crying at night, then Silenus would rush into his room with that burgundy liquid. We asked him what it was; he just said that it was Dion’s medicine,” Ma Four put in.
“When we questioned Dion, he said that it was Amphelos’s blood. It was making him strong enough to do the work of two. We knew he wasn’t serious about Amphelos’s blood, but maybe we should have been more cautious, asked more questions, but our boy was back, making music, the best music he had ever made,” Ma Two added.
Six weeks after he’d returned to the mountain with Silenus, Dion left with him. He told his surrogate mothers he had a mission. A mission to cure the world’s sadness, as he had been cured, to heal them through his music and the vine.
He’d returned only once before he took me to visit them. Mas Seven and Two hadn’t wanted to tell me about it, but the other Mas insisted I had a right to know.
“Give him his due, Dion wrote to us regularly, so we knew he was getting on well in Olympia, making friends and music.” Ma Five began.
“We don’t hear much from the outside world up here, we’re not ones for taking a paper.” Ma Three joined in.
“But some of us were concerned. Too much success, too young, too soon ... we’d seen that with really good bands in our day.” Ma Five admitted.
“And we were concerned with how much attention Dion was drawing to himself,” Ma Three agreed, “look where he was brought up.” Her gesture encompassed most of the remote landscape.
“We worried it might go to his head ...” Ma Four said, quietly.
“Then he turned up, out of the blue.” Ma Five carried on. “He took to his bed and, at first, we thought maybe he was exhausted and simply needed rest.”
“But when he rose he was agitated, morose, dejected. He took himself off for long walks on the mountain with his guitar.” Ma Seven said, trembling. “Then Silenus arrived and told us what had happened. Dion had been performing with different bands and had even been mentioned on some of their reviews. Enthused by the early accolades, Dion decided to make himself acquainted with his Theban relatives. I suppose he thought they might finally accept him, that Thebes would love him like Olympia did.”
“It did not go well.” Ma Five said, patting Ma Seven.
I nodded in silence. I remembered an interview Andro did for a magazine before he left for Athens. Dion had also made it to the front cover, of the same magazine, along with Theo, who had received a different response from his family, in Athens.
“What did Silenus do?”
“Same thing he’d done before, gave him his medicine.” Ma Five replied.
“But couldn’t you have done something with your herbs?” I asked them.
“Dion is the son of a god.” Ma Four stated.
“But he drinks my infusions.” I told them.
“Only the ones that taste nice, I expect.” Ma Four said ruefully, rendering me silent. It was true. “ Amphelos’s death made Dion realise that HE is an immortal, that’s Dion’s malady. It weighs on him, the expectations that go with it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He won’t admit it, but we suspect Dion knows he doesn’t have long on this earth. His own will want him back. He’s been sent to us for a purpose.”
“To bring happiness and give people’s emotions a release.” I stated. The Mas nodded.
We left them, our backpacks filled with food. I imagined them lined up, as they were then, consoling each other as they watched the figures of Dion and Silenus getting smaller and smaller with every step down the mountain, just as I knew they watched our descent. I was sad to leave them. I had felt safe with them and, more importantly, knew Dion felt safe with them. Dion, however, still didn’t feel that his mission was complete. Now, with me at his side, he said he had found the muse he had been looking for, to fulfil his destiny and help the world find the happiness he had found with me.
Chapter Eight The Birth of
“When we questioned Dion, he said that it was Amphelos’s blood. It was making him strong enough to do the work of two. We knew he wasn’t serious about Amphelos’s blood, but maybe we should have been more cautious, asked more questions, but our boy was back, making music, the best music he had ever made,” Ma Two added.
Six weeks after he’d returned to the mountain with Silenus, Dion left with him. He told his surrogate mothers he had a mission. A mission to cure the world’s sadness, as he had been cured, to heal them through his music and the vine.
He’d returned only once before he took me to visit them. Mas Seven and Two hadn’t wanted to tell me about it, but the other Mas insisted I had a right to know.
“Give him his due, Dion wrote to us regularly, so we knew he was getting on well in Olympia, making friends and music.” Ma Five began.
“We don’t hear much from the outside world up here, we’re not ones for taking a paper.” Ma Three joined in.
“But some of us were concerned. Too much success, too young, too soon ... we’d seen that with really good bands in our day.” Ma Five admitted.
“And we were concerned with how much attention Dion was drawing to himself,” Ma Three agreed, “look where he was brought up.” Her gesture encompassed most of the remote landscape.
“We worried it might go to his head ...” Ma Four said, quietly.
“Then he turned up, out of the blue.” Ma Five carried on. “He took to his bed and, at first, we thought maybe he was exhausted and simply needed rest.”
“But when he rose he was agitated, morose, dejected. He took himself off for long walks on the mountain with his guitar.” Ma Seven said, trembling. “Then Silenus arrived and told us what had happened. Dion had been performing with different bands and had even been mentioned on some of their reviews. Enthused by the early accolades, Dion decided to make himself acquainted with his Theban relatives. I suppose he thought they might finally accept him, that Thebes would love him like Olympia did.”
“It did not go well.” Ma Five said, patting Ma Seven.
I nodded in silence. I remembered an interview Andro did for a magazine before he left for Athens. Dion had also made it to the front cover, of the same magazine, along with Theo, who had received a different response from his family, in Athens.
“What did Silenus do?”
“Same thing he’d done before, gave him his medicine.” Ma Five replied.
“But couldn’t you have done something with your herbs?” I asked them.
“Dion is the son of a god.” Ma Four stated.
“But he drinks my infusions.” I told them.
“Only the ones that taste nice, I expect.” Ma Four said ruefully, rendering me silent. It was true. “ Amphelos’s death made Dion realise that HE is an immortal, that’s Dion’s malady. It weighs on him, the expectations that go with it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He won’t admit it, but we suspect Dion knows he doesn’t have long on this earth. His own will want him back. He’s been sent to us for a purpose.”
“To bring happiness and give people’s emotions a release.” I stated. The Mas nodded.
We left them, our backpacks filled with food. I imagined them lined up, as they were then, consoling each other as they watched the figures of Dion and Silenus getting smaller and smaller with every step down the mountain, just as I knew they watched our descent. I was sad to leave them. I had felt safe with them and, more importantly, knew Dion felt safe with them. Dion, however, still didn’t feel that his mission was complete. Now, with me at his side, he said he had found the muse he had been looking for, to fulfil his destiny and help the world find the happiness he had found with me.
Chapter Eight The Birth of
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