Page 122 of This Divine Revelry

‘Is that not our decision?’

I turn, and there is Silen, stony-faced and resolute. Beside them, Opora, her eyes filling with tears – but she nods in agreement. Myrto, Zosime and Charis follow, falling quiet as they approach and sense the tension. The concern.

‘It was never only our own good time we cared about,’ Opora says. Silen’s hand falls to her shoulder, and she covers it with her own almost instinctively. ‘If other people are under threat, well, I joined to help them too.’

‘Absolutely,’ Myrto rushes, looking between us and piecing it together. ‘If you’re at risk, Dionysus, then we all are. So trust us as we trust you. What’s going on and how can we help?’

Medea finds me by the water.

‘I’ve heard you’re going to war, cousin,’ she says.

‘Potentially,’ I admit. ‘I think we’re all hoping it will just be another revelry – to beat Perseus in his own town by turning his people against him.’

Medea stares at me, and gives a soft shake of her head. ‘Well, you certainly didn’t find such optimism in any bloodline I share.’

Perhaps I did – because I’m not sure I believe it either. Perseus would not hesitate to kill his own people to prove a point – I doubt the gates of Tiryns will be thrown open in welcome.

‘Hermes can’t come with us,’ I say. ‘Perseus is acting against Dionysus so he’s allowed to retaliate but Hermes can’t oppose a child of Zeus so directly – so he said he can take you to Colchis if that’s where you want to be.’

Medea nods, her hand flitting to her stomach. ‘My father has no heir. So if I return like this …’

‘He’ll forgive you.’

Medea looks away – and I know I’ll never get an answer from her, will never know if she really did all they claim, but I know in that glance that the truth is complicated – possibly more so than I can ever understand.

‘Our stories go on,’ she says. ‘Even when they try to end them – when they leave us on islands or drive us from cities. We continue. We don’t end when they stop speaking our names.’

‘Thank you,’ I say – and it’s impossible to look at her right now and not see my mother in her high cheekbones, or Phaedra in her frown. Just how many farewells are expected of me? Is there no world in which one day, at a revelry, perhaps, they might come together again? I feel so much stronger when I’m with them. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without you. You didn’t need to help him but you did and I’m so very grateful.’

Would Dionysus still be locked in his own personal labyrinth?

Her hands are clasped tight but she looks at me with the sort of softness that tells me if she could, if she would allow herself, she might reach for me. ‘You know I didn’t do it for him, Ariadne. Plenty of people saw you as well last night. You were the one engaging with the mortals, checking on all those people who suffered such unfortunate accidents and standing up to Hera herself. You have my personal thanks for that one. You are so much more powerful than you think.’

And then she finally does reach for me, a hand on my shoulder.

A weight I feel long after she’s gone.

Hermes manages to run a comb through his hair ahead of his departure, fussing more than usual while muttering about neglected duties and forget Zeus, Hades will flay me alive for the number of souls I’ve allowed to find their own way to the afterlife until even he seems unsure about which way he’s headed once he drops Medea off: up to Olympus or down to the Underworld.

He winks as he leaves. ‘Throw some bread in a fire if you need me.’

And, trusting in the people who trusted him, Dionysus speaks to the thiasus.

I half expect him to emerge from the tent with his fur cape and his golden thyrsus, perhaps letting some of that radiant light shine forth.

But he doesn’t stand above everyone and give a rousing speech. He sits beside Sterope, running his hand through her fur, and people approach him in small groups. He answers their questions and reassures them that no one is under any obligation to do this.

‘Tiryns will be the most hostile city we’ve ever ventured to,’ he says. ‘It is a risk. But it’s your decision whether you wish to take it. We sail for Argos tomorrow.’

And in the end, only a handful of them choose to stay behind and wait for after …

Because there will, surely, be an after.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

IN THE BOAT WE STRATEGIZE. There are weapons, supposedly. We do not have to do this unprepared.

And I realize that there is a whole life here, from before I came, when they would sail around and spread their stories, their rites, and bring a little joy to the shores of Greece.