Dominion of the Moon

by Kostas Krommydas

  She stood there, silently. She wore jeans and a white t-shirt. It was the first time I had seen her so casually dressed.

  “I’m sorry … This was a mistake,” she said, while I gawked at her like a love-struck teenager.

  I sprung toward her, knocking my chair back in my haste. “Wait …” I said, and gently turned her to face me. Her eyes were moist, and I could not stop looking into them. “Would you like some wine?”

  She nodded as if she really needed a drink, and I guided her to the table. I returned with a glass, filled it, and sat across from her.

  “It’s very pretty at this hour,” she said. “The music makes me feel like I’ve travelled back in time.”

  “That’s probably when this gramophone was last used. Back in time, so now it wants to carry us there.”

  I raised my glass. She mirrored the gesture. “I want to ask you something else. It is the last thing I will ever ask of you,” she said. “As of tomorrow, my life will take a different path. I would like to spend tonight with you.”

  It was the last thing I’d expected her to say. Before I could reply, she lowered her voice and hurriedly explained, “I want to stay here … Nothing more. To spend the evening in each other’s company. Drink wine, and talk about anything—except our families, and what happened between them. Talk as if we’ve only just met, talk until dawn. Then I will leave …”

  I hesitated. “You do realize that if someone comes looking for you here …”

  “No one will come looking for me,” she said with certainty.

  As much as I knew that her presence here was a mistake, I could not resist the urge to be with her. What else could happen to us, anyway? I raised my glass and covered her hand with my palm. The clinking of the wine glasses coincided with the end of the record. “Where do we start?” I asked, following her rules.

  “Talk to me about this woman who will always be in your heart.”

  I felt a knot in my throat. I pulled away the bandage and looked at the tattoo. My first dramatic meeting with Eva flashed before my eyes. I raised my gaze to Iro, and smiled as the words tumbled from my lips.

  I opened my eyes with difficulty the next morning, a fierce headache hammering my temples. The bedroom spun as I tried to get up. Despite the copious amounts drunk the previous evening, I recalled every detail. We had talked for hours in the garden, sipping wine and losing track of time and place as we connected.

  A sudden cloudburst had forced us to run inside and seek shelter. The awkwardness had returned then, as we silently looked at each other, as if rethinking all of the reasons that were keeping us apart.

  It had been impossible not to feel a quaver of excited anticipation at the memory of what we had shared the previous evening on this same spot. Iro had looked at me intensely, and I could read my own thoughts in her eyes.

  A raindrop had dripped from my hair down my face, waking me from my reverie and interrupting the flow of images flashing through my mind. Rather abruptly, I had offered her a seat on an armchair in the corner, and I sat down on the bed across from her. Not without difficulty, we’d managed to overcome the uncomfortable moment, and continued sharing stories from our lives, mostly beautiful moments, keeping our eyes from lingering on each other.

  I cannot tell how many hours passed until we finally fell asleep, after a prolonged silence. The last thing I remembered feeling was the weight of her body pressing down on the mattress beside me. She’d leaned her head on my chest and stroked my face. My mind, my senses, had been awake, but I’d preferred not to show it. I’d kept my eyes shut, knowing that if I opened them, I would be unable to resist the sensation of Iro leaning against my body.

  I got up and walked to the window. She wasn’t in the garden. I found her note on the kitchen table, on top of my grandmother’s sketchbook. I unfolded the piece of paper, and a ring fell out. I picked it up and immediately recognized it. It was the ring her father had put on her finger during the ceremony, the ring that had left its marks on my body that same night. I placed it in my pocket and read her farewell.

  “If our paths ever cross again, you can return it. Thank you for the clear skies. Take care. I.”

  I handed the owner the house keys, and asked if I could take a pomegranate with me. He told me I could take as many as I wanted, just mind the thorns. I carefully picked a ripe pomegranate, the red seeds peeking through a crack in its skin, and left the beautiful house. I put my luggage in the car, intending to visit Vasilis first, and then the spot where we had discovered the shallow grave. Destine and I would then travel to Alexandroupolis, hoping her life could be saved. I could not put her down, as the vet suggested.

  I had only driven a few feet when the phone rang. Alkistis spoke rapidly, unable to contain her excitement, so fast I could not understand most of what she was saying. Something about the coroner asking for the help of the Archaeological Service, about some old artifacts found beside the remains.

  Alkistis begged me to go there immediately. I wasted no time turning around and driving to the Sanctuary, parking at the now familiar spot and walking up the hill. I was impressed by the number of cars parked on the hill, and the crowd of people gathered around the grave like bees around a honey pot.

  I looked up to where the Varvis tower stood. On the ramparts was a woman who could have been Iro. The wind tore at her hair and long, white dress as if trying to sweep her away.

  Alkistis called out my name, forcing me to turn to her. She walked up to me, put an arm around my waist, and asked me to follow her. Everyone fell silent and parted to let us through. The coroner stood at the edge of the trench, as well as an elderly man in a straw hat. He was holding a small brush, gently sweeping the soil away. Almost the entire skeleton had been uncovered.

  Around the human remains, pieces of marble were scattered. I mentally joined the dots, and thought I could make out something resembling a wing. Alkistis informed me the man in the pit was an archaeologist who worked at the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. He stopped what he was doing when he saw me. With a smile, he gave me his hand to help me down into the pit. I could feel everyone’s excitement pulsating through the air.

  “Look,” he said, pointing to where the hand bones ended.

  “What’s going on? What is this statue?” I asked, looking around. No one spoke. Everyone had turned to look at the archaeologist, hanging on to his every word.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “We can safely assume that the broken wings and the head of the statue behind you …”

  I closed my eyes, feeling time stand still.

  “… belong to the Statue of the Winged Victory, which is housed in the Louvre. The Nike of Samothrace.”

  I opened my eyes and looked again at the statue that emerged from the ground. My grandfather’s fingers spread across the cheeks of the sculpted head, as if trying to bring it even closer to him. The face of the goddess was turned toward him, as if she had been talking to him all these years …

  The title of the article took up most of my mobile screen. A Historic Discovery. Winged Victory at last complete.

  In a strange twist of fate, the remains of a murdered archaeologist who went missing in 1949 lead to the discovery of the head of the statue …

  I could not even remember how many articles I’d read, in Greek and in English. The news, the unusual circumstances, had gripped everyone’s attention.

  I switched off my phone and placed it on the table. A month had gone by, but the story was still doing the rounds. Across the bay, besieged by thick clouds, Samothrace was somehow still visible. I always loved gazing at the shades of reddish soil, fainter by the coast, sharper when it reached the edge of the small cliff hanging over the shore and stretching as far as the eye could see. The autumnal melancholy brought on by October was sweeping summer memories away, along with everything that had happened on Samothrace.

  I did not know if and when I would return. My grandparents’ graves were my only link to the otherwise beautiful island. DNA results had pr
oved that the remains, including the hand that held the statue’s head, belonged to my grandfather. His reputation rehabilitated at last, he was now celebrated as a hero.

  He had always wanted to excavate that piece of land, as if he could sense something important was buried there. He’d led everyone to the statue he had been hunting all his life in the end, thanks to Destine. I asked many dog experts, but no one could explain how she could have smelled the buried remains.

  Alkistis claimed that the island gods had led my dog to the grave, and had given her the strength to do so. The truth was that even I could sense the strange energy of the island, even now, gazing at it from afar.

  The discovery of the Winged Victory’s head had started a conversation about where the statue belonged, and what should happen next. Some insisted that the statue should stay at the Louvre once its missing parts were reattached. Others argued that it was time for it to return home and go on permanent display in the Sanctuary of the Great Gods, as it had thousands of years ago. Others still offered a compromise: complete the statue at the Louvre, and share the statue between Paris and Samothrace.

  Overwhelmed by the dramatic developments, I grieved at never knowing my grandfather, although now I felt as if he had been watching over me all these years. I felt great sadness that Zoe and Andreas, two people who loved one another so wholeheartedly, had only shared a few days together. Everyone but Vasilis was now gone. Because of his age and his health problems, he was placed under house arrest while he awaited trial. His limp had swayed the prosecutor.

  Before Vasilis returned to the island, I asked him once again why he pretended to have a limp all these years. “Always keep a secret for yourself,” he replied, pointing to his stick. “One you will never reveal. This is my secret.”

  He cried as he told me how much he had loved my grandmother, how he had never confessed his love for her. I was taken aback when I heard that, but I could feel his love, his attachment to her. Another selfless love, a love unfulfilled that never saw the light of day. I promised to go visit him whenever I came back to Maronia, but something inside me told me that was to be our last meeting.

  Sitting in Zoe’s favorite spot, I felt guilty I had not spent more time with her, especially during the last years of her life when she wanted to spend all her time here. I’d often asked her to visit me, but she refused to travel to the States. “You are always away at work, Andreas,” she’d say. “What am I going to do all alone for so many hours? The sky keeps me company in Maronia, talks to me …”

  Much had happened in the last month. My life had changed irrevocably in ways I would have never expected when I set off on this journey. I would be returning to work in a few days, but I did not feel ready to continue with my old life. I knew that back in New York I would have to make some brave decisions about my life, about how I wished to spend it from now on.

  The moist tip of Destine’s nose against my hand startled me, and I pulled it away, turning to pat her as soon as I realized who it was. Her right hind leg was now gone, and she was trying to learn how to walk again. The vet in Alexandroupolis had gone way beyond the call of duty to keep her alive. Although Destine was still recovering, she was ready for the flight back. A medal from the Archaeological Service joined her collection of medals for bravery earned during the time she had worked with Eva.

  I felt arms slide over my shoulders and stretch down to pat Destine. Iro walked around the chair and sat on my lap, gazing into my eyes.

  “Is it time?” I asked.

  A long, lingering kiss was her reply. Destine gave a low, complaining whine, and we broke into a fit of laughter. “Someone is jealous,” Iro said.

  “Where were we?” I asked, seeking her lips.

  She pretended not to understand. “You asked me if it was time …”

  “And?”

  “It is time, Andreas. Before you go, I want to …”

  I reached out and placed two fingers gently against her lips. There was no need for words. It was as if we knew each other’s thoughts before they were even spoken.

  I broke the silence that followed, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ll talk every day …”

  Iro nodded, and her eyes brimmed with tears.

  “I guess I should get going …”

  “Yes, if you want to make the evening flight. Unless …”

  I pulled her against me and kissed her deeply, at the same time avoiding giving an answer. Once again, I was transported by her touch, her lips. Softly, our lips parted and we turned to look at Samothrace. Who knew how long it would be before I saw it again.

  Destine whimpered and cried as we all three gazed at the island. Reluctantly, I got up. “I have to bring in the things from the garden …”

  “Sophia and I will take care of it after you go. Can we stay here a little longer?”

  Every second that passed carried me further away from the place that had led us to each other’s arms. With her head against my shoulder, Iro’s gaze led mine over the sea, the island, up to the sky, until our eyes filled with blue.

  We got up with a start, as if we had fallen asleep. Arm in arm, we walked to the car that would take me away from her. Mechanically, I opened the passenger door and pointed it out to Destine. It was impossible for her to hop inside the car. I bent down and picked her up. She whimpered softly when she noticed Iro staying behind. Even when Destine was in the seat and I had closed the door, she rose with great difficulty and snuck her snout though the window’s opening, her cries getting louder. Iro approached her and stroked her, brushing her cheek against Destine’s.

  It was clear Destine wanted Iro in the car, and for a second I wondered whether I should ask her to join me. Luckily, my head overruled my heart. “You can stay at the house for as long as you want, until you sort things out,” I said.

  I was trying to hide my real feelings. I knew that at present, after everything that had happened, the distance would be good for us. Everything had happened so suddenly, we both needed time to gain perspective.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said, and fell into my arms. She hugged me tightly, then kissed my cheek and hurriedly turned back toward the house. I saw her raise her hand to her cheeks to wipe away tears as she quickly walked away. She did not turn back to look at me, even once I was in the car and driving through the large gates.

  Through the rear view mirror, I saw her walk to the chair under the gazebo and sit, facing Samothrace. I stopped the car, trying to sear the picture of her sitting there in my memory. Then I released the brake, and the car gently rolled down the hill, the leaves of the plane tries blotting out Iro and the balcony to the sky piece by piece.

  The sun was setting, and Iro remained seated. In the distance, Samothrace glowed gold in the sunlight. The clouds had dispersed, and in the sharp crispness of the evening the island seemed so close that she could almost reach out her hand to touch it.

  Gazing at the land that had marked and shaped her whole existence, tears glistened like diamonds on Iro’s cheeks as she surrendered to her feelings and wept; as dusk gave way to night and the full moon rose once again in the sky.

  ____________________________________________________________________

  The End

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  Acknowledgements

  * * *

  I’d like to thank:

  Realize Italy and especially Simone Arnaboldi for the construction of the collectible steel boxes of the book.

  Jewelry designer Nikolaos Papazisis for the creation of the book's collectible initiation ring.

  The traditional guesthouse "AXIEROS" in Samothrace for their unique hospitality.

  Special thanks to:

  Pagona Katsaki, archaeologist at the Archaeological Museum of Samothrace.

  Glykeria Dimitropoulou, Maria Christou, Lila Kotrotsiou, and Giota Riga for their excellent collaboration.

  Marina Georgiou for the lyrics of the song she wrote for “Ourano
essa.”

  Andrea Manolikaki and his lovely dog, Fourio!

  Zoe Tiganouria and Mikaela Darmani for the musical composition and interpretation of the book's song.

  Finally, Melacroini Martidou, Roula Arisseh, Vassiliki Dimoudi, Maria Valsamidou, Eleni Mylona, Alkisti Zachou, Moschoula Kontostavlou, Giorgo Gouma, Dimitri Tsantarlioti, Aliki Sarra, Stathi Christopoulo, Dimitri Lyberopoulo, Dimitri Arabatzi, Elena Kyriakou, Christo Kanellopoulo, Antonio Armani, Jasmin Egglezou, and Kyriaki Amvrosiadou for all the help they offered me, knowingly or unknowingly.

  About the author

  * * *

  When Kostas Krommydas decided to write his first novel, he took the publishing world of his native Greece by storm. A few years later, he is an award winning author of five bestselling novels, acclaimed actor, teacher and passionate storyteller. His novels have been among the top 10 at the prestigious Public Book Awards (Greece) and his novel “Ouranoessa” has won first place (2017). He has also received the coveted WISH writer’s award in 2013 as an emerging author. When not working on his next novel at the family beach house in Athens, you will find him acting on theatre, film, and TV; teaching public speaking; interacting with his numerous fans; and writing guest articles for popular Greek newspapers, magazines, and websites. If you want to find out more about Costas, visit his website, http://kostaskrommydas.gr/ or check out his books on Amazon: Author.to/KostasKrommydas

  More Books

  * * *

  Cave of Silence

  A Love So Strong, It Ripples Through The Ages.

  Dimitri, a young actor, is enjoying the lucky break of his life—a part in an international production shot on an idyllic Greek island and a romance with Anita, his beautiful co-star. When his uncle dies, he has one last wish: that Dimitri scatters his ashes on the island of his birthplace. At first, Dimitri welcomes this opportunity to shed some light on his family’s history—a history clouded in secrecy. But why does his mother beg him to hide his identity once there?