“Nay Lord!” Dodona was adamant. “The Mysteries are secret. To watch is not allowed on pain of death. Only Initiates are allowed to see The Mysteries.”
“Does the wine god allow his devotees to worship other gods too?” Sava asked remembering his vow on Holy Mountain. I vowed never to engage in blood sacrifice, but I did not vow to worship ONLY Jivan.
“Aye Dionysos allows us to worship other gods, but HE must be the foremost.”
Sava took a thick bracelet of twisted gold from his wrist and held it out to the slave girl’s wide eyes.
“Dodona, if Dionysos gives his devotees the divine powers of which you speak, then I will be initiated into his cult. But first I must see if all you say is true.”
“Lord Sava, I am but a slave. A lowly bath attendant. Everyone in this place has their foot on my neck. But not tonight!” Dodona’s eyes glowed. She placed warm fingers on his forearm. “Tonight is my night of freedom. We are all equal in the eyes of Dionysos, slave and free alike. I can take you to the sacred grove, but if you are discovered, I don’t know you. If you get into trouble I cannot help you, or the boukolos will kill me too.”
“Agreed.”
He handed her the gold bracelet. She accepted it with both hands, palms up, head bowed, then slipped it over her wrist.
“May All-Seeing Dionysos bless you My Lord. This bracelet will go toward buying my freedom. Someday god willing, I will be a free woman again with all rights.”
Moving silently, she led Sava down a twisting stone passageway lit by flickering torches. Taking hold of his wrist, Dodona pulled him into a small room dimly lit by a small oil lamp. As he stepped across the threshold Sava was aware that he was entering a secret world. The world of the Dionysia.
“Take off your clothes. Hurry.” She commanded, her eyes hooded in the dim light.
When the nomad stood naked before her, she pulled a leopard skin cape from a bundle lying in the corner. Running sensuous fingers over the golden skin of his broad chest, she placed the cape over his shoulders. Crossing the paws at the center of his chest she clasped them with a bronze pin shaped like a coiled serpent.
With warm hands she wrapped a deer skin around his hips and secured it by tying two legs at his right hip. A thick black horse tail was tied to his waist so that the tail swung seductively between his buttocks, almost sweeping the ground. Dodona gazed up at him, full lips pursed, well pleased at the results.
“Lo, a handsome blue-haired satyr stands before me. All you need now is a great big stuffed cock tied on in front.”
“Hah.” Sava shook his head.
Her hands slid under his loin skin and cupped his balls, gently pulling and squeezing his shaft. Sava groaned softly, desire swelling his loins.
“I won’t be lured by you, little temptress.” Smiling he stepped away.
“Forgive me Master, I am just preparing you for what is to come.” The slave girl’s wanton, inviting lips rippled in the glimmering shadows. “You must not disappoint those man-hungry maenads.”
“Man-hungry maenads? Do these mad women eat men?”
“You don’t want to know.” With a sardonic grin, the slave girl handed him a thyrsus from which dangled a ram's head mask with large curling horns.
“Put this mask on before we enter the sacred grove. Remember - speak to no one, or they will hear your accent and become suspicious.”
Dodona stripped and dressed as a satyr with short goatskin pants from which projected an oversized stuffed phallus. A thick silky red fox tail dangled suggestively from her nicely rounded ass.
Her breasts were bare, the succulent nipples painted red. Sava found himself wanting to put his hands on those luscious breasts. Dodona took the other thyrsus from which dangled a grinning red fox mask.
“Tonight, I am the Trickster. Come my Sauromatian stallion, we go to a secret world.” She flicked him an ageless arcane smile.
Her expression struck Sava as slightly predatory but the nomad followed her anyway. The slave girl led him down a shadowy stone hallway. It opened into the palace kitchen, now dark and deserted.
She opened a heavy wooden door and they stole into a courtyard behind the palace. As they passed through the yard, Dodona halted before a small unobtrusive house. A grinning black skull was painted over the door.
“Hold on.” She looked around furtively. “I need to get something from here.”
Cautiously pushing the door open the slave girl peered into the house, then turned to Sava and waved him in.
“No one is here. The maenads have all gone to the Dionysia. Sssst. Come in quickly. Let no one see.”
The moment Sava stepped inside the house his nostrils were assaulted by powerful, dizzying scents. All kinds of drying herbs hung from lines strung along the walls and ceiling. At one end of the room a still glowing fire hearth held blackened pots. Several large vessels sat on a long table.
“Shhhh here lies a great secret. The secret of the Dionysia.” Dodona waved her arm, encompassing the room. “Drugs are made from these herbs. The maenads put a secret potion into the wine. The potion opens our minds to the god. It lets Him come into us.”
“So many drugs to bring down one god?”
“Shhh… See this?” She whispered, pointing to a drying herb with feathery leaves and round lacy white flowers. “This is hemlock – a poison. Drink too much and your body will grow numb until you cannot move or even breathe. You will suffocate and die. But use just a tincture and you will lose yourself in the dance of praise to the god.”
She pointed to another dried plant. “Henbane, another poison. The maenads know just how much to add, no more than this to a big pot.” She held up the tip of a forefinger.
“Look here.” Dodona pointed to a bowl filled with small brown balls. “Opium pellets. Eat this and you will feel no pain. Cut yourself to feed the god your blood and you will feel nothing, only the ecstasy of serving Him.”
“Here - See the red growth on this barley? That is ergot. We scrape it off to make a powder. Ergot will make you see things. Dreams become real. Nightmares too.”
“Dodona, do you also become a crazed mad woman like those maenads?”
“Not quite. I am Thyiadic – a Raver. I don’t completely lose my mind. If I did that it would not serve my purpose. I like to control, to dominate the others who are mad.”
The slave girl pointed to a bowl of rust colored mushrooms with white spots.
“Look here - these mushrooms will change the way you see the world. You will not know the Real from the Unreal. And here, this is Mandrake, also a poison, but the maenads use only a tiny bit.”
“And this – this is the most dangerous, the most potent drug of all - Datura.” Dodona pointed to a plant with long tubular white flowers. “Datura will make you lose your mind. You will do anything the boukolos command and gladly. Even kill. But you will not remember your evil deeds. Drink too much and you will go mad. Forever. Drink more and your heart will stop. Like that!” She snapped her fingers.
Chapter 13 - Drugs for the Dionysia
You are mad
And most painfully so.
Some drug has caused it.
No drug can cure it –
Euripides, Bacchae
“There is a saying about such strong drugged wine,” Sava shook his head at the sight of so many trance-inducing intoxicants. “The first draught serveth for health, The second for pleasure, The third for shame, The fourth for madness –“
“And the fifth for death.” Dodona finished. “But the maenads are very careful. They know at what phase of the moon each herb is at its most potent. The maenads know exactly how to portion each drug in the wine in relation to the others to get the maximum effect with minimum risk. So the devotees go out of their minds, but not permanently. Unless they drink way too much and for too long.”
“That is a very thin line, easily crossed.”
“We dilute the wine with 20 parts water but I must warn you my Lord, the drugs in it are so powerful, the
hallucinations so real - once they take hold, you will not know the Real from the Unreal. When the Bacchae are in this state, anything can happen. So beware. Drink only a little.” She smiled, a challenging glint in her blue eyes, “We don’t want to send you back to Sauromatia a raving madman.”
A deep unease filled Sava’s mind. Now I begin to understand how the boukolos are able to take control of a kingdom. How King Pentheus' mother could be convinced to dismember her own son. Or for King Lykourgos to kill his son with an ax.
“How do you know so much about all these drugs?” He asked.
“I help the maenads gather the plants. Sometimes we go way up into the hills at night under a full moon to pick the rare wild ones. Some plants are so potent, we cannot touch them with our bare hands. We sing to the plant asking it to forgive us for cutting it. We carry them in the hollow cones of our thyrsus. Other plants like datura, poppies for opium and barley for ergot are grown right in the garden behind this house.”
As she spoke, Dodona was searching among stone and pottery jars lined up on a rough wooden shelf.
“Ah, here it is!” She hissed triumphantly and seized a small stone jar.
With great care she poured a few drops into her palm and proceeded to massage her leather phallus with it.
“What is that?”
“This is olive oil infused with datura. Any man or woman I penetrate with my phalloi will be enthralled by it. Datura makes people very suggestible. Men will fall to their knees and do as I command. Datura can even make you think you are flying like a bird. It Have you ever wanted to fly my noble Sauromatian lord?”
“Not like that.”
“With datura I make myself Master, not slave. If only for one night.” Dodona peered around the table and shelves, searching through more jars. “Here this one” – She held up a small pottery jar. “We call it `Beautiful Lady’. Watch.”
After applying a drop to each eye Dodona raised her head and gazed at Sava. Her eyes appeared larger, darker, the black pupils extremely dilated. Her gaze seemed to burn with sensuality. The effect on Sava’s male beast was immediate. Already stimulated, his manhood swelled with that sweet hardening ache. Dodona held up another jar.
“We call this Hot Love Oil.” Her lips curved in a salacious grin.
After pulling out the stopper she poured a few drops on her fingers, then spread it over her lips. Within moments her lips reddened and swelled enticingly.
“See? It burns but it makes my lips so big and soft and warm. Would you like to taste my lips?”
Sava stepped back warily. “What oil is that made from?”
“Even I don’t know that.” Dodona waved her oily finger, teasing him. “Only the maenads know.”
The slave girl began anointing her leather phalloi with the Hot Love Oil.
“You already put datura on that thing. What do you want to do – slay those men with sex and drugs?”
“I want power. Don’t worry, the men will love it. I have done this before.” Dodona’s sly smile made Sava uneasy.
“Don’t even think about pushing that bull cock into my ass”.
“Hah. You will beg for it when you see what it does to the others.”
“I doubt that.”
Leaning back against the heavy table the slave girl lifted her right leg up on it to reveal a slit in her short goatskin pants that stretched from pubis to anus.
“Come here my Sauromatian stallion. I need your help. Please. I won’t bite.” Her smiling lips revealed many small white predatory teeth.
“That’s not what worries me.”
“Please. Hold out your hand. Rub a little of this oil on me – Here.” She grasped his wrist, her voice husky, fingers warm, seductive. “It feels so good when a man does it to me.”
She poured a few drops of the Hot Love Oil on Sava’s fingers. Immediately he felt a burning sensation.
“Rub your fingertips together, then spread the oil on my yoni. Oh please Master. No one ever cares about my pleasure. Remember how good I made you feel at the baths? Do this one small thing for me. Please?”
Grasping Sava’s hand, the slave girl thrust his fingers into the slit in her pants and rubbed them on her exposed sex.
“Ahh! It burns but it feels so good…”
Sliding his warm oily fingers through her soft folds, Sava stroked her nether lips and caressed her pearl. He slid his fingers around the mouth of her desire, then further down to circle her pink rosette.
“Ssssst. Oh it burns! It burns! But it feels so good. Don’t stop my Lord.” She poured a few more drops on his fingers. “Do it some more. Please I beg you.”
And he did as she asked, sliding his oily fingertips over, around and slightly into her yoni.
“Ahhh, The God love you for this. Sssst. My yoni is swelling and throbbing with desire – I am hot. I am burning for you. Can you not feel how much I want you my Lord?”
Hooded eyes gleaming with dark allure, she grasped Sava’s hair with both hands and pulled his head down to press her warm swollen lips to his.
“Oh aye push your hot fingers in there as we kiss. Please my Lord...Don’t stop. Oh it burns so good…” Kissing him passionately she sucked his tongue hard.
Before Sava realized it, the slave girl had inserted her oily fingers under his loin cloth and was massaging his genitals. He felt an intense burning sensation. His cock and balls pulsed, throbbing with lust.
“Feels good? Hmmh? There…like that…Hmmh? Tell me you like it Master.” She hummed, massaging the potent, burning love oil over his stiffened cock.
A salacious craving enflamed Sava’s loins, consuming his consciousness, weakening his will.
“You want me. Say it. Say you want ME.” She breathed, kissing his throat as she lay back on the wide table, pulling him down on top of her.
Grasping his cock the slave girl rubbed and slid the broad head over her yoni. Her other hand twisted in his hair, pulling his lips down to her warm swollen mouth for another hot kiss. Sava heard himself breathing, long deep rhythmic breaths in unison with Dodona. Her musky female scent enticing, overcoming his self control.
“That’s enough.” To his surprise the slave girl pushed him away and stood up. “Ahh my yoni is so swollen, so hot for you, my Sauromatian Prince. But sadly I must save myself for the Dionysia. You too must save your energy my handsome Lord.”
She smiled up at him. Full lips seductive. Voice husky. Alluring. “If you disappoint them the maenads might punish you. Severely. Come, let us depart, the Dionysia is waiting.”
With that the little slave girl sauntered out the door, the long silky foxtail swaying seductively from her voluptuous ass.
Sava and Dodona left the palace grounds and trotted down the road to catch up with the line of devotees. Outside town the road narrowed to a trail winding up into dark hills lighted by bouncing torch lights. In the distance they could hear the booming chant –
Come! Come!
What so thy shape or name
Come!
They caught up with the tail end of the procession as it was entering a thick grove of evergreen trees. Dodona instructed him in hushed tones -
“Watch and do everything exactly as the Bacchae do. The god is fierce and bloodthirsty. There is no mercy for traitors or spies. The maenads killed Orpheus, the most beautiful singer in the world. Even the animals would come to hear Orpheus sing.”
“Was that Orpheus with the animals around him on the wall in the Great Hall?”
“Aye.”
“Why did the maenads kill him?”
“Orpheus was a traitor.” Dodona hissed. “He was a boukolos but he renounced The God. That is not tolerated. Once initiated into the priesthood there is no turning back. But Orpheus began worshipping only the sun. He denied Dionysos. One morning at dawn Orpheus went alone to a mountaintop to sing in praise of the rising sun. A host of maenads secretly followed him and caught him up there. Alone. In a mad rage they fell upon Orpheus and tore him to pieces with their bare hands.�
�
At Dodona’s words a deadly cold realization descended on Sava. A voice in his head said: There is still time. Turn back. Slink away into the night.
But he would not. The nomad’s native curiosity gripped him by the throat, compelling him to take the mad risk of invading the wine god’s secret rituals. This might be his only chance to witness, nay to experience The Mysteries. To finally understand the meaning of Life and Death and the Gods. To fulfill that deep craving in his soul.
If there be some truth to Dionysos’ powers, this is my chance to receive a true oracle. If the Fates have ordained that we should lose this war against Persia, better to load our wagons, gather our herds and flee the Sea of Grass forever.
An ancient legend flashed through Sava's mind - the story of the Kimmerians as passed down around flickering campfires. The Kimmerians had called the Sea of Grass home before the Skythians invaded. Kimmerian oracles told them it would be suicide to resist the Skythians.
Word came from survivors that Skythians were cruel head hunters who wore human skin and lusted to drink hot blood from the throats of their enemies. And it was all true.
The Kimmerians were so frightened they determined to flee without even putting up a fight. But their rulers so loved the land of their birth, the boundless Sea of Grass, that the royal family refused to run away. So while their people watched, the Kimmerian noble house fought each other with swords until all were dead and the last one killed himself. Then the people fled the Sea of Grass forever.
How ironic is the web of destiny the Fates weave for us. Is it our destiny to be forced out of the Sea of Grass as the Kimmerians were forced out by us?
Will we leave nothing behind to show that we were here for a thousand years but empty burial kurgans - robbed of all our gold and memories?
Chapter 14 – Serpents in Their Hair
Zeus crowned Dionysos Morychos,
The Dark One, with Drakons.
For this reason the Maenads
Wreathe wild serpents in their hair…
Wine God's Sorcery: The Horse Lords Page 7