Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  “I believe it. It is best not to decide. The island itself will show you whether it wishes you to stay, and for how long …”

  I raised my eyebrows quizzically. She did not reply, just said she would love to talk again. I smiled awkwardly, thanking her for the tour, and we parted ways.

  As I walked toward the exit, I tried to picture the temple complex as it must have looked thousands of years ago. Seeing the site filled me with pride for my grandfather. For some inexplicable reason, I could not get the image of the headless statue out of my mind …

  In the company of the archaeologists and Vasilis, the evening went by quickly and pleasantly. We were on the outskirts of Paleopolis, dining at the aptly named taverna Ta Kymata: The Waves. Our chairs were on the sand, a hairsbreadth away from the waves. We lifted our legs whenever the wind rose and washed the waves under the tables. Everything we ate was so fresh you could almost taste the saltwater, as if it had just been fished beside us right there and then.

  If I ever returned to Samothrace, I would like to stay at the guestrooms atop the taverna and enjoy the sea views; the open, uninterrupted horizon. I had travelled far and wide, but nowhere had I encountered the beauty of Greece.

  We drank wine and chatted about old folk stories and island lore. Whenever I turned the conversation to my grandfather, though, Vasilis would change the subject, looking at me pointedly, as if not wishing to talk of him in front of the others.

  I was still unaccustomed to the late hours the Greeks kept, and after a few glasses of wine, I felt it was time for me to return to the lonely Destine. Despite my tiredness, I wanted to take her for a long evening walk along the path that led from the back of the house to the woods. First, though, I would be giving Vasilis a lift to his own house.

  The American head of the team somehow got hold of the bill and paid for everyone. I felt bad. I should have been the one paying tonight. He would be returning to France the following day, to resume his mission at the Louvre. Alkistis had joined us, and we agreed to meet up sometime in the next couple of days. I could sense she might like me, and I did not want to lead her on. She was a pretty, likeable woman, but I did not feel ready even for a harmless flirtation at this time.

  Driving back to his house, Vasilis was unusually quiet. “The house is filled with photos from that time,” I said, trying to break the melancholy silence.

  Vasilis did not reply, so I decided to unburden myself and voice what I had been dying to ask all evening. “Vasilis, what happened to my grandfather that night? I feel like you might know more than the rumors that spread after his disappearance.”

  “I wish I knew, son. The agony of not knowing has not left me in all these years.”

  I could tell he was tearing up, and I touched his shoulder, trying to communicate my sympathy. Luckily, I kept my eyes on the road, and I stepped on the brakes just in time to avoid the dark shadow that sprung out from the nearby bushes.

  The fox, hypnotized, froze and stared at the headlights. Luckily, Vasilis was wearing his seatbelt, or he would have landed on the dashboard. He stared back at the fox in surprise. I honked, and the fox snapped out of its trance and sprinted off to the side of the road. With a sigh of relief, I drove on.

  “I find a dead fox every few days; it’s as if they are committing suicide,” Vasilis said, leaning back against the headrest.

  “You were about to tell me something, just then,” I gently reminded him. “About my grandfather.”

  Vasilis took a deep breath, lost in thought for a few seconds. “So many years have passed since then. If your grandfather had been alive, he would have turned up somewhere. If you are asking me what I think happened, all I can say with any certainty is …” Another long pause followed, as he tried to keep his composure. “He never left the island …”

  I could feel my curiosity flare up inside me. “Who accused him of stealing, back then?”

  Vasilis sighed once again, and turned toward me. “It’s good to let sleeping dogs lie. If it’s any help, none of them are alive today. My advice is: don’t dig up the past. Enjoy your present, your time here, and do not burden yourself with anything else.”

  I realized that was all I would get from him. I pulled up beside his front door and asked one last question. “Do you know anything about the ceremonies that are going to take place on the night of the full moon?”

  He seemed surprised. “Who told you about this?”

  I smiled; Vasilis spoke to me as if I were a young boy. “Come on, Vasilis. It’s no secret these things happen here! I knew about them even before I came to Samothrace. I’m not talking about tourists, though. I’m asking about the people who live on the island.”

  He picked up his walking stick and opened the door. Hobbling around the car, he came over to my side and leaned with his elbow on the roof of the car. “Have fun on your excursion tomorrow. Swim in the water pools; feel the soul of the island. They say that if you duck underwater, you can hear a beating heart. Don’t drink the water, though! Another legend has it that if you drink water from the springs of Samothrace, you will marry shortly, so if you don’t intend to …”

  Vasilis laughed heartily at his own joke, then suddenly sobered up. “Remember what I told you. Don’t go stirring up the past. Let sleeping dogs lie. You have been through a lot, and need to rest. Enjoy the rest of your stay. Goodnight, Andreas.” He nodded to me, and then hobbled away.

  I watched him in the dim light as he opened his garden gate and disappeared down the short path that led to his house. Maybe I should heed his advice, I thought. Have a real holiday, without any worries. Take Destine for a walk, then spend a quiet night going through the sketchbook my grandmother had left me. Although I feared that doing so would only make my curiosity about what had happened to my grandparents on Samothrace even greater.

  As soon as Vasilis opened his front door, a voice rang out in the dark. “Don’t lock the door, Vasilis. I won’t spend all night here.”

  Seated in an armchair, Alexandros Varvis lit a candle and motioned to Vasilis to close the door and come near him …

  Destine was already waiting impatiently by the garden gates when I reached the house. I attached her leash and set off for the footpath behind the building. The moon was waxing and would be a bright, round disk in a few days. We walked uphill through the woods and came out at a clearing near the top of the hill. I removed the leash and let Destine run ahead.

  To the right, the imposing shadow of Mt. Saos stretched up toward the sky, as if trying to reach the moon. Although the full moon was near, the stars sparkled in the clear skies, trying to steal some of its glowing glory.

  Destine’s low, menacing growl pulled my gaze away from the star-studded dome above, and in the direction of another hilltop in the distance. Someone had lit a large bonfire, its glowing tongues flickering against the dark skyline. I tried to see if it was a campfire, but it seemed to be unattended. I bent down and patted Destine’s head, trying to calm her down, feeling the vibrations of her continued growls against my palm.

  That’s when I noticed a second fire, further to the right, lighting up the stony landscape. I stood up and turned around. Another, larger, bonfire, to my left this time.

  Finding my bearings, it suddenly dawned on me that the three fires marked north, east, and west. I turned to the south and, sure enough, saw the orange and red flickering flames up another small hill. Strangely enough, they all seemed unattended, burning ever brighter as if of their own volition. Whoever had lit them was taking care to go unseen.

  Destine’s eyes remained fixed on the fire she had spotted to the north. Ears pricked, back legs angled out behind her, she turned her head to the side, a sign she was picking up sounds I could not hear.

  I realized that I was standing at the center of the four flaming points of a cross. Destine suddenly began to walk off in the direction of the fire. The hill we had climbed up dropped abruptly on the other side, and I ordered her to come back. She barked aggressively at the fire that h
ad angered her so, but turned back nonetheless. There was no point in staying here any longer. The fires were too far away to make any sense of their purpose. No matter how desperately I wanted to relax, the bizarreness of what was happening was making me tense.

  Back in the house, I finally began to unwind. Lying down on the couch, Destine at my feet, I put down my wine glass and picked up Zoe’s sketchbook. I began to leaf through it, carefully this time, picking out every detail. The figure of the Winged Victory of Samothrace dominated most of the drawings. Among them, portraits of my grandfather. I had only ever seen a couple of photos.

  Her sketches vividly depicted the man she had loved more than anyone in the world. Looking at the details, taking in the love and passion every stroke of her pencil exuded, I wondered whether the only love to stand the test of time was unfulfilled love. Were lifetime lovers only those whose love affair was cut short, before it became altered by day-to-day life, by continuous contact? I felt the same way about Eva. I lost her just when our love was at its most vibrant, its most beautiful.

  In the history of humanity, strong love stories that stood the test of time were those that went unfulfilled. Lovers separated, often violently, their myth gaining eternal life through the centuries. My grandmother always believed that one day her lover would return. She kept staring out at the sea, hoping to see a boat bring him to her. Just like in the sketch that I now held before me. I had never seen her drawings before, had not realized she had an artist’s talent.

  I felt my eyelids grow heavy, and rose with difficulty to make my way to my bed. Destine lifted her head off the carpet, alert, following my every move. When I turned the light off, my guard dog rose and came to lie in front of my bedroom door. Feeling safe, we abandoned ourselves in the arms of sweet Morpheus …

  Destine’s eyes glowed in the dark, as if the fires she had seen earlier had left their flames burning inside them. She kept her eyes wide open until she heard the breath of her master grow deep and steady. Only then did her eyelids slowly close, and the faithful dog fell into deep, yet anxious, slumber.

  In the silver light of the full moon, Andreas slowly walks through a clearing in the woods. He pauses; looks up at the sky. The howl of a wolf raises the hairs at the back of his neck. Afraid, he looks around, trying to spot the origin of the nightmarish cry.

  Small flames spring up in a circle all around him, trapping him there. He spins around anxiously, trying to find a way out. As soon as he finds a small gap in the ring of fire, he hurriedly moves toward it, but suddenly stops when the wolf appears.

  The wolf is hunched low, white fangs bared, ready to attack. Having no other option, Andreas retreats back into the ring of fire. He can now feel the flames burning hot, scorching his back.

  Another wolf steps out of the woods. Growling, the two animals menacingly move toward him. He has no other option but to fight for his life. He steps out the ring of fire, waving his arms.

  With a sudden leap, one of the wolves lands on his chest, knocking him back. Pinned to the ground, he feels piercing pain in his arm. The other wolf, fangs locked into his flesh, begins to drag him back into the burning circle. More sharp pangs, all over his body. His cries mingle with the crackling of the flames and waft up to the sky.

  The shadow of a man stands above him. A man holding a sword, pointed to the ground. Andreas struggles, trying desperately to free himself from the wolves’ grip. They keep him on the ground, arms stretched as if he has been nailed to a cross.

  The man kneels beside him and raises his hand, ready to plunge the sword into the prostrate man’s heart. Just then, a shadow falls on him, tearing off the arm holding the sword …

  Destine kicked her legs and whimpered. The noise woke me suddenly, and I feared someone had broken in. I had heard her dream before, but never so intensely. I called out her name, but she did not seem to hear me, trapped in the world of her nightmare.

  I turned on the light and walked to her, stretched out my hand to calm her down. Before I could even touch her fur, she lashed out like a cobra, and my wrist was caught in her mouth. I felt her teeth press my skin, but she immediately stopped, opened her eyes, and gave me a frightened look. She licked my hand as if nothing had happened, and her enormous yawn reassured me that the bite had been intended for someone else.

  Beside my wrist tattoo, I saw the imprint of her teeth. Ι patted her and she lowered her head, looking ashamed. I remembered the words of the Muslim woman in Komotini, about how Destine had a human soul. Maybe that explained her bond with Eva. Eva asked for Destine even in her final moments, and they both glowed with happiness when they met.

  I stroked her for a few moments and, having made certain she was calm, returned to bed. That was a close call, I thought to myself, as I caught sight of my wrist while stretching my hand to switch off the bedside lamp.

  Vasilis and Alexandros sat across from each other in the living room in the dim light of the candle. On the coffee table between them stood a half empty glass jug and two wine glasses. Alexandros refilled his glass before he spoke. “So, the archaeologist’s grandson is a policeman?”

  “Not exactly,” Vasilis said. “I think he works for an agency that goes after war criminals.”

  Alexandros seemed startled, but recovered quickly. “When did you say he leaves?” he asked suspiciously.

  “He’ll stay for a couple of days, and then go back. He wants to spend his holiday in Maronia, to rest. If she hadn’t died, he might never have set foot on the island. He even gave away the plot of land, where the house that burned down was. I don’t think he likes it here.”

  “That’s good. He is lucky there was a funeral; otherwise, I would have had them chase him away. He’s even got the same name as his thieving grandfather.”

  Vasilis stared at him pointedly, but held his tongue. Undeterred, Varvis continued. “Has anyone told him that his grandfather stole our ancient artifacts and then disappeared?”

  Vasilis swallowed hard before speaking. “He doesn’t care about all of that, boss. He knows very little, and I still don’t think he cares much. He didn’t seem interested in the past. Like I told you, he is leaving in a couple of days.”

  “How come you took him to the house where the American had been staying?”

  Vasilis downed the dregs of his glass, trying to think of how to phrase his answer. “I needed to find him a place to stay where the dog would be welcome. It wasn’t easy. The house has a garden …”

  Varvis gave him a look of disbelieving suspicion and leaned forward, returning his empty glass to the table. “I hope that is the case, Vasilis. Don’t forget you have been making a living all these years thanks to us. If it hadn’t been for my father, you would have lost this house when everyone abandoned you. Do you remember how the Americans turned their backs on you after Stais disappeared? You’d be living under a bridge if it weren’t for my parents.”

  Vasilis nodded in silent agreement. Alexandros lowered his voice menacingly. “Make sure he is nowhere to be seen the day after tomorrow, then.”

  The old man tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry. It will all happen as I told you.”

  Varvis picked up the jug and poured what remained of the wine into his glass. He handed it over to Vasilis, who stood up, leaning heavily against his stick. Slowly, he walked away to refill it.

  Once alone, Varvis raised his glass and threw the wine down his throat. He wiped away the red droplets that trickled down his chin, and swore. Andreas’s arrival had stirred up memories long buried. The death of Andreas, and the unexpected early death of his mother, with whom he had enjoyed a special bond. He had spent his teenage years watching his father dishonor her memory, bringing other women into their home. It never occurred to him that he had been doing the same.

  His eyes shone in the dark as he remembered the day he had plunged his sword into Andreas’s chest. If the grandson decided to start asking questions, he would deal with him, personally. Zoe had come back searching for the dead man, but other th
an that had never bothered them. He thought it strange that her death and the arrival of the grandson had coincided with the grand ceremony. He twirled the wine glass in his fingers, pondering his next moves.

  Vasilis shuffled back into the room with the wine jug. The glass slipped from Alexandros’s fingers and smashed onto the floor. As if nothing had happened, he stood up and said, “It’s getting late. You make sure he goes, and everything will be fine.”

  Although surprised at the other’s sudden departure, Vasilis said nothing. He had become accustomed to the man’s bizarre behavior. He hobbled after him, escorting him to the front door. Just before Alexandros stepped outside, Vasilis asked with feigned indifference, “So, this full moon …”

  As if he had been expecting the question, Varvis grabbed him by the throat with the force of a much younger man, and savagely hissed, “You have no business asking these things. Mind your own business. Understood?”

  Gasping for breath, Vasilis croaked that he understood. Varvis released his grip suddenly, sending the old man stumbling backward. He turned and walked off without casting him another glance.

  Vasilis’s eyes glowed with fierce hatred as he closed the front door. He flung his walking stick to one side and, walking easily, returned to the living room and blew out the candle. Stepping over the smashed glass, he sank down on the sofa, lost in thought.

  The early morning light crept through the crack in the curtains and woke me gently. I opened my eyes and immediately saw Destine standing outside the door, waiting for me to call her into the room. I cuddled her on the bed, then walked to the wide windows. I flung the shutters open, and was greeted by a cornucopia of sensuous delight: the lush greenery of the garden, the fresh air carrying with it the salty scent of the sea, the smell of flowers and thyme, the chirping sound of birdsong.