How Dionysos Came to Delphi

A Muse from Pieria first told me this story - which, of course, is no gurantee that it actually happened like this, Muses being Muses. But if you listen closely, I think you will hear the truth of my tale. After Dionysos was cured of madness by the Mountain Mother Kybele, and initiated into her Mysteries, which became his, he attracted to himself a large following. These were the Nymphs and Satyrs of his youth, as well as other woodland Goddesses, and mortal men and women from all over, who longed to dance the God's sacred dances and drink his everflowing wine and experience blessed states of ecstacy. Now Dionysos got the idea to spread his blessings to all parts of the world, even as far away as India and Bactria, so with his attendant throng, he set off on that great adventure. He conquered the East without so much as shedding a drop of blood. When he encountered a great Indian army, his companion Pan gave a great shout, and filled them all with panic so that they dropped their weapons and fled. Victorious, Dionysos led his thiasos back into broad Hellas, making a point of passing through Phocis, west of his home in Boeotia, that they might come to the city of Delphi and visit the sanctuary of Apollo to call upon the Oracle there. Delphi cling to the dizzyingly steep slopes of Mount Parnassus, with forbidding cliffs above it and a gulf beneath. Hills spread out to either side of the old city, and the air grew thin as one climbed the mountain. One day the Gods on Olympos had been discussing scientific matters, and the question of where the earth's center lay arose. Though the Gods were wise in many things, they did not yet know this. So Father Zeus turned two eagles loose, one from the spot where the sun rises, and the other from where it sets. Released at the same time and flying at the same speed, they met over Delphi. Zeus erected a beehive shaped stone on the spot, for certainly this was the navel or omphalos of the world. Now broad-bosomed Ge established her Oracle on the spot, and gave forth warnings from the omphalos. As time passed, the Goddess grew weary of mortals and Gods alike, so she retired to the depths of the earth, giving the care of her Oracle over to Themis, her daughter. Unfortunately wise Themis was too busy to tend the Oracle properly, so she gave its care over to Phoebe the Titaness. Now Phoebe was still angry over the loss she and her siblings had suffered in the war between the Gods and Titans, and she had no love for the sons of the Gods. So she took slime left over from the great flood that had killed all but Deukalion and moulded it into the shape of a terrible serpent-dragon. She breathed life and all of her hatred into it, and then set the beast up to guard the Oracle that was in her care. Anyone who attempted to approach it was eaten up by the terrible dragon. The Goddess Leto, pregnant with her two great children Apollo and Artemis, passed through the area. She was under a terrible curse from the Goddess Hera, and could not give birth to her children anywhere that had felt the touch of the sun. She suffered in pains of birth, anguish the likes of which no Goddess had ever felt. When she paused near Delphi to catch her breath for the long journey, the terrible dragon rose up from its cave and harried her. It chased her through the valleys and mountains of the area, threatening to tear her with its awful fangs, and eat the babies in her belly. Somehow the Goddess managed to flee, and found her way to Delos, a small craggy island that rose from the sea in order to give her solace and room to birth her mighty children. Her son Apollo did not forget the insulance of the dragon, and no sooner had he stuck his head out into the world, than he swore vengeance. Grasping a golden bow in his tiny hands, the young God hunted the guardian of the Oracle, and slew it with his terrible arrows. He shot it so many times, that it looked like a pin cushion! Under the powerful sun, the serpent's body rotted away to nothing, and that is how it came to be called Python, and the priestesses of the area Pythias for in Greek, the word pytho means 'rotten'. Phoebe saw how easily the young God had dispatched her terrible guardian, so she fled in a panic, leaving the Oracle to him. This is how Delphi came into his hands, and how the Far-Shooter came to be called Phoebus for he adopted the name of the Titaness as his own, in order to honor the previous owner of the Oracle. Now Apollo did not give his predictions appearing face to face with the supplicant, as Themis and Gaia had done before him. Instead the Shining One collected at Delphi a number of young women, going as far as Egypt and Phoenicia and distant Hyperborea to gather these prized possessions who would tend his temple. And the chief of these women he gave the title of Pythia, and it was she who, entering into trances, would become inspired by the God, and from this holy state profess the will and wisdom of her God Phoebus. When the Pythia died or proved unable any longer to enter into communion with Apollo, she was replaced and the title was passed on to another girl, one of her attendant priestesses. Under Apollo's tutelage the city of Delphi grew up around the sanctuary, and the fame of Delphi spread until all the world had heard of the marvelous predictions that came from the earth's navel. Kings from far distant countries sent huge treasures to Delphi to help assure the favor of the God, and numerous wars were fought over who would protect the famed city. Apollo grew proud and arrogant because of his precious possession. People came from all parts of the world to hear the wisdom of Apollo and have the answer to their problems put before them, but this was not the only function of Delphi - though by far it was the most famous. Rites of purification were performed at Delphi, so that poor wretches with the stain of blood on their hands and hearts could come to the temple of Apollo and find redemption there - at a hefty price, and through great effort. Herakles, after killing his lovely wife Deïaneira - that same daughter of Oeneus who had befriended Bakkhos - in a fit of madness sent by Hera, came to Delphi to attone for his sin, though he found no redemption there, though plenty of others found purification for their minds and souls amid the high peaks of Delphi. Others came to the sanctuary merely to offer sacrifice to the High Gods, thinking that their prayers would be heard all the better having been sung at this holy site. Dionysos and his followers came to Delphi to visit the Oracle, and to pay honor to the Great Mother who once officiated there. As the pilgrims made their way up the hill that led to the temple of Apollo, decked out in crowns of laurel and white robes to honor the God, carrying a tripod of gold and other costly gifts for the temple, they saw that the temple attendants had all gathered outside the sanctuary and were in fact awaiting the procession. At the head of the temple attendants was an old woman in costly robes with a fillet of gold in her hair. She leaned heavily on a staff, and trembled as she stood there. Flanking the old woman were a number of young girls dressed in robes and crowns like the followers of Dionysos, though theirs were gilded with gold-thread. Further back were a number of men in white, the Hosioi or attending priests, and beyond them was an assortment of men and women in everyday attire. Silenus, the aged companion and once the tutor of the God, noticed that a number of these people were armed, and that everyone wore a grim expression on their face, which he pointed out to Dionysos. The God nodded but did not speak. When the pilgrims had reached the top of the hill, Dionysos greeted the temple attendants, saying, "We are indeed blessed to recieve such a warm welcome from you good priests, though I wonder if you greet all humble pilgrims in this way." The Pythia did not respond to the God's slight jest. Instead she steadied herself and said, "I am sorry, but the temple has been closed today. It is an ill-fated day for prophecy." "That will not deter us," Dionysos replied with a smile, "For we have not come here to prophecy or to hear prophecy. Rather, we have come to use your chapel, and to make sacrifices at the great altar of Delphi." "It is an ill-fated day for sacrifices, too. We cannot let you make use of the altar either." "How very strange, I had not realized that this was such an ill-omened day. Perhaps we should not be traveling today." "No, you may travel. In fact, I think that it would be a good idea if you did just that." "That is hardly very hospitable of you. One might get the impression that you don't want us around here, such a cold reception you've given us." "You would be right if you thought that, stranger." And as the Pythia spoke, she stood taller and no longer leaned on her staff. It was like she was filled with a God, and she drew on his strength. Her eyes glowed with the light of Apollo, and when she spoke it was not with her voice, but with his. "Delphi is a place that worships the light, that ennobles the spirit, that brings goodness and purity into the heart of man. We are concerned with that which brings man up, which makes him better and wiser, and at peace with the Gods. It has nothing to do with you - villain, scoundrel, defilier of women. You make men mad, and bring them down to the level of animals. You fill them with illusions, and confuse them into thinking that they are divine, when in fact they are nothing but mortals. You hide in the darkness, in the shadows, and creep forth only to cause trouble and disrupt order. Your world is the flesh, ours the spirit. Yours the realm of emotion, ours the intellect. Yours the earth, ours heaven. Yours the dark, ours the light. What do you want with us, Mad God? We want nothing to do with you." "You pride yourself on wisdom, brother, but you see only half the truth. You like to believe that you represent everything good and noble and true while I represent everything false, demeaning, and wrong. You teach the primacy of the soul, the beauty of the light, the power of intellect, but without shadows the light would become unbearable, without emotions there could be no intution, and though you propose that the body is a prison for the soul, I know the value of both. We are not the same, you and I, but we are closer than you think." "Lies! Foolishness and lies! Can you speak anything but? Leave. Get off of my land, before you and your mindless followers incur my mighty wrath." "Dear brother, child like I of Zeus, you forget yourself. Not only do you deny the ancient laws of hospitality, which even we Gods are subject to, but you think that just because you have been in charge of Delphi for these many years you somehow own her - as if anyone could own the earth. Before we Gods existed, this was the sanctuary of the Mother. If you are not careful, it will be hers again." The Pythia's face scrunched up, and she let out an angry yell. "You have been warned, O impure one, and now it is too late. The anger of dread Apollo be upon you!" And as the Pythia shouted her curse, lightning shot across the clear blue sky and there was an answering rumble of thunder from the earth. Under their feet the earth began to move, rolling and shaking violently, and steam and ash rose up from giant clefts that opened in the ground. Rocks and boulders started to fall from the moutain above them and winds, sounding like the howling Erenyes, swooped down upon the gathered band. The violence scared the followers of the God, and they began to run about, madly searching for a safety that was not to be found on the mountain cliff. Many were not fast enough to evade falling boulders, and others tripped and fell into the gaping holes that opened up under them. Others were burned by the steaming vapors of the earth, or struck with lightning from the sky. But Dionysos was not moved. He stood there, staring down the Pythia, the winds pulling at his robes and his long hair. The Pythia cackled and said, "Do something, God. Save your followers if you can." Dionysos lifted the thyrsos that he was carrying, and the winds stopped. He lowered the wand and struck it against the ground three times and the earth stopped shaking, the fissures closed, and the vapours disappeared. Dionysos lifted his wand again, and let out a great shout. The sound was terrible, and the priests clutched at their ears to stop the sound. Dionysos continued the shout, and dozens of birds who nested in the hills nearby came flying forth. The birds struck the followers of Apollo, wounding them visciously on their way to the temple. When the birds reached the temple, they flung themselves at it, and did whatever kind of damage they could. Dionysos lowered his staff, striking the earth with it again, and gave another call. This time a herd of animals poured forth from the forest around the temple, and the small creatures aided the birds in their attack against the temple. As the animals continued to come, an endless stream of living flesh, larger creatures joined them. Wolves and panthers from the hills and deer and rams came down and none of the creatures fought each other. They worked together to attack the temple, scratching at walls, pulling down the holy implements, and ransacking the treasury. The priests and temple attendants tried to stop the animals but they were no match for them, and were easily turned aside by the the fierce creatures. The Pythia, in a rage, began howling and screaming at the God, calling him the Defilier and the Lord of Abomination and when that did not work, she flung herself at the God, attempting to claw at him like a beast. Dionysos merely stepped out of her way at the last moment, and used his thyrsos to trip her. Dionysos stood over the old woman and said to her, or rather to Apollo who was in her, "How long will you hide behind your priestess, Far-Shooter? Do you fear to stand against me as yourself? If so, then you will watch as your beloved Delphi is layed low before you." The Pythia on the ground howled at the God one more time, and then collapsed in a state of total quiet and stillness. The quiet stretched on, and no one spoke or seemed even to breathe for several long moments. And then there came a loud and terrible sound from the heavens, a sound like that of a hundred horses' hooves striking the ground, a sound like a dozen beasts all roaring at once, a sound like the very firmament being torn assunder. As the people gathered on the mountain watched, a light appeared in the sky, and this light grew in intensity until it seemed to them as if a second sun had appeared before them. This second sun, as it approached, revealed itself to the people below as a chariot, a chariot made all of flame. Its floor was fire, and its wheels, and above it there was stars and lightning and a radiant glow that rivaled the true sun in splendor and magnificence so that the people below could not stare up at the chariot for long. The chariot drew itself; there were no steeds to pull it, nor fierce lions like those yoked to the chariot of the Great Mother. The Great Glory stood amid the chariot, his countenance darkened by anger, with flame rising from his baleful stare. His raiment shone more brightly than the sun, more whiter than snow. A golden diadem surmounted his brow, and he carried a flaming scepter in his hand, and the people below trembled at his might and at his wrath. Dionysos was not moved by this frightening display, nor were his followers. They stood their ground, even as the flaming chariot descended and came to a stop on the lofty cliff before them. Apollo stretched out his hands and the sound of sacred chanting and gentle strumming from his golden lyres filled the mountain air. A moment later winged cupids descended, and they payed homage to the exalted Lord of Heaven, magnificent Apollo of the golden tresses. In a thundering voice, the Shining One declared, "If there is any wisdom left in that wine-addled brain of yours, be gone. This is no place for you, and I will not tolerate your presence here any longer. Leave now - or suffer the consequences of your actions." "You are sure of yourself, golden boy. It was that same arragonce which caused Kassandra to spurn you. That same pride which brought about the death of beautiful Hyakinthos. Too bad, I'd have thought you'd have learned by now!" Without so much as a warning, Apollo set upon the wine-god. Red with anger, he aimed at Bakkhos a great blow on the side of the jaw, which was intended to dash him to the ground. He found his blow parried, however, and the two great Gods grasped each other by the shoulders, with heads close together and muscles straining, trying each one to throw the other. Apollo was surprised, for he had assumed that Dionysos was weak and flabby underneath his robes, that a decadent life spent among women and drink had left him frail and effeminate. But what Apollo found was that Dionysos was every bit as strong as him, and gave back blow for blow, push for push, strain for strain. Every time that Apollo thought that he had managed to work the wine-god into an indefensible position, or that he had exhausted the god's strength, Dionysos would come up with some brilliant maneuver and work Apollo into the tough spot, or he'd reveal an unexpected burst of strength. It was a difficult bout, because the two were so evenly matched, and it seemed to go on forever. The only sound in the clearing was the gasps for breath and the strain of muscles as the two Gods wrestled and their priests watched on, fearful of the outcome. There was something beautiful about the match, the contrast between Apollo's pure, white skin and Dionysos' golden brown, the supple shifting and tensing of muscle as they struggled, beautiful yet terrible in the lethal promise of their awesome strength. To those that watched it was like a dappled panther wrestling a white wolf, a snake paired against a mongoose, a bull and a lion. But eventually the terrible fight came to an end, and this is how. Apollo was forcing Dionysos back, and the wine-god seemed about to succomb, when Apollo set his foot down on a pebble and the tiny rock slipped out from under him, taking the god's balance with it and Dionysos tossed the son of Zeus to the ground. A moment later the wine-god was upon him, twisting Apollo's arm back and forcing his head into the ground. The pain was unbearable and Apollo submitted, begging his half-brother to let him up. Dionysos did just that, helping the sun-god to his feet. "You cheated," Apollo proclaimed, wiping at the dirt on his face. "That wasn't fair, I slipped on the rock." "Perhaps you think we should try again, eh?" Dionysos replied, smiling pantherishly. "Well, if you're ready. . ." Apollo was tired, and sweaty, and dirty - none of which he liked. And as it was, he didn't think that he could take the wine-god again, so Apollo conceded defeat. "You won, you bastard. I give you permission to perform your sacrifices here. . .though you may want to wait until we've repaired the temple." "What are you talking about, brother bastard? I beat you, and fairly at that. I think I deserve a better reward than being alowed to sacrifice here. . .which you wouldn't be able to stop me from doing anyway." "What, then, do you want? To ravish all of the virgins in my temple? To hold a drunken orgy in the temple's inner sanctum? To demean me before the assembly of Olympos? What?" "I want to officiate here at Delphi." "What? You can't do that!" "Yes, I can. I give prophetic inspiration, and I do it better than you if I do say so myself. And it would be returning the temple in a small way to its rightful owner." "I will not give up Delphi." "I'm not asking you to, except during the winter months when you're not here anyway." Apollo nodded, conceding the wine-god's point. When the winter months grew cold and the sun proved reluctant to climb the sky, Apollo was known to leave Delphi for the mysterious Hyperboreans, who were the God's favorite people "Well then, let me rule here during those months, and you can have her the rest of the year. It will be like Peresephone, or that boy-man Adonis, and we'll have joint custody." Apollo thought about it for a moment, stroking his bruised chin. "I don't suppose I have much choice in the matter, do I?" He finally asked. "Well, we can always fight over it." Dionysos offered, and his smile suggested that Apollo wouldn't like that option. "Very well, very well, you damned upstart. You can have her - but only during the winter months, mind you. The moment I'm back - you're outta here." "Not a moment longer." Dionysos laughed. "Just be sure to have the temple fixed by winter." Apollo merely grunted. To celebrate, Dionysos made several large amphorae of his best wine appear. He handed his brother a cup overflowing with the rich red Lesbian vintage, and Apollo carefully lifted it to his lips. The scent of it was intoxicating, like nothing he had had before, and he drank deeply of the cup. He felt warmth spread through his body, and despite himself, his lips broadened into a big grin. Dionysos lifted his cup in toast, and then turned back to his followers. From their packs, the Satyrs broke out their drums and pipes, and the Nymphs, Muses, and Maenads shucked their linen robes for the flowing, silky robes of the Bacchante. As Apollo watched, the lithe young maidens began to dance, graceful steps and twirls and claps. The Priests and Priestesses of Delphi began to mingle with the motley members of Dionysos' thiasos, and before long, the whole mountain was filled with the sounds of celebration. Dionysos waved over the Muses, saying, "I'd like you to meet someone," and the nine beautiful Goddesses giggled and blushed and slid up against Apollo. Apollo swallowed hard, took a sip of his excellent wine, and thought to himself, "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having Dionysos around after all."