Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  I took a deep breath, and decided to lay all my cards on the table. “I don’t care what people say. I want to show how I feel about you. I want to experience everything I have been dreaming of. Think of all we have gone through just to be standing here together. We did not meet by chance, and I will not let anything else get in the way. I do not care about anyone else, only the one I truly desire. I feel like I’ve known you for years. I understand this is happening very fast, but I don’t want you to go. Not now.”

  She gripped my hand and held it tightly. “Andreas, many things have happened to me, things we haven’t had a chance to talk about. Even though I too feel like fate has brought us together, I cannot face any more pain, any more humiliation. It is best that I leave now until things calm down. Everything happened so suddenly; I really don’t understand what I’m doing here. I do want to get to know you. I owe you my life.”

  “You owe me nothing! I don’t want you to stay out of a sense of obligation.” I must have spoken louder than I intended, for I saw her cower.

  I tried to calm down, realizing that I was taking my pent-up anger and frustration out on her. A few silent seconds later, I continued. “You are right. So much has happened in two days that even I feel dazed. Of this one thing I am certain, though: now that I’ve found you again, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I don’t want to lose you either,” she cried out, cupping my face in her hands.

  The silence that followed this time was sweet, as her words echoed in my ears.

  She spoke next, softly yet urgently. “However, at this point, it’s best if I leave for a while. You have so much to deal with, and I feel like I’m a burden. Your colleagues are welcoming, but they don’t know me. In these circumstances, I really cannot stay. I do want to see you again. Please believe me.”

  Her words shattered any lingering hopes I had that she might change her mind. I realized it was no use insisting, at least not at that moment. It was probably best that we both calm down and talk it over again the following morning. I gently pulled her toward the table. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. This looks lovely. Let’s enjoy our evening, I really need a respite from all this.”

  “Come sit, then. I’ll bring dinner,” she said, softening, and turned to go inside the house.

  A small spark of hope that I might persuade her to stay flickered inside me. While she was inside, I tried to order my thoughts, to re-examine what was happening. Elizabeth would be returning in a few days, and I would have to find my own place. As Zoe said, we could not impose on her much longer. Despite the thought of her absence filling me with dread, I wondered whether her leaving might not be the best solution for the moment, a chance to deal with all those pending matters. Even unwittingly, her presence was a distraction in that she became the center of my universe whenever she was around.

  Zoe always came first for me—more important than the discovery of the Winged Victory, more important even than my mother’s death. Besides, I wanted to shelter her from the accusations about the alleged theft at the tower. I was sure Varvis was behind it all, a scheme to pressure me to abandon my plans to excavate their land.

  Maybe I should follow Elizabeth’s advice: back down for a while and deal with other matters until a more opportune time. My analysis was indicating that many important finds lay buried on Varvis’s land, but maybe they would have to wait.

  Zoe stepped outside carrying a large platter of food, and I decided that it was best to postpone all decision-making for the moment. She served us both, and then sat across the table. The shadows cast by the flickering candles on her face reminded me of the first day I saw her. Light fought darkness across her features, altering her expression with every flicker. At least, that is what I thought as I watched her through the bouquet of yellow roses in the middle of the table. She seemed much calmer, and I stood up and picked up the gramophone.

  Fork frozen in midair, Zoe frowned as she tried to understand what I was doing. I pushed the basement door open with my foot and placed the gramophone on a table at its far end. I wound it up and, fumbling in the dark, placed the needle on the spinning record. The sound of violin strings belting out a tango spilled out from the great horn. I hurried outside, closing the door behind me. The muffled music just about reached the table. I raised my glass and made a toast to an uninterrupted, quiet evening.

  We did not say much while we ate. I told stories of my student days before the war, and Zoe shared some family memories. It was evident we were both preoccupied by what was to come the following day. I helped her clear the table, and then stepped back into the garden. I hovered by the exterior stone staircase until she appeared. She came down the stairs and stopped a couple of steps above me, leaning leisurely against the railing.

  With a gentle motion, she gathered her loose hair at the nape of her neck. The grace of her movements captivated me every time. I yearned to lie down beside her, to hold her in my arms. I would be unable to sleep a wink tonight, lying all alone in my basement bed, knowing she was a couple of floors above me. I knew that if she allowed me into her room I would be unable to contain my desire.

  She cut my thoughts short by bending down and brushing her lips against mine. “Goodnight,” she whispered, and disappeared back inside the house before I could reply.

  I returned to the table and finished my wine, secretly hoping she would reappear and beckon me to her. It did not happen. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of her for a moment, when she lifted the curtain of her bedroom window to see what I was doing. Stillness and silence fell over the courtyard.

  Realizing that insomnia was going to be my sole companion that evening, I decided to go for a walk up the hill behind the house. Luckily, I knew it well so I could find my way in the thick darkness. A few minutes later, I was standing at the top of the hill beneath the vast dome of night that sparkled with a thousand pinprick stars, as if a flock of fireflies were crossing the heavens above.

  Turning toward the Varvis tower, I saw the red glow of a massive bonfire that had been lit at the highest rampart. I looked at the waning moon and wondered whether the bonfire had anything to do with the full moon of a few nights ago.

  Back in my bed, I tried to chase Zoe from my thoughts. Had I not feared her reaction, I would have knocked on her door and taken her into my arms without a word. At this thought, my eyelids closed heavily, and I could do nothing but surrender to the dreamy vision of Zoe, standing on the marble base, arms stretched out to the sky, her long dark hair flowing down her back.

  A soft knock on the door woke me up, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. The events of the last couple of days came rushing back, and I jumped out of bed, hastily throwing on my clothes. The birdsong of blackbirds and robins filled the air outside and hastened my impatience to see Zoe. I hurriedly ran my fingers through my hair, then flung open the basement door.

  My smile vanished at the sight of Vasilis, hand raised in mid-knock. Though I liked the man, he had become the unfortunate bearer of bad news in my mind. Curious to hear what he had to say, I ushered him in.

  “Good morning, Andreas,” he whispered, looking around the room.

  “Good morning,” I replied. “Are you looking for something?” I added, trying to figure out what all the secrecy was about.

  “Is she not here?” he asked, obviously referring to Zoe.

  “No,” I dryly replied.

  “I passed outside the police station at dawn. I overheard that they will come take you to the station when the sun is up.”

  I was impressed by Vasilis’s uncanny ability to be everywhere and hear everything on the island. “Who knows what they are scheming this time,” I muttered. I did not intend to give them one minute of my last day with Zoe.

  “They’ll be here any second,” Vasilis said, giving me a look full of meaning.

  Despite the abrupt wake-up, I felt unusually alert. I stared at him for a few seconds as I worked out what to do next. “If you run into them as you are leaving, stal
l them,” I determinedly said. “Tell them we are not home, that we’ve gone to the Sanctuary. Do not tell them that we met.”

  “Where are you going? They’ll start looking for you both, especially you.”

  “Would you believe me if I said I had no idea? We are certainly not staying here.”

  I heard the floorboards creak upstairs. Zoe was up. I pulled him outside and grabbed him by the arm. “Go now, Vasilis, and please do as I asked, nothing more.”

  He shook my hand, gripping it tightly. “Be careful.”

  His grip was so firm that I struggled to free my hand. He would not let go, and I had to pull hard. Dumbfounded, he gave me another look, and left without saying a word. Zoe had watched the scene from the top of the stairs.

  “I don’t have time to explain,” I told her, “but if you want us to spend the day together, you have to follow me. I know it sounds strange, but this could be our last day if you decide to leave tomorrow. Please, let us spend it together. I ask nothing else of you. If you want to thank me for saving your life, come with me, and I will take you to the boat at dawn.”

  She gaped at my torrent of words, but quickly regained her composure. “Tell me what I should do.”

  I nearly skipped with joy at her response. “Take some warm clothes with you; we might need to spend the night outdoors. And some bread.”

  She ran back inside, casting quick looks at me over her shoulder as she went. I walked inside the basement and picked up my overcoat and a jumper Elizabeth had left. Back in the courtyard, I snatched two pomegranates. This time I pulled so hard that the tree offered no resistance. I fleetingly thought that the thorn was still in my finger, and almost laughed aloud; it was the least of my concerns at that moment.

  Zoe ran down the stairs holding a small cloth bundle. I hastily shoved my things inside it and took her hand. We ran up the path leading to the back of Paleopolis and into the woods. I thought I heard someone call out my name behind us, but paid no heed. A few minutes later, we had disappeared under the leafy plane trees.

  The two men rushed out of the police station. As soon as they were out of earshot of the other officers, the policeman sternly turned to Simon. “I can’t arrest him just because you showed him a collection. It will cause trouble with the Americans; don’t you understand?”

  “My boss is very annoyed the bronze eyelashes have not been found yet,” Simon said. “He will have to go to your superiors if you don’t do something. I don’t think you’d like that.”

  The policeman halted at the sound of the steward’s veiled threat. “Look, I’ll send my officers after him and have him brought to the station. But I need evidence to lock him up. There is no evidence.”

  “Find it,” Simon coldly said, letting a small bundle fall from his hands. He gave the policeman a pointed look and turned away.

  The policeman stood staring at the fallen bundle. As soon as the steward was some distance away, he bent down to pick it up. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then untied the handkerchief carefully. He slowly removed a coin and brought it close to examine it, then all the other contents one by one. He rubbed his mustache, troubled.

  He slowly placed the bundle in his coat pocket and went back inside the station. The other two officers rose to attention, awaiting their orders. He paced the room, trying to decide what to do. He took his cap from a hook on the wall and paused at the doorway. “You two—go to the archaeological site and find Stais. If you find the woman, bring her, too. I have some business to attend to; I’ll be back in an hour.”

  The three men stepped outside and separated, moving in different directions. Arriving at Elizabeth’s house, the policeman entered the courtyard and called out Andreas’s name. Receiving no reply, he walked further inside and paused outside the basement. He peered through the window, and then went upstairs. All the doors were open.

  Calling out once again and receiving no reply, he stepped inside the house. In the cool shade, he pondered his next actions, and then returned to the balcony. Making sure no one was watching, he stepped up on a chair. He pulled out the bundle and emptied its contents on the stone ledge between the wooden roof and the wall of the house. He crumpled up the handkerchief in his fist and nonchalantly climbed down. Whistling indifferently, he exited through the garden gates and walked away from the house.

  Vasilis stepped out from behind the hedge where he had been hiding. He had followed the policeman to the house and seen him plant the evidence. Once the policeman disappeared around the bend, he ran inside the courtyard. He stood, fists bunched in anger, looking up at the balcony and then in the direction Andreas and Zoe had vanished.

  We had been walking for a while, and it was time to have a rest. We had made our way silently into the forest, like predators stalking prey, until we put some distance between the last houses and us. Zoe did not ask a single question; she simply followed my instructions obediently throughout the journey. I had already picked out a spot for our break: a large stone next to a gurgling fresh water spring further up the hill. I wanted to get to the shore as soon as possible.

  A few hours of trekking, and we would be arriving at one of the island’s most beautiful beaches. Luckily, Zoe was a strong walker and did not seem to tire. The perfection of the landscape at this spot was unparalleled, as if the invisible hand of a great artist had daubed perfect brushstrokes on a vast painting.

  The red fruit of a strawberry tree caught my eye. I jumped up and started to climb, gathering the fruit. Zoe smiled as she watched me hang from the branches. I filled my pockets and climbed back down, looking to quench my thirst at the spring where Zoe was already wetting her lips. I drank, placing my lips beside hers at the source of the spring.

  We sat across from each other, the small creek trickling between us. I scooped out some berries and offered them to her. She did not reach out to take them; she just looked at me intently. Captivated by her intense gaze, I slowly lowered my hand. Time seemed to stand still as she leaned over and gently kissed me. Mesmerized, I did not respond. I closed my eyes and kept them shut, even when she pulled away. The coolness of her lips lingered on my mouth.

  I felt her fingers trying to steal the small, fluffy fruit from my palm. Teasingly, I pulled my hand away. One tiny, disappointed grimace, and I was putty in her hands. I picked a strawberry and gently placed it in her mouth. Her lips parted just wide enough to receive the fruit. For a while, as patiently as a mother bird feeding her young, I fed her fruit, occasionally keeping a delicious wild strawberry for myself. When my hands were empty, she stared down the gully before us and spoke calmly. “I hope I am not the cause of our sudden flight.”

  Honestly, I had not decided whether to tell her about Varvis’s imaginary theft and his accusations, but I worried that if she heard it from someone else she might give it some credit. I calmly recounted the events at the police station and the reason behind our sudden departure. I also explained why Varvis had an axe to grind.

  She did not seem surprised. She seemed so at ease with fear, I guessed events in her past had made her tragically familiar with danger. More than anything, I wanted to hear the rest of her story, an explanation for the dark shadows that would cloud her eyes and then vanish as quickly as they’d appeared. The thought that this might be our last day together made me realize that when she left I would be all alone, dividing my time between mourning and work.

  Sensing the clock was ticking against me, I pulled her up to continue our journey. It was still some way to the shore. I picked up the bundle and flung it over my shoulder, then started to climb down. The blackbirds hopped before us like small black shadows accompanying us on our journey.

  The policeman and his two officers, one of the local men, and Varvis himself, accompanied by his son, stood outside Elizabeth’s house impatiently waiting for someone. Indeed, a few seconds later, the American couple who had discovered the statue of the Winged Victory appeared. They greeted the waiting group politely, and the policeman informed them that he
desired to search Elizabeth’s house for the artifacts stolen from the Varvis tower.

  Phyllis spoke up first. “You have no right to search for anything while Elizabeth is away. On her behalf, I forbid you to enter her house. If you do so, I will notify our embassy.”

  Varvis, acting as mediator, stepped up and, with feigned outrage, turned to the police officers. “I told you we should wait. It’s not right to enter the house while its permanent resident is absent.”

  Turning to the archaeologists, he said somberly, “I apologize for the inconvenience. I am not in any way accusing your colleague.”

  Karl, who had been watching the exchange without a word, interrupted him. “You are accusing Andreas of stealing a collection that included coins, bronze eyelashes, statuettes, and rings.”

  “Yes. It disappeared the night he and Elizabeth visited our home.”

  With a look of surprise, the archaeologist said, “Why would he do that? Andreas has one single purpose in life: to discover as many antiquities as possible and ensure they remain or return where they belong. He is one of the most honest men I have met in my life. Why would he steal your collection?”

  Varvis did not seem taken aback. Haughtily, he rested his arm on his son’s shoulder and said, “For a long while, many antiquities have been stolen from this island. They are sold for small or large amounts. When the group of Frenchmen arrived, we paid no heed, but the theft of our collection coincided with their departure. I was about to donate it to the museum, as I informed your American colleague that evening. We believe that one of them handed it over, and they vanished with the stolen goods. They have been impossible to locate since then. We suspect they left the Greek woman behind to steal what she could and smuggle it to the mainland.”

  “This is impossible,” Karl exclaimed. “The woman you are referring to is an old friend of Andreas’s. They ran into each other at the port entirely by chance! How could they have colluded in such a complex scheme? We are asking you to leave. Please remember that any accusations you make against Andreas also tar Elizabeth with the same brush. She was with him that evening. When she returns, you can ask for her permission to search the house.”