Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  “Shush! Be quiet. They’ll hear you.”

  Vasilis slapped his forehead. “That’s right! You weren’t here, so you don’t know they’re not looking for you anymore …”

  I thought I had misheard, but laughed with relief as he recounted what had happened that morning. I felt a tinge of satisfaction at their humiliation in front of my American colleagues. This was the perfect moment to begin excavating their land. I would wait for the authorization to arrive, and then I would dig from dawn until dusk, on my own if need be.

  I asked Vasilis not to mention seeing me, took his car keys, and left without giving any explanation, ignoring his perplexed expression. I walked back to Zoe and asked her to walk down with me. Varvis was standing next to the museum as we walked past; he stared at us as if he had just seen a ghost. Zoe bid him goodnight, and giggled as he opened and closed his mouth, unable to utter a reply.

  We drove back to the house, and I brought her up to date on the latest developments. I planned to stay up that night, and drive her to the port at dawn. When we entered the garden, my first thought was to light the lantern that stood on the table. As I struck the match, I grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?” Zoe asked.

  I had forgotten to stop at the cemetery. I had spent all day outdoors, and had not found a moment to light a candle. “I haven’t been back to her grave,” I replied, wracked with guilt.

  “If you don’t want to wait until the morning, why don’t you go now? I’ll wait here for you; unless you want some company?”

  The truth was that I felt torn. I did not want to miss a single moment with Zoe, now that I knew she was leaving, but I also thought it would be faster if I went on my own.

  “Stay here and rest,” I said, giving her a hug. “It will be dawn in a few hours. Sleep. I’ll wake you up when I’m back. I need to go. I will feel bad if I don’t.”

  “Of course, you should go. I’ll borrow some of your friend’s clothes and return them when I’m back, if that’s all right. She said I could.”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied absent-mindedly.

  I looked at Zoe’s face, trying to commit her features to memory. “I shouldn’t be saying this,” I said, “in light of what happened two days ago, but I want you to know today has been the happiest day of my life.”

  “Mine too, Andreas.” She gave me a tender kiss.

  “It’s up to us to make sure many more such days follow,” I declared, carried away.

  She put her fingers on my lips and shook her head playfully. “One day at a time, remember?”

  “One day at a time,” I echoed. I wanted to return as quickly as possible, to savor the hours we had left until her departure. I sprinted to the garden gates, calling out over my shoulder, “I’ll come wake you up, you know. Goodnight, Ouranoessa!”

  Her face lit up. “I’ll be waiting,” she cried out, running after me.

  I turned, and our lips locked in a passionate embrace. She then pushed me away, urging me to go. Walking backward, she raised her hand and waved.

  I skipped the two steps that led to the street and ran to the Jeep. As I put the keys in the engine, I thought that maybe I should stay, and go to the cemetery in the morning. For a few seconds, I could not make up my mind. Then I turned the key and sped off, intending to return as quickly as possible. The round-trip would not take more than half an hour by car.

  Further down the road, a fox stood frozen, caught in the car’s headlights. I slowed down, but she would not budge. Like a sentinel refusing to let anyone pass, she sat on her hind legs and stared at the car. I had no time to lose. I inched closer. When the car was but a hairsbreadth away, she reluctantly stepped aside.

  I saw her eyes in the rearview mirror, following the car as I drove away. Could it be the fox from the Sanctuary? I wondered as I stepped on the gas.

  I swiftly arrived at the cemetery. Anyone seeing me walk inside at this hour would take me for a grave robber. I found a single candle in the box outside the small church, and picked it up. Someone, possibly my sister, had placed a vigil lamp in a wooden box, its wick flickering in the oil that remained. I lit the candle and placed it on the ground beside my mother’s grave.

  The scent of the candle set off a chain of painful memories—the flaming house, the smell of burning timber, the terrible feeling of helplessness as we stood outside watching everything turn to ash. Without any concrete answers as to origins of the fire, I did not know how to react. I found it hard to believe it was arson, that someone had deliberately tried to harm us, and yet …

  My mind was overwhelmed by my whirling thoughts, by the flood of memories. I had expected to be plagued with guilt for spending the day with Zoe instead of mourning. Once again, reality and expectation were worlds apart. I had separated the two events. Horrifying as it may sound to a stranger, it seemed natural to both grieve my mother and delight in Zoe. I did not think it a coincidence that she appeared in my life when I was all alone in the world. I did not feel any great pain at the thought of my sister leaving, as she had announced. After everything that had come to pass, it was probably for the best—for everyone involved.

  I stayed beside the grave for a little longer. Bending down, I gently stroked the mound of soil that covered the grave; a silent goodbye. As I turned to leave, I saw the glow of fire burning behind the hill. I wondered who could have lit a bonfire at this hour. It looked like it came from the Varvis estate, specifically the fields that bordered the site of the Sanctuary.

  I felt torn between the need to return to Zoe, and the need to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe they had lit a fire to burn tree trimmings earlier in the evening, and neglected to put it out properly. At the same time, who would think of going out to do field work after a raging storm? The top of the hill was only a short distance away. Despite my weariness, despite my desire to return home, I decided to climb up and see.

  A few minutes later, I reached the small peak of the hill. By the light of the burning branches, I could see the shadowy outlines of two men digging. I was too far away to make out their faces. The die was cast. I could not turn back, not without finding out what they were up to.

  Cautiously, I crept forward, grateful for the muddy soil muffling my footsteps. If they were thieves, I would have to alert the police.

  The sight of Varvis made me stop in my tracks. He stood beside Simon, who was shoveling earth knee-deep in a shallow pit. The neighing of their horse, grazing a short distance away, jolted me back to my senses. I hid behind a bush, trying to understand what was going on.

  Standing on a large stone behind them, Alexandros gripped a small sword. He was obviously meant to be keeping a lookout, but the boy seemed to have forgotten all about it. He was lost in his game, fighting off an imaginary enemy.

  I turned my attention back to Simon. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed a wooden trunk next to the pile of soil at the edge of the pit. No more was needed to divine what they were up to.

  I did not know what to do. If I went away to alert the village, they might be gone by the time I came back. Besides, whom could I alert? The policeman was in cahoots with Varvis. If I told him Varvis was digging something in the middle of the night, he would reply that the man could do as he pleased on his property. I was convinced that what they were doing was illegal, otherwise why would they be doing it now, under the cover of darkness?

  Something snapped inside me. I stood up and revealed myself.

  Alexandros was the first to notice me, turning the blade of his sword toward me. He called out to his father, who signaled to Simon to stop. Agile as a cat, Simon jumped out of the pit and moved toward me, raising the shovel threateningly. He stopped a couple of steps away, swearing, spraying me with spittle as his raged. He swung back the shovel to hit me, but Varvis barked at him to stop. Like an obedient dog, he froze.

  I instantly realized the gravity of my error, but it was too late. I would not run away like a coward. Varvis came to stand beside his steward, as did his son. The flickerin
g flames cast their faces in shadow, but I could feel their hatred pierce me like a poisoned dart.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t our esteemed archaeologist,” Varvis spat out in his hoarse voice.

  I decided to go on the offensive. “So I was right, Varvis.”

  “About what?” he asked sarcastically, looking at the others.

  Alexandros shifted a little, and the red glow of the flames lit up his face. I gasped when I saw the loathing in his eyes, wondering how it was possible for a small child to harbor such hatred.

  “I know what you are up to,” I said. “If you hand everything over to the Greek Archaeological Service, I may not report what took place here tonight. But you will have to return everything that doesn’t belong to you.”

  Varvis walked up to me and shoved his face in mine. “Everything here belongs to my family. I told you time and again, but you don’t seem to understand. It’s mine.”

  “Are you telling me that this chest is filled with your personal belongings?” I asked, wincing at his wine-laced breath.

  “See for yourself, if you wish. Family heirlooms we hid from the Bulgarians.” He stepped aside to let me pass.

  I was taken aback by his gesture, but I was running out of options. Hesitantly, I walked around the fire to the chest. Simon lowered his shovel and followed me. I felt the flames burn my face, which had frozen with fear. I could hear them walking behind me. The horse stomped on the ground and let out a fierce snort.

  The two men stepped around me and stood by the chest. Varvis nodded at Simon. My heart stopped at the thought that he would hit me with the shovel. I breathed more easily when I saw him place its cutting edge against the rusty lock. With a sharp twist, he broke it open and flung back the lid.

  “Here, take a look.” Nicholas pointed to the interior. I approached and leaned over. A rotting piece of cloth, covered in mud, hid the chest’s contents.

  “Unwrap it,” he ordered. “We have nothing to hide.”

  As I bent down to pull away the cloth, I caught the nod he gave to his steward, but it was too late. There was a sharp pain at the back of my skull, and I fell forward, hitting my nose and teeth on the chest’s edge. The taste of warm blood filled my mouth, and everything became a blur.

  A strange sense of calm came over me. My body was numb from the waist down. I felt no pain. My eyes were tightly shut. I could feel Varvis and Simon beside me, removing something from the pit. I could hear their voices as if they were coming from afar, and I wondered if I was alive or whether I was experiencing the final flashes of reality as I left this world.

  My eyelids felt so heavy; steel trapdoors keeping me locked in the dark. I lost all sense of time, could not tell if seconds, or minutes, or hours were passing, whether I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  The shock that ripped through my body as I landed on hard ground was a sign that I was still alive. My mouth filled with soil and blood. With great difficulty, I moved my tongue around my mouth, pushing out the thick paste, trying to breathe. I tried to open my mouth, to say something. No sound came. My voice refused to obey; it no longer belonged to me.

  Suddenly, everything went quiet. A tiny spark of hope rekindled in my heart. Maybe they had just abandoned me here. Blindly, I began to feel the ground around me. My fingers brushed against a soil wall, and I realized I was lying at the bottom of the ditch they had dug. I sank my nails into the walls, trying to shuffle further up, to see if there was a way out of this shallow grave. Unable to see, unable to move my legs, I dragged my unwilling body behind me.

  After what felt like a lifetime, the crown of my head brushed against the back end of the ditch. I raised my hand and began to scrape the soil, trying to carve some kind of hold that would help me haul myself up. The effort proved too much for my injured body. Once again, I sank into oblivion.

  I was woken by the sound of a strange, otherworldly voice. I could not tell whether it was coming from outside or whether it was in my head, but it gave me the strength to sink my hand into the soil once again.

  Somehow, I had managed to dig a small hole in the wall of the ditch. Desperately feeling around the hole, my fingers touched something cold … a nose, a mouth, the shape of eyes … I spread out my palm and felt the shape of a face. The otherworldly voice became louder, filling me with new strength.

  Suddenly, I was shaken by the thud of feet landing beside me. I felt a hot breath against my ear, whispering about a house fire. Something cold pierced my chest.

  Nothing made sense. I could not see. I could not feel.

  I smiled and opened my eyes. In the dim light of the fire, I saw her alabaster face surge through the soil, a look of tenderness, giving me courage. The features shifted, and for a second I saw my mother; then Zoe, smiling and calling me to her. She was at the house, waiting for me. She would leave in the morning, and I wanted to see her again, before we vanished from each other’s lives for who knows how long. Then the face reverted to its original form and, before the darkness engulfed me, I saw her rise in a flash of white light and call me to her. She looked exactly like I had envisioned her in all my dreams …

  Varvis grabbed Andreas by the armpits. Simon gripped the injured man’s legs, and they clumsily flung him into the ditch.

  “We need to carry the chest up the hill,” Varvis told his son. “You stay here and keep guard. We’ll be right back. If he tries to get up, call us.” The two men grabbed the wooden chest and walked away.

  Alexandros coldly looked at the motionless body at the bottom of the ditch, and began to sing a tune his mother had taught him. Suddenly, he noticed that the man had moved. The boy inched closer to the hole in the ground. He could tell the man was trying to get out, and wondered what he should do.

  He looked at the distant figures of the two men, then leapt into the ditch. He kicked the man to see if he was alive. Andreas gave a jolt. Alexandros leaned into his ear. “We burned down your house,” he whispered, bringing the blade of his sword over Andreas’s heart. Without flinching, he plunged the sword into his chest. “Now, we win.”

  The smile on Andreas’s lips startled him. When he saw the man’s eyes open, he jumped out of the ditch, stifling a yelp. A few seconds later, he cautiously crept back to the edge. He dispassionately observed Andreas’s final struggle to pull himself out of the ditch. He could see the man’s hand, scraping away at the soil, but could not understand why he would do that. Soon he lost interest and sat back, singing loudly as he watched his father and Simon return.

  Nicholas saw the handle of the sword sticking out of Andreas’s chest, and grabbed the boy by the hand. “We’ll take this chest, it’s lighter,” he told Simon. “You stay behind and clean up. When we load the horse, we will set off. There is no time to wait for you. Cover the ditch with leaves and branches; make sure the fresh soil doesn’t show. Another storm is on its way.” He pointed to the forked lightning tearing up the sky in the distance.

  Alexandros picked up one of the chest handles and walked away without saying a word. When father and son had moved away, Simon looked inside the freshly dug ditch. He was surprised to see Andreas’s outstretched hand, but felt no inclination to find out why. He kicked the glowing embers into the ditch and started to fill the hole with soil, without even checking if the man he was burying was dead.

  The first heavy raindrops began to fall on the moist ground. There was a bright flash of light, and then the ground shook with the rumble of nearby thunder.

  The storm had just died out, leaving devastation in its wake. Wet mist covered the port as the sun rose, and the handful of passengers gathered at the dock were informed by the loud voice of the crier that the boat would soon be departing for Alexandroupolis. Few had managed to reach the port in the aftermath of the storm.

  Even though the land had been ravaged, the sea remained calm, as if obeying a different god. Slowly, the passengers walked up the gangway and boarded the wooden boat. Last in line, her back turned to the sea, Zoe scanned the dock in the hope that
Andreas might still appear. Her heart raced faster when she saw a man running down the street, then sank when she recognized the familiar figure of Vasilis.

  He ran up to her, gesticulating wildly, pointing to the boat. Zoe looked lost. She hesitated, until a voice asked her if she would be boarding. She fumbled in her bag and pulled out a scrap of paper and an old pencil stub. She scribbled something down hastily, and gave it to Vasilis. Then she ran up the gangway, following the two men carrying a muddy wooden chest. She stepped aside as the sailor pulled it up, then stood there, face always turned to the port, hand gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  Even when the boat had sailed into open water, she kept looking toward Samothrace, hoping to catch the face of her beloved one last time. Even though they would be reunited in a week, it seemed like an eternity away. But the port remained deserted. Even Vasilis was nowhere to be seen.

  Clouds were circling the mountain peak like a ring of steel, cutting it off from the rest of the island. It looked as if it was rising to the sky, lifted by the hands of an invisible god of wrath. It was hard to tell where sea ended and land began until the early morning rays burst out from the east.

  To the west, a pale half-moon slowly descended. Still as a statue, Zoe’s eyes had become one with the island shores, hopelessly searching for a sign from Andreas. She was bursting with the urge to ask the captain to turn back, to dive into the deep waters and swim to Samothrace.

  She shook her head, trying to chase away a mounting sense of dread. Beside her, an old woman dressed in black, hair covered by the traditional dark headscarf, held a small girl by the hand, and pointed to the mountain. Like a folk tale from days long gone, her words reached Zoe …

  “Where sea and sky merge,

  Like sugar and water,

  Where the moon paves a road of silk,

  That is where the fairies weep …”