When a Cohen week on the island of Hydra, much can happen. And it does. During a nocturnal singalong outside Leonard’s old speakeasy, Katsikas, nowadays Roloi, you cannot know how you end up next to. People have arrived from everywhere; some living just around the corner on Hydra or arriving by boat from Athens, others travelling from Australia, a couple from Montreal in Canada, ladies from the King’s old England, Americans, of course, a dozen from Germany, topped by a duo, singing and playing violin and guitar, France and Ireland, to mention a few. However, the most distant and unexpected guest was Bacchus, or Dionysus, as the Greeks call him. He prefers his Roman title because it has shown as a better trademark. Google, and you will understand why. Bacchanal, for instance, is what it’s all about, including this evening.

Bacchus had travelled over 600 lightyears from the constellation Orion. Much shorter travel through Space’s remarkable wormholes had the exceptional guest of honour, in a way, also the Cohen week’s host, Leonard. He made eight lightyears in less than half an hour, while Bacchus had to beat his solar light waves speed by far. When the red light had to twinkle 650 years before reaching Hydra, it only took him just under 23 hours when using the universal shortcut, a wormhole. Independent of going by space waves driven by black matter, aeroplane, taxi, boat or at the end at the back of a donkey, they all ended up at Katsikas for a night full of Leonard’s music and peculiar happenings in the background. You hear what you hear and see what you see. Wherever Leonard’s fans looked, they saw what they saw: imaginative shadows dancing across the harbour cobblestones, half a dozen gods, one godlike, another looking like a god, the ever-young goddess Marilyn disguised as Apollon with his Lyre in hand, historic and prehistoric party lions over time united by their love for Leonard's music. James joined us for the first time since he left last year. Roloi, the old Katsikas, was the same, yet utterly different from during the day. Nicholas, the retired master of Roloi, could confirm. Between the earthlings' chairs hid centuries-old creatures light on their feet and quick to sing; Bacchus sat in the high seat curled up on one short side of the long table, with Leonard on a chair next to it with a funny hat he borrowed from a fan from Mozart's time. The composer was not there, prevented by a concert on Venus, the planet associated with the arts, beauty, and harmony. Mozart was a great admirer of his colleagues from the twentieth century.

At the same time as the guests united in a continuous singalong, there was a friendly challenge between tonight’s two guests of honour, Leonard and Bacchus. Who was the worst badass during their time on Earth? Which one of them had drank most people under the table? A senseless duel between two universal giants. The answer, however, might not be what you expect.

Please read on to know the answer. You will be surprised. And amazed.

While Bacchus spurred his sun's red light waves with endless partying, the legendary troubadour Leonard ruled in the skies over Sirius, a mystical realm of music. Known universally for his soulful melodies and poetic lyrics, Cohen continues weaving stories touching the depths of the human spirit. Little did he know that this time on Hydra, his path would cross with Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, in a most unexpected and amusing encounter. They knew each other for many years, first in the distance, but love at first sight. At a young age, Leonard became a devoted follower of Bacchus, deeply inspired by the Wine god’s profound and introspective lyrics, poetic style, and ability to convey emotions through his music. All needed in his realm. Two ringmasters were taming their audience, keeping the fascination high.

What I will tell you happened on a starry night at the end of May as Cohen travelled through the vineyards of Greece, seeking inspiration for his next masterpiece. He found himself amid a raucous celebration, where the air was filled with uproarious laughter, vibrant music, and the heady aroma of wine. Intrigued by the festivities, Cohen decided to join the revelry, casting his cares aside for a while. The location was familiar, his favourite party place from the 1960s. Roloi or ‘Katsikas forever’, as it is known among the stars.

Travelling light with jampacked luggage
While travelling through Space, he had some time for contemplation and memories. After touring solidly for five-odd years, Leonard made his last album, reminding the world who is the greatest. The Nobel Prize Committee can think what they want because everybody else knows. Before leaving Earth for an eternal tour around the Universe, he recorded nine structured and direct songs. He gave his fans some soulful angels, his muted rumbling voice, a soulful guitar, and keening violins to sweeten the sadness of travelling light. It was his farewell, his last performance. This night in May, many of the songs sounded in the welcome choir meeting him downtown Hydra on the side of the port basin.

Leonard had, as usual, landed where the wormhole ends in Vlychos, called for his particular donkey to enjoy the picturesque ride along the cobbled road to Hydra town, and spent an hour in his old house, washing away trail dust and changing clothes to something apt for a night out with his fans. As he entered the heart of the jubilant gathering, Cohen couldn't help but notice a figure at the centre of everybody’s attention. It was Bacchus, resplendent in his vineyard crown, with a twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous grin. The god of revelry recognised the weary troubadour and warmly beckoned him to join him on the makeshift stage. They have known each other for many years; in the beginning, Leonard was a Bacchus follower, but since Leonard left Earth more as equals, two Gods ruled related realms within showbiz. Typically, He and Marianne travel together, but this time, she decided to detour via her old home country, Norway. She was not as fascinated by Bacchanals as in her younger days when living on Hydra. She joined the company just for a snapshot behind two of the musicians back when they played her favourite tune, ‘So Long Marianne’. Then she left for Oslo.

"What brings you to my domain, Leonard Cohen?" Bacchus boomed, his voice filled with joy. "Are you here to pen an ode to the pleasures of wine and merriment? It is your island, and you should be rolling out the red carpet and addressing me.” Bacchus guffawed.

Cohen, never one to miss an opportunity for wit, replied with a smile, "Oh Bacchus, your intoxicating spirit is already woven into the tapestry of my songs. I have come seeking inspiration from your jubilant realm's depths."

A singalong without borders
With that, the unlikely duo embarked on a musical escapade that will be whispered about for centuries. Cohen strummed his guitar, his fingers dancing across the strings, while Bacchus took up a tambourine and joined in the rhythm in a fit of exuberance. The sounds that emanated from their impromptu collaboration filled the night, transcending the earthly and divine into a harmonious melody. Stunned, their fans could do nothing but join in, and the church bells, ringing their eleven strikes for the last time this Sunday, were silenced by the overwhelming euphony from below.

The audience around the musicians noticed the change. The German singer’s voice, usually bright and melodic, darkened and rumbled, and the tempo slowed from a faster Largo to a dignified Adagio with great expression when the guitar player’s fingers adapted Leonard’s gentle and precise fingerpicking patterns, creating a delicate tapestry of sound that beautifully supported the introspective and heartfelt lyrics. His wife, the violist, caressed the strings with her bow as if they were more fragile than glass, producing a hauntingly beautiful melody that resonated with the audience's souls.

As they sang together, the vines all over the Peloponnese, a picturesque region in Greece, swayed to the rhythm, and the stars, unobstructed by city lights, seemed to dance in the sky. Bacchus poured goblet after goblet of wine, offering them to Leonard and the gathered revellers, ensuring that the spirit of merriment remained unquenched. The air was filled with laughter from the divine Time-travellers and mortal beings as they revelled in the unexpected union of the god of wine and the troubadour of the soul. One could hear a stray angel’s choir in the sky, praying for some sin their former church despised.

However, Leonard’s voice was not angelic, a sonorous croon at most. With each verse and chorus, the barriers between the realms of gods, stray angels and mortals dissolved, symbolising the power of music to unite and transcend boundaries. Bacchus, in his inebriated state, confessed to his fellow Time-traveller, a rare moment of vulnerability and honesty:

"Ah, Leonard, your words are like nectar to my ears. You have captured the essence of my realm, the ecstasy and the sorrow that intertwine like vines in a vineyard."

"And you, Bacchus, have opened the door to a realm of uninhibited joy and unapologetic revelry. Together, we have created a symphony of laughter and tears, a testament to the complexities of the human experience." Leonard replied, his eyes twinkling with mirth, his voice filled with joy and melancholy that mirrored the crowd's emotions.

“Drink on, drink on, my eternal friend and companion. Be a road model to the mortals”, chanted Bacchus, sounding like sparkling champagne. Leonard, filled with amusement and admiration, replied, "Ah, Bacchus, you truly are the life of the party. Your spirit is infectious, and your joy is a beacon in this world."

“I fought against the bottle, but I had to do it drunk; I had to use the throttle until I sank”, sang Leonard with his rumbling voice.

And so, in that magical night of music and merriment, Bacchus and Leonard formed a bond that transcended the realms they hailed from. They understood that within art and showbiz, the divine and the mortal could find common ground, uniting in celebrating life's joys and sorrows. Bacchus, a god known for his love of revelry and wine, and Leonard, a mortal troubadour whose music touched the hearts of millions, found solace and understanding in each other's company, a testament to the power of music to bridge the gap between gods and mortals.

Time stands still but goes on.
When having fun, joy scatters gloomy thoughts about reality. Time ran faster even if you don’t notice, but the church bells tell the truth. As the night drew to a close and the revellers, one by one, bid their farewells or passed out under the table, Leonard and Bacchus exchanged a knowing smile. They will carry the memories of that magical encounter, a reminder that the creative spirit knows no boundaries and can forge connections where least expected. At that moment, Leonard felt a sense of fulfilment and contentment, knowing that his music had touched the hearts of both mortals and gods. In contrast, Bacchus, usually a symbol of festivity, felt a deep sense of connection and understanding with the mortal troubadour.

Years will pass on Earth, and Eternity and Leonard will continue to write songs touching the heart. The echoes of this fateful encounter with Bacchus will be heard in his melodies forever. His words, infused with the spirit of festivity and the wisdom of ancient gods, resonate with listeners across the Universe.

Bacchus, too, revels in the legacy of this whimsical night. He continues to roam the vineyards, spreading joy and indulgence wherever he goes. The memory of his collaboration with Leonard becomes a cherished tale among the gods, a testament to the power of music and the beauty of unexpected connections.

Always present God of pleasure.
In the halls of Olympus, hidden in Greece's highest mountain, the gods often gather to listen to Leonard's melodies, enraptured by the emotions his songs evoke. Bacchus nods approvingly with a wine goblet in hand, knowing their encounter has left an indelible mark on both mortal and immortal realms. So keen was Zeus that he came to Hydra that night but kept a low profile, staying in the shadows.

Bacchus and Leonard Cohen's tale of unexpected friendship and creative collaboration will become a legend passed down through generations. It will remind artists and dreamers that inspiration can be found in the most unlikely places and that collaboration between mortals and gods births something truly magical. Their story, a testament to the power of music and the beauty of unexpected connections, will continue to inspire and captivate audiences for centuries.

When the moon hangs half full to full over Hydra, and the wine flows freely, many claim to hear the faint strains of Cohen's guitar and the echoing laughter of Bacchus, intertwining in a celestial dance. It serves as a reminder that art can bridge the gaps between worlds and that in the realm of creativity, gods and mortals can meet as equals, sharing in the joy of creation. The amphitheatre-shaped Hydra town amplifies the sounds from the port and leads them up to the last row where I live. I don’t miss a tune. I can hear Bacchus’s laughter bright and clear seven days a week during summer.

So, raise a glass to Bacchus and Leonard, two companions who, for a fleeting moment, wove together the threads of music and revelry, leaving an eternal mark on the tapestry of artistic inspiration. Let their story inspire you to seek connections, embrace the unexpected, and revel in the magic that can arise when worlds collide.

Hey, the party doesn’t stop here.
This is not the end, not even the end of the beginning. In a way, it had just begun. When the extras dropped off, leaving some real fans behind, new party animals arrived; from Olympos in the North came Zeus, Apollon, Athena, Minerva, and a bunch of other gods. Rumours travel fast in Space. Bacchanal on Hydra! Having missed the big party on Hydra the other year, Marilyn Monroe came directly from a shopping spree in Paris. She was in her best shape, forever 36 years, and as adored in Space as on Earth. She was not forced to quit filming when leaving Hollywood for good. On the contrary, with millions of actors and movie stars from all times, producers, directors, and all sorts of showbiz people, it was inevitable that the show would go on—the same with their audience. Don’t believe that only people who have lived in the last two centuries go to the cinema.

Every day, there are at least three premieres somewhere in Space, and you are penned up with Cro magnons, Neanderthals, the old Romans, the ancient Greeks, and even more ancient Egyptians. Everyone wants to watch movies, regardless of the time and place they live on Earth: most cinemas you find on sparsely populated dry planets, and practically all are the drive-in type.

Back to the bad boys Leonard and Bacchus, who had started to compare their Earthly capacity in diverse areas. Men remain boys for eternity, and boys are like that and love it. Concerning wine, Bacchus was unrivalled, and in the same way, Leonard was the number one womaniser of the two. Dead heat, so far. Leonard doesn’t spit in the glass, as they say up north; watering a whisky when neat is better.

In search of a God
But Leonard had tried more advanced ways of getting intoxicated. It was nothing he was proud of, but a competition is a competition. Leonard was known to have experimented with various substances, including marijuana and LSD, during the 1960s and 1970s, a period associated with counterculture and widespread drug use. Cohen was part of the bohemian scene and not the least on the island of Hydra, where drug use was prevalent among artists and writers. It's worth noting that Leonard is entirely private about his personal life and avoids extensively discussing his drug use in public interviews or his works. Leonard blamed his bad habits for his vain search for a god. In ecstasy, it is easier to see your desires. That said, Leonard also dabbled in amphetamines and other psychedelics during his younger years. However, it's worth noting that Cohen's drug use was not a central theme in his work or public image, and he remained highly respected and admired as a musician and poet regardless.

The divined couple had another glass of an excellent Greek Chardonnay and compared substance after substance. Still, Bacchus had to give up when Leonard described some of his LSD trips, topped with the natural psychedelic mescaline. "Aviation was within reach", as he put it. Bacchus' clever attempts at various funny mushrooms didn't go far, so Leonard moved into the lead.

The cunning god of drunkenness found a way to make it even. He and Leonard had a history of holding their liquor, drinking most people under the table. The question was, which of them could come up with the most impressive drunken party? Leonard once sank a whole club. It was during the yearly Miaoulia festival commemorating the defeat of the Turks, something worth a proper intoxication. The festival nowadays is a gentle breeze in comparison with the 60s.
Nevertheless, the club owner, Babis Mores, opened up Lagoudera for a drinking competition, and Leonard was the last man standing. As usual, celebrities from all over the globe took part, and Leonard bet among other professional partygoers, Onassis, the shipping magnate. Rumours tell that this was how Leonard got his sailing boat, ‘The Julie’. A shipowner of that magnitude is also a hard hitter in Space. Who could beat that? Bacchus, who else?

They fell silent, Bacchus thinking how to strike such a victory while Leonard seemed to take the win in advance. Still, a long life should have taught him never to underestimate an opponent.

Their silence left Space for the noises of the Hydra night: a soft, soothing murmur from the horseshoe-shaped port, some distant dog bark, two cats fighting from a balcony, and music and happy voices from the nearby Pirate Bar. The fiddle and guitar musicians had left, and the conversation between the remaining fans had slackened.

After a while of silence, Bacchus believed having found the killer. He should have thought about that one at once and not worried. The god felt confident of having an unbeatable reprisal when he started his story.

“Once upon a time, a long time ago, in the hallowed halls of Olympus, I had a fierce rivalry with Zeus, the king of gods and all things mighty.” Bacchus nodded toward the door entrance to Roloi, where the god stood almost as if he was hiding. He probably already knew what was coming.

“The stage was indeed set for an epic battle of libations, where intoxication would reign supreme and a legendary hangover would be born”, Bacchus continued. Leonard flinched at the word ‘hangover’, something he knew better than most. He understood the consequences if Bacchus, known for his love of merry-making and an insatiable thirst for the fermented grape nectar, had set his sights on challenging Zeus, the almighty wielder of thunderbolts and ruler of the heavens.

“With a twinkle in my eye and a grapevine wreath on the head, I sauntered up to Zeus, seated on a magnificent golden throne and issued my provocative challenge.” He dramatically paused to see if he could read any doubt on Leonard’s face. So far, so good.

"O Zeus, my dear king of the gods, I propose a contest that shall echo throughout the ages! Let us engage in a battle of drinking prowess. With your mighty lightning, with my intoxicating elixirs, you and I shall test the limits of our divine inebriation. The loser shall bow before the victor, and Olympus shall shake with laughter at the spectacle! If I win, I desire Jason’s Golden Fleece, which I believe you are in control over." Another break to check if Leonard followed.

“Zeus, never one to back down from a challenge, raised an eyebrow and stroked his majestic beard. He surveyed his opponent, taking in my mischievous grin and the unmistakable aroma of grape-flavoured confidence that always surrounds me. After a while, he accepted the challenge, and the other gods gathered to witness the spectacle unfolding.” It's still not a sign of an underdog in Leonard’s look. Nor in his mind. “A strong competitor indeed,” thought Bacchus and continued.

“Our divine drinking contest began, with chalices brimming with ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, before each deity. As the prime connoisseur of wine, I swirled my cup with the finesse of a seasoned sommelier, taking a delicate sip and savouring the flavour. Meanwhile, Zeus, more accustomed to thunderstorms than tipples, eyed his cup with trepidation but remained resolute. Being the least mortal among immortals gives strength and self-assurance.” Even so, Leonard did not show a wrinkle of being impressed. The odds talked against Bacchus.

As the evening wore on, I regaled the gods with witty anecdotes and uproarious songs to make Zeus nervous and drinking too fast soothing his nerves. With each toast, the atmosphere grew livelier, and the halls of Olympus echoed with laughter. Zeus’ religious tolerance was tested, and he tried to match my gulp for gulp, once in a while taking one too many. But, alas, his attempts were like lightning without thunder—flashes of bravado followed by a fizzling out.

Bacchus, the master of mirth, continued to imbibe, his joviality growing stronger. He danced across the banquet hall, leading the gods in a merry revelry. On the other hand, Zeus found his thunderbolts lacking their usual spark, and his once-commanding presence was reduced to stumbling and slurred speeches.

A withering Bolt
When Zeus was in a bad mood, he destroyed the Torah of the Jews, a scripture that spoke of a single god called Yahweh and not Zeus. Such monistic crap! He kept a stash of confiscated scrolls ready for his mood swings. With a single thunderbolt, Zeus turned a two-meter scroll into dust finer than the dust of the desert and in less time than it took to pronounce 'Torah'. He had fought the Egyptian gods one by one, the mighty Osiris and his wife, the early feminist Isis and their son Horus. All gone, accompanied by Seth, God of chaos, annihilated his confusing way. All grovelled and blown away in the desert, generations since forgotten by all.” Bacchus cackled with glee.

“Likewise, the creatures of the Sumerians and Babylonians had been defeated when the lightning of Zeus had annihilated them all. But now it was time for a knockout. My wine is so strong that it extinguishes the sharpest lightning. Sensing that the fight was uneven, Zeus hurled a bolt of lightning at a giant scroll of Tora that four slaves had dragged in and placed on a sturdy ebony table. By annihilating it, he hoped to throw me off balance. Bullshit! His lightning failed to penetrate the scroll, so exhausted the older man became. He managed to fire two more lightning bolts, the last one not even singed the papyrus scroll. With a sigh more profound than the sounds of Hades all dead, the old deity fell under the table with the undamaged Torah,” Bacchus said, visibly proud of himself even some two thousand years after it happened. “When Zeus fell, he cried out pathetically for Mommy, seeking solace for his pains. His mother, Rhea, the former queen of the gods, could not have cared less. She despised her son since he married his sister Hera.”

"That kind of family problem should be avoided," said Leonard, disgusted, as he wouldn't even kiss his sister.

“Olympus makes the sexual liberation of the 1960s appear as pure Christianity. The old gods did everything ordinary people don't do, can't or shouldn't. Moreover, they did it with pleasure, over and over again. Everyone slept with everyone, and fucking around was a merit. As an example, we gods aren't always the best, but we have much fun rumbling around,” Bacchus said without any sign of remorse.

"Incest is fine, as long as you keep it within the family," joked Leonard, though he didn't think it was funny at all. He could not be claimed to be any role model himself regarding his promiscuous sexual life on Earth. Nevertheless, he had clear boundaries for what he believed one could do. The fact that he occasionally benefited from young women being drawn to artists, he could feel in retrospect, was a borderline case. Such were the times, and these groupies were happy to crawl under the covers with a man twice their age. Leonard defended himself by saying it was mutual exploitation. Excuse me for interrupting your story with my private thoughts. Please go on!” Of course, Bacchus had read his mind, puzzled over Leonard’s inner remorse.

“I had taken the upper hand with my divine libation skills. My fellow gods erupted in raucous applause, cheering my surprising triumph. After a while, Zeus wakes up and gets on his feet. In a rare display of humility, he raised his goblet to toast me, his worthy opponent.” Bacchus looked at Leonard only to find a pleased look after a sip of the poet’s own drink, the Red Needle. I am not very impressed, and I certainly do not look defeated. It was almost so that Bacchus began to despair. In the wrinkle of his eye, he could see Zeus at the entrance, consoling himself with a bottle of red, chugging it like the lowest of his subjects.

The Gordian knot
Trying to get Leonard out of balance, Bacchus continued his story, desperately thinking about how he could do as Alexander the Great and cut the Gordian Knot. While analysing his chances, he told Leonard about himself as the crowned champion of the celestial tavern and how the tale of Zeus being bested by the god of wine was etched into the annals of mythological drinking lore. From that day forward, whenever Bacchus uncorked a bottle of wine, or Zeus called forth a storm, their rivalry would be remembered, and the intoxicating spirit of laughter and revelry would live on. Bacchus proposed that Leonard raise his glass to him, the god who proved that even the mighty Zeus could be outdrank.

“May his legend remind us to embrace the joy of life, the camaraderie found in sharing a good-natured drink, and the hilarity that ensues when gods let loose and indulge in merriment,” Bacchus said, not realising that Leonard had heard the story before. Any professional drinker should know about the power of the bottle. If you can handle it, of course, and avoid the pink elephants. Bacchus may be the best, but not the only one.

Leonard knew that in the aftermath of the great drinking duel, Zeus, ever the gracious loser, conceded defeat with a hearty laugh and a wink to Bacchus. The gods, now thoroughly entertained and in high spirits, joined the victor in a boisterous celebration. They sang songs of Bacchus' triumph, weaving tales of his legendary prowess and how he left mighty Zeus longing for a glass of water. All songs were sung, and loads were written in the aftermath. Since then, more drinking songs have been composed than songs about love. That is the reason Leonard had restrained from writing this type of song.

Bacchus in the public mind
From that day forward, Bacchus held a special place in mortals’ and gods’ hearts. His name became synonymous with revelry, and his wine flowed freely at festivals and celebrations. A Bacchanale bears his name.

“Indeed, an important institution, “said Leonard, raising his glass in honour of the god who proved that even the most powerful could succumb to the pleasures of Bacchus' intoxicating embrace. Leonard has made many references to drinking and alcohol in his songs. He thought about the night he shared a drink with a lover at the Chelsea Hotel and wrote a song about it. "Ah, we're drinking, and we're dancing, and the band is really happening," Leonard was humming inside. The lyrics portray a lively atmosphere where people enjoy drinks and dancing, so he knows his business. One can live without alcohol, but why risk some of the fun?

And what of Zeus? Well, under the table, he learned a valuable lesson in humility and the importance of knowing one's limits. Though he remained the mighty ruler of Olympus, he developed a newfound appreciation for the art of moderation. He no longer challenged Bacchus to a drinking match; instead, he would sit back, admire the festivities, and occasionally share the light-hearted tale of when he was out drunk by the wine-loving god. But tonight, he kept a low profile because the evening belonged to Bacchus and Leonard. They were old enough to fend for themselves and needed no old god serving as their overcoat.

The lesson to learn is that even the most powerful in the universe can find themselves under the table when faced with the irresistible allure of somebody’s libations. It's a lesson in the joys of indulgence, the importance of laughter, and the beauty of letting go. And the love of pink elephants.

“A belated cheer to you, the god of pleasure”, said Leonard, waiting for Bacchus’s next step. He could feel the god’s scatty thoughts, sparkling like coloured flakes in a kaleidoscope. “I raise my glass to this legendary clash of gods. May you be reminded to embrace life's pleasures, savour each sip, and always approach the table with a touch of Bacchus' infectious mirth. Cheers to you, my dear Bacchus, the god who taught Zeus a thing or two about the art of revelry, and may your legacy continue to intoxicate our hearts and souls for ages to come!”

“A toast to yourself, Leonard, a professional drinker with a drink bearing your name, having served as a good example during your time on Earth. You are possibly beaten by Sir Winston, a boozer coming second only to me,” Bacchus answered with a strange smile, revealing that the wine god had not given up but had something in mind.

Bacchus had an ace hidden in his tunic because, without any sleeve to hide it in, he had it by his waist. He could have spared them a lot of drinking time if he had realised from the beginning that the winner was a part of his dress, the Golden Fleece. Not seeing the forest for the trees, so to speak.

How to get Jason's Golden Fleece from Zeus
The legend of Jason and the Golden Fleece is well-known to everybody loving antiquity. But few know about what happened to the fleece afterwards. It has disappeared in history. There could be no discussion about the story’s veracity, the proof Bacchus wore as part of his cloak, also this evening, shining from the purest gold. Bacchus took a sip from the goblet and cleared his voice. He could see some signs of worry on Leonard’s face, which spurred him.

“You must have heard about the Golden Fleece Jason is said to have stolen. It is, however, deeply intertwined with my mischievous antics—a story that deserves to be told. So, let us embark on this legendary journey where I become entangled in pursuing a coveted treasure.” Now, it was apparent that Leonard understood that things looked bad. He had noticed the golden part of Bacchus’s clothing and suspected the story could be related to the fleece that disappeared. Aside from the golden Menora, the seven-branched candelabrum, which was ransacked from the temple in Jerusalem and brought to Rome to disappear, the fleece is the second most searched-after object in the history of man. Leonard sighed.

“Jason was a brave and cunning hero who sought to retrieve the Golden Fleece—a symbol of kingship and prosperity—from a distant land. The task was arduous and dangerous; many warriors had tried and failed before him. But Jason, fueled by determination and a touch of divine intervention, set sail with a crew of loyal companions known as the Argonauts,” Bacchus continued with a victorious smile.

“An opportunity, I suppose,” Leonard commented acidly.
“Indeed, it was time for me to be drawn to adventure and revelry. I caught wind of Jason's quest and saw an opportunity for divine mischief. I joined the expedition with a twinkle in my eye and a goblet in hand, offering my assistance in exchange for a reward—none other than the famed Golden Fleece itself.” Bacchus laughed contently at the memory.

"A tempting offer, I suppose, one a man finds hard to refuse," said Leonard even more acidly. "Because what mortal dare say no to a god?"

“Could be. But the choice was his. Anyhow, intrigued by the proposition, Jason agreed to my terms, knowing full well that my involvement would bring chaos and delight to their journey.”

“So, the Argonauts were accompanied by a merry and unpredictable god whose divine wine and infectious revelry should provide both inspiration and distraction,” interjected Leonard ironically.

“That was precisely my intention”, Bacchus answered deadly seriously.

“I’m sure you did”, Leonard grunted.

“I was indeed useful”, Bacchus continued. “As they faced trials and tribulations, I, the trickster, used my intoxicating powers to perplex our enemies and inspire my comrades. I conjured illusions, transforming mundane encounters into wild celebrations, where adversaries were bewildered and alliances forged amidst laughter and merriment and filled land and sea with pink elephants. Now you know where that expression originates. The Golden Fleece seemed within reach as my boisterous presence brought a spark of joy and courage to the hearts of the weary Argonauts.”

“Could not fail,” Leonard said ironically. “Like shooting at sitting ducks.”

“Yes and no, Leonard. Zeus, ever watchful over the realm of mortals and gods, observed the playful antics of the one once getting himself under the table. You could hear him chuckle from the distant Olympos at the sight of me leading the crew in raucous revelry, realising that the presence of the god of wine had breathed new life into the quest for the Golden Fleece.

Zeus decided to test both me and Jason. I had understood that move from the beginning and was prepared with a Plan B. Suddenly, Zeus conjured a fierce and unyielding storm, threatening to thwart the progress and despairing my team. I could see Jason clinging to a mast. But I, being a cunning and resourceful god, seized the opportunity. I had brought a sack of extra divine powers and summoned a rain of wine, transforming the tempest into a lively celebration amidst the crashing waves. You should have seen all the drunken fish, and Poseidon and his horses were so bashed they ran aground at Hydra. What a bang! It created a tsunami sweeping the shores all over the Mediterranean. You can still see the mighty holes in the cliffs at Limnioniza on the southern side of Hydra.” Leonard looked troubled and realised that Bacchus had something significant coming.

“Zeus, unable to resist the allure of my antics, looked down upon the scene with amusement and admiration. At that moment, he realised that the quest for the Golden Fleece had become more than a simple prize—it had become an odyssey of revelry, where mortal and divine alike danced to the rhythm of my wine-soaked symphony.” Bacchus laughed smugly.

“And as the Argonauts and I finally reached our destination, the Golden Ram, huge as a Mammoth, shimmering before us as a lighthouse when we sneaked in at night.

Milk more potent than Loenard’s red drink
The ram was used to drink goat milk and had never tasted wine—a rookie. I had not yet invented distilling, but Mead is an alcoholic beverage made from fermented honey and water, strong enough to cause problems if not rightly handled. It became popular in ancient cultures such as the Greeks, Romans, and Norse. Your favourite whisky, Leonard, contains some 45%; typically, Mead reaches half. But there is a trick to boost it. I can breathe into the barrel, sack or amphora. My continuous drinking makes the Mead bubble of power. Mixed with the goatmilk, it tastes like a later invention of mine, a cream liqueur with a lovely smooth flavour and hints of toffee and vanilla. I poured the boosted Mead into a clay bucket from one of my leather sacks and mixed it with one-third of goat milk. How The golden beast was lapping up, the poor bastard. Gulp, gulp, gulp, sounding like continuous thunder. I heard afterwards that they could listen to him from Olympos. We talked about a half-day flight for Hermes, the messenger. So, it’s far. The Golden Ram continued to the bitter end. The Argonauts didn’t have to use their swords; my milky drink did the job. After a long day’s lapping, the ram heart gave up after almost an entire shipload of Mead and goat milk. He died in the middle of a gulp.” Bacchus sounded more than proud. Leonard seemed shocked, realising that this one was unbeatable. Do I have to say that Bacchus looked delighted?

“It was hard to watch,” Bacchus continued, unsuccessfully trying to show some empathy. The ram vomited, had seizures and trouble breathing, and his heart rate went down to one beat when I had five, and the gulps sounded like the whirlpool Charybdis. If he had talked nonsense from the beginning - sheep do that - it was nothing compared to what he did at the end. Not even his herd understood him. The Golden Ram repeatedly said that he saw pink sheep around. I have heard of black and a single golden one, and the surrounding fields were white of sheep. The Ram was out of the game. Today, science would call it alcohol poisoning.” Bacchus laughed out loud.

Skinning the creature was pretty easy. You have to be careful with the knife; 24-carat gold is soft. The great difficulties come after settling the bill, or bills that say. The renting of ten ships, two lost on the way, the Argonauts’ wages, food and wine for the crew during three weeks of a floating Bacchanale, the shipload of Mead and goat milk, etc. The fleece had to pay for it all. Even if it was as big as a small temple, what remained for Jason and me was this.” Bacchus gently rubbed the fleece around his waist. “And a smaller blankie.”

“Jason honoured our agreement. He bestowed the coveted treasure upon his wine-loving God, acknowledging my role—bringing laughter, courage, and a divine whimsy to the quest.

With the Golden Fleece in my possession, I raised my cup with lean Mead to the heavens, offering a toast to Jason, the Argonauts, and Zeus himself. The gods looked on, entertained and satisfied, as my revelry echoed across the land and sea,” Bacchus bragged. I cut a golden curl from my blankie if I needed extra pocket money. After two thousand years, it still can be used for what it’s meant for – my comfort blanket.

Golden hard drinkers
This way, the legend of hard drinking will forever be intertwined with the tale of Jason and the Golden Ram.

Fleece connects the pursuit of adventure with the spirit of festivity. From that day forward, Bacchus became the proud guardian of the Golden Fleece, a symbol of his mischievous triumph and a reminder of the joyous chaos he had brought to Jason's quest.

But the story doesn't end there. Ever the generous god, Bacchus shared his newfound treasure with mortals far and wide. He travelled across lands, spreading cheer and wine, inviting all to partake in the glory of the Golden Fleece. Festivals sprung up in his wake, where revellers adorned themselves in golden garments, raising their cups to the sky in honour of Bacchus' divine caprice.

Looking down upon the celebrations, Zeus couldn't help but smile at the sight of mortals and gods embracing Bacchus's spirit. He realised that the mischievous god had taught him a valuable lesson—that sometimes, the most treasured prizes in life are not material possessions but the moments of joy and camaraderie that come from surrendering to the intoxication of life's pleasures.

And so, the legend of Bacchus obtaining the Golden Fleece from Zeus lives on, a testament to the power of revelry and the intertwining of mortal and divine destinies. It serves as a reminder to us all that in pursuing grand adventures, it is essential to embrace the spirit of Bacchus, revel in the journey, and raise a glass to celebrate life's triumphs, both great and small.

To this day, Bacchus wears the precious fleece around his waist with his white tunic, the gold always as shiny as it was the day they skinned Chrysomallos, the winged Ram, with golden wool.

Unbeatable
Leonard is a gentleman who knows when he's beaten. The proof was around Bacchus' waist. The legendary Ram or Aries was a mighty force in the universe, physically more robust than even Zeus. The mythological beast is a hundred times larger than its earthly namesake, the male sheep, and has been rewarded a constellation named ‘Aries’, located in the northern hemisphere. Few have got such honour, not even Zeus, who had to settle for a simple star and not an entire constellation. Latin ‘Aries’ means ‘Ram’ in English. The constellation is associated with the Golden Fleece because once, after the Big Bang, the Ram got its shining wool from Arietis, called Hamal, the brightest star in Aries.

Having drunk the Golden Ram under the table, settled the matter. Bacchus must have beaten Leonard; however great it was to have had the shipping magnate Onassis crawling under the table and all unconscious guests at Lagoudera during the Miaoulia Festival 1964. A local competition that stands out even by global measures. Leonard had to settle for remaining a good number two in drinking history. That Sir Winston did not come into question must be blamed on his upbringing and class. He may have beaten Leonard with half a tanker load but did not compete in binging. The tanker example was Leonard’s calculation. Sir Winston has claimed he drank more than 42,000 bottles of Pol Roger Champagne. Add to that all other brands and all sorts of wine and booze; it ends up with an estimated lifetime consumption of ninety cubic meters of booze. It's probably unbeatable except for The Wine God himself. He has been binging for more than 5000 years. He could probably, at this point, have filled a lake.

“Let me raise my goblet high in honour of you, Bacchus, Jason, and the Golden Fleece—a tale that must remind us to treasure the moments of joy, to dance in the face of challenges, and to let Bacchus guide us through the twists and turns of life's grand tapestry—Cheers to the god of wine, the hero's quest, and the eternal pursuit of revelry. I, at this moment, admit my defeat to a worthy winner.” It became so many hailing words that Leonard paused and took a sip to lubricate his vocal cords.

”Cheers! Skål! Yamas! Cin! Cin! Kanpai! Salud! Prost! Santé! L'chayim! Na Zdorovie”, Leonard exclaimed, proving that he had been around raising his glass. He knew twenty more but did not want to brag about his global drinking tours. It is estimated that he toured in over 40 countries throughout his career”, Leonard concluded solemnly.

"I am speechless by your fine words, weepy in the soul but above all thirsty; my gratitude must be manifested in Champagne," said Bacchus, genuinely moved.

“Absolutely! Leonard travestied himself, "There is nowhere in the world where you can drink like you can in Hydra, including Hydra.”

“’ In vino veritas. In wine, there is truth”, said Bacchus and opened a bottle, shooting the cork into the harbour basin.

“’Vinum flumen est sapientiae’. ‘Wine is the river of wisdom’,” said Leonard and got the last word.