by Steve Farley
Acracia
The Rhodope Lodge, where Alec was staying, housed a cavernous dining room, and that night it was packed with cast and crew. Everyone was eating at different tables, more or less self-segregated according to job description—actors with actors, carpenters with carpenters, camera people with camera people. Alec took a plate of food from the buffet and found a place with some of the horse folk, Karst Balastritis, Xeena and Matt. It was easy to see that the three were related. All had the same curly black hair, broad shoulders, sharp eyes and high cheekbones. And there was something else, too, Alec thought, something in their bearing that set them apart from the rest of the people here.
The Balastritises were speaking in Greek, but when Alec joined them, they switched to English, a language they all spoke quite well, especially Xeena and Matt. Alec appreciated the courtesy, as he knew only a few words of Greek. Karst watched him with warm, friendly eyes and a smile that made people feel good every time he turned it on.
Matt was talking excitedly about how he had landed the job of wrangler for a scene Bateman was shooting the next day. It would mean an extra bonus for him. Karst was saying it was a lot of money for someone his age and that he shouldn’t let the bonus go to his head. Karst’s voice was stern, but Alec could see pride in the trainer’s face as well.
“Go to his head?” Xeena teased. “Not Matt. He already thinks this film is really about him.”
Her brother gave her a smile and laughed. “Please, little sister,” he said. “I am just doing my job here. You should do yours and try to keep from riding your horses into the river.”
Xeena’s eyes flashed. “You know that wasn’t my fault,” she said. “You saw it, Alec. Could I have helped what happened during the race? What choice did I have? It was either go into the river or get run over.”
Alec nodded his head in agreement. “It looked that way to me.”
“Let’s just say I’m not surprised that if somebody had to go off course, it would be you,” Matt teased.
Karst held up his hands. “Enough, you two,” he said in his thick Greek accent. “Everyone doing fine and no one blaming anyone for anything. Now quit fighting and eat your dinner.”
Halfway through the meal, Jeff, the producer Roth’s assistant, came over to their table. Jeff congratulated Alec on his ride that day. He said the scene looked great, and the footage of the accident was a real bonus. Bateman was saying that the horses flying off the riverbank and splashing into the river had turned out to look spectacular.
“And tomorrow?” Karst asked Jeff. “I hear there is big schedule change.”
Jeff laughed. “Yes, well, big changes at the last minute seem to be par for the course with Stiv.”
“Hokay,” Karst said. “You the boss.”
Jeff smiled and shook his head. “I’m just a link in the chain on this job, like you. Anyhow, the word is that now the weatherman says it’s not going to rain tomorrow after all. That means the crew will be splitting up into three different units—red, blue and black. Matt, you are staying here to work on the battle scene with the red and blue units, like we talked about earlier.”
Matt nodded eagerly.
“Alec, you and the Black are with the black unit and will be heading up into the mountains. The trip will probably take most of the day, depending on the road conditions. Once you reach the location site, you’ll spend the night there. The following day, after the scene is set up, Stiv will helicopter in and supervise the shot.”
Jeff asked Karst and Matt to go over to Bateman’s table and meet with some of the camera and lighting guys. They wanted to talk over some particulars about the different shots they were planning for tomorrow.
“So, what is the place we’re going to?” Alec asked Jeff after Karst and Matt left to meet with Bateman.
Jeff sat down at the table with Alec and Xeena. He took a roll from the bread basket. “Some monastic refuge in a place called Acracia,” he said between bites. “It’s supposed to be beautiful there. Lots of wildlife, some small forest reserve up in the mountains, no roads, no houses or towns the cameras would have to work around. Just unobstructed views, trees and wide mountain vistas, much like what the area might have looked like back in Alexander’s day.”
“Sounds great,” Alec said. “Where is it?”
“Up on Mt. Atnos,” Jeff said. “It’s in an area that is usually closed to the public. It took months to get the okay to film there, and we had to pay a hefty fee. The permission just came through, which is another reason for the last-minute change in plans. The monks don’t allow cars on the premises, so we have to stay at a compound outside the monastery. There is no electricity either. We’ll manage with our generators, though.”
A moment later, Karst and Matt came back to their table.
“Alec and the Black are going up to Mt. Atnos tomorrow,” Xeena said excitedly, “to the monastery in Acracia.”
“Boss say I go with them,” Karst said. “You come too.” From the way the family exchanged glances, it was obvious the names meant more to them than just spots on the map.
“I still can’t believe it,” Matt said. “I didn’t think the monks let anyone up there anymore.”
“Me neither,” Xeena said.
Karst shook his head. “I no believe it too. Boss must have pay much, much money.”
“I wish I was going with you,” Matt said, “especially after all the stories Popi used to tell about those woods when we were little.”
“You have’a your hands full right here,” Karst said. “You do good job, make family proud.” His eyes shifted to the exit. “Now we go for sleeping. We wake up early tomorrow.”
Shortly after daybreak, crews worked to get the convoy of horse vans, camera cars and equipment trucks in the black unit ready to set off for Mt. Atnos. There were about a dozen vehicles in all, including a truck carrying a cargo of snakes that were to play a part in a scene planned for the black-unit shoot. As the cages were being loaded onto the truck, Conrad, one of the snake wranglers, showed Alec his favorite one, a four-foot-long leopard snake he called Litzy. Conrad draped her around his neck and cooed gently to the snake as if she were a beloved pet. Like her breed’s namesake, Litzy had spotted markings, and Conrad maintained that her species was the most beautiful of all European snakes.
“Looks like a viper but she ain’t,” Conrad said in his heavy British accent. “You can tell because she don’t have the vertical pupils. See? Most all vipers have vertical pupils.” He held the snake’s head up so Alec could see the shining black stones of her eyes. “Want to hold her?” Conrad asked.
Snakes didn’t bother Alec as they did some people, but he wasn’t interested in having one crawl around his neck just then. “No thanks,” Alec said. “The Black is sensitive about snakes. If the smell gets on me, it might startle him. I love her leopard spots, though. Very stylish.”
Conrad chuckled. “She’s a beauty, all right,” he said, then gently returned Litzy to her cage.
Alec turned and started to where the Black was stabled. Jeff was sitting in a golf cart parked beside the line of trucks and vans and waved Alec over. He looked at Alec and smiled. “Don’t tell me—Conrad was showing off his pets again?”
Alec laughed and asked Jeff about the snakes and what they had to do with the story of Alexander. Jeff explained that the snakes were part of the film’s dream sequence they would be shooting the next day.
“In the dream, Alexander’s mother has a vision of her yet-to-be-born son as a two-year-old,” Jeff said. “The child is alone, lost in the mountain wilderness and threatened by snakes.” Jeff shook his head. “Stiv loves snakes,” he explained, “and always tries to work them into his films if he can.”
Alec soon saw that, aside from the snakes, there were a number of other animals the black-unit crew was bringing to the mountain shoot with them. There were a few stable ponies for riding horses, a pair of big bay geldings and a beautiful dark-brown, almost black Andalusian mare named Tina that was sta
nding in for Bucephalus in some scenes, like the Black. In addition, there were a couple of goats for background scenery, four or five ducks and a pair of trained weasels.
Finally all was ready and the convoy started off. Alec and the Black rode in Karst’s van. Xeena sat on the bench seat between Alec and her dad. Every so often, Alec checked on the Black by peering over the partition into the stallion’s stall in the back of the van.
Soon they came to the switchback road that led up the mountain. Karst expertly navigated the van over the narrow, winding road while Alec looked out the window at the unspoiled forest below. With Xeena’s help, Karst passed the time by explaining to Alec that this area was renowned as the homeland of the mythological singer Orpheus. Even now it was fabled that there were enchanted woods here in which whole cities could hide and never be found. There were other tall tales about places that had no deer, squirrels or birds, places shunned by humans and forest animals alike, places where a stream of poisoned water would madden or kill any animal that drank from it.
Karst laughed. “All crazy talk, stories for children. No reason be afraid. Water good here. Best in Thrace. Plenty animals.”
The road wound along the edge of a steep valley and then led to a site of broken columns, a long-forgotten ruin from ancient times. “Look at the kites,” Xeena said, pointing out a pair of large black birds perched like shadowy sentries atop the remains of a stone wall.
Alec watched the scenery sleepily and was starting to drift off when the convoy stopped to get coffee and fuel and to check their gear. As Karst mingled with the rest of the crew, Alec tended to the Black. The stallion was a good traveler when he wanted to be and dozed quietly in the back of the van. Alec adjusted the stable blanket, which was slipping off on one side.
Xeena came around to the rear of the van and peeked over the open half doors.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Shhh,” Alec said, pressing a finger to his lips. He quietly slipped out of the Black’s stall.
“He’s sleeping?” she asked. Alec nodded. Xeena handed him a can of soda. “I thought you might be thirsty,” she said.
Over by the cafeteria truck, the voices of the crew rose and fell, laughing, arguing, English mixed with Greek, German, Italian and languages Alec didn’t recognize at all. Alec and Xeena sat on a picnic table at the edge of the parking lot.
“So tell me your story, Xeena,” Alec said. “I really don’t know much about your family except that you come from Xanthi. That and you are all pretty good riders.”
“Thanks,” Xeena said. “That means a lot coming from you.”
“Xanthi seems like a nice place,” Alec said. “Has your family always lived there?”
“For a long time. Why?”
“You just seem different than the others.”
“What do you mean?”
Alec fumbled for an explanation. “I don’t know. There is just something in the way you all carry yourselves, your expressions. It is as if nothing could surprise you.”
“We are Thracian,” Xeena said. “This land is our home. Our ancestors came from Acracia. Only full-blooded Thracians lived there.”
“Acracia?” Alec asked. “Isn’t that where we’re going now?”
“We’re going to the monastery,” Xeena said. “The village of Acracia no longer exists. Even when it did, it was small and hard to find, or so the old folks say. It wasn’t even on most maps.”
“What happened to it?” Alec asked.
Xeena shrugged. “Mom’s family left a long time ago. My grandfather Popi was born there, but his family left soon after.”
“Why?”
“The goats weren’t giving milk. The sheep were dying. Some said it had to do with the water, something about a small, illegal mine that polluted the river upstream. No one really knows the truth. I don’t think there is anything wrong with the water anymore, though. The last I heard, the place had been turned into some super-exclusive health resort.”
“Have you ever been there?” Alec asked.
“To the resort?” Xeena said. “No.”
“You live this close and you have never been there? Why not?”
“Access to the resort is even more restrictive than to the monastery,” she said. “The monastery is in the forest reserve on the other side of the mountain. No one I know, or ever heard of, has been to the resort part of the mountain where my grandfather’s village used to be.”
“Sounds mysterious,” Alec said.
“It is,” Xeena said. “My cousin tried to get a job there once, but it turned out that all the workers at the resort come from faraway places in Asia. They live on the premises and don’t go to town. All supplies are delivered by their own trucks. Someone else said the resort isn’t even in business anymore, but no one seems to know for sure. As for my grandfather’s village, all that is left are stories.”
Karst came around the side of the van and called Xeena over. He spoke to his daughter in rapid Greek. Xeena hurried over to one of the horse vans parked beside them.
“Hokay, Alec,” he said, “We go now. Xeena go with other van. You go with me.”
Alec did another quick check on the Black and made sure everything in the back of the van was secure and in order. Then he closed the rear half doors and swung up into his seat in the van with Karst.
“Xeena ride with Thomas,” the trainer said. “Some his horses, uh … not quiet. She help.”
The convoy started off again, and soon they were crawling up the switchback road. Alec saw that there was more light in the sky now, the sun bringing warmth into the day.
A tour bus pulled beside them on a straightaway, honking its horn and barreling ahead. Karst made a hand gesture out the window and grumbled an oath in Greek. The bus sent a cloud of dust pouring over them as it roared by. Other than that, there was little traffic, though at one point a line of shiny black Mercedeses with darkened windows flew by in the other direction. “Government cars,” Karst said with a laugh. “Big bosses.”
In a few minutes, they were surrounded by woods once more. Vast trees on either side interlocked their leafy, moss-covered branches above them. Alec gazed through the windshield at the tunnel of trees and the darker shadows of the woods beyond. Ghostly vapors and traces of mist hung low to the ground in small clearings. Spears of sunlight streaked down through the swaying treetops and flickered on the road ahead. He could hear birdsongs, and the wind coming through the open window carried the scent of forest flowers.
Karst leaned his head out the window and drew in a great breath of air and let it out. “Air nice here,” he said. “Mountains make clean. Clear. All the time nice, a’ clear.”
For many miles, the convoy passed in and out of tree tunnels and through more forest groves and rock gardens. The road divided and a sign, written in Greek, German, English and French, indicated the way to the scenic overlook in the forest reserve. Pointing the other way was another sign, lettered in a language that Alec couldn’t read, perhaps Greek or Bulgarian. This was the direction they followed.
The twisting road rose and fell as the convoy made its way up the mountain. The curves were sharp, and in some places the van was forced to slow to a crawl to safely get around them. Alec looked at his watch and realized they had already been traveling for more than five hours.
Soon the road dipped again, running down to a fifty-foot-long wooden bridge that spanned a roiling white-water river. The convoy eased carefully over the bridge and after another mile came to a narrow lane leading off to the south. They turned onto the lane. It was a rougher ride, and the road was splotched in places with dried mud. After about a quarter mile, just over the crest of a hill, they saw the high walls of the monastery.
Two monks, with beards and clean-shaven heads and wearing heavy robes belted by thick white ropes, were waiting for them at a gate barricading the driveway. After opening the gate, the taller of the two set off up the driveway on foot and gestured for the trucks to follow him.
The monk led them toward a compound of low stone buildings just outside the twenty-foot-high monastery walls. Alongside the outbuildings were rows of white tents set up around a spacious brick courtyard. Karst told Alec the tents had been prepared by a crew that came up last night and had been working all day to get everything ready for their arrival. Each tent served a different purpose. Some were stables for the animals, while others were wardrobe, makeup and dressing rooms for the actors.
The vans and equipment trucks crept ahead and then pulled over to the side of the drive. Alec looked over at the monastery, where he could see the castlelike tops of towers inside the fortified building. “Not bad for summer house,” Karst joked. “We stay outside. Monks no like visitors.”
Daylight hours were short here in the mountains, even in the summer. The sun was already dipping below the mountaintops by the time Alec had finished unloading the Black from the van and making the stallion comfortable in his tent.
The Black’s tent was almost the size of a two-car garage, plenty big enough to accommodate the stallion and its other occupants, the pair of scruffy-looking white goats Alec had seen loading up earlier. The portable stalls inside the tent were made of iron bars, wood and plastic, and it amazed Alec how quickly the carpenters had been able to snap them together. The Black’s box stall was large and roomy, with straw bedding covering the ground. There was a wide aisle that contained an area for Alec to keep the gear and supplies he’d brought with him: tack trunks, a couple sacks of feed, blankets, saddles and fold-up stable cots. The tent walls were pegged tight and weighted down with sandbags. Stabled in the next tent were the wranglers’ riding ponies, including Cleo, Xeena’s favorite. There was another tent for Tina and the other picture horses, and smaller tents for the weasels, snakes and ducks.
Beyond the row of animal tents, in a corner of the compound about forty yards away, the camera crew and other technicians were already busy blocking out a shot and setting up for the director’s arrival by chopper the next day. Alec helped tend the other horses but mostly just kept an eye on the Black.