Demeter's Love (2)
I rose at once and relayed the news to Achilles. My tomboyish wife lit up with joy and, together with Epiphos, galloped straight for Demeter’s sacred forest. It was the very picture of a Greek hero who would swoon at the promise of great deeds, and I happily followed in their wake.
Just as the Argonauts’ tale had unfolded in Iolcos in central Thessaly, the story of Erysichthon was likewise famous for taking place in Thessaly. Our destination therefore lay close at hand, no great burden for Achilles and me to cover on foot.
Erysichthon was one of legend’s most notorious fools.
As we ran, I gave a brief account of the anecdote for those who might not know it.
In the sacred forest of Thessaly dedicated to Demeter there stood a magnificent oak she cherished above all others. It was a place where mortals offered wreaths and tributes in gratitude to the goddess. Nymphs and dryads flourished there in abundance, yet Erysichthon, seized by greed at the sight of the tree, resolved to fell it and raise a banquet hall in its place.
“It cannot be done, my lord. This tree is cherished by Lady Demeter.”
“If you cut it down, you will suffer a terrible punishment.”
Exactly how the confrontation unfolded is lost to time, but the servants pleaded with him in that manner. Their warnings fell on deaf ears. Already blinded by desire, Erysichthon seized an axe and began to hack at the trunk himself, declaring that even if a god dwelt within the oak he would still bring it down. In the midst of his frenzy he struck one of the servants who tried to stop him, drawing blood. There was no turning back.
“Before I die, I curse you! You will suffer a great punishment!”
The dryad who shared her life with the oak left behind that curse, yet Erysichthon felled the tree regardless. The other nymphs and dryads, witnessing the desecration, donned black garments and hastened to Demeter to beg for vengeance. The goddess, her own eyes blazing, dispatched a nymph named Oreas to Limos, the god of hunger and famine, commanding him to punish Erysichthon. Thus the well-known tale of Erysichthon came to pass.
No matter how much he ate, his belly never filled. He devoured and devoured, yet remained empty. Even after selling his house and servants to buy more food, hunger gnawed at him still. In desperation he sold his daughter Mestra, who possessed the gift of transforming into animals. Though she returned home each time, he sold her again and again. When even the proceeds from those sales failed to sate him, he turned upon his own flesh. He ate and ate until nothing remained but teeth and gums.
The story was famous enough to spark fresh curiosity in me.
Demeter said she had restored the forest. Did that mean it had lain barren for a time?
What became of the sacred grove after the loss of its great oak is not recorded in any authoritative source. I opened the Wisdom Pocket and searched, yet while countless variants of the tale existed, no single definitive account emerged.
The fact that she brought up Erysichthon at all suggests something more lies beneath the surface…
No clear answer presented itself. Just as Hecate’s stories of ancient heroes had hinted at events unknown to me, some forgotten incident from the past must have shaped the sacred forest. This was a true fantasy world, not the sanitized myths of modern Greece and Rome. Common sense would only lead me astray here; I resolved to keep my thinking flexible.
While I wrestled with these thoughts, Achilles and Epiphos charged ahead like a pair of wild riders, untroubled by doubt. Following them, I found myself before a vast forest in some unknown corner of Thessaly. The vegetation spread in such lush, beautiful profusion that it scarcely needed the title “sacred.” In a land of mountains and hills, the sight of such verdant splendor caught me by surprise, and an involuntary gasp of admiration escaped me.
A forest worthy of the name… How can the trees be so enormous?
“Prrr~!”
Even Epiphos seemed struck by the grandeur, letting out a startled whinny. Achilles, for her part, rapped her knuckles against several trunks and declared that no bare hand could break them, then expressed her astonishment in a different direction.
Every tree here shelters a dryad.
Some trees could be felled; others could not. The ones in this grove belonged to the latter category. When I stretched out my palm to touch the grass or bark, the entire forest rippled as though stirred by wind, responding to my presence. We followed that living motion and stepped naturally into the sacred grove. With trees of such size all around, I could not help wondering how much larger the oak Demeter had chosen must be.
This way, children.
Were you weary on the journey?
Take these, at least.
The nymphs here were exceedingly kind. They cleared paths for us and lowered branches heavy with grapes as gifts. Our mouths had grown dry from the run, so Achilles and I accepted the fruit and shared some with Epiphos. In that moment we noticed something strange.
“These grapes have no seeds.”
“You’re right…”
“Prrr?”
I had never expected to taste seedless grapes in this era. The nymphs must have prepared them deliberately for our convenience. Their thoughtfulness sent a shiver down my spine. Munching on the sweet fruit, we soon found ourselves standing before the largest tree in the forest.
“Whoa, what is this? Is that really a tree?”
“How has something this size stayed hidden from outside the forest…?”
It was no longer merely an oak; it was a colossal being in its own right. Wreaths hung from every branch, and offerings to Demeter rested upon an altar at its base. Separate from her temple across the sea, this place too clearly worshipped her; statues of Demeter and Persephone stood nearby.
Grapes this delicious growing in a forest like this… Could it be…
Curious who might be tending the grove, I glanced around—and the taste of the grapes sliding smoothly down my throat suddenly turned cold with sweat. Anyone managing such a forest would have to be immensely powerful. The deity most closely tied to grapes was obvious.
“………Lord Dionysus?”
『──Oh! Quick on the uptake, aren’t you!』
“Hyaat?!”
“Prrrkk!!!”
A sudden androgynous voice rang in our ears. It belonged to neither man nor woman. Achilles, standing right beside me, startled just as violently. Epiphos was so shocked he toppled onto the ground.
“Wh-whoa?! Epiphos! Are you all right?!”
“Prr! Prrr! Prrrt!”
Flustered, Epiphos struggled to rise. With his mother Achilles’s help he finally regained his feet, only to freeze as a figure slipped out from beside the great oak.
“Gulp, gulp! Gulp! Phew—! Wahahahaha—! Why so surprised~? Weren’t you looking for Dionysus~? Wahahahaha—!”
Wahaha, wahaha—the Wine God laughed with unrestrained delight.
He was an androgynous deity with long brown hair, the horns of a bull, and grape-like eyes. In one hand he held a cup of wine; in the other, a thyrsus entwined with ivy and topped by a massive pinecone. A wreath of grapes sat upon his head, and his attire was as scant as every depiction suggested—little more than the lower half of his body covered.
“Forgive us. We never imagined Lord Dionysus would be here…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. You didn’t call my name with any disrespect, so I pardon you~! You may raise your heads~!”
Wahahaha~!
At the god’s cheerful words we straightened from our hasty bows. He seemed to be in excellent spirits, yet my stomach still tightened. This was the god of madness, after all, and he showed no restraint when punishing mortals.
“You… Lord Dionysus…”
“Be quiet.”
Achilles knew I held no great fondness for Dionysus. During our time together in Argos she had once asked about the gods and heard me mention his name. After flattering the Twelve and Hades, I had considered him my next target; to Achilles the omission must have seemed odd.
“Oh~! Perseus~! I’ve been waiting for you~! I grew bored while waiting and drank a little, but my tongue isn’t tangled and I’m not seeing hallucinations, so don’t worry—be glad~!”
He spread his arms wide and laughed loudly. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me, so I moistened my tongue with the usual flattery.
“It is an honor upon honor to stand before you, Lord Dionysus, who leads all into ecstasy. The sacred god before me brings joy to everyone, and merely beholding your beauty fills me with that same joy. Those crude fellows who reject wine and festivals claim that Dionysus drinks only to ruin his health and that his voice is like a demon’s, yet the god standing here tramples their lies beneath feet of beauty and melodious song. If you would permit my humble tongue to spread this truth far and wide, I would be most grateful.”
“Ohohoho~! Mm, ahem, of course~! My beauty and voice delight every god—how dare anyone spread such nonsense? I am delighted that you would work on my behalf, so do not hesitate. Just as the other gods stand behind you, remember that I, too, will always be at your back.”
“Your generous words are deeply appreciated. On behalf of every Argive who once slighted Lord Dionysus, I bow my head. May this day be a joyful one for you.”
“Hehe~! Haha~! Hahaha~! It’s fine, it’s fine—perfectly fine! When you are so courteous, how could the god of pleasure lay a hand on the people of Argos~? Your childlike sincerity in learning of my ancient grievances and offering apology has moved even Dionysus to tears~! Be sure to tell them not to err again in this life and to worship me~! Uwahaha~!”
“I will remember.”
“Mm~!”
Pleased by the flattery, Dionysus laughed long and loud before catching his breath. He patted his cheeks twice, as though shaking off the wine’s haze, and his expression grew more serious—though the androgynous charm and underlying merriment remained.
“The offering you sent last time was excellent. I have much to say about it, but the reason you came all this way is Demeter, so let us speak of her first.”
At a wave of Dionysus’s hand the trees twisted and grew, forming seats and a table. Once the god had taken his place, I sat as well; Achilles followed, and Epiphos stood attentively beside us.
“Where should I begin? You all know the story of Erysichthon, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can skip ahead.”
Dionysus struck a pose and began his tale—the story connected to Erysichthon, yet centered on another.
“This is the story of Erysichthon’s daughter, Mestra.”
It was the tale of that poor woman who could change into animals.
*1) Oak tree — Although sometimes rendered as “tteokgal tree” in translations, the tteokgal is a species native to Northeast Asia and therefore should neither be mentioned nor exist in this era. It is one of the elements that caused many misunderstandings when localizing Greek mythology for Korean readers.
In Western mythology the oak that appears is typically the robur oak native to Western Europe; Greek mythology also features the cork oak. When a story draws from European myths, oak references generally point to the robur oak. Of course, exceptions exist, so it is best to research the details when reading.