Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  A monumental fight between Iro and Alexandros had preceded the arrival of the guests. They had argued violently over the incident with Andreas. Miltos had tried to mediate between father and daughter, calming one and cajoling the other, until a tense peace had descended over the preparations. It could all wait. It could all be dealt with later.

  Holding a small drum, Erato climbed the stone steps leading to the ramparts. She walked to a fragment of a marble column and sat on it. Placing the drum firmly between her knees, she beat out a slow rhythm.

  In the distance, the first dim light appeared, foretelling the arrival of the heavenly body that affected everyone’s presence on Earth, one way or the other. This evening’s small ceremony was the final rite before the all-important full moon of the following day.

  A few minutes later, the rounded edge of the moon peeked timidly over the horizon. Alexandros gave the signal, and the chanting began: hymns accompanied by the beating of Erato’s drum. As more of the moon’s silver disk appeared, the chanting and the drum beat got louder and louder.

  At the sight of the full round disk, everyone fell silent. A small flame flickered in a large clay bowl, and everyone moved to the far edge of the rampart. The flame filled the bowl, casting an orange glow on the face of Iro, who stood behind it, blindfolded with a black scarf. The reflection of the red flames on her dark vestments matched them to the color of the moon as it made its journey toward the center of the sky.

  When the fire began to die down, the guests walked up one by one, emptying the scarlet liquid in their cups over the flames. Each cup weakened the flames and released thick plumes of smoke, which were then carried away by the breeze.

  Miltos was last; he emptied an entire jug on the embers, putting out the fire. The flames extinguished, Erato stepped behind Iro and loosened the blindfold. The first thing Iro saw was the bright yellow disc of the moon. Her eyes softened at the sight.

  Like a caress, Erato ran her hands all over Iro’s body, whispering sacred words. When every inch of Iro’s body had been touched, Erato began to unfasten the cords that held her dress up. She pulled down the fabric, revealing Iro’s shoulders, then breasts, then letting it drop to her feet.

  Iro, naked, stepped out of the dark circle of cloth and stood still on the ramparts, facing the moon. Everyone else walked back down to the courtyard. There, they gathered in neat rows, looking up at Iro’s naked silhouette, framed by the moon.

  Between the thick leaves of a tree, I saw the enormous moon that had already risen. If I did not know better, I would think the full moon was tonight. I moved to a bench at the corner of the garden, away from the trees, and felt the light of the moon wash over me.

  I had just received a call from the American archaeologist on his way to France. He reminded me of our conversation on the ferry, about how he might have something for me. It turned out he had asked the archives department to send him Elizabeth’s notes from the time of my grandfather’s disappearance. He stressed this was an informal request, and that the mission’s notes and diaries had only recently been digitalized.

  I looked at my phone, impatiently waiting for the scanned documents to arrive. I remembered Elizabeth telling me in New York that I had my grandfather’s eyes. Other than that, she avoided reminiscing about that time, and I never asked. I absentmindedly stroked the head of a yellow rose beside the bench as I waited.

  As soon as I heard the phone ping, I downloaded all the documents and began to scroll through them. Unfortunately, there were parts where Elizabeth’s handwriting was indecipherable. Perhaps I would have better luck on a proper computer screen, but for now, I had to make do. I sat there reading, absorbed. Some things I knew, but most information I was discovering for the very first time.

  When I finished reading, I realized what an incredible coincidence meeting Iro was. Our family histories seemed inextricably linked. Why had my father or my grandmother never spoken of the events Elizabeth mentioned in her notes?

  The only man alive who could possibly answer the questions burning inside me was Vasilis.

  It was getting late by the time I met him at the local taverna. The moon hung high in the sky like a spotlight, casting its silver light on the table and Vasilis’s white hair. He gave me his seat and, as soon as I sat down, I realized why. The castle up at the Chora glowed high up on the hill, stealing some of the limelight.

  “Greece is full of castles,” I said, enjoying the sight.

  “It’s true,” he replied. “I still haven’t decided whether they are built to keep the people outside from getting in, or the other way around.” He smiled and raised his hand to beckon the waiter.

  Few of the tables were full, and everyone was enjoying the evening. We made casual conversation about my life in the States, and my work. When we finished eating, I decided to tell Vasilis about my encounter with Iro and her fiancé. He gripped my injured arm as if he could not believe what he was hearing. He turned pale and urged me to give him even the tiniest details. I could sense I had a man of many secrets before me, though I could not understand why.

  When I finished telling the story to his satisfaction, he took a long sip of wine and spoke anxiously. “Take the first boat back tomorrow morning, son, and leave it all behind.”

  This time, I was in no mood to content myself with vague allusions. I cut straight to the chase. “Vasilis, how are you linked to the Varvis family?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and tugged his hair over his missing ear. “I don’t know what you mean. No more than anyone else on the island. We all know each other here. I even worked for them as a farmhand at some point, but that’s all.”

  “I don’t mean to interrogate you, because I know my grandmother loved you very much.”

  “I loved her, too,” he said hoarsely.

  “I will be honest with you. I want you to be honest with me, too. Most likely, I will leave soon and not be back in a very long time. We may never meet again. I would like to know everything you are keeping locked up inside you; everything you aren’t telling me.”

  Vasilis’s eyes welled up. He took another long sip, trying to fortify himself. I knew this was my only chance.

  “What happened in the days before my grandfather’s disappearance, Vasilis?”

  He wiped a tear that escaped down his cheek, and spoke in a shaky voice. “You are right, Andreas. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left. I never came to Maronia when you were there; I didn’t want to be a burden. We might never meet again, so now is probably the best time to unburden my soul. I did not want to tell you because I did not want to drag you into the past. I thought it would all pass, be forgotten. I’ll start at the beginning, with how they met …”

  I already knew some of the things he was recounting, but I did not want to interrupt his flow. I let him talk, at his own pace, watched his eyes as he was transported into the past. We laughed when he described how my grandfather fell in the water pool when he startled him. Then he became serious once again.

  “The island brought them together in such a way that nothing could tear them apart. Even if their time with each other was so brief … Alexandros’s father, Nicholas, did not want Andreas excavating his land. He is hiding something there, mark my words.” Vasilis tapped the table emphatically. “They tried to blame Andreas and Zoe for the theft of some artifacts from the Varvis house, but they failed. Ha! I stopped them. I took away the things they had planted. Nobody ever knew. Not even Zoe …”

  Vasilis chuckled proudly, before turning serious once again. “After your great-grandmother’s house burned down, they stayed in Elizabeth’s house—the same place you’re staying in now. In the space of two days, Andreas Stais met Zoe again, as if by a miracle, and she was present when they found the statue. In that same time he lost his mother, and then disappeared forever.”

  Elizabeth had written about the fire that had claimed my great-grandmother’s life. I kept my face expressionless, so as not to interrupt his train of thought. “How di
d the house burn down?”

  He gave me a bitter smile. “No one ever knew. At first, I thought it was Varvis, trying to frighten your grandfather. Then, when I worked on their land, I changed my mind. They had a steward working for them, a real snake. Maybe he was responsible for the fire, but …”

  Vasilis glanced around, making sure no one could overhear. “If you want to know what I think, Alexandros is not Nicholas’s son. He is the son of Simon, the steward. His mother used to sleep with him. He can brag all he wants about he and his daughter being descendants of the Cabeiri, but they are just two ordinary bastards. He keeps that man, Miltos, close at hand, has him at his beck and call. He even calls him his son, now that Miltos is about to marry the daughter. They’ve been betrothed since they were children, to keep the bloodline pure. Ha! I hope Nicholas found out he was raising his servant’s son, not his own.”

  I could not believe my ears. Such tangled webs, casting their shadows over my grandfather’s disappearance. I kept silent, letting Vasilis finish his wine before he continued.

  “Alexandros would not be happy to find out whose son he is. When I heard Simon had died of a strange illness, I thought Nicholas might have been behind it. Maybe he had found out what Simon was up to, and got rid of him for good. I don’t think Iro is like them. I spoke to her a little; she’s a different type. But she can’t escape her destiny. Be careful. She is bound to her heritage.”

  “Who else knows all this?” I asked. I looked around suspiciously too, caught up in the conspiratorial mood.

  Vasilis pointed to his heart. I wanted to know more, and urged him to tell me everything.

  “The storm split the island in two that night,” Vasilis said. “So many people died in the flashfloods. Some were found by the sea, carried there by the torrent. In the morning I went to the port and told your grandmother to leave.”

  “I remember that. But why did she leave, if she hadn’t found him?”

  Vasilis seemed annoyed by the interruption. “I thought Andreas was just trapped on the other side of the island; many people were caught there in the aftermath of the storm. I was worried the police might change their minds and arrest her. Maybe Varvis would accuse them of something else. I was afraid for her, did not want her to be in any danger. She was going to travel to Maronia anyway, so I told her to leave. I would tell Andreas where she had gone, so he could contact her.”

  He paused and looked at the moon, which was disappearing behind the rooftops.

  “What happened next? Before my grandmother returned?” I asked, refilling his wine glass.

  “We realized the scale of the storm the following morning. Many people lost their lives, as I said, but we never found your grandfather. Everyone said the torrent must have carried him to the sea. Only Nicholas insisted that Andreas had tried to break into their house again that evening, and then ran away to Imbros when detected, before crossing the border to Turkey. He accused your grandfather until the day he died, saying he was selling antiquities to foreigners. Even when the police, pressured by the Americans, stated no evidence had ever been found. His slurs stuck to this day, as you can tell for yourself.”

  I nodded, but kept my eyes on Vasilis, indirectly pressing him to keep talking. “What do you think happened to my grandfather, Vasilis?” I asked, touching his hand.

  He pulled it away, as if he felt guilty. “All I can say with any certainty is that he never left the island.”

  The waiter interrupted us, asking if we wanted any dessert. I politely declined, and Vasilis continued, taking a deep breath. “Elizabeth returned the following day. As soon as she heard what had happened, she came with us, up the mountain, down the gorges, looking for him. She got very angry with Varvis, and demanded that they return all antiquities in their possession. They returned much, but I’m sure they are keeping the best pieces well hidden. They must be getting money from somewhere, all these years. I’ve worked on their land; no way is it making that kind of money …”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, guessing the answer but wanting him to confirm my suspicions.

  Vasilis picked up his knife and stabbed a last piece of meat, placing it on his plate. He kept poking it with the point of his knife as if it were an animal he wanted to finish off. “I’m sure they are smuggling antiquities. They accused others to divert attention from themselves.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He smiled as if he had heard something funny. “I know a lot, Andreas. Unfortunately, the Americans did not keep me on. I had to find work where I could get it. Even with Varvis.” He gave me a questioning look, waiting for me to react. I kept silent. “For years, foreigners would arrive at the tower in the middle of the night, leaving as secretively as they’d arrived, with their hands full. I overheard many conversations. They never mentioned Andreas.”

  “Do you remember what happened when my grandmother returned?”

  “She came back two days later, not knowing what had happened. She had heard rumors: that Andreas had drowned, or had been arrested, or was imprisoned. I’ll never forget her sitting on the ground at the Sanctuary, weeping in Elizabeth’s arms when she found out he was still missing. She could not believe it. Then her own plight began. She blamed herself for what happened to him. She walked over the entire island looking for him. I would set out every day looking for her, trying to get some food to her.”

  “She kept looking on her own? What about my grandfather’s sister and brother-in-law?” I asked, stunned.

  “Calliope and her husband left the island the following day and never came back. Only the Americans helped Zoe. She stayed with Elizabeth, and only stopped looking for him when she realized …” Vasilis hesitated.

  “Realized what?”

  “That she was pregnant with your father. Only then did she seem to find some peace, took it as a sign. The Americans helped her, used their influence to get your grandfather’s name on the birth certificate as the child’s father, even though they were not married.” He stopped, looking exhausted.

  I let him catch his breath, advising him not to drink any more. He ignored me, filling his glass and downing the wine in a single gulp.

  He reached for his walking stick to get up. “But you don’t need it,” I said.

  A sardonic smile spread on Vasilis’s lips. He let go of the stick, put his palms on the table, and pushed himself up with great ease, as if he no longer cared about maintaining the charade. “I have my secrets, too,” he whispered, and walked steadily toward the bathroom.

  I don’t know why, but the words of one of my teachers during a psychology class came to my mind. It was during a lecture about truth, secrets, and lies, and about how people handled them. He had scribbled the following sentence on the blackboard, and asked us to write down our answers:

  If the truth sets you free, why does no one choose it?

  He then read our replies and smiled, telling us we were all correct because none of us had replied truthfully …

  At the beginning of this journey, I never expected it would all come to this. In all these years, I had never shown any interest in this part of my family’s past. My father had subtly guided me in this direction too, changing the subject whenever I asked questions, as if he did not wish to reveal anything. Thinking about it now, I realized that maybe he didn’t know much of what I was now hearing.

  I wasted no time when Vasilis returned to the table, and asked, “Did you know my father well?”

  “No, son. Theodore did not visit Maronia often, and I don’t think he ever set foot on the island. If he did, it must have been secretly, without even telling his mother. I only saw him twice, and we did not say much. He was a reserved man, your father. Theodore … God’s gift. That’s why she named him that. The doctors had told her she could never have children after everything she had been through, but they did not know the powers of Samothrace.”

  “What happened next?” I asked, like a child eager to hear the rest of my bedtime story.

  “It was
a heavy winter. Just before Christmas, Zoe fell ill. Elizabeth managed to convince her to go to the States with her, to have the baby there. No one knows what I am about to tell you. Everyone thinks she never set foot on the island again. However, whenever she was in Maronia, she would cross over in secret and look for your grandfather. She used to hide at my house. It went on for years. Sometimes she would spend the night in the woods, and I would worry something happened to her. Luckily, the Varvis family never found out. One day, she decided never to return. I never knew why. She would sit at her balcony to the sky in Maronia, waiting for him. Until the very end …”

  It was the first I’d ever heard of my grandmother’s secret visits. I felt like Vasilis was handing me missing pieces of a puzzle that had been inside me all these years, but of whose existence I had never been fully aware.

  “What’s the story with the Varvis family?” I asked.

  “As I told you, they think they are the heirs of the Cabeiri. They might be; who am I to judge? Maybe Simon was a descendant of the gods.” Vasilis broke into loud laughter, causing a few heads to turn in our direction. He stifled his laughter and looked at me hazily; I could tell he was beginning to feel the effects of the wine. “I wish you had not met Alexandros’s daughter today; no good will come of it. I think I am tired. I’m not used to drinking.” He rubbed his forehead.

  It was true. He was having difficulty focusing, and it was time to get him home. I asked the waiter to bring the bill, and left the money on the table. Then I helped Vasilis up, and we made our way to the car, the walking stick back in action as a theatrical prop.

  “Why do you use it if you don’t need it?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

  “That is the only secret I will never reveal,” he slurred, and walked away from the car.

  “Don’t you want a lift?” I asked him anxiously.