Waves of Fire

by Anne Hampson

  She shook her head, happiness flooding over her... a happiness that set her wondering what the outcome of this holiday would be.

  ‘Possessed as I am of a woman’s curiosity,’ she returned with a gay little laugh, ‘I must see what’s at the top of these steps.’

  ‘Then here goes,’ agreed Andreas, responding to her mood. ‘If we’re trespassing, and we’re caught, we’ll just have to plead ignorance and apologize nicely.’

  A dark, thickly-wooded glade met their eyes as they reached the top of the steps. Here was stored masses of broken masonry excavated from all over the surrounding areas of this fantastic archaeological site. All was so still, and as they trod between the broken columns and statue bases Shani felt herself becoming a part of this sombre, austere solitude.

  ‘It’s sort of - creepy,’ she whispered, unconsciously moving closer to his side. ‘Do you feel it?’

  ‘It is rather spooky,’ he agreed, slipping an arm about her shoulders. ‘But there’s nothing to be afraid of. The overgrown vegetation keeps out the light, that’s all.’

  ‘It could be the cemetery,’ she suggested, looking round. ‘I suppose some of the patients were buried here.’

  ‘Not in the sacred precincts. No one was allowed to die here.’

  She stared, bewildered.

  ‘There must have been deaths. Even the great Hippocrates couldn’t effect a cure in every case.’

  ‘When it was discovered that a patient had an incurable disease his or her people were sent for and asked to remove the patient.’

  ‘That was rather callous, wasn’t it?’

  ‘To our way of thinking, yes. But the Asclepion was a shrine, remember, and people were never permitted to die within the precincts of a shrine.’ A fairly modern building appeared through a break in the trees and they directed their steps towards it. The door was wide open and they entered, Shani giving a little gasp as she glanced around her.

  ‘What are these? Just look, wonderful tablets, and all covered with writing. There must be hundreds!’

  This was quite true; the walls were covered with these tablets, and many more were stacked on the floor. They were mostly in white marble, with the writing as clear as the day it was etched into the stone. ‘Wonderful!’ echoed Andreas. ‘These must have been buried during one of the early earthquakes, because they’ve not suffered any weathering at all.’ ‘What do they say?’

  As Andreas read the ancient Greek writing he shook his head now and then in a gesture of amazement. ‘These,’ he told her, tapping one of the tablets, ‘are letters of thanks to the doctors and nurses.’

  She stared unbelievingly.

  ‘Just as it is now. I often receive a letter of thanks, and I expect you do too?’

  He nodded.

  ‘They’re so beautifully done. Look at this one — see how the edges have been scrolled.’

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘It’s to a doctor, thanking him for the cure effected -“for taking away my affliction which for years I endured”. The writer then goes on to inform the doctor that a suitable offering has been placed on the altar in the Temple of Asclepius.’

  Wonderingly she examined several of the other tablets before saying, in a rather awed little voice, ‘Imagine us reading that letter, after two and a half thousand years.’ She stopped and frowned. ‘It makes you realize, Andreas, just how short your life is.’

  He was at the other end of the room, scanning a particularly beautifully executed panel, but at her words he turned and, coming back to her, he placed gentle hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.

  ‘Life is short, my dear, and therefore exceedingly precious. We should not waste a moment of it.’ Grave words, spoken so gently... and his touch, so tender on her arms, filled her with an emotion she had never known before, and in a flash of reminiscence she saw those five years that had passed since her marriage — five years that could have been spent as the wife of this man whose wisdom and gentleness affected her in so profound a way that the unkindness to which he had subjected her seemed to fade into insignificance. He smiled, playfully flicked her cheek and said lightly, ‘How serious we are! Let us turn our attention to the good things of life. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Starving,’ she laughed, and with a totally unconscious gesture she tucked her arm through his and together they descended the steps and made for the gate leading to the road back into town.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They had intended lunching in the city of Cos, which was the capital of the island, but on the way down the lively bouzouki music drifting to them from a roadside taverna drew, them to its open door. Two men were dancing the sotiska, while others clapped in rhythm to the music.

  ‘How about it?’ queried Andreas. ‘Local colour - or a luxury hotel? Yours is the choice.’

  ‘Local colour every time!’

  He frowned at that.

  ‘Not every time. Luxury’s nice for a change.’

  They entered, stepping to one side of the dancers, and chose two large red mullets from the variety of freshly-caught fish on display under the glass counter.

  The meal was eventually brought to them outside, where they were sitting at a table under the vines. They drank retzina with their food and Turkish coffee afterwards. They were stared at and discussed; another dance was performed especially for them. It was very different from the first, with the man singing a melancholy song as he repeatedly fell down and rose again in a series of despairing yet gracefully executed movements.

  ‘I’ve never seen this dance before.’ On first going to Cyprus Shani had attended Greek dancing lessons at the gymnasium, and after a great deal of perseverance she was now regarded as an expert. Most of the Greek dances she knew, and she was quite sure this particular One had never been performed in Cyprus.

  She turned to her husband, noticing the odd expression in his eyes as he watched intently the sad movements of the slim and supple performer. ‘What is he doing?’

  ‘He’s from Kalymnos — another island not far from Cos. Most of the men are engaged in sponge-diving; that, and a little agriculture, are the only means of livelihood there. But sponge-diving’s a highly dangerous occupation and men frequently suffer paralysis from the under-water pressures. This particular dance belongs to Kalymnos and is rooted in the conditions there. The song’s very sad, expressing the man’s grief at his inability to perform the dance from which at one time he had derived the greatest ecstasy. ’

  ‘And the movements symbolize the paralytic diver attempting to dance as before — when he was perfect in body?’

  Andreas nodded.

  He keeps falling down, as you can see, but insists on continuing the dance which he once so loved and performed with extreme grace and skill.’ The dance ended to loud handclapping from everyone, and as the man would have sat down Andreas beckoned to him inviting him to join them.

  ‘What are you drinking?’ The man told him and when the order was given Andreas said, ‘You’re from Kalymnos, obviously. How do you come to be in Cos?’

  ‘I married a girl from Cos, so I live here.’ The man’s English was good and Andreas remarked on it. ‘I learnt at school.’ The man shook his head. ‘It’s not as good as I would wish; it’s difficult to practise because my wife and her family speak only Greek.’

  ‘Were you a sponge-diver?’

  The young man nodded.

  ‘I started at seventeen and for six years I did this work.’ He frowned. ‘I was glad when I found this girl who has a house and much land from her father. We grow many mandarins and some tobacco also. It’s a better life and I am very lucky.’

  ‘Where’s your wife now?’ There was a hint of amusement in Andreas’s eye as he caught Shani’s glance.

  ‘Working,’ the man replied gravely. ‘She toils hard on the land. She is a good girl.’

  ‘Tell me about the sponge-diving,’ put in Shani eagerly. ‘My husband had been explaining your dance to me—’ She stopped, astounded at t
he natural way the word had slipped out. Her cheeks reddened and she deliberately avoided Andreas’s gaze, but instinctively she knew that his eyes were fixed intently upon her, his surprise as great as her own.

  The young man explained how the boats went out from the harbour at Kalymnos every April, sailing to the north coast of Africa, where the sponges were of especially fine quality.

  ‘All the ships sail away together and it’s a wonderful sight,’ he admitted, ‘but you wave goodbye to your relatives knowing you will not see them for five months. And also you know that some of you will come back maimed, and that some of you will not come back at all, for always men are lost on these trips.’ He went on to describe the ceremony at the harbour before the fleet sailed. There was a dinner provided by the Municipality, to which every member of a fisherman’s family was invited, even small children attending. All the priests of Kalymnos would be there and the bishop would bless the boats and prayers would be said for their safe return. ‘The Easter ceremony is solemn and sad,’ the man continued. ‘But the one in September is much more joyful.’

  ‘But even then some people will be sad - when they know their men are maimed, or even dead.’ Shani spoke softly, almost to herself.

  ‘Yes, of course. That is what used to spoil it for me, because always I would think of my friends who were crippled or dead.’

  ‘And, said Shani, a note of indignation creeping into her voice, ‘I suppose you don’t even get well paid for this hazardous work?’

  ‘Yes, we do. We receive very high wages, and this is paid to us in advance because we have to leave our families provided for.’

  Andreas nodded musingly.

  ‘The captain of the ship pays you this money?’

  ‘That’s right. He gets a loan from the Government.’ ‘And on your return the sponges are sold to the merchants, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes; they’re sold by weight, but must be dried first.’ The man had drained his glass and Andreas ordered him another drink.

  ‘Do the sponges move around all over the sea?’ Shani wanted to know, wondering why she had never before thought about the sponge she used in her bath.

  ‘No, they’re fastened to the rocks and have to be dragged off. Sometimes the draught is strong and then the work of dragging them off the rocks is very hard.’ He grinned ruefully. ‘You haven’t much time, either, if you’re using your own breath.’

  ‘You use your own breath!’ Shani’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but Andreas was merely nodding.

  ‘Some men go down without diving-suits, but for the most part suits are used nowadays.’

  ‘Yes. ...’ The man agreed with this, although reluctantly. ‘But men still use their own breath quite a lot.’ He looked at Shani. ‘And do you know what they do to save time and get to the bottom quickly?’ She shook her head and he added, ‘They hold a huge boulder so that it carries them down at a great speed. ’

  She shuddered, convinced that every time she bought a sponge she would think of the dangers faced by the

  brave men of Kalymnos.

  ‘Wasn’t he interesting?’ she said a short while later as they were leaving the taverna. ‘I’m so glad we met him.’

  ‘So am I.’ A small pause and then Andreas laughed. ‘When he talked about the boulder I thought we would be sure to hear the story of the man who was swallowed by a shark.’

  ‘Swallowed by a shark?’

  ‘ The man concerned was in the habit of carrying a large piece of rock in order to speed up his descent. On this particular occasion he — and the rock — went straight into the open jaws of a shark. The impact of the rock on the shark’s stomach caused it to vomit and out shot the man. He came up with scratches on his arms as proof of this adventure, and instantly became famous.’

  ‘It isn’t true, of course,’ asserted Shani with a laugh. ‘It just couldn’t be!’

  ‘Don’t, my child, ever say that on Kalymnos - should you ever go there. Everybody believes it. As I’ve said, the man became famous.’

  Don’t, my child.... Shani looked up, seeing Andreas only as her husband. He was young and almost gay - not at all like the exacting, intolerant superior who snapped out orders to her in the theatre. But how different he was in every way, now that he was on vacation and free from the cares and anxieties of his work. During those years of separation, whenever his image had passed like a glimpse of some fleeting dream through her mind, she had known only revulsion, seeing a dark foreigner in her room, impervious to her childish entreaties. But now he was fast taking on a very different aspect and often she would recall his saying that if she stayed with him one night, she would remain with him forever. Her musings were brought to an end as, on reaching the flower-bedecked town of Cos she found herself being guided over to where the bicycles could be hired.

  ‘We’ll not have them today,’ Andreas decided. ‘It’s too late, but we’ll make arrangements to call for them tomorrow morning. ’

  They hired the cycles almost every day after that, and rode to several villages on the island. But for two whole days they stayed in the capital, exploring the antiquities.

  ‘I’ve never seen so many in so small an area!’ exclaimed Shani one day as they rode towards the ancient gymnasium. The approach was along an avenue, on both sides of which were standard oleanders, no more than a few feet apart. Gardens dripped with exotic flowers thriving in the sun, their heady perfumes carried by a light breeze blowing in from the sea. ‘It’s an archaeologist’s paradise!’

  Dismounting, they propped their bicycles against a tree and wandered on to the site, there being no one to take the money as it was so late in the season. ‘How do they come to have so many ancient sites, Andreas? They’re all around the town.’

  ‘The last earthquake was as recent as 1933, remember, and although this was catastrophic it did lay bare much treasure that, through the ages, had been built upon. The new town avoided these sites, so enabling the archaeologists to bring to light all these wonderful things we are now seeing.’

  They explored the gymnasium and ancient agora, found the temples of Apollo and Venus, admired the beautiful mosaics unearthed by the Italian archaeologists, and came at last to the amphitheatre, where

  they sat resting under the warm sun and eating pomegranates picked by Andreas, from a tree above their heads.

  On the third day’s exploration they were well away from the town, intent on finding a special eating-place which the hotel receptionist recommended to them, when suddenly Shani jumped off her bicycle.

  ‘More antiquities! And out here in the wilds. Do you think we’re allowed to go in?’

  ‘There isn’t a soul about to prevent us.’ Which was true; they had miles of open country to themselves.

  The fallen columns were practically covered with vegetation; apart from the heads of three marble lions there was little else to be seen. But for some reason Shani bent down and began dragging at the roots of the rough grass and other weeds growing on the field.

  ‘Help me,’ she begged excitedly at last. ‘There’s something hard under here! ’

  ‘You are aware you’re breaking the law?’ he warned, but complied with her request. ‘I do believe you’re right. You’ve found something,’ he added a moment later.

  ‘I was bound to; it’s an unexcavated site we’ve discovered...’

  ‘Not discovered, my dear. This site’s known, naturally.’ ‘Oh, yes, I agree, but it hasn’t yet been excavated. I wonder why?’

  ‘Lack of funds, probably. Look at the numerous sites in Cyprus that are unexcavated because of lack of money. ’ Shani was engrossed in her task; carefully they removed the roots and then, even more carefully, the soil. Presently Shani gave a little gasp.

  ‘A beautiful mosaic,’ she breathed. ‘Andreas, we must tell someone!’

  He smiled at that and continued for some moments to uncover more of the mosaic.

  ‘The authorities know this is here—’

  ‘How can they? We’ve just found it. ’ />
  ‘After someone else has already found it — you can be quite sure of that. ’

  ‘But this vegetation — the mosaic’s been completely buried until now.’

  ‘I think there’s no doubt at all that this site’s been surveyed. Look at the columns; we’re not the only people who’ve noticed them.’ He threw her a glance of amusement and stood up, brushing the soil from his hands. ‘No, Shani, we haven’t made some marvellous discovery. This site awaits excavation and meanwhile it’s hoped no meddlesome tourists will start probing—’ He broke off, laughing at her crestfallen expression. ‘Or removing vegetation that has obviously been allowed to grow over the site - even encouraged to do so, I should imagine. Come, we must cover it up again.’

  ‘Oh...’ Thoroughly disappointed, she turned from him to gaze down at the exquisite picture of birds and flowers which was only a small section of what could very well prove to be a large and valuable mosaic. ‘All the same,’ she said, brightening, ‘this is a marvellous island. It must be overflowing with treasure. I think it’s a wonderful place!’

  A week later she uttered a similar exclamation. They were alone in the hotel garden, strolling under a magical sky with all around them the perfumed air, soft and warm. Suddenly Shani felt herself drawn close to her husband, heard his gentle persuasive whimper in her ear:

  ‘It is a wonderful place, my Shani ... a wonderful place for a honeymoon.’ Instantly she stiffened, and twisted

  away, thrown into confusion. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘Forget it. ’

  She stared up at him, her face flushed. She thought, ‘Had I not twisted away he would have kissed me. ’

  ‘I - Andreas—’

  ‘Let’s go in; it’s late. Don’t trouble your lovely head about it,’ he added, noting her expression. ‘I said nothing would mar this holiday, and I meant it.’ He took her hand in his and they walked in silence back to the hotel.