Chapter Nine: The Maenads

“Go with food,” Demeter had said, “and a belly full of wine.” Than’s grandmother had no other words of wisdom, tricks, or ideas to help him get on Dionysus’s good side except to go into the forest of Mount Kithairon at night emboldened with alcohol and offering food. If he hesitated and showed the slightest insecurity, he would be ripped to pieces.

“They may rip you to pieces anyway,” she had said.

So here he was, only yards away from where the god and his followers were said to be, and his confidence waned. He had a bag of food slung over his shoulder—fruits and bread Demeter had given him—but he hadn’t taken his grandmother’s advice concerning the wine. He wanted to be in control of his actions. He could be merry and bold without alcohol—at least, he hoped he could as he crept through the woods.

Much of the mountain was bare and rocky, but here, in a smattering of thick pines, he could see a campfire in the distance and a hazy line of smoke rising into the night sky. Laughter and singing made the group seem less daunting, but a sudden demonic shriek chilled him and made him hesitate again. Then an idea came to him, hard and fast like a thunderbolt: his sisters. The Furies. Their presence might help his cause. He hadn’t asked for help because he didn’t want his father to get wind of his plans and try to stop him, but now that he was irrevocably in the middle of them, he disintegrated and dispatched to seek his sisters out. Meanwhile, he slowly stole through the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of the maenads before they noticed him.

Seeing Therese so angry and hurt this afternoon when he went for the hamster had added a greater sense of urgency to Than’s already urgent mission. If his presence wasn’t lethal to her, he would have stayed to give a report on his progress, but that was impossible. Hell, he would have swept her in his arms and caressed her face with his lips. He would have…oh, he moaned as he picked through the branches. If she really loved him and had faith in him, she’d wait. Her lot was to wait. His was far worse. His foot cracked a twig and caught the attention of a woman standing ten feet away, on the outskirts of the group.

She looked back at him suspiciously. Her curly brown hair was knotted on her head and ringed with ivy. She wore animal skins around her breasts and hips, but her shoulders and legs were bare, and she held a thyrsus—a staff tipped with a pinecone. “What’s this?” She spoke softly, to herself. No one else in the group seemed to notice.

“I bring gifts,” he said, holding out an orange. “I’ve come to celebrate, if you’ll have me.”

His heart raced as he awaited her reply. She narrowed her eyes and took a step closer. “Is it a real orange? They’re my favorite, you know.”

He tossed it to her. “It’s yours. From Demeter, my grandmother.”

The woman caught the orange, tore off the peel in less than five seconds, and put the meat to her nose. She smiled and savagely devoured the fruit. She turned to Than with juice dripping down her chin. “Who are you?”

“Someone who has finally found true love.” It sounded trite, but it was true, and he thought these women, who danced and loved and drank, would appreciate it. He knew if he revealed himself, he’d disgust her. No one wants Death. “May I join the party?”

At that moment, another woman turned and noticed him. Her curly black hair flowed around her face, which was stained red with blood or wine, Than didn’t know which. She held a chalice in one hand and a thyrsus in the other. A panther skin hung over her shoulder, its head still intact at her breast. “Who’s this?”

“He says he’s found true love,” the first maenad said to the other. “For a moment, I thought he meant me.”

“We’re about to dance,” she said. “The flutes and lyres are warmed up. We can’t wait for introductions.” The woman turned her back to him and began to move her body in a jerky, frenzied movement, not too unlike what Than had seen with epileptics as they fell to their deaths.

The first maenad took his hand and tugged him along the perimeter of the other raving dancers. What began as a soft tap-tap of the drums exploded into a booming, pounding thrash. Than did his best to mimic the movements of the others, feeling foolish but desperate to win their approval. The maenad on the end of his arm shrieked with joy and jerked around like a raving lunatic. Soon he felt himself surrounded by the throng of moving bodies bumping against him. The ecstatic women in the crowd seemed oblivious to his presence and to each other, as though lost in a trance, each singing her own song. The chaos and confusion were overwhelming, making it difficult for Than to feign joy.

This difficulty increased when the maenads fell upon a snake someone had thrown into the dancers. He watched with disgust as they tore the creature to pieces and stuffed chunks of it into their mouths. He disintegrated to escort the snake’s soul. Next came a rabbit, flung through the air by someone he could not see and caught in the hands of the mass of women, ripping and tearing the terrified, struggling creature. He disintegrated again. The bodies soon made way for two maenads pulling a thrashing buck by the horns into the center. Its limbs and head were ripped from its body and devoured by the dancers. Another disintegration. Than fragmented constantly, multiple times per second, so often did the living die. A second group fell on the remaining lump of carcass quivering in the grass until it was eaten up, blood dripping down chins.

“Now we are one with nature,” one of them said in a bold voice. “Their souls belong to us.”

Than decided now would not be a good time to correct her. Their souls had gone on. Instead, he opened his sack and tossed oranges and apples to the crowd. The fruit was gladly received and consumed as savagely as the animals. A ring of dancers formed around Than. They touched his arms and mussed his hair, smiling at him seductively. Then one maenad circled her arms around his waist and kissed him on the lips. As suddenly as she had come to him, she pulled away, screaming.

“Death!” she cried. “Death is among us!”

The joyful faces turned to panic and terror. Than wasn’t sure why. They were immortal. He had suspected they wouldn’t be too keen to see him if they knew his identity, but he never thought they’d fear him.

“Death is among us!” another shrieked.

At first the maenads scattered from him, leaving him alone in the center of their ring. Then someone yelled, “Kill him! Kill Death, so we can live forever!”

Before Than could say anything, the raving women rushed at him and grabbed a hold of his arms.

“Wait!” He struggled against them, trying not to hurt them as he flung them from his side. “Get back! Get back! Back, I say!”

A maenad grasped his thumb and tore it from his hand, sending shards of pain, deep and intense, through his arm and head. “Ahhh!” He held the hurt hand in the other and once again shouted, “Back!” as he now elbowed the women more forcefully than he dared to before, his blood spurting onto their dresses and skin.

Where were his sisters? He’d been hunting for them in Tartarus and all over the globe. He didn’t dare ask his father where they were; Hades would want to know why. Than prayed out to them again and again. “Mount Kithairon! I need you at Mount Kithairon!”

To the maenads, he shouted, “Get back and listen to me! I haven’t come to take anyone! I’ve come to see Dionysus!” His hand throbbed. He spotted the woman with his thumb and he charged at her and took it back, but at the sound of their lord’s name, the maenads stopped attacking him. He stood, bewildered by their silence and stillness, searching their faces. Then a youthful god about his own age strolled to the center of the ring to face him. A group of satyrs hovered behind him. His hair was golden, like Hip’s, but long and braided in two ropes at the back of his head. He wore nothing but a strap of leather at his loins.

“What does Death want with me?”

“A favor,” Than replied.

Dionysus lifted his head and laughed, and the maenads and satyrs did the same.

Than spotted Alecto materialize above him, but he warned her off. “Tell the others I don’t need them,” he prayed silently to her. “And please, say nothing of this to our father.”

She vanished, but he sensed her presence. Dionysus did, too.

“What will you do for me in return, Thanatos?”

“Anything that is within my power.” He felt himself losing blood at the wound where his thumb should be. He was in agony, but did well to hide it.

Dionysus’s merry smile faded and he jutted his chin. “Indeed. Leave us, maenads. Follow the satyrs up the mountain.”

The satyrs played a melody on their wooden flutes and led a parade of women further up the mountain. Once they were gone, Than carefully molded his thumb back to his hand and healed it, asking, “Why do they fear me when they’re immortal?” The pain continued, but the thumb was back, and though it hurt, he could move it a little. How long it would be before he had full strength in it, he didn’t know. He’d never, in his ancient life, sustained an injury such as this. He could only imagine the pain of enduring his entire body ripped this way.

“Only the wine keeps them so. Without me and the fruit of my vines, they would die.”

“Tell them I’m your servant.”

“There is something I want.”