Dion: His Life and Mine (11 page)

We can’t know what actually went through Pentheus’s mind as he entered the club dressed like Cocktail la Cure. He was able to get past the bouncers without any trouble. Witnesses later reported that one of the bouncers took a shine to ‘her’ and let ‘her’ jump the queue. On entering, Pentheus would have walked through the foyer, filled with pictures of Semele that Kadmus had donated to the club. After checking in his coat, no 356, (the only one left at the end of the night), he would have been free to go on the dance floor.

There were two floors above the dance floor and witnesses later reported seeing an elegantly dressed woman walking around the floors and looking down at the dancing below. When one or two approached, ‘she’ assured them ‘she’ was fine and simply looking for somebody. When offered a drink, ‘she’ declined. However, some witnesses did report her ‘bobbing’ occasionally, out of time to the music.

Now, I have never actually been to a Ladies’ Night as Nyx never went, she couldn’t see the point. If she wanted to be around women she could just go to the washroom. Dion felt that there should be a space where everyone got a chance to be free. He understood that women needed to be free and to enjoy themselves without men, especially the residents of Persephone House. I wondered what Dion did to be free of me, but was too afraid to ask. Anyway, it appears that on Ladies’ Night, the ladies really did let their hair down and as the evening wore on, Dion’s liquid flowed and the women became more and more relaxed.

At some point, Pentheus leaned over the edge of the second floor railings. Possibly he had seen his mother or one of his aunts, we’ll never know. His wig slipped and the woman nearest to him saw his neat short back and sides and, realising he was a man, shrieked and her companions went for him. There was kicking and slapping before the bouncers were conscious of what was going on. Unfortunately for Pentheus, one of them turned out to be the fellow he had met on the door. Realising he had been duped by a man, and fearing jibes from his workmates, the bouncer punched Pentheus with all the force of his disgust. Pentheus fell backwards over the balcony and landed at the feet of his mother who, not realising who it was, but aware that someone had disrupted her dancing, gave the motionless body a kick for good measure.

How had Dion spent the evening, whilst pandemonium ensued at his club? At home with his wife and baby, dining with his grandfather and playing chess with Tireseus (who always won but who was gracious enough to say that it took longer to beat Dion than any other component).

In the morning, we went down for breakfast and were told that Kadmus had received a phone call and had left early. There was no sign of Pentheus, but Dion didn’t look concerned. He presumed his cousin was still in bed; after all, it was where he would have been after a night at the club.

Finally, Agave and her sisters appeared, looking like disheveled older versions of Thiasus. They had turned their noses up at my initial offerings of infusion, so I had since, let them work out the effects of the night before on their own. They had poured themselves coffee and were sitting with their heads in their hands when Kadmus entered. He looked ashen.

“Well Agave, did you have a good night?” He addressed his eldest daughter.

“It was the best! Apart from when some idiot bloke got in and disturbed me just as I was trying a new move!”

Dion and I exchanged glances, but remained silent.

“Really? What happened to him?” Kadmus pressed her.

“Oh the bouncers soon sorted him out.”

“How?” Kadmus asked quietly.

“It’s best not to question their methods father. He got what he deserved. Where’s Pentheus? Has he already left?”

“Yes,” said Kadmus slowly.

“That boy works too hard. He’s got too much of his father in him. If I had known what a killjoy Echion would turn out to be, I’d never had married him. Where’s Pentheus now?”

“He’s at the morgue,” said Kadmus, gently. Dion and I froze.

“At the morgue?” said Agave. “What’s he doing there?”

“He’s not doing anything.”

“What do you mean?” Agave’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s dead, Agave.” Kadmus said slowly. “It seems he went out last night, decided to go dancing, and then, like you said, was ‘sorted out’.”

“No!” spluttered Agave, “no, no, no, NO!” Her shrieks grew louder. She wouldn’t believe Kadmus, until he took her to the morgue and she laid eyes on the broken body of her son. She touched the spot where she’d planted the kick and broke down. Out of a sign of respect, The Mount closed for a few days, but then never reopened. It’s now a council building, dedicated to the memory of Pentheus. Two days after the night-club closed, we were asked to leave Thebes. Dion had wanted to stay for the funeral, but Kadmus ‘Thought it best if he just left.’ He insisted that he didn’t blame Dion for what happened to ‘his grandson’, but that looking at Dion would always be a reminder of it. So yet again, the doors of Thebes were shut on Dion and he was left, well and truly, out in the cold.

Pentheus wasn’t the only one who died that night. Dion did too. None of us realised it at the time. In hindsight (what a thoughtful gift that is) it was the beginning of the end when his grandfather had, politely and stoically, told him we had outstayed our welcome. Maybe if Kadmus had stood by Dion, things would have been different. He never outwardly blamed Dion. After all, this young man was the son of a god and who knows what an over-protective father might do? However, by asking us to leave, Kadmus was indirectly placing the blame for Pentheus’s death on Dion’s shoulders. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Dion was put on the path to self-destruction the day Semele’s father refused to stand by her and she was locked in her room, with Dion growing in her womb. Maybe the signs were always there, but we didn’t see them. Or rather, didn’t want to see them, because we were all having so much fun. However, it truly started after Pentheus died. As far as his Theban family was concerned, Dion had no way back.

Dion called Silenus, who arrived with the transportation to take us to the Mas on the mountain. He thought it would be best for Libertia if Dion kept a low profile, so he contacted Cal and Likertes to let them know what was going on and to suggest they had an extended holiday. With an over-excited toddler, a frozen husband and a familiar queasy feeling, I was pleased to have someone else to take charge of us all. We arrived at the mountain in the evening and the Mas shuffled us all into different bedrooms. I lay awake, listening to the murmur of worried voices, downstairs. In the morning, I discovered what the Mas had had to contend with when Amphelos died. At first, Dion kept to his room and was silent. He wouldn’t let anyone in, refusing to see me or Oinopion and didn’t, once, touch his guitar. Then he started leaving the house, early in the morning, roaming the mountain all day and then returning late at night, his clothes tattered and torn and covered in grass stains, brambles in his hair. Ma Five told him he needed to stop acting up. He had a wife and a baby, responsibilities, he couldn’t indulge in this type of behaviour. Dion looked right through her, as if he couldn’t see her, which she found infuriating.

Silenus reappeared on the fourteenth day. He asked how Dion was. When we told him he said, “Right, leave him to me, I’ll deal with him.” He then told me the arrangements he had made over the past fortnight: “I’ve spoken to the lads and we’ve agreed that it’d be best for you both to stay here for a couple of months. I’m not going to lie to you, the papers are saying some pretty nasty things and I don’t think it’s wise for Dion to see them, especially not in his present state.”

“Why? What are they saying?”

The comment Dion made to
Theban Fan Mag
was being taken out of context and some press stories were inferring, unsubtly, that Pentheus’s death was less misfortune and more
premeditated
. But for an answer Silenus gave me a milder version, which was enough to outrage me.

“Dion wasn’t even there that night! How can he be responsible?”

“When has truth ever mattered?” It hadn’t. Silenus carried on, “we’ll keep Dion here for a couple of months, get him rested until the papers have found some other poor sap, then Cal and Likertes will join you guys up here for a couple of weeks, to practise, before we leave.”

“Practise for what? Leave for where?”

“I’ve arranged for Libertia to go on a small tour abroad to promote
Tria
. It’s high time it was released. We’ll only be gone for a month or so and then we’ll come back here to get you.”

“What do you mean ‘get me’? I’m going wherever Dion’s going.”

“It’s best that you don’t, for everyone’s sake - Dion, Oinopion, Libertia and your own,” he said, gesturing towards my stomach, “Ma Three told me.”

I could see his point and reluctantly agreed.

“Have you told Dion the good news yet?” he asked.

“No, I had my suspicions in Thebes. They’ve only just been confirmed here.”

“Good, don’t tell him, not just yet.”

I nodded my agreement.

“Oh and congratulations,” he said as he turned to leave. “If we time it right, the announcement might be the thing we need to get us out of this mess.” Silenus was ever the manager, but I let him take charge of looking after Dion, and while the Mas looked after Oinopion, I began to ease into my pregnancy. Silenus accompanied Dion on long rambles and poured liquid into him like he was springing a leak.

There was dissent in the ranks of the Mas. Ma One was relieved that Silenus was taking charge and that Dion seemed to be improving under his direction. Ma Four, on the other hand, was dubious, especially about the amount of liquid Dion was putting away.

“But it helped before,” Ma One reminded her.

“But he shouldn’t need it now. He has a wife, a son and another baby on the way. That should be enough to pull him out of it.”

“Now, you know that’s not the point…” Ma Three started.

“Don’t give me that rubbish about needing liquid to communicate with …” Ma Four cut in then went silent as I entered the room. “Well, good morning dear, can I get you something to eat?”

“He doesn’t need liquid to communicate with whom?” I asked her. They all looked at each other nervously. “I am his wife.” I reminded them vehemently. Ma Four nodded.

“With his parents. He doesn’t need liquid to reach them. He doesn’t need it to reach anyone. He only needs his music.”

“Maybe he believes he needs it to reach himself.” Ma Seven said quietly.

For the first month of Dion’s rehabilitation, I barely saw my husband. We lived in the same house, but in different worlds. I suspect that Silenus kept us apart. After five weeks, I heard Dion playing the guitar. By the sixth he was eating meals with us and playing with Oinopion. During the seventh, he came up to me in the kitchen, gave me a tender kiss on the cheek and told me how happy he was about the news. I assumed he meant the baby, as I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t spoken to him. I never knew who told him, but I’m guessing it was Silenus. I still feel a pang of anger that he hadn’t allowed me at least that, during those months.

             
Finally, Cal and Likertes arrived. Dion greeted them as if Thebes, or the past couple of months, had never happened. It was as if he had been transformed - by Silenus. But illusions don’t last forever and, I now realize, that is exactly what Dion’s transformation was. We bought into it because we wanted to believe what we saw. Cal and Likertes had obviously benefitted from an extended holiday. Cal had spent it working on a farm he had bought outside Olympia and away from it all; ‘it all’ being the press. Likertes had been hanging out back in Olympia, jamming with some bands and writing. They didn’t mention what had been happening in the outside world to Dion and kept the topics of conversation to their music and the up-and-coming tour. For the next fourteen days, they practised furiously and sounded better than they ever had. No one said it, but this tour was basically a ‘come back’ tour and a lot was riding on it, not least Dion’s sanity. Then, two weeks after Cal and Likertes had arrived, they left with Dion and Silenus. Dion hugged Oinopion, embraced each of his Mas, patted my stomach, kissed me and then left. As I watched him disappear, half way down the mountain, I realised that Dion and I hadn’t spent any time alone together for over four months, before our disastrous spell as guests in Thebes. I patted my stomach in remembrance of that last time. We had been on Naxos to celebrate our anniversary and to introduce Oinopion to his godmother, Nyx. Libertia’s recent gig had been one of the best gigs of their career. They received incredible write-ups in
4am
and
MIM
and Dion had given an interview to
Musique
. Once their duties were complete, Naxos politely allowed Libertia their liberty and we were all able to relax. On the last night, Dion arranged for Nyx to babysit Oinopion, while we went down to the beach, where we had said our vows. Dion was happy, the happiest I had ever seen him and the happiest I ever would see him. Libertia were on top of the charts and Dion was on top of the world. Libertia had earned a break and after their tour of Sparta they were taking a few months off. We decided that we would spend them at home, as a family. I woke up on the beach with Dion beside me and, unbeknownst to me, the beginnings of our second child in my womb.

Four months after his father left his mother to go on tour, Staphylus Androgeus entered the world. The presence of seven adoring surrogate grandmothers meant that his father wasn’t missed. Start as you mean to go on: Staphylus would soon have to live without his father. When I had sufficiently recovered, I phoned Dion. After he had left, we’d made up for our recent lack of communication by speaking every day. The tour was going well. Silenus had picked the right places, back-waters that weren’t often graced with such famous musicians and whose residents adored Libertia. It also seemed that the tall tales from Thebes had died down.  Needless to say, Dion was over the moon about the news of his second son, although I believe a part of him always wanted a girl in honour of his mother, as I wanted two boys to honour my brothers. I was sent the first newspaper I had been allowed to see for over six months.
The Persian Post
put a gig Libertia had performed on the front page with the heading:
Rock God Dedicates Gig to New Son.
Underneath was a large photo of Libertia. Cal was waving his drumsticks; Likertes was holding up his guitar, and Dion was speaking into the microphone. They were all smiling. The article stated that Dion had just heard that he was now the proud father of two beautiful sons, as his wonderful wife had given birth to their second child. At this, a cheer went up from the crowd. Dion was quoted as saying that Libertia were dedicating the gig to his family, whom he missed very much and hoped to see very soon, and that he hoped the crowd would celebrate with Libertia (another cheer) by wetting the baby’s head. At this, a massive cheer had gone up and the members of Thiasus had handed out free bottles of liquid. The rest of the article gave details of Libertia’s tour and made a big thing out of the fact that
Tria
was, finally, rising in the album chart. Silenus had done well. He had successfully rescued Dion’s reputation, albeit temporarily. There was another, smaller photo of Dion, drinking from one of the bottles. Underneath, the caption read:

Libertia’s lead singer celebrates the news of his son’s birth in his favourite way. Dion’s wife is the daughter of the late King Minos of Crete, who died last month.

This was how I learnt about my father’s death.

The Mas willingly agreed to look after Staphylus while I travelled to Crete with Oinopion. They would willingly have kept Oinopion too, but I felt that it was time he met his grandmother and, if I’m honest, I needed some support. I left the mountain four hours after hearing of my father’s death. Later, I would be accused of leaving my four-week-old baby whilst also being slammed for not being at my father’s funeral. Never mind that at the moment my father’s body was being put into the ground, I was giving birth to his grandson.

I arrived on Crete with my two-year-old son, two months after my father had died and for the first time since I had left, in the night, with Theo. If I hadn’t known it was Crete, I wouldn’t have recognised the place. The buildings were the same, the mountains were the same and the beaches were the same, but the atmosphere was different. It was reminiscent of the time when Andro was competing in the games. The darkness, which had stifled Crete, was vanquished; the Cretans had come through their period of mourning and were ready to party.

The woman who welcomed me at the palace looked and sounded like my mother, but was a completely different person. More than anyone, she had come out of the dark cocoon that had been her marriage and was now spreading her wings and broadening her aspirations. She had plans for Crete, big plans which she was dying to tell me about, but first she wanted to cuddle and play with her grandson. They took to each other straightaway and watching them, a tiny dart hit my heart, as I remembered her playing with Aster at the same age. If my father’s death hadn’t shed the years from her, the arrival of her grandson had turned back the clock. She was youthful, beyond belief.  Once Oinopion was put into bed, we talked all through the night. My mother explained how my father had died, during a diplomatic tour, which was essentially a ruse in order to hunt down Daedalus. He had received word that the craftsman was in Sicily and so had added it to the tour. Apparently, after I had left, my father had started having trouble with his heart. This was a surprise as my father had always been a strong man, full of vitality, too much of it in fact.

“He refused to see a doctor, because he didn’t want it ‘getting out’; a weak king and all that.” My mother admitted that she only knew this because Phaedra had told her. My parents hadn’t spoken to each other since the day I left. They hadn’t even bothered to keep up a pretence in the palace and took meals separately. After the funeral, Phaedra had resumed the tour in place of our father (which was why she was absent during my visit). She had been their go-between. My father was obsessed with finding Daedalus, so obsessed that he let the day-to-day running of Crete go to rack and ruin. He started going on lengthy tours to try and find Daedalus and taxed the Cretans, heavily, to subsidise these tours. The positive thing was that, when he was on these lengthy tours, my mother was left in charge of Crete - a role she began to grow into and love. She proved her worth to such an extent that even when father was taking a break between tours, advisors still deferred to her. Slowly, she began to reduce the dent in the Cretan economy and improve her own self-confidence.