Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  I tried to keep my cool, but failed. “My mother has just been laid into the ground, and you dare call me here to accuse me of a theft Varvis claims took place! Don’t you dare drag the Americans into this,” I shouted, outraged at the unacceptable insult.

  The officer seemed startled to hear me raise my voice. He recovered quickly enough, and went on the attack. “A theft took place, and I must follow the appropriate procedure. We have lost much of our heritage, and still the thefts continue. Some will not stop at anything to enrich themselves.”

  I did not disagree with what he was saying. My outrage was at the insinuation that Zoe and I were criminals. “Let me make myself clear. It is a grave insult to suggest we may be connected to this matter in any way. You obviously know nothing about yesterday’s discovery and what it means for this island.”

  “I know everything, sir,” he said, resuming his interrogatory manner.

  “Very well then. As you are so well informed, you must be aware of who you are talking to. For my part, I will immediately inform my department in Thessaloniki as well as Lesbos …”

  He stroked his mustache and took a sip of water. “Do you know how many of your colleagues are responsible for the smuggling that happened during the war?”

  I stood up, unable to stand his presence for another minute. “I refuse to listen to these unfounded accusations. If you have any proof, you know where to find me. Until then, leave us alone to do our job in peace, and you do yours. You should also know that these collections do not belong to individuals but to the Greek nation. Refusing to relinquish possession is a mistake. The war is finished, and they must be handed over. Moreover, don’t you dare drag my friend into this; she has nothing to do with your ridiculous, baseless claims. Now, if I may, I would like to leave. I have more important things to attend to.”

  He smiled awkwardly and stood up. “Listen to me, Andreas Stais. A lot is said about what you did after the war, and whose side you were on. If you don’t want the gossip to spread, you’d better cooperate. It’s hard to clear your name once it’s been tainted …”

  He took out a packet of cigarettes and lit a match. He offered me one, but I shook my head. Blowing the smoke toward the ceiling, he said conciliatorily, “I advise you to ask your friend what the foreigners were doing here. You do it in your manner, or I will do it in mine. I want the chest found and returned to its owners.”

  It took all my resolve not to curse him as I turned and stormed out. If the sea had been nearer, I would have dived right in to cool down the rage that was thumping against my chest, protesting the series of blows life was handing me.

  I almost ran back to the Sanctuary. As soon as I passed the enclosure, I felt all my negative thoughts and feelings drift away, as if they surrendered to the breeze blowing down over the temple toward the sea. All the talk about Samothrace’s energy fields, and the Sanctuary in particular, seemed very real just then.

  Zoe was crouched on the ground at the dig site, hand buried in the soil, looking in my direction. I caught her eye. She drew me toward her like a magnet, and shortly I was standing beside her. I cast a quick look around and saw that everyone was busy at work. Through the open door of one of the museum rooms, I saw Elizabeth turn toward me and greet me with a smile before resuming her work.

  “Is everything all right?” Zoe asked. “You were gone for a while. We were worried.”

  Zoe’s bright face made me determined not to spoil the mood, and I resolved to stick to my original plan and not mention any of the things that were said at the police station. “Everything is fine. The police officer only wanted to discuss some details concerning the fire, but all is well … How are you getting on?”

  “I’m trying to help, but I’m not sure I’m managing to …”

  “She is managing just fine,” said Elizabeth, exiting the museum. She placed a tender hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “She is a natural … Come, let’s make our way to the trench and see what our goddess is up to.”

  Zoe took me by the hand, heedless of the soil encrusted in her palms. Giddy as young children, we made our way to the spot where the other team was already at work on the spectacular find. The soil rubbing against my palm as she gently stroked my hand was one of the most tender sensations I had ever felt.

  In the brilliant sunshine, the team was working feverishly, clearing away soil and carefully separating the pieces of the broken statue. I pulled Zoe toward a broken column and we sat on what had once been a part of the temple that had stood here. Its restoration was another great wish of mine, even with the limited means at our disposal.

  Zoe, still looking in the direction of the statue, asked, “What did it look like back then? Is there a painting of it somewhere, something that depicts it as a whole?”

  I jumped up as if I had just been stung, freed my hand, and ran to the building which we hoped would one day become the Samothrace museum. I remembered a photo of the statue I had presented at the competition in Thessaloniki was lying in a desk drawer somewhere. For a moment, everyone was startled by the sound of my thumping feet as I sped away. They paused what they were doing, watching me run down the hill.

  I was back in a couple of minutes. On the day of the award ceremony, a photographer had taken a few photos of the plaster copy that had won me an award and a place at the Archaeological Service. I had forgotten that my model for the head of the Winged Victory had been Zoe’s face, as I remembered it from that first meeting. For a few minutes, work stalled as everyone watched me run, out of breath, toward her.

  I sat down beside her and showed her one of the photos. Despite being taken from afar, it still gave a clear impression of what the statue would have looked like, with the addition of the head as I had imagined it.

  She looked at the photo in admiration and then asked, her voice filled with innocent wonder, “Will you be able to piece her together again, just like this?” It was evident she had no idea that she had been the muse behind the sculpture she was looking at.

  “I hope we can find all the missing pieces, although it’s unlikely. Both of the other statues found on the site were missing many parts, including their heads. Based on what I can see, this one will be missing parts too. They could be anywhere on the site. I wish we could find the head. Three winged goddesses … all without a face. It’s as if they were cursed. Finding it would make one of my greatest dreams come true. When we cease excavations for a while this winter, I intend to go to Paris and visit her sister statue. If you like …”

  I caught myself and stopped, suddenly realizing that I was being inappropriately familiar given the length of our brief acquaintance.

  “That would be lovely …”

  Like a torrent, her unexpected response washed away any embarrassment caused by my haste.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you …” she continued. “You saved my life that day, Andreas. Those monsters would have killed me. I arrived at that village looking for my two brothers. I found them lying dead, executed along with countless others, at the village square. That was their punishment for the death of a German soldier, killed by the resistance.”

  I caught the catch in her voice and turned toward her. She swallowed hard and carried on, undaunted. “Forty Greek men for one German soldier … I stayed behind after their burial to help the locals, now that most of their men were gone. Fighting intensified and I became trapped there. I could do nothing except wait for the war to be over. By then, I was all alone in the world … When they asked about the Germans, I lied because I knew they were leaving. I wanted the torment of war to be over, right there and then. Catching up with the departing troops would only lead to more bloodshed, on soil already soaked with the blood of so many. And then you appeared …” She squeezed my hand tightly. “I’m sorry to be telling you all this when you are grieving for your mother, but I wanted you to know. I feel so at peace here, it helps me open up.”

  “I don’t mind hearing any of this,” I told her. “I’ve always wanted to know how you ended
up in that village, and what became of you afterward. I think that during the war we became used to death; it does not surprise us anymore. Most of the people I knew on Samothrace are either dead, or we have no idea what has happened to them. I want to stop feeling this strange familiarity with death. I want to expel the apathy that has taken root inside me. I’m ashamed to confess this, but I just lost my mother and I feel like I am not mourning her as I should.”

  “There is no right and wrong in grief, Andreas. Everyone grieves in their own way. No one can say how or when one should mourn; no one can impose their will on grief itself. Showing grief when you don’t feel it because that is what others expect to see is meaningless.”

  She was right. What others thought of me preoccupied me more than it should.

  Seeing the American team struggle with the ropes, I interrupted our conversation and stood up to help. Even Vasilis abandoned a wheelbarrow piled high with weeds and came to help lift the statue’s torso. We heaved with all our strength, and when it stood on the ground, we stepped back to admire it. One of the team, who always carried a camera with him, stepped across and stood there, waiting for us to assemble for the photo.

  In her wide-brimmed hat, Elizabeth smiled in the sunshine, her arms wrapped around the largest intact piece of the statue that stood beside her. Arms and head missing, wounded by time, the statue of the Winged Victory shone in all its splendor, like a star that glows brighter than the light of day.

  We all gathered under the shade of a large oak tree at the edge of the Hieron Temple, where Vasilis had spread the food he had brought from the village. We lunched and rested, accompanied by the loud chirping of the last cicadas. The weather was gradually turning, and soon the bright clear skies would give way to the first rains. When the heavens opened above Samothrace, they forgot to close up again.

  Zoe sat beside me, crunching an apple. With every passing minute spent by her side, I worried about how much time I still had left with her. I dreaded the moment she would tell me it was time for her to return home, to Maronia. At the same time, I wondered whether it would not be best if she left, given the threats made by the policeman. At least until the matter was settled. I didn’t intend to share what had happened with my American colleagues; neither the policeman’s threats, nor Varvis’s. However, I could not stop thinking about them for long, especially Varvis’s words. Although I found it hard to believe, I still caught myself wondering whether he was linked to the fire.

  My first task would be to send a formal request for permission to excavate the Varvis grounds. The Americans were in charge of the site up to where it bordered the land, but their influence remained within the archaeological site. Instead of deterring me, his threats had strengthened my resolve. I was determined not to give way. I was certain that, following the discovery of the statue of Nike, the Archaeological Service would rubber stamp any request to extend excavations anywhere we deemed fit.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I will be taking the boat to Alexandroupolis this afternoon. Tomorrow morning, I will pick up the tools needed for the dig in Thessaloniki. I will return in two or three days, and then we can make the formal announcement of the find. I expect many visitors in the following days …”

  This trip would normally have fallen to me. I caught her eye, and realized she was taking on my responsibilities to allow me to stay here. Her trip to Thessaloniki meant that she could deliver my letter as well.

  We all agreed, and began to disperse. Soon, everyone was back at work, and only Vasilis, Elizabeth, Zoe, and I remained. I tried to signal to Vasilis that he should leave us, but my pointed look went unnoticed, forcing me to ask him to go. Once he had shuffled out of earshot, I turned to Elizabeth. “Thank you. Would you not prefer me to go?”

  “No, Andreas. It’s best if you stay here. You have so much going on right now; you don’t need the extra hassle. You can stay at my house with Zoe for as long as you like.”

  Hearing this, Zoe turned toward me without a word, waiting to hear my response. “We thank you. I appreciate your support during this difficult time. I need to send a letter to my department in Thessaloniki. I’ll give it to you before you set off.”

  “It’s about the excavations on Varvis’s estate, right?” I nodded, and Elizabeth carried on. “I want you to be careful while I’m away. I will report to my department on the matter, too. Don’t you think it would be better to drop it for a while? Focus on the discovery of the Winged Victory and then decide how to approach the matter? There are buried antiquities all over the island. Let’s focus on those that we can excavate freely.”

  I understood she was trying to ease tensions, but I was determined not to back down now, especially with so many other suspicions swirling in my mind. “No, I think it’s very important to begin excavations there. I have a hunch that our find is connected to the part of the temple that extends beyond this point. Besides, nothing will happen to the family if we dig up their land a little. If we find nothing, it’s still their land. However, I am convinced we will. It’s what the location of our find indicates, at least the way I see it.”

  “I disagree. As you already know, even if we find something, it will not be of any significance. I will not stand in your way, so long as you promise to be careful until we receive formal permission to expand excavations. You need to rest and let yourself grieve, Andreas. I am not asking you not to come to work—I understand that it is not something you would consider—but please be careful. I am going to the museum. Prepare your letter; I have to set off in three hours.”

  She stood up and kissed both of us goodbye, then left. The silence that always descended between Zoe and I every time we found ourselves alone was becoming familiar, and strangely calming. It was as if we had no need for words to communicate, as if the ground between us was acting as the conduit of all our thoughts and feelings.

  Zoe gripped my hand and pulled me away from the tree. “I haven’t seen the rest of the site. Is there time, or must you go?”

  Despite the pressing need to go draft my letter, I could not refuse this, or any other, request coming from her. “Of course …There is enough time for a quick tour. I’ll tell you everything our own searches and analysis have brought to light. Most of it hasn’t even been announced yet …”

  She smiled, and her eyes shone with happiness. We walked away briskly and soon found ourselves among the marble pieces that dotted the ground all over the site. The small village of Paleopolis came into view, nestled between the wooded hills and flowing creeks.

  Succumbing to the peaceful calm exuded by the site and the view, I began my tour with a whisper. “The ancient Greeks called Samothrace the Sacred Island, as well as Ouranoessa …”

  She froze and looked at me, stunned, as if she could not believe what I’d just said. Her eyes welled with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, worried at the sudden change that had come over her.

  Zoe dried her eyes and fixed her gaze on a fragment of marble by her feet. “My father used to call me that, when I was a girl. Our house in Maronia has a stone path that leads to the shore. He’d take me there and point at Samothrace, across the bay. He would tell me how a fairy in the sky pulls the mountain up, so the peak can touch the blue heavens … Ouranoessa was the fairy’s name. He’d lift me up to reach the sky, my arms stretched out, and he’d call me by her name.”

  Her face came alive with the memory. A sigh, like an apology tinged with guilt, escaped her. Sensing her turmoil, I tried to lighten the mood. “Please, don’t apologize. I loved that story and, believe me, it’s not a random folk tale.”

  Zoe gave me a puzzled look as we walked toward the Hieron.

  “Legend has it,” I explained, “that the mountain peak of this island is so high it reaches the sky, almost blocking out the moon. According to Homer, the throne of Poseidon, the god of the sea, was perched there, so he could watch the Trojan War from that high vantage point. The war not only divided the Greek gods into two factions, it symbolized
the standoff between the divine and the human worlds.”

  I fell quiet, waiting for her response.

  “Please continue,” she said, still looking ahead.

  I obeyed gladly. “I believe, and it is a view shared by many others, that the Sanctuary of the Great Gods was one of the most important sacred sites of ancient times. Every day we uncover small details that support this theory.”

  We were walking more briskly now, and reached the remains of the theatre. We paused at the highest point, beside the ruins of the long gallery. The view before us was spectacular. Everywhere we turned, the deep blue of the surrounding waters greeted us, seeping into our every pore. I walked a little further along and stood, awed, before the sad remains of the niche where the statue of the Winged Victory of Samothrace had once stood.

  Wanting to impress Zoe, I assumed my most professional tone. “This where the other statue of Nike once stood; it is now housed in the Louvre. It was fragmented, and it took a while to collect all its pieces, which were spread all over the site.”

  “How did they join them together?” she asked curiously.

  “It was reassembled in France, piece by piece. I understand they removed it from the Louvre during the war. I guess now they will display it once again. The irony is that it was hidden in a safe place alongside the Venus de Milo, accidentally setting up a unique meeting of goddesses …”

  She seemed so absorbed in what she was hearing, I forgot all about my letter and kept talking. “The Sanctuary was a complex of many magnificent buildings. I wish there was some way we could see an exact reconstitution of the site. It may happen someday in the future, although we may not live to see it.”

  She gave me a puzzled look, then turned back to gaze at the site as it stretched out on the terrace below. From the faraway look in her eyes, I guessed she was trying to imagine everything I was describing.

  “Our winged goddess, perched on a marble ship’s prow, seemed to float above the site, symbolizing absolute freedom,” I said. “Her widespread wings and her flowing chiton made her visible to approaching ships from horizon to horizon. I hope we will soon have more information about the statue, as well as the ceremonies that took place here, and if there is any link between the two.”