by Peter Knyte
None of us had heard of this before, but this unknown land of Telina was mentioned in several of the other accounts on the scroll.
‘Rhodes would fit the other accounts well,’ suggested Harry thoughtfully, ‘in the account of Faron, whom we think may have originated in Crete, there is mention of Telina as one of the places visited. The same with the account of Alcathos of Ephyri.’
The cold and snow beyond the windows was forgotten now, as we bent our attention to the other two accounts on the scroll that mentioned this place. It was engrossing work, and when next I looked up from our task the inky darkness of the winter night had transformed the windows into a lightless reflection of the room. But importantly in that short time we’d confirmed that all three of the accounts that mentioned Telina could credibly be referring to Rhodes.
It took us a week to trace the two routes mentioned in the scroll. Faron it seemed had indeed hailed from the southern shores of Crete, while Alcathous had come from an area just outside ancient Corinth.
Better still, while we were tracing these two routes to Crete and Corinth, we also managed to identify the locations of several other sites mentioned in other sections of the scroll, thus opening up further accounts for study that would previously have been immensely difficult for us.
It was like a switch had been thrown, and the rut we’d had so much trouble escaping, was now forgotten, and we could be on our way again. But our suddenly rejuvenated enthusiasm was just as quickly cooled by the winter weather, which was now firmly against us. The snow, which made Jerusalem so picturesque, would not only make it more difficult for us to get out of Jerusalem, but also make it doubly difficult to find the sites we were looking for when we got onto the ground in Crete or mainland Greece. The thinnest covering of snow or frost would completely obscure those subtle clues and markings we'd be so dependent on if we were to find our goals.
The waiting was frustrating. But for the sake of a few more weeks, we would not only have a much easier journey, we’d also be able to conduct our search in the ideal early Spring conditions, when the snow and ice had gone, but before much of the native vegetation started to grow again.
As irritating as the waiting was, it was also a good opportunity to work on some of the other accounts, and possibly add a third or forth location to our journey. Not that we’d need to bother with these if we found what we were looking for in either of the first two locations, we just knew from our last trip, there were no guarantees.
We spent the next few maddening weeks, half preparing for our journey, half researching the other accounts, and all the while watching the weather. We had more information to go on than ever with our search, but some of the accounts still seemed to evade our understanding. Certainly the Indo-Chinese adventurer was beyond our immediate abilities, as it seemed was the account of an indigenous African hunter and priest, whose tale, while crammed full of descriptive detail seemed to include not a single place name. In contrast the account of the explorer from the Black Sea area, abounded with the names of places and geographical features, all of which were wholly unknown to us.
But that still left us with some promising options. I was still keen to try and find the home of the Iberian woman who was also both warrior and chieftain. The place names and directions leading to her home were still vague, especially toward the western end of the Mediterranean, before the route crossed any of the locations we’d now identified, but it was enough to confirm part of the route and ascertain she was indeed likely to be Iberian. This wasn’t enough for us to try retracing the route on the ground, but it might just be sufficient to make it worthwhile contacting someone who knew the area.
Androus and Jean had a few possible contacts to try, who might in their turn know of some knowledgeable locals they could recommend. It would doubtless take a while, but we sent off the letters and hoped.
In the meantime, the snow and cold were persisting, much to my mixed delight and frustration, and the apparent indifference of the local inhabitants. But as the waiting continued I noticed it seemed to be getting to Jean, who was uncharacteristically sullen and irritable. Thinking a bit of exercise would do us both good I decided to seek him out and suggest a long walk around the city, possibly stopping off along the way for some warming coffee or chocolate.
I caught up with him in his room, just as he was donning his boots and coat to go out,
‘Splendid,’ I said, with slightly exaggerated good humour, ‘I was just coming to see if you’d like to venture out for a stroll, and here you are putting your coat and boots on in readiness.’
‘Unfortunately my friend,’ he replied, ‘I have just a simple errand to run, which I do not think would interest you.’
I’d have taken the hint normally and left him to his own devices, but something in his manner made me hesitate, and on a whim, I decided to push the boundaries of good manners a little and impose myself upon him.
‘Nonsense, I shall walk out with you while you perform your errand, and try to persuade you to stretch your legs a little further as we go.’
I didn’t ask where we were going as we exited the hotel and courtyard, and walked out onto the streets. The snow had started again, a light gusty fall this time, made up of tiny ephemeral flakes that seemed barely heavy enough to fall to earth. We walked first toward the centre of the city, and then as we entered the Muslim quarter, northward toward the Via Dolorosa.
I didn’t want to dissemble, or keep up the act with Jean, which I knew he’d soon see through if he hadn’t already, so once we got into the swirling snow, I just outlined my concerns.
‘I’m getting a little worried about you Jean,’ I said, looking fixedly ahead. ‘You seem to be struggling with something, the waiting perhaps, I don’t know. But whatever it is I’d like to help if I can.’
The rhythm of his steps beside me faltered briefly as I spoke, but then regained their regularity.
‘Thank you George,’ he responded, after a brief hesitation, ‘But while I am indeed straining beneath a burden, it is unfortunately not something I am yet able to share.’
I couldn’t think what it was that might be troubling Jean so, but I knew he’d been as open and honest with me as he was able. So after assuring him, that when he was able to share his burden, I would be more than willing to help hear it, I changed the subject.
We walked in silence for a bit, before reaching one of the big Suq markets, where Jean momentarily disappeared to perform his errand, and then we walked back.
The snow was getting a little heavier now, the ephemeral flakes previously so reluctant to fall ground ward, now seemed to have plucked up their courage, and had started their descent in earnest.
My walk was now out of the question, but on the way back to the hotel, we decided to take a slightly more circuitous route by way of a compromise for us both. Many of the stall holders and shops were preparing for the worst and starting to close early, and it seemed anyone with a choice had already made their way home, leaving the streets strangely quiet and serene, with even our footsteps being muffled by the lying snow.
We were halfway back to the hotel and discussing how we would best approach our forthcoming journey to Crete and the Greek mainland. When Jean stopped suddenly, and motioned me back to the intersection of a narrow alley we’d just crossed.
I couldn’t imagine what he was playing at to begin with, but after tentatively looking around the corner he drew back and motioned for me to do the same. It was Luke, and he was with the young woman again, the one we’d seen him with in the park.
‘Is it not our own Luke and the young lady we saw him with once before?’ Jean asked quietly as he joined me in looking around the corner.
They were stood outside an ancient looking stone building, attempting to shelter from the snow while they spoke. Luke again seemed almost deferential to the young woman, who for her part seemed to accept his strange respect as though it was perfectly natural.
They were talking quite heatedly though, almost arg
uing, and eventually the young woman seemed to accept his point, and turning, opened the door into the old building before ushering Luke inside and following him.
It was a perplexing scene. Firstly because he claimed not to have known the young lady when Jean had confronted him at Uruk, and now again because of that almost servile respect he seemed to offer her, and which she so readily accepted.
This was all just beginning to go through my head, when Jean suddenly moved past me into the alley, and toward the building Luke and the young woman had entered. I followed, half-expecting Luke to step out and accuse us at any moment.
‘Perhaps there is a name or address beside the door,’ Jean was saying, as I followed him. But there was nothing to indicate who might live in the house, so as quickly as we’d come, we turned and made our way back to the main street.
I could tell Jean was still thinking about it, but we’d gone barely a hundred feet, before he disappeared again up a slightly larger side street. The cold and damp from the snow was starting to seep through my clothes now, and I wasn’t really in the mood for random exploration, but he went only about forty feet, before stopping in the shelter of a large doorway.
‘What do you think George’, he said looking out across the street, to an old stone church opposite.
‘It’s very nice Jean, but I don’t think now is really the time for us to be studying the city’s architecture.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he replied with that entertained light in his eyes again, which always indicated when he was playing with someone, ‘but the stone is the same, is it not, and the age also, and it is the same distance from the road down which we were walking.’
It took me a second or two to figure out what he was talking about.
‘You think this church is in some way connected to the building we’ve just seen Luke enter? Perhaps even the same building, and we were just looking at its rear entrance?’
‘Did you notice?’ Jean continued mercilessly. ‘The building into which Luke entered, in addition to having no number or name, also had no windows or even a keyhole in its door.’
‘But why would Luke be entering the back door of church in central Jerusalem with that young woman.’ I asked.
‘That I cannot say, my friend,’ Jean responded, ‘but it will be interesting trying to find out will it not?’
Once we’d got back to the hotel and had a chance to dry off and think about things, there were of course any number of possible reasons for Luke’s actions, that it would be pointless for us to speculate upon. Just as importantly though, it was clear now, for whatever the reason, this was not a matter Luke wanted to discuss, which meant it was not something we could in fairness ask him about. Whatever it was, we would for now just have to leave the matter alone.
CHAPTER 14 – INTO THE SUNSET
As quickly and unexpectedly as the snow had come, it went, and Spring seemed to rush into its place.
Most of us were eager to be underway, though Luke, for perhaps very understandable reasons seemed happy to dally a little longer. ‘For the weather to improve,’ being the rather transparent reason he actually gave. But the time had come for us to leave, and as we weren’t sure how long our journey might be, that meant it was also time to say goodbye to Jerusalem, with all the treasures and distractions it held.
Androus made a case for us to leave the tablets and the scroll behind in safekeeping at this library, being such valuable and irreplaceable artefacts. But as we couldn’t predict how or whether we might need them again we decided to take them along with us. Though only after having them even more thoroughly catalogued and photographed, and obtaining an almost indestructible, waterproof and fire proof, vacuum-sealed lock box for them to travel in.
Then suddenly, the city walls were receding behind us and we were retracing the route by which we’d arrived all those months previously. There was still a pronounced chill in the air as we drove back toward the port of Jaffa, where we boarded a small passenger ship to Rhodes. In other circumstances I would’ve been quite happy to tarry awhile on that earthly island paradise, for even in the early spring its beauty was unmistakable. But for us it was merely a starting point, and our attention as a consequence was focused squarely upon how we would move on from Rhodes to retrace the route of another of those ancient seekers. As chance would have it, we were able to charter a small yacht, which had also come from Jaffa, to sail us along the route described in the scroll to Crete and the home of our next explorer, Faron.
From the scroll we knew he was a sea captain and trader, as well as a husband and father. As a trader he travelled extensively, often spending weeks if not months away from home, crossing the Mediterranean, and occasionally even travelling beyond in his search for new commodities or luxuries to be bought or sold. It was on one such voyage that he first hears the rumours of a man who has lived for many lifetimes, but remained untouched by age or frailty.
After hearing these rumours Faron begins voyaging even further afield in the hope of finding out more. But in doing so he also damages his business, and undermines the trust of his crew. Until finally, after endangering their lives by trying to sail through a storm, they take his ship and abandon him.
Still he tries to continue his search, until one night, half starved and exhausted, he is visited by a dream, in the form of a man, who speaks none of the many languages known to Faron, but somehow guides him to the temple through the wilderness.
Like the other seekers, Faron stays within the Temple for some time, before making his way back to his own people with the tablets. But upon his return, he finds his wife is now married to another man, his son is grown to adulthood, and like Arathes he can no longer bear to live amongst his own people. At which point he also leaves behind the comforts of civilisation, to live beside a waterfall high up in a nearby gorge, emerging only rarely to exchange the rare herbs and other plants he is able to collect for some meagre necessities.
I had no idea just how many islands there were in the Mediterranean until we started that journey from Rhodes to Crete. But as we sailed across the now dark and wintry water, it seemed as though we were never out of sight of one island or another. Some just tiny outcroppings, barely big enough to sustain a few scrubby plants, others larger and obviously inhabited, or at least possessed of enough land to graze a few goats or sheep.
We’d decided to try and enlist the help of our captain in understanding some of the details mentioned by Faron, in the hope that features thought worthy of mention by one experienced seaman would somehow make sense to another. It was obviously a more difficult concept to convey than we might have thought, either that or Androus and Harry’s command of modern day Greek was not as good as either of them thought.
Still, we got there in the end, even after inexpertly deflecting the odd question as to the identity of our historic captain, and why he would not have called the islands by the same name that everyone else did.
But our modern day captain, Stephanos, rapidly got the gist of what we wanted and before long he was pointing out details in the descriptions that made sense to him. Either because it would avoid this sandbank, or that shoal of rocks, or just because it made the most of the prevailing winds or currents. Each detail offered additional confirmation that we’d interpreted the directions correctly.
It took us the best part of a day to reach the north-eastern tip of Crete, navigating past the incredibly picturesque Dodecanese islands of Karpathos and Kasos with their prominent whitewashed houses and Byzantine churches. The very sight of which seemed to draw forth a little more of the stereotypical Mediterranean sun.
The day had begun to warm up a little by late afternoon, and now as we drew closer to the mainland the afternoon sunlight made one last valiant effort to call forth the shimmering blue from the sea around us before sinking exhausted into the distant horizon.
The yacht wasn’t big enough to accommodate us overnight, but upon a recommendation from Stephanos, we found a quiet cove just south of the island’s e
astern point, here we found a small, out of season hotel, whose owner was only too happy to put us up for the night.
Even in the comfortable surroundings of the hotel, which we had entirely to ourselves, it was still a restless night for all of us. To be on the island and possibly so close to our goal was just a torture of anticipation. The directions had been good so far though, and a gorge must surely be an easier thing to search than an entire mountain. But there was just no knowing, until we could follow the directions further the next day.
The following morning we left the hotel bright and early, heading back to the boat to continue our journey. None of us were particularly familiar with this part of the island, though both Harry and Androus had of course ventured here to visit the legendary excavations of Knossos in the north. Our hope therefore was that the directions in the scroll would continue to hold enough detail once we left the sea and moved back on to the land.
Out of habit we politely interrogated the hotel owner before leaving, on the off chance he might have heard of some local legend or myth which might guide us. Fortunately archaeological exploration was in no way unusual on Crete, so we could be almost entirely honest about our motivations and reasons for questioning him. I couldn’t help but think it was a long shot personally, as we were right at the opposite end of the island. But our host turned out to be an absolute font of information. Not only about our destination, which he thought likely to be in one of the many gorges, possibly including the well-known Samaria gorge located in the Chania area in the south-west of the island. In terms of our directions, he also recognised and knew several features well, if by slightly different names.
