by Anna Harvey
“Ela,” Eleni motioned Thea into the kitchen, where there were several pans boiling on the old ceramic stove. “Kathiste, etoimazo cafe”. As instructed, Thea seated herself at the small table covered in a floral primrose-yellow oilcloth. As Eleni busied herself making coffee, it gave opportunity to glance round the kitchen. The shelves were cluttered with a collection of bottles and glass jars. Each was carefully labelled in Eleni’s neat handwriting, declaring the herbal contents or medicinal remedy. There was the scorch mark from the old water element, circular and coffee-coloured, branded on the formica worktop. Suddenly all the memories came flooding back as if a curtain had been lifted and they had stepped back in time. Thea watched Eleni, taking in her awkward and laboured movements as she went back and forth across the kitchen. She was dressed in an unassuming loose-fitting dress, the colour of blanched aubergine. Her hair had turned whiter and the lines more deeply etched, but the spark in her eyes was unchanged. A plate was produced of sugar coated kourabiedes shortbread and lemon polenta cake oozing with honey. After setting down a large steaming tea-pot, Eleni sat down, her eyes locked on Thea, beaming with joy.
“Fate, fate!” she instructed Thea, gesturing to her to tuck in. Complying Thea began to eat, realising the origin of her taste for Greek pastries as a burst of sweetness filled her mouth. Not only had this woman fed her but had stirred love and kindness into the sweet dough mix.
“So when did you arrive back?” asked the older woman, speaking in Greek, enunciating each word in the distinctive Ionian accent.
Thea swallowed a mouthful of pastry, her fingers now coated in powdered icing sugar. “A couple of weeks ago. I’m working on an archaeological project.” Eleni passed her some sheets of kitchen roll, before allowing her to speak on. “I’m here until next month,” Thea continued, anticipating the next question already forming on Eleni’s lips. How could she have so easily set aside and forgotten this friendship, she wondered? A wave of guilt passed over Thea as she looked up at the older woman who was nodding encouragingly.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t visit earlier. I hadn’t meant to stay away-,” she began.
“Shh, shh, don’t worry koukla mou.” Eleni’s clucked, as if comforting an anxious child. “I always knew when the time was right, you would come back.” Eleni patted her arm, squeezing it affectionately, a look of joy on her face. Thea lifted her head and returned the smile.
“So tell me more about this project that brings you here.”
“It’s a survey to find the palace of Odysseus. Most of the team are based in Kalodia on the field survey. I’ve been working on the old archives and trying to match the topography with the Homeric descriptions. There are a couple of geo-physicists doing a soil and rock analysis.” She hesitated, trying not to let her thoughts dwell on Rob. “So far, everything is pointing towards Paliki but we haven’t located the site yet.”
Eleni had been listening, her head cocked to one side. “I think I’ve heard about this. It’s a big thing on the island, did you know. It has been in the local papers. Everyone is talking about it. Isn’t it sponsored by the Archontakis Foundation?“
Thea nodded her head, her mouth full of pastry. “It would be a big prize for them,” Eleni continued “if they do find Odysseus’ palace. You know how important the hero Odysseus is to us Greeks. Whoever finds that would become a national hero and right now we could do with heroes.” Eleni leaned back, looking down at her wrinkled hands. “Here in Greece, it hasn’t been an easy time with austerity,” she observed. “But this would bring a little light to our world, if you and your colleagues are successful and I hope you are. It would mean a lot to us Greeks.”
Thea looked across at her friend. “I will do everything I can to find it,” she promised. They talked on for several hours, eating and drinking, until the evening was well advanced. The light had faded some time ago, when Thea started to think about leaving.
“I need to go very soon,” Thea said checking the time on her watch, knowing she must tear herself away from the side of her dear friend. “I start again quite early tomorrow.”
Eleni nodded and clutching Thea’s arm lowered her voice, as if afraid someone was eaves-dropping. “Did you know Dimitri Kampitsis is back on the island?”
“I did.”
“He’s a very important man now. Very rich and big in the Archontakis Foundation. Does he know you’re here?”
“Yes, I’ve seen him,” Thea replied calmly. “He’s asked me to go away with him this weekend.” She paused, waiting for Eleni to digest this information. “I know he’s now married but he swears he loves me.”
Wordlessly, they both shared the story. It was Eleni who had witnessed her distress, after Dimitri had been summoned away on family business. At first Thea had immersed herself in the work, busying herself in preparing healing potions, studying late into the night, learning all she could under Eleni’s experienced guidance. But as the last days of summer passed, the deafening silence grew.
“You should write to him,” Eleni had said as she brought one of the countless brews of herbal teas into Thea’s room. She had sensed from the beginning that something was amiss. Thea had tried to hide her tears, but her swollen eyes betrayed her grief. “Tell him what has happened.”
She had shook her head. ”He’ll return when he can. I know he loves me.” If Eleni had had her doubts, she kept them well hidden.
Early one morning the bleeding had started. Lying in the bed, Thea had felt a wetness between her legs and the sickly sweet smell of blood staining the white cotton bedsheets. Distraught, she had cried out in agony and despair and Eleni had come rushing to hold her. Afterwards, it had been Eleni who had nursed her injured body back to health through those endless days and stifling heat. And still there had been silence. Not a word. Dimitri had walked out of her life, like an actor exiting a drama after a turn on the stage. As the chill of autumn arrived, the truth had finally sunk in. He was not coming back.
At this very table, Thea had told Eleni of her decision. She could no longer bear this waiting game. Turning her back on healing, Thea had set her mind on returning home to follow a different path.
“You’re a gifted healer,” Eleni had protested. “How can you reject these natural skills?”
“And how can I help others, when I am wounded myself,” Thea had replied. For Dimitri had inflicted a wound to her spirit as surely as if he had twisted a knife into her chest. She had reached over and squeezed Eleni’s arm to reassure her. “There is a language course I can enrol on, where I can use my love for your language instead.”
Tears welled up in Eleni’s sympathetic eyes. “Then go with my blessing,” she had said.
And now across this same table, Eleni faced Thea squarely in the eye. “Don’t do it, h koukla mou. You will only plough a field of stones. From that man you will harvest only pain and heartbreak.” The words came as no surprise to Thea. Even though now an adult in her prime, she recognised Eleni’s fierce maternal instinct to protect her. “But you need to tell him. He needs to know the truth.”
“I will give it some thought,” Thea assured her.
“And do you have children of your own?” the older woman enquired.
She could feel the denial sticking in her throat. “David and I broke up but parenthood never seemed to be our priority. Work always demanded more the attention, so it never happened.”
“You’re a natural mother, Thea. And I think it won’t be so long before you have a baby in your belly,” the older woman said, reaching over to touch the rise on Thea’s stomach.
Thea looked again at her, this time slightly perplexed. There was always the rumour that Eleni was gifted with the second sight. Believing in her intuitive powers, sometimes people would come seeking her guidance. Was this a statement or a prophecy, Thea didn’t know. She rose to leave, embracing Eleni on each papery cheek but Thea hovered by the door, unwilling to turn the handle.
“I’ll come again Eleni. I promise. I won’t leave it so long next ti
me.”
“I know you will. Goodbye h koukla mou.”
Stepping into the dark, the town felt as if it had already put itself to bed. There was little traffic around and even fewer people, as Thea picked her way through the dimly lit streets. Her phone began to ring, as she crossed the wide open expanse of the main square. As she answered it, she recognised the distinctive sound of Dimitri’s voice.
“Did I wake you?” he enquired solicitously.
“No, not at all,” Thea replied, trying to keep her answer light and breezy. “I’m just on my way back from the town after visiting an old friend.”
“And how did you find them?”
“A little bit more worn from the years, but otherwise in good spirits.” Still remembering the conversation with Eleni, she was aware she was holding back. “And how has it been going with you?”
There was a pause over the muffled line. “Clemmie has been in a bad mood all day. The children have been boisterous which has bothered her. She has gone to bed early with one of her headaches.” Suddenly Thea could imagine Dimitri alone, clandestinely stealing away to ring her from some quiet corner of a building. “I can’t wait to see you again in two days’ time. Then we can go away together.” He spoke more animated now, eager to share the details. “Everything’s arranged. I’ll pick you up on Friday. Make sure you bring warm clothing and your passport. We’re going to have the most wonderful time!”
“I will. Dimitri?” Thea asked hesitatingly, a question hung in the air.
“What is it?”
“There is something I need to tell you.”
“Will it wait until Friday? We’ll have all the time in the world to talk.”
“Of course,” Thea agreed reluctantly.
“Alright baby. I can’t wait to be with you. Love you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She was about to say back those three words, when the call ended. There was only the dead monotone sound of the ringtone and once more he had vanished into the ether.
Chapter 19
Restitution
It was in the great megaron where Telemachos found him the next morning. He was taking his first meal of the day. The bread and fruit, which a servant had set before him, remained untouched. Hunched over the table, he held himself awkwardly, his muscles aching from sleeping on the stiff upright chair. At least his mind was still as lively and alert as before, even though he could feel his strength slowly ebbing away day by day deserting him. The dreams the gods sent to him, whether as punishment or a reminder, disturbed his nights, leaving him weary and exhausted whenever Dawn finely rose.
His son must have sensed his discomfort.
“What ails you father?” the younger man enquired worriedly. “Are you sick? Do I need to send for my mother or some healer?”
“No, calm yourself Telemachos.” He noticed the worried look on his son’s face. No doubt he saw the weakening muscles within his aging body, the wilted lined skin and the silver-metal streaks that ran through his coppery hair. “I am not sick, but the gods have put a stiffness and weariness in my limbs today. Sleep eluded me in our soft bed and now I pay the price resting on a wooden chair. I would have slept on much worse, when I was a younger man, but today the gods let me know all too well my years and how my age overcomes me.”
He studied his son more closely. His warrior body was still lean and powerful, built like an ox and well-toned by the strenuous discipline of training. Like his father he excelled in fighting skills and in the wrestling circle, throwing the finest of Ithaka’s men onto the mud-baked dust to claim victory. But age was beginning to tell also on Telemachos, lining his face and weathering his body, like leather stretched out and tanned in the burning sunlight. Touches of silver now flecked his thick mane of hair. The realisation jolted him, as if he had just woken up. Telemachos, his devoted son, was the age as he had been when he reclaimed the kingdom of Ithaka. Pride stirred his chest for the man his son had become. Why had he not seen it before, as if the gods had veiled his eyes? And yet still he lived beneath his father’s roof.
He turned his stiff neck towards him, his eyes gleaming. “When you have taken your fill of sustenance, son, I would speak with you about something that has been occupying my thoughts lately. I would have spoken with you yesterday but my mind was befuddled by Sleep. Let us sit under the old plane tree together out in the yard, where none can ease-drop or overhear our words. There is something I would say to you.”
“There are matters also of which I too would speak, father. Concerning my journey around the kingdom. I also heard news of changes that are afoot.”
“Then let us speak further.” And with a slight nod of the head, Telemachos withdrew.
*********************************************
The old plane tree was still there, as it had been always, only wider grown and fuller in leaf. The coolness of its foliage still provided protective shadow against the burning rays of Helios. A slight breeze stirred the air, which felt pleasant in the increasing heat of the day. This view, with the tall mountains in the far off haze and open sea gulf across to Same and then purple-misted Zakynthos, never failed to please him. From here, he could cast his eye over most of the island kingdom, except for small Doulichion hidden behind the towering mountains of Same.
Odysseus turned his neck to glance at the palace behind him. The well-apportioned walls with the high gabled roof were imposing and impressive, unchanged from his father’s day. Over the years, the tiles and mud brick had been repaired, replaced or repainted, but still the sight of the palace never failed to please him. It came to him how he had sat here with his own father Laertes as a boy, many moons ago. His father was long dead, buried alongside his mother in the family tomb on the main thorough fare towards the harbour, so any visitor to the palace might stop and pay due honour. The old stools had been replaced with a sturdy wooden bench, which he had crafted himself. The dusty earth was pitted with red stains like over ripened figs falling and rotting from the tree. Now he sat in this same spot, beside his own son in the fullness and maturity of manhood. Despite the passage of time, no stranger could have mistaken them for other than father and son.
Odysseus looked around surveying the tended fields below them, noting with satisfaction the abundant crops coming forth from the ground. The granaries across the kingdom were still well stocked with last year’s grain and there were signs of a good harvest to come. The golden-haired barley was ripening under Helios’ soft glow. If the crops failed, they need have no fear: there was enough grain stored away to feed them through several poor harvests. If, as it was claimed, the fertility of the land echoed wise kingship and stewardship, then he could feel proud-spirited.
Telemachos was waiting attentively for him to speak, his gaze fixed on his father’s face. Odysseus began.
“So are our plans in place, my son, as we agreed?”
“They are indeed father. The local leaders accept your proposal and await your directive.”
He turned to face Telemachos, his ears alert. “And did they all acquiesce or was there some dissent?” If there was any resistance, he needed to know about it.
“They consented readily to our proposal. They are afraid,” he admitted, a shadow sweeping his face. “For each day brings more people from the mainland, seeking shelter in our island kingdom. They say that Strife has broken out in some of the great cities and the people fight amongst themselves.” Telemachos paused and glanced across at his father, who was listening closely.
“Go on.”
“Even the great cities of Mykenai and Tiryns have not escaped,” Telemachos continued, an uneasiness creeping into his words. “A strange darkness has come over the land of Pelops, so that the day is in perpetual gloom and without Helios, the crops fail to grow and thrive. The grapes rot on the vine and people starve for want of food. They offer sacrifice each day but the gods show no pity for their plight.”
“And are we any clearer as to the cause?”
“It is rumoured that th
e peoples of Atlantis, a sea-bound island, offended the gods. So they destroyed their city with smoking fire and ash, but the darkness stays in the air.”
Odysseus raised his eyebrows. It was not his place to question the actions of the gods, but it whetted his curiosity. “You have done well, son,” Odysseus replied steadily and he affectionately clasped Telemachos by the shoulder. “We must make sure that we are protected here in our island kingdom and do what we can to ward off this danger.” At least the barrier of the sea offered some security to the kingdom from the madness stalking the mainland. “Let us hope, my son, that it does not come to war.” He lapsed into silence, slowly nodding to himself.
“Is there something else on your mind, father?”
Odysseus allowed himself to venture a smile, his mind still wrapped in thought. “You know me too well Telemachos!” he said glancing up. “Do you remember that day when I returned to the palace? It was not long after we were first reunited in the humble dwelling of Eumaios, our dearest and most loyal friend. He who took me in, though dressed as a beggar, and gave me food and shelter.”
“How could I forget that day, father. For the gods have kept the memory of that time clear in my mind. We had waited so long for your return that Hope had all but abandoned us.”
“Do you recall, how I travelled alone to the palace, still disguised as a beggar to hide my identity?” The other man bowed his head slightly to indicate his agreement, so Odysseus continued. “Before I entered the town, I stopped at the water fountain, the one below the hill of Hermes to take a drink of its sweet waters. As you know, the water is very cool as it comes from high up on the hillslope.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I drank from the spring and it shames me to say it now, for a moment I doubted my course. Whether to go on with our plan or to take flight. It came to me that the way that led here to the palace was my destined path and this was the journey I needed to take. It was that which determined my decision to carry on.”
