Beauty of Thebes

Chapter 48: Lazy God

Dionysus faithfully kept to his word that he’d show Eutostea around the temple.

The first thing he did was introduce her to the dozens of warrior-like goddesses called Moussa, who appeared and served him whenever he so desired.

Eutostea couldn’t memorize their names as they all looked alike. She thought Dionysus was the only one able to tell them apart.

In a graceful move, the Moussa bowed with their knees bent.

Eutostea greeted the beings who lived longer than her, muttering, “I don’t know what to do.”

Dionysus giggled and called his leopards.

“This is Eonia. The smaller one is Mariad. They’re usually wary of strangers, but they’ll be gentle with you. Don’t worry.”

As Dionysus knelt on one knee and lowered himself, Eonia and Mariad rubbed their noses on Eutostea’s feet, capturing the scent of the stranger.

Dionysus said they didn’t bite, but it mattered not. When the two big beasts came in, Eutostea hardened like ice.

“I think I’ll need some time to get close to them,” grasping her fluttering heart, Eutostea murmured.

Dionysus was slightly surprised by her words. Eutostea did not yet know why she was in his temple, but she seemed to have guessed that she’d be staying here.

The thought of it made Dionysus feel better.

He walked again, slowly. At his pace, the two leopards stood side by side, escorting them safely.

“I’m telling you in advance, but don’t expect too much. If you do, you’ll be disappointed. It’s dirty and it’s been a while since I took care of the temple…” said Dionysus. It was a voice devoid of confidence.

Eutostea was surprised to see it. He donned on the opposite of a relaxed appearance. His usual drunken laughter had disappeared for a moment.

His green eyes looked at the exterior of the temple.

“Yes, I should’ve built a new column, but I wasn’t able to call in a stone worker to repair it, so I just wrapped it in wood and called it finished.”

Dionysus explained from which the vine became the pillar of the temple instead of the columns.

“I thought it was good to hold out until it got struck by lightning or caught on fire.”

“I see.” Eutostea followed his gaze and observed the tree that had grown high, almost touching the roof.

Dionysus turned around and walked to the assembly hall, muttering, “I’m ashamed to show it.”

The altar was nowhere to be seen. When Eutostea pointed to an empty space and asked, Dionysus replied, “Every time I pass it, there’s a tall stone slab as big as a bed. I got irritated and put it up in the garden to use as a bench.”

“What?” Eutostea asked, doubting her ears.

“We’re having lunch there. It’s flat, so it’s perfect for lying down on a mat and eating out.”

“If there’s no altar, how do the worshippers offer sacrifices and tributes for the festival?” Eutostea wondered.

“A festival had never been held,” Dionysus replied, “Little bun, I’m more of a destitute god than you think. You’ll be quite disappointed if you measure me using the same standard as Apollo.”

It didn’t seem to cut his pride when he said that nor was he ashamed.

Dionysus pointed to the floor of the assembly hall where the dried and dead tree roots lay. The place where the altar was supposed to stand was dug in a circular shape like a low bathtub.

“Originally, this was a pond full of wine.”

“You got rid of the altar to dig a pond and fill it with alcohol. Tell the truth, Dionysus,” Eutostea said.

“It’s natural that the temple of the god of wine overflows with wine.”

“Of course, but it’s a problem when there’s too much. It’s not supposed to be a pond for drinking, but a place to swim.”

“Oh, then shall we dig deeper and turn it into a swimming pool?”

“No. It was a slip of my tongue. I hope you don’t take it seriously,” Eutostea said.