soothed her body's wounds, leaving pleasure where there had been pain, and joy where there was sorrow.

Finally, when the wine had brought back her voice, Ariadne asked, "You are a God, are you not? For only a God could have carried me across the waves like that."

Dionysos nodded, and said, "Indeed I am. Heavenly Zeus sired me, and I was born of Cadmus' virgin daughter, Semele. I am a God, and the son of a God, the Raving One, Dionysos."

"If you are a God, then certainly you know what I've done. Why, then, did you not leave me to my fate, for death is no less than what I deserve."

"In your sorrow, you called out to me, and I came. What evil you have done, you have also repented; further, it was love that motivated your actions, not hate. Love forgives much. The law may call for your death - but I am greater than the law."

Overcome by the love in the God's eyes, Ariadne began to weep. Dionysos reached forward and touched her tears, saying, "These are more precious than jewels; their worth is greater than all the treasure in the world. Theseus and the others may not have understood what they meant - I do. Many times I have seen your heart moved to tears at the pain in the world. You never looked the other way, ignoring the naked in the street, pretending you could not smell the stench of their open sores. Many times you gave them your own robes to wear against the cold; applied healing salves to their wounds; and gave them food to eat when others would not. You risked everything to save the Athenian youths - and it wasn't just because of Theseus' pretty face. Compassion runs deep in you, and it inspires all you do. Many times have I witnessed your kindness; many times have I, taking on the appearance of a poor wretch, felt your kindness first hand. Even abandoned on the island, it was the safety of your father that worried you, not your own. There is so much goodness in you, Ariadne - I just wish that you could see things as I do."

Ariadne pulled away from the God's touch and cried out, her words full of self-contempt, "Here is proof of my wickedness! For all that you sing my praises, putting forth one selfless act after another, I can think of nothing but my desire for you. You speak of clothing the poor, I think of tearing the clothes from your body. You speak of anointing sores, I think of running my hands over your oiled chest. You speak of feeding the poor - it is not food that I wish to have between my lips. Don't you see how lustful I am, how sinful - truly you should have left me on Dia to die!"

Dionysos reached forward, catching Ariadne in his arms. He kissed her passionately, fully, and when he released her, Ariadne gasped for breath. "Don't ever say that, Ariadne - for you are holy! Your lips are holy. Your tongue is holy. Your cheeks, your neck, your breasts, holy. Holy your hips, holy your thighs. Your fingers, your ankles, your buttocks and belly. Every part of you is holy, as holy as your soul, holy as the earth, the stars, the Gods in heaven - all of it's holy, and not one part any more - or less - holy than the rest. Passion is what redeems man - so don't ever be ashamed of your passion. I count it the highest honor to be worshipped through the flesh. Every sigh that escapes your lips is a prayer to me; the sweat of your body is like fragrant incense; and in the act of sex your flesh becomes sanctified and I make my temple there. Blessed are the lovers, for the secrets of the earth shall be revealed to them!"

Again the Lord took her to him, his strong hands exploring her hungry flesh as he tasted the wonderful kisses of her mouth. He traced the curve of her tender breasts, the smooth rise of her belly, the swell of her hips, the warmth between her legs. The breath caught in Ariadne's throat as the God's caresses coaxed pleasure from the depths of her being. Her breasts rose and fell at a quickened pace, her legs grew weak, and her head felt as if it had been released from her neck. Just as Dionysos' knowing fingers were about to drive her over the edge, the God abruptly stopped, and the shock of it nearly sent her to her knees. Before Ariadne could recover, the Lord raised his hands and the flowing Asian robes dissolved, revealing to her gaze the wonder of his body, in form so unlike the statues that the Greeks loved. He was tall, very tall, with wide shoulders and a massive chest, and all over he was covered with thick brown hair, in contrast to the almost feminine smoothness of the Cretan boys she had known. His middle was expanding from too much wine, but somehow that only made him more desirable to her. And between his legs was the largest penis she had ever seen, frightening in its girth, yet inspiring in her a reckless lust to feel it move within her. Ariadne let her hands play over the corded muscle of his arms and the broad expanse of his chest, and gave up all semblance of control. The ship and waters outside, the satyrs and nymphs, and the whole world beyond her dissolved, until only she and the Lord remained, and soon even that duality was banished.

As the two made love on the couch on the ship, the nymphs busied themselves with other tasks, pretending that they could not hear Ariadne's gasps of pleasure, and attempting to banish from their minds their own pleasant memories of the Lord's loving embraces. The satyrs, however, made no pretense at work, engaged, as they were, in the much more interesting task of watching the God, and cheering him on when he performed a particularly deft maneuver. Those worthless satyrs, as the poet Hesiod called them, drained many cups of wine in Dionysos' honor, and honored him further by taking their penises in hand, and stroking them in the wonderful worship of God. The nymphs were disgusted at their comrade's open displays, but that didn't stop the brutes from propositioning the girls, and casting lustful glances at them when the nymphs rebuffed their crude appeals.

After much time had passed, and Dionysos and Ariadne had finished (actually, the Lord could have continued, but Ariadne was beginning to tire) the crew decided to throw a feast in Ariadne's honor, to welcome her among the holy band of the God's followers. Dionysos was very much in favor of this, and so he left her in the care of the nymphs to go and help prepare the banquet. The nymphs took every care with the girl, bathing and anointing her flesh, combing out her long hair and arranging it artfully, and finally dressing her in a gown of shimmering silk, such as only Goddesses wear. Meanwhile, Dionysos and the satyrs labored to prepare the feast, setting up a huge table on the ship, and many couches. All sorts of food were served - indeed, the satyrs took great pride in their culinary skill, despite what everyone said about their culture being no better than a Scythe's. There were cakes, cheeses, and heaps of roasted flesh; olives and figs and grapes; dates and lettuces and stew; barley-meal, onions, and poached eggs; loaves of bread, fishes, and oat-porridge; exotic dishes from Bactria, Arabia, Egypt and India; and three or four different kinds of wine, mixed with water and unmixed. Indeed, it was a wonderful banquet, and several of the satyrs played their flutes to entertain those delighting in the feast. Ariadne sat upon the Lord's lap, resting her shoulder on his raised left knee while he stroked her hair and fed her grapes and olives with his own fingers. When the meal was done, several more satyrs joined their fellows and formed a chorus to serenade the princess with lovely songs that they had picked up during their travels through Egypt, India, and Bactria - songs that the nymphs much preferred to the lusty Thracian tunes that the satyrs usually chanted.

As the satyrs sang, Dionysos repositioned Ariadne so that her back rested against his chest and her head lay against his shoulder. He leaned forward and whispered gentle words into her hair as his hands explored the supple curves of her body through the silk of her gown. His poetry had the same effect as wine - it caused her head to swim, and roused a pleasant fire within her belly. Ariadne took the Lord's hand and brought it down between her legs, saying, "This flower is yours. From all time it has been yours. Nourished from the beginning in your love, its whole purpose has been this moment. Having plucked it Lord, you may now cast it aside, thinking it of no account. But this flower has already felt the bliss of heaven - what, then, are the torments of hell to it?"

Dionysos tilted her head back and kissed the princess. "Do not fear, Ariadne - I am in no hurry to dispose of you. Our love is an immortal thing. It came into being with the earth and stars and Gods - and it shall not expire before them. As the night completes the day, so it is that you complete me. To lose you would be a loss of myself - for truly, we are two who have become one. Let us then have a tangible sign of our union. Ariadne, will you take me to wed?"

Ariadne slid from the God's lap and fell to her knees before him. She placed her head in his lap and began to weep. It was not tears of sorrow that she shed, but tears of a joy so profound that few mortals ever experience it's like in life. "Yes," she wept, repeating that word many times.

From the empty air Dionysos drew a golden crown for Ariadne, the shining crown of Amphitrite which Aphrodite had given to her on her wedding day. When Dionysos had gone beneath the waves with Thetis, he had met Amphitrite there, and performed a great service for her. In gratitude Amphitrite gave him her crown, saying that he would one day have need of it. This, then, would be that day.

Dionysos placed the crown on her head, and lifted her up to stand by his side. Addressing the satyrs and nymphs, Dionysos said, "Give ear you all, this one have I made your queen!" And the holy band cheered the God's decision, praising Ariadne and her new husband.

They came to Nysa to perform the ceremony, Nysa which had nursed the God in his youth. Before their approach the earth had slumbered in winter. At the touch of the God's feet she roused herself and put on splendid finery to honor him. Where the land was brown and barren, it sprang anew with great green life. Where the fruit-bearing tree had stood pitiful with its naked branches, it now hung proudly with heavy fruit. The broad meadows of Nysa took on the wonderful colors of spring, donning flowers of every color and lush green grass as their wedding attire. The air smelled of spring; of unfolding blossoms, and fruit on the tree, of green grass and moist earth, sun and rain. The earth made an altar for the wedding, raising a portion of herself up, a mound covered in white blossoms and decked about with strings of flowering ivy and grape vines - an altar fit for the God. Hundreds of birds came to sing the bridal hymn, perching themselves in the fruit-trees till the time was right. Wild animals from the forest came to watch the ceremony, and the nymphs went among them, placing flower-garlands around their wild throats, which the beasts joyfully consented to. Many of his fellow Gods came, and Zeus, king of the world, officiated over his son's wedding, and he whose Word gives order to the world was very eloquent.

The feast on board Dionysos' ship was fabulous. It was like a Greek feast, however, compared to the sumptuous meal that followed the ceremony. Even Homer, the greatest of poets and himself fond of extravagant feasts, could not have done it justice. The Gods themselves were even awed at its plenitude, for however much they ate, there was still more to eat, and ever finer food set before them. And the wine. One drop on the tongue was like heaven - yet there was an ever-flowing source of it.

Dionysos ate more sparingly than his fellows, and only emptied his cup twice before he had finished eating. Instead, he watched his fellow Gods and mortal followers cavorting, taking pleasure in their hearty laughs and raucous songs. Even modest Hestia got up and danced, drunk on the God's holy wine. More often than not, however, his gaze was caught by his lovely wife, radiant Ariadne, who was in the midst of a large group that continually drank to her honor and sang songs for her, laughed, and made merry. Dionysos looked with pleasure on that, for so much of his young bride's life had been filled with sorrow and seriousness. Blessed are the merry-makers, thought Dionysos, for they are already half divine!

Artemis, the sister of Apollo, came up and sat beside the God. "Honor to you, Dionysos!" She said, raising a cup of his wine. "Your bride is most beautiful. I hope your time with her is filled with more happiness than sorrow."

"Indeed." Dionysos replied after a moment. "Although I think your toast a most peculiar one to make on such a happy day."

"Peculiar, maybe, but true. This fling of yours is bound to end in sorrow. It can be no other way - for you are a God, and she a mortal. She will grow old and die - you will not. These mortals are so small, so fragile. . .I don't know why you'd ever risk getting involved with one of them."

"Love is a powerful thing, Artemis. Its ways are not rational ways. Love is filled as much with sorrow as with joy - but every moment is worth it in the end. For only in love are we truly alive. And that applies just as much to Gods as to men."

"No. Never. I will never open myself to that . . . that madness. Love is a loss of self, a criminal abdication of the will. You may call that living, but I call it a death, a death unbearable."

"Oh Artemis, if only you knew what you were missing. But describing love to one that has never felt it is like describing a sunset to one who does not see. It simply cannot be done."

"That's just like you to resort to poetry when you're about to lose the debate."

"All life is poetry, don't you see. The world is a myth in which our lives play themselves out."

"Oh great, now you're a philosopher! Just what we need on Olympus."

Dionysos let out a belly laugh, and raised his cup in Artemis' honor. "Too true, too true, Forest Mother."

"Truth is precisely what I came to speak with you about. This love of yours has clouded your sight. I think you do not see the injustice your bride has done you, blind as you have become."

"Those are strong words, Artemis. What do you mean by them?" Dionysos inquired, stroking his beard.

"As I sat dining with the Nereïds the subject of your new bride arose. According to them, it seems, Ariadne is no virgin."

"That is hardly news to me." Dionysos smiled. "I had the pleasure of her as we sailed from Dia."

"Yes, but did you have first pleasure?"

"Well no, she was not a virgin when first we lay together. Nor the second time, nor even the third."

"Do you even know who it was that she betrayed you with?"

"I haven't got a clue. It was probably that gallant Theseus, who abandoned her on Dia. But maybe someone else beat him to it. There are plenty of pretty boys on Crete, and plenty of opportunities to honor the Gods in that delightful manner. For all I know it could have even been that hairy brute Asterius, Minos' own bull, who did the deed. While I doubt it was her half-brother, you seem to suggest something just as bad."

"You make light of all this, but I tell you it is no laughing matter."

"I think it is. A wife is more than a maidenhead, and my Ariadne more than most wives. What I care about is the content of her heart - and on that count she is above reproach. She is full of generosity, compassion, gaiety and most importantly, when I look into her eyes I know what it is to be loved - and not just sparingly, but with her whole heart. That is a gift of greater value than her virginity. Maybe she took one man to bed before me - maybe she took one hundred; but in the end it was I that she chose, and I that she gave her heart to."

"A God should not be this blind. Tear yourself from her deceptive eyes and look, man, look at the wrong that she has done you. Virginity is a precious thing, the most precious thing that a girl has - and as such, it shouldn't be squandered like a common coin with just any ruffian in the street. It is a jewel that belongs to the girl's husband, and if she does not possess it on her wedding day she has stolen from her lord. It is a terrible crime when it has been committed against a mortal - but when the victim of the theft is a God: that is a crime beyond bearing!"

"Now in my journeys I've had the pleasure of a number of young virgins, and I can assure you that you're making altogether too much fuss over a bit of skin and some blood. Besides, the first time's never any good, and whoever had Ariadne's is welcome to it. I much prefer my women to be experienced in the art of love - it's always better if they know what to do with their hands and mouth, and if that part has already been stretched they whimper and cry for different reasons altogether."

Blushing and furious, Artemis rose from the table and left. Dionysos, nonplused, returned to the festivity and his cup of wine. Had the God guessed at the contents of Artemis' heart, he would have followed her into the forest and pleaded with her to turn from her path of anger. But her heart remained closed to him, and her offended dignity, fueled as it was by the embarrassment she felt at Dionysos' words, turned to dark rage and deadly vengeance. And as the weeks passed, this lethal combination festered in the Goddess' heart until she had to act upon it.

Now Ariadne had dreamed of travel her whole youth, and as the bride of Dionysos she was able to fulfill her life-long dream. In his chariot drawn by swift-footed panthers, the Lord carried his bride across the earth, showing her all the places that he had gone, the people he had met, the wonders he had performed. Ariadne particularly enjoyed the land of the Egyptians, for many things there resembled her home, and being among such familiar settings brought back memories of her life before Theseus. Dionysos knew that he could not take her back to Crete, for Minos had interrogated Daedalus and knew of his daughter's involvement in Theseus' rescue of the Athenian virgins, and so Minos had disowned his daughter. Although Minos' power extended to most of the islands beyond Crete, many were sanctuaries of the Lord, and as such owed allegiance first to God, then to man. One such sanctuary was Naxos, the island that Theseus and his men had called "Dia". Abandoned on the southern part of the island, Ariadne had thought herself alone on that great piece of land, for there were no people to be found, nor signs of there ever having been any. But had she gone just a little further, beyond the forest that covered the middle part of the island at the time, she would have found a fabulous city with a temple of Dionysos as its center. The Lord brought his bride to Naxos, and they spent many wonderful days together, walking on the beach and making love in his temple.

Every year the Thracians honor Dionysos with drunken feasts which they call Routs, and it was his custom to attend these feasts. Now the time came for Dionysos to go among the Thracians, and while he offered to bring his wife along, Ariadne would have no part of it. Wild and bloody, these drunken feasts lasted many days, and it was their custom to share the women of a village in common during the course of a Rout - a prospect Ariadne did not find appealing. So Dionysos left her on Naxos with the promise of returning as soon as the Routs had finished.

One day, shortly after Dionysos had left, Ariadne was walking along the beach on the southern part of the island, near where Theseus had abandoned her. She often came to this spot and sat on the rocks where Dionysos had found her, staring out to sea. This day she found no comfort on the spot, for she felt baneful eyes upon her back, but whenever she sought out their source she was always alone. This sense of unease kept her from climbing the great rocks on the beach, and shortly after she had arrived, Ariadne turned back, and started heading towards the temple. That was when Artemis struck.

A shrill sound spilled from the forest and as Ariadne turned to discover its source, an arrow plunged into her thigh. The princess screamed and collapsed to the ground, and like an avenging Fury, the Huntress burst from her forest cover and took aim with her silver bow. "Die you harlot!" The Goddess cried and let another arrow fly. Miraculously, the arrow went wide, and Ariadne struggled to rise. She was on her feet and limping away when Artemis caught up with her. Having missed the prone girl, a thing unthinkable, the Goddess was in a rage. Using her indestructible bow like a club, she struck the princess over the head, and beat her to the ground. Bloody and battered, Ariadne lifted a weak arm to try and fend off the Goddess' blows - Artemis broke her arm, and then brought the bow down on Ariadne's head, sending her into unconsciousness. Artemis stepped back and drew her bow taut. Her black arrow flew straight and punctured the girl's heart. Blood passed over her lips, and Ariadne was dead. Artemis took a moment to oversee the carnage she had wrought. Smiling, she said, "Dionysos is avenged," and then took on the shape of a doe, disappearing once more into the forest.

Now Dionysos was among the Thracians when this happened, partaking of the red, raw feast which they had made a sacrament in his mysteries. The moment Ariadne was struck by the Goddess, Dionysos knew. Immediately he left the revelers, flying back to Naxos without bothering to make use of his panther-drawn cart or vine-covered ship. Though he traveled with all speed, he was too late to save his beloved wife. He found her on the beach surrounded by the temple assistants who had come to search for the girl when she had not returned at the appointed hour. The sight of lovely Ariadne pierced by those arrows, her flesh bruised and bloody, sent the God into a madness. "Who did this? Why did you let this happen?" The God bellowed, and the priests fell to their knees, cowering in their fear. Angered at their displays, Dionysos waved his hands over them and they immediately began to change, shrinking and contorting until their form was that of the worm, basest of creatures which moves only by writhing contemptibly. Dionysos then knelt down and picked the girl up in his arms, holding her lifeless body to his. Shaking with his anger, wracked by his loss, Dionysos wept, and the winds came, furious winds that lashed at his flesh and tore the nearby trees from the ground. Huge waves pounded against the shore, as Dionysos' fists pounded against his chest. Black clouds like the God's own black rage filled the sky, and sheets of rain fell to the ground, as his tears fell upon Ariadne's body. Lightning filled the sky, and thunder threatened to rip the heavens apart. The earth shook with the Lord's fury, and the animals in the forest wept along with their God.

Immortal Zeus in heaven took notice, and the sight of his own son wracked by pain moved the exalted God, so that he descended to earth to comfort the Lord. Zeus, arrayed in his fabulous robes, approached Dionysos on the beach, and as the son of Cronos came near the winds quieted, the rains ceased, and thunder was heard no more.

Dionysos, his eyes red from weeping, stared up at his father, and in a low, lethal voice said, "That storm was mine. You had no right to stop it."

"But son, if I had permitted it to continue, all the people on Naxos would have drowned, and the island would have been under water before your anger was slaked."

"What care I for those people? My beloved Ariadne is dead. Why shouldn't they join her in the house of Hades?"

"Because, son, it would not be right."

"Oh, don't you dare speak to me of what is right. Was it not you who drowned the whole human race because of the sleight of a single man, and again you who punished Prometheus for bringing fire to them? These are not 'right' actions, however you wish to justify them."

"Indeed, I have done many things of which I am not proud. But having done both good and evil, I can tell you - the good is by far the better."

"If that is all you have come to say, go back up to Heaven, father, for I have no intention of killing these innocents. I have other victims in mind." With that, the Lord pulled the arrow from Ariadne's thigh and held it up for Zeus to see. It obviously belonged to Artemis.

"Will you bring war among the Gods for the sake of this mortal?" Asked Zeus.

Dionysos broke the arrow in two and cast the halves at his father's feet. "Absolutely!"

"But she was only human. They are like the grass - here today, gone tomorrow. This is a great thing to do over such an insignificant being."

"Ariadne was not insignificant. She was the most wonderful woman I have ever met. I loved her with all my heart - there was not another like her in all the world. Tell me, father - did you not love my mother in the same way?"

Zeus did not reply at first. He looked down at the ground for several long moments, the weight of his crown and his kingly attire all of a sudden extremely heavy. Finally, he looked back up at Dionysos and said, "Yes, I did. Your mother was more special to me than any of the other mortal women that I took to bed. More special than Europa, more special than Leto, even more special than Alcmene. Your mother was more special to me than I would often like to admit - a day does not go by that I do not repent my hasty promise."

"Perhaps, then, you understand something of what I feel. Unlike you, however, I cannot sit by and let the woman that I love go unavenged. You may not be able to stand up against Hera - I will not bow to Artemis. And if that means war, so be it."

There was another stretch of time during which neither God spoke. Zeus' head was bowed once more, deep in thought. Then, abruptly, the king of the Gods came to a decision, and he addressed his son. "This goes contrary to the natural order, and the Fates will not like it. But damn them all, what good is being the Ruler of the Universe if you cannot occasionally bend the rules? Now listen up, son. If I raise your wife to the rank of Gods, making her immortal, you will have to put aside this enmity of yours. With Ariadne by your side for all time, there will be no need for you to make war against Artemis - and that is the condition that I set for you. Do you accept my terms?"

Dionysos stared up at his father, scarcely believing what he had heard. Then, when it had set in, the God leapt up, and rushed to embrace his father. Kingly Zeus accepted his son, returning the embrace as firmly as Dionysos offered it.

Zeus indeed kept to his word. Together Dionysos and he carried the body of Ariadne to Cypris where they gave it a proper burial, and placed her wedding crown in the sky as the Corona Borealis. (One can still see her grave on that island, though so many years have passed.) Next Zeus raised the spirit of Ariadne up out of Hades and transformed her into a Goddess, bestowing on her all of the power and the immortality of an Olympian. On earth she was worshipped as Ariadne Aphrodite, and her cult spread from Cypris to all the world, including Crete, her home, where she was honored as an earth Goddess, and protector of animals. She continued to be the Queen of the Bacchantes, and together, she and Dionysos had many children, among them Staphylus, Phanus, Oenipion, Thoas, Peparethus, and Ceramus. Their love is a shining example to all who feel Aphrodite's sweet embrace, and a promise that love persists, even unto death.

Now my story is not, by any means, completed. For though Dionysos kept his part of the bargain and did not make war against the Goddess, he nonetheless had his vengeance on her. Dionysos caused the chaste Goddess to fall in love with the handsome hunter Orion, who many times had accompanied her on the hunt. Despite her initial reluctance, Artemis found herself warming up to the fellow, and Orion, winning her confidence was even allowed to watch her bathe, a thing she had killed a number of mortals for attempting. As the days passed, and Artemis grew closer to Orion she began to think of wedding the giant hunter, and this was a prospect that much disturbed her brother Apollo, so he conspired to dispose of his competitor for Artemis' affections. One day as he and his sister were hunting near the shore, he noticed Orion swimming far out to sea. Pointing to the black object, which Artemis had not recognized, he wagered her that she could not hit it with an arrow. She won the bet by piercing her lover's head. When Orion's body washed ashore, she was horrified by what she had done, and so Dionysos' vengeance was complete. Dionysos caused her to love, and to lose the one that she had loved, that she might know the bitter suffering that she had caused him.