Dominion of the Moon

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Dominion of the Moon Page 19

by Kostas Krommydas


  I was in no mood to talk to them here and now, so I tried to worm my way out of a conversation, saying I had to walk the dog. They replied that there would be plenty of time to talk, as they would be joining us on the trip to Samothrace. The only silver lining was that they would be spending the evening at a hotel. I bid them goodnight and walked off, leaving the property and making my way to the sea.

  It was getting dark, but the few street lamps along the way were enough to see by. The rocks on either side of the house were steep, but a small dirt path wound its way along the shore. A stone staircase at the side of the path led down to the beach, but I preferred to make my way along the coastline.

  The waves below crashed on the shore. The land, with its sharp vertical drops toward the water, reminded me of parts of Scotland, where the only access to the shore was by the sea. I remembered my grandmother climbing down the rocks with such ease; whenever I asked how she did that, she would reply that that was how she had survived. During the day, the face of the small cliffs would be reflected in the waters below, mixing their earthy colors with the blue expanse.

  I freed Destine and felt like she looked: as if I had just been released from the bonds that had been holding me captive. The cool breeze was a breath of freedom against my face. I turned toward the island, where the bright pinpricks of lit windows and streetlights flickered, a sign of life.

  How wonderful it would have been to have Eva here with me. We had often talked of the island, but had never made it here. Her illness cruelly put a stop to all our dreams.

  I paused and dreamily watched the island that had marked my family’s existence. So many years had passed since then. It all seemed like a fairytale. I walked to a streetlight and sat on a large, flat rock beneath it. Destine, panting, ran up to stand beside me, enjoying the wonderful evening view of Samothrace. At times like this, I was convinced she and I felt exactly the same way.

  Iro stood on the highest stone rampart, gazing across the sea toward the mainland. The wind tore at her long white dress, the fabric fluttering behind her like a pair of wings ready to carry her away. Her hair streamed behind her in all directions, dark slashes against the white fabric.

  Erato stepped onto the rampart and walked toward her. Sensing her friend’s presence, Iro pointed to the lights of Maronia and spoke without turning to face her. “In ancient times, the prospective initiate would sail over from there. If they were not worthy, the gods would prevent their arrival, raising large waves that swallowed up their vessels.”

  Erato did not reply at first, giving her friend a few more minutes of quiet solitude. Then she gently touched her hand and said, “It is time. They are waiting for you. Remember, today is the first stage of my preparation. All will go well. You know what you must do.”

  Iron nodded and turned to follow her down the stairs that led to the courtyard. A crowd was gathered there. All along the wall, torches cast their red and orange glow on the expectant faces and black tunics. As soon as the two women appeared, the crowd parted. A drum could be heard from the depths of the passageway, drumming out the pace of their footsteps.

  A large chair stood on a wooden dais at the center of the courtyard, covered in purple cloth. Erato, keeping her gaze fixed firmly ahead, slowly lowered herself onto the chair. Alexandros and Miltos stood in front of her, looking at her aloofly. Iro walked behind her and began to weave Erato’s hair into an intricate knot. She then raised a clay amphora and poured its contents around the chair, forming a red circle. The smell of strong wine wafted up from the flagstones. She handed the amphora to Erato, who raised it to her lips and hungrily gulped down the remaining drops.

  Two men appeared from under the arches, one of them holding a torch high above his head to light the way. The other man tightly gripped a black lamb. Ceremoniously, he approached the chair and laid the frightened animal in Erato’s lap. As soon as the helpless lamb felt the strong hands release their grip, it kicked and jerked in a desperate bid for freedom. Startled, Iro helped Erato take the animal into her arms. Holding the lamb tightly against her bosom, Erato rose and stood before the two men.

  The man who had been carrying the lamb now held an iron rod against the flames until it glowed a deep red. Alexandros stepped forward and received the rod. His daughter’s frightened glance met his, and he glowered at her to come to her senses. Iro, fully understanding the stern message in that look, gripped the animal’s hind legs to hold it steady. Varvis raised the branding iron and seared the animal’s flesh.

  The lamb let out a bleat of agony as the hot metal made contact with its skin, and desperately struggled to escape. Iro, standing beside Erato, turned her head away, unable to stand the sight of its agony. Varvis handed the iron back to the man, then raised his hands to the sky. Accompanied by the bleating of the lamb, his voice rang out across the courtyard.

  All is born of fire.

  His phrase echoed three times, repeated by the gathered faithful. One of them took the lamb and exited through the passageway. Erato returned to her chair as one by one they knelt before her, each leaving a small pouch wrapped in black fabric beside her feet.

  Once the last gift had been left beside her, Erato stood up. Her clear voice broke out in a hymn as she picked up the pouches and emptied their contents onto the circle of wine that surrounded her. Soil fell on the red liquid and became thick, blood-colored mud.

  She then gripped Iro and led her to the chair. Iro sat and lowered her head, closing her eyes as if she did not want to see what would follow. Each of the men took a torch and approached her. Alexandros stepped forward and lifted her chin. She opened her eyes, expressionless, and stood up. She bent down and kissed his hand.

  Alexandros slowly removed one of his rings and pulled a leather cord through it. Under the sound of a whispered chant that grew louder and louder, he placed the leather cord around her neck and tied the two ends together. The chant died down abruptly when he stepped back.

  “In three days, with the coming of the full moon, we will be celebrating the beginning of a new era,” he solemnly announced. “You will be the witnesses, the partakers of that great moment, set by our ancestors in their scriptures. The ring will anoint the Chosen One’s finger during the ceremony. The earth you have brought from all the sacred lands will house this new dawn. In three days, all shall die, and all shall be reborn, through the body of the Great Mother.”

  He beckoned Miltos to join him. Taking the young man by the shoulders, he gently guided him so he stood beside Iro, who looked on, stunned. She froze at her father’s next words.

  “With the union of the next generation, the first great cycle ends. Tomorrow, we await the remaining chosen ones for the second phase. With the blessings of the Moon, we will come even closer to the gods and their commands.”

  Holding a large tray laden with clay cups, a woman made her way through the gathering, handing out drinks. When the last cup had been handed to Iro, Alexandros raised his cup in a toast. “The initiation rites have been passed down from generation to generation, to reach us today, unsoiled by the scum who would taint it. Those who dared betray the vows of silence were punished as they deserved, without mercy.”

  He brought the cup to his lips and downed the drink in a single gulp. The others did the same. The sound of the drum grew louder and louder. Like a swarm of bees, everyone gathered around Iro. The beat and the rhythm became stronger, faster, mingling with their voices in a chaotic song that came to an abrupt end as soon as it reached its peak.

  For a few seconds, only the whistle of the wind through the cracks in the tall walls broke the silence. Alexandros, annoyed at his daughter’s awkward stance, discreetly nudged her to move toward the passageway. As if in a trance, Iro walked away. Everyone parted to make way, breaking their cups on the flagstones as she moved past them, Erato accompanying her exit with a soft melody.

  As they made their way into the dark shadows, a man raised his arms to the sky and began to chant loudly in ancient Greek:

  Awf
ul mysteries which no one may in any way transgress or pry into or utter, for deep awe of the gods checks the voice.

  Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and who has no part in them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the darkness and gloom.[1]

  I took a long shower as soon as we returned to the guesthouse. After that, I felt ready to enter the house, to be close to my grandmother. I left Destine behind, lying on her chosen spot, worn out by the long walk.

  It was past midnight, and all was quiet. The soft sea breeze greeted me as I stepped outside, and it accompanied me to the front porch of the house, where Vasilis sat on a deck chair waiting for me. The door was open, and I could see a handful of women inside, settled on couches and armchairs, ready to spend the night. I pulled up a chair and sat beside Vasilis.

  “How was the walk?” he asked.

  “Good. I don’t remember the last time I walked around in these parts. It’s still as beautiful as it was back then.” I turned to look at the sea. “Have my cousins left?”

  He smirked. “Yes, they only stayed a short while, and then went to have dinner. We’ll meet them on the boat tomorrow, in Alexandroupolis.”

  I was dying to find out why they were suddenly showing such concern for a woman they had spent most of their life ignoring. “Why are they here now?” I asked, and he smirked again.

  “You’ll find out tomorrow, son.” Seeing my worried frown, he hurriedly added, “It’s nothing to worry about. They are here for a very specific reason, and you will find out tomorrow. It’s up to you what you decide. Now is not the time to concern yourself with them …”

  He bent down and picked up something wrapped in paper. “Your grandmother had given this to Sophia, with strict instructions that I should give it to you if I were still alive. You understand … She knew the end was near, and she wanted you to have it. She drew the story of her life, from the moment she met your grandfather. It’s all here, like a picture diary, as she remembered it and put it down on paper.”

  I carefully unwrapped it. A full moon and Samothrace’s dark outline were drawn on the sketchbook cover. I struggled to read the word written above it, but as soon as I made out the syllables, I remembered having heard that word before. The voice of the woman at the castle came to my mind as I whispered, “Ouranoessa,” trying to understand what it meant.

  Vasilis picked up the question in my voice and tried to explain. “It’s what some people call Samothrace,” he said, pointing in the direction of the island. “You’ll see the rest inside the sketch book.”

  I turned over some of the pages, glancing at the beautiful drawings. I wanted to be alone when I looked at it more carefully. I stood up. “I think I’ll head inside.”

  “You do that, son. You do as your heart desires.”

  I walked inside, leaving Vasilis on his deck chair. The house was lit by dozens of candles. A woman pointed to a chair where I should sit. I sat there silently for a long while, surrounded by the quiet women, the sketchbook resting on my lap. Hushed conversations would break out briefly, and then silence would return.

  What a shame I had not spent more time with Zoe. I knew she was having health troubles, but I did not do everything I could to visit her. I had thrown myself into work, told myself there would be plenty of time later. I so wanted to share the news of the Nazi we had arrested; I think she would have been glad to hear it. She had been so interested in that case. She kept saying that, eventually, we all pay the price for our actions. Even though she had become forgetful in her old age, she retained the things that interested her.

  From the corner of my eye, I caught Vasilis beckoning me. I tiptoed in his direction. He whispered that he was going to bed, and that there was no reason for me to spend the night sitting there. He urged me to get as much rest as I could. We had a difficult day ahead of us tomorrow. I wished him goodnight, and went to the garden for a walk.

  There was no way I could manage to get some sleep. I walked down the paved corridor and reached the gazebo and her empty chair, the last remnant of all her memories. Strangely, I felt her presence more strongly here than when I had been staring at her dead body. Maybe her soul was still sitting here, at her beloved spot.

  I walked to the edge, feeling uneasy as to what I should do. After a lot of thought, I decided to sit in her chair. I thought something might happen when I did, but everything remained the same.

  I gazed up at the carved roof of the gazebo. A sudden thought made me sit up straight. In the chaos of last-minute travel arrangements, I had forgotten to notify Zoe’s old friends and colleagues in New York about her passing. None of the archaeologists she had met on Samothrace were still alive, but my grandmother had kept in touch with other people she had met at work, even after her retirement. It was obviously too late for anyone to come to the funeral, even if they had wanted to, but I felt she would have wanted me to let them know.

  I typed a short message and sent it to the person in charge of human resources, feeling bad about having neglected to inform them. I did not think anyone would come all this way, but in any case, they ought to know. My phone buzzed and, to my great surprise, I saw a reply. “We are sorry for the loss of your grandmother. The head of archaeological research is in Alexandroupolis already, and will be attending the funeral tomorrow, representing us all. Please accept our deepest condolences.”

  Someone had obviously informed them, and I was stunned anyone would attend. I was glad, in any case, that those who had known and loved her would be present for tomorrow’s last goodbye. It confirmed what I already knew, that she had been admired and respected.

  I opened the sketchbook, but it was too dark to see. I leaned back against the chair, taking in the view she had enjoyed all these years. Tears filled my eyes, and a flood of memories broke through the dam of my defenses.

  I sobbed, alone under the gazebo, feeling the grief for my grandmother and everything that had hurt me …

  Most of the guests had left the tower. Only a handful remained in the courtyard, sweeping up the clay shards that lay scattered on the flagstones. Varvis asked Miltos to send them away, and then tell Iro to come see him. Miltos did as asked, and a few minutes later stepped back out, closely followed by Iro. Her eyes were red and puffy.

  Alexandros motioned for them to join him at the table, and immediately turned to his daughter. “I understand you are under a lot of pressure, my child,” he said calmly. “Luckily, everyone thought your awkwardness was just nerves. I know you will be ready by the full moon and we will not have a repeat of tonight.”

  He paused, waiting for an answer, and when Iro bowed her head in acquiescence, he continued. “You understand that you carry the history of countless generations on your shoulders, and that you must rise to the task. Until you bear a son, you will be everyone’s Great Mother.” Suddenly, as if he could no longer contain the rage boiling inside him, he brought his fist down hard on the table, sending a glass flying to the floor. “Don’t you ever dare question what we stand for, not for as long as I live!” he shouted.

  Iro and Miltos froze. Even the wind seemed to pause and stand still before this angry outburst. “Do you understand? Or are you going to humiliate us again before our guests?”

  Iro was shocked. She had never seen her father like this before. Shaking, she nodded, showing she understood. She stood up to leave, but her father grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit back down. “Do you understand?” he screamed in her face.

  Unable to do anything else, Iro looked him in the eye and drily said, “Yes.” She then pulled her hand away and went back inside.

  Miltos stood up to follow her, but Varvis motioned for him to stay. “Bring us a drink,” he shouted insolently, sweeping the remaining glasses off the table. His face had turned red, the veins at his temple visibly throbbing. He turned to Miltos, who stood rooted to the spot. “It is time you know which part you play in the initiation ceremony. My daughter needs to understand once
and for all what it means to submit to our beliefs.”

  Confused, Miltos sat back down and waited. As soon as the servant brought a tray with drinks, Alexandros shooed her away and lowered his voice. In great detail, he began to explain what would happen in a few days …

  We had just reached the port of Alexandroupolis, the ferry already waiting at the dock, “Saos” written in large letters on its side. I had decided to take Destine with me and spend a few days on the island. Vasilis occupied the passenger seat beside me, so for the first time on this journey, Destine had to content herself with the back seat of the car.

  Ahead, the hearse that carried my grandmother was pulling up by the ferry. All I had asked of Sophia was that things be kept simple, without any extravagant floral displays or wreaths. All of us formed a small funeral procession; only a few neighbors had joined us from Maronia.

  I had fallen asleep on Zoe’s chair the previous night, to be woken a couple of hours later when one of the women at the wake covered me with a blanket. I got up then and stayed beside my grandmother until the morning, when the hearse arrived.

  The ship would be departing in a few minutes, and I was impressed by the number of travelers waiting to board. “How come there are so many people today, in September?” I asked Vasilis.

  “It’s the full moon in a few days. Most are here for this full moon,” he solemnly replied.

  “What’s so special about this full moon?” I asked.

  Vasilis shifted uncomfortably in his seat and did not reply, pointing instead to the port guard checking everyone’s tickets. He picked up his ticket from the dashboard and stepped outside the car, saying he would meet me inside. I was puzzled by his odd behavior, but did not press him. Instead, I drove on and parked in the ferry’s garage, right behind the hearse.

 

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