I yearned to look over and see more, but the Bacchus, struggling in the harsh sea winds, demanded my attention.
“We need to bring the Bacchus down!” I yelled, gesturing to the balloonman. He nodded and began to release warm air from inside the balloon. We dropped altitude. I navigated the ship in, looking for a spot somewhere out of the harsh breeze. Once I had gotten the ship out of the wind shear, the jostling eased. I lowered the Bacchus below the mountain range and settled into a calm spot just east of the ancient theater. There, the Bacchus seemed to find a remarkably calm harbor from the wind.
“Let’s hover here until we see what kind of company we are in for,” I said. The crew and I anchored the ship while Sal and Celeste began packing their bags. To my surprise, Sal pulled out his sidearm.
“Bring yours as well,” he told me.
He was right. If the Dilettanti thought we were after the Aphrodite, they may certainly be waiting for us in Knidos. Sal dropped the rope ladder. I grabbed an anchor line, and holding tight, leapt off the rail of the ship. I slid down the rope twenty feet to the ground.
My boots hit the dusty earth with a thud. Below my feet were marble floor stones. Green grass shot up from between the cracks. Behind us, the rocky remains of the ancient city wall were nestled against the mountainside. Directly ahead of us, a sandy bar jutted out between the mainland and the island.
“Cape Krio,” Celeste said as she joined me, motioning to the island. She rubbed her hands. Her palms were red from gripping the ladder.
“That’s not the island we saw in the kaleidoscope,” I said.
Celeste shook her head. “No, that was east of here.”
Sal joined us. He had been talking to the crew of the Bacchus who now stood, rifles in hand, on the deck of the ship.
We scanned the horizon. We spotted two tan colored tents on the other side of the land bridge on Cape Krio. No one seemed to be moving around. This was either a very good thing or very a bad thing.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
“Let’s be friendly,” Celeste suggested.
“Let’s be cautious,” Sal corrected.
We headed across the sandy land bridge. Around us, the landscape was dotted with low green scrub and creeping purple flowers. Although I expected I would be shot at any moment, I could not help but be taken with the landscape. I don’t think I had ever seen a more beautiful sight in all my life. The ancient city, like the Asclepeion, was in complete disarray, but it seemed that more had survived in Knidos than had in Kos. In fact, the owner of the tents seemed to have set up camp near the ruins of an ancient watchtower at the entrance of the eastern harbor. We crossed onto Cape Krio and followed the old wall toward the tents. As we neared the camp, I began to smell roasting meat and could hear someone singing.
Sal pulled his weapon.
As we came upon the tents, we found two very sleepy looking Ottoman workers laboring over the campfire. Both men wore a red fez, a traditional Ottoman cap, and loose, ballooning pants. Their clothing looked rather disheveled. Apparently they had recently woken. Both men stood bolt upright.
“Professor,” one of them called, and my stomach dropped to my boots. Sal gripped his gun harder.
“Ja, ja, was ist los?” we heard someone reply from inside one of the tents.
A moment later, a very old man with small, round glasses and a white moustache that curled at the corners emerged from the tent. He eyed us with great curiosity.
“Humm… Italiener?” he asked Sal.
“Ja, und Engländer,” Sal replied.
The old man blew air through his lips. “Engländer,” he said like curse. “Do you all speak English?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sal replied. “We don’t mean to bother you… Professor, no? We’ve come to see the ruins and wanted to ensure we were not imposing.”
The man looked at Sal’s gun, his eyes quickly darting to my own weapon. “Imposing. Expecting trouble, were you?”
Sal shrugged. “We did not know what to expect.”
The old man laughed a long and hearty laugh and then looked Celeste and I over with great curiosity. “Nice company you keep. Come. Have tea. These Ottoman’s will drink tea when it’s a hundred degrees, but it is morning and not yet hot, and this old man would like to sit and have a look at your beautiful comrades. I’m Professor Herzog,” he introduced.
Sal smiled. “It is our pleasure, Professor. I am Salvatore, my wife Beatrice, and my sister Viola.”
The professor smiled and holding open the tent door flap, gestured for us to go within. Sal holstered his gun, took my hand, and we entered. Inside, the old man had strung up maps and sketches of Knidos. He had collected a fabulous array of marble pieces. Picks, shovels, and an odd looking pole with a disc on one end leaned in the corner of the tent. Large boxes were stacked to the top of the tent. On one table, a marble hand sat under a magnifying glass. The hand clutched a fist full of arrows. On another table were about a dozen palm sized figurines.
“I’ve been hunting the sun god,” the old man said. “In fact, I have finally revealed his temple.”
“Apollo?” Celeste asked, raising her eyebrow. The Ottoman workers poured us tea into small, glass cups.
The professor smiled at her. “Ah, a woman educated in the classics. Yes, my dear, but how he has eluded me! I have been on this cove for the last ten years hunting him down, fending of the British who would have me kicked out of this dig. But I have convinced them I am simply an old man on a tired pursuit, and they leave me in peace. Besides, all they want is the Aphrodite. What do they care of my Apollo?”
The three of us exchanged glances.
“To be honest, I expected to find an Englishman in your tent, Professor,” Sal said then, sipping the hot tea.
I pick up the cup, nearly burning my fingers. “Bloody hell,” I grumbled under my breath.
“Like this, dear,” the Professor told me, demonstrating the correct grip as he held his glass with his fingertips by the rim. “You’ve just missed them. They packed it in two days ago and headed back to Constantinople. Good riddance. No offense,” he added, smiling at me.
“None taken.”
“Would you mind, Professor, if we have a look around?” Celeste asked.
“My dear, with eyes like that, all you should do is look around,” he said with a laugh. “Drink up. I’ll give you a tour,” Professor Herzog said and then hurried us along.
We polished off the hot tea, which made me sweat in the early morning heat, and headed outside.
“Come, I’ll take you to the shrine of Apollo,” the Professor said, taking a walking stick with one hand, and his strange disked device in the other. “Where is your ship—Gott, is that an airship?”
“We travel in style,” Sal said jokingly.
The old man laughed a long, hard laugh. After a moment, it became clear that it wasn’t Sal’s comment that had amused the professor.
“Professor?” Sal asked.
“Ah, my Italian friend, I laugh because you have docked your ship—isn’t that the wine god on its balloon—directly above the ancient temple of Dionysus. I guess the old boy knows where he belongs,” the old man said and led us back across the land bridge.
As we walked, I eyed the landscape. I was trying to find the image I had seen in the kaleidoscope. It seemed that the image I had picked up in the lens was oriented from the land side of Knidos. As we hiked up the hill along the seaside to the shrine of Apollo, I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked out at the water. The kaleidoscope had clearly indicated there should be a small island just off shore, but I saw almost nothing on the horizon. All around me, however, pieces of the ancient city were found in plenty.
“Here is one of the east-west roads through the city,” the old man said as he pointed his walking stick toward a flat area carved into the mountainside. “And a row of houses. Some shops are still under the dirt along there. No doubt the Dilettanti will dig them out.”
Sal and I exchanged a glance.
“Here we are,” the professor said, flourishing his hand toward the dig. “Besides me and my workers, you are the first eyes to see the temple of Apollo in more than a thousand years,” the old man said then, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Are you pleased?” he called, facing upward toward the bright morning sun. He turned back to us again. “Granted, not much to see, but once we get the earth moved there will be more!”
“Congratulations on your achievement,” Celeste said with a smile. “It is quite moving.”
“Moving indeed! Ten years on this cape and more years than I can say buried in the archives of my university chasing Apollo,” the Professor said then took Celeste’s hand. “I must say, my dear, my heart nearly gave out when I saw that old stone floor. It was like passion.”
“Passion is something I understand well,” she said flirtatiously. She then turned back to the dig. “It is like a miracle,” she whispered.
“Yes, yes indeed,” the Professor agreed.
“What led you to this location?” Sal asked him.
“This,” the man said, patting the strange instrument he carried.
“I did indeed notice this device, Professor. What is it?” Sal asked.
“Ah, you see, it is a device of my own creation! I began to wonder if there was some way to sense the presence of marble structures, walls, temples, under the earth without having to dig. I realized I could find them if I look by vibration! I have employed the use of crystals in what I call my clockwork dowsing rod. The vibrations given off by raw earth opposed to the linear lines of cut stone, manmade objects, are different. Using crystals, I catch the resonance. As such, I found the structure.”
“Quite amazing,” Sal said. I noticed that several times Sal’s hand had moved toward the device as the professor waved it about.
The old man, lost in his thoughts, had not even noticed. “I tried to assist the Brits, but they think they know better, mucking around in the mud. They are not even looking in the right place for their Aphrodite.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
The old man laughed. “It is written in the Erōtes exactly where she can be found.”
“On a hill above the harbor. Aphrodite Euploia, the lady of safe voyages, blesses the ships as they pass, and she can be seen from the sea. She has a rotunda, an open air temple, where laurel trees grow and fruits and flowers. It is a place where lovers meet and practice her art under the eyes of Apollo,” Celeste said dreamily.
“Indeed, by Apollo, she has it,” the old man said, smiling at Celeste appreciatively. “One would almost think you are an Aphrodite scholar. Now, young lady, if that is an accurate description of the temple, where would you look?”
“Somewhere high. At the seaside. Somewhere visible from all around. Somewhere where laurel trees still grow.”
“The Dilettanti have been digging this site since 1812, yet you’ve put it together with more logic than all those so-called experts combined!” he said and pinched her cheek.
Celeste grinned. “Do you know where the Aphrodite temple is?”
He smiled. “Come with me.”
He led us away from the Apollo temple and upward, following the sea cliff, toward an impressive rockslide that had shifted from a nearby crag. We crawled carefully around the rocks until we were standing at the cliff’s edge. It was a steep drop to the water below. I noticed that mature laurel trees dotted the location. A soft, warm breeze floated in.
“What better place from which to see the Aphrodite?” the old man said. “I nearly broke my neck trying, but I explored that heap with my dowsing rod. Looking. Just looking. And do you know what is under all the scree?” With his walking staff, the Professor drew a large circle in the dirt. “Something large, round, and manmade.”
“The temple of Aphrodite?” Celeste more breathed than asked.
The old man shrugged. “What do I know? I am just an old man chasing Apollo. Let the Dilettanti take the next hundred years figure it out!” he said with a laugh.
I had to join him. British prattishness, of which I was sometimes prone when it came to talking about racing, was an unflattering quality. I stared out at the sea. The view struck me. I recognized it immediately as the view from the kaleidoscope.
I nudged Sal. “Nice view,” I said, looking out at the blue-green water.
Both he and Celeste turned. Celeste had been staring intently at the pile of rubble; her eyes had a faraway look. I imagined she had been envisioning the ancient temple of the goddess lying underneath. In a world where Catholics and Protestants burned one another at the stake every other hundred years, it was a dangerous thing to have a faith so far beyond the pale. Her faith revealed, Celeste surely would have gone to the stocks, glossy hair and all. Her eyes widened as she looked out to sea and realized that we were seeing the image from the kaleidoscope.
“Looks pretty clear out there. Any islands offshore?” I asked. On the far horizon, Kos rose from the sea like a gray-green shadow.
“Just rocks. Not much to see. Except, of course, Aphrodite’s fingers,” the Professor said.
“Aphrodite’s fingers?” Celeste asked. I could not help but hear the excitement in her voice.
“Just a pile of rocks, really. Five rocky fingers sticking out of the sea, waving” he said and wiggled his fingers. He then pointed toward the horizon. “North of the harbor. You can see it from here. Look,” he added. And where he pointed, I just made out a small island that looked to be exactly where the kaleidoscope had indicated.
Celeste released a small, excited “Ahh!” but held herself in check.
I noticed then that the old man looked rather gray around the lips.
“Can we help you back? The heat is rising,” I said.
“Ah, yes. We’ve been in a duel, Apollo and me. Either I’ll find him, or his sun will kill me. Seems I am triumphant,” the Professor said with a laugh.
Sal gently took the old man by the arm, and we walked back to his tent. Along the way, I noticed that there was a small sailboat docked in the harbor.
“Is that ship yours, Professor?” I asked.
“Yes, but I haven’t used it in ages. I used to like to sail around. Lots of lovely beaches along the shoreline. Fit for the foam-born daughter herself,” he said, patting Celeste on the arm.
Celeste raised an eyebrow at him.
“I hate to impose, but would you mind if we borrowed your boat? We would love to take a look at the shoreline, but the weather is too rough for the airship,” I said.
“Have you got any ale on your dirigible?” the old man asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
I turned to Celeste.
“Yes, there should be some there,” she said.
“Then you have a deal! The boat is yours to use. Just bring the ale with you when you come by tonight for dinner. We’ll drink to Apollo!”
“Of course,” Sal said.
When we reached the tent, Sal helped lower the old man into a chair, and the Ottoman assistants came at once to remove his boots and give him water.
“Thank you for the tour. It was an honor,” Celeste said, kissing him on the cheek.
“Ahh, you smell better than the Goddess of Love herself,” the old man said, whisking a handful of Celeste’s long locks toward his nose.
Celeste smiled and kissed the old man playfully once again, allowing him to stroke her hair once more before he let her go.
“We’ll be back at sunset… with ale!” I said.
The professor was fanning himself with his hat. “Now, that is something to look forward to!”
We left the Professor’s tent. It had grown extremely hot in the midday sun. The sea breeze cooled us to some degree, but there was little by way of shade in the ancient city.
“The boat… what do you have in mind, Lily?” Celeste asked.
“Well, it seems the Aphrodite is literally waving us in, but it will be practically impossible to explore by air,” I said, knowing it was the truth. I scanned the teal colored waters. While the vista was striking, a lump rose up in my throat. I knew I had to try to put my fears aside. We were too close to stop now. Besides, we had a boat. It would be fine. It would be safe. I turned to Sal: “Can you sail?”
He shook his head. I was surprised. I guess I’d come to think that Sal knew everything.
“I can,” Celeste said. Again, I was surprised. She caught my expression. “I grew up on an island,” she explained.
“Well then, shall we set sail?” Sal asked.
Celeste looked out at the sea. “That’s why we are here. Let’s pray Aphrodite gives us safe voyage.”
Chapter 26
While I clung to the boat and pretended I was not frightened to death of the water, Celeste showed a side of herself I’d never expected. Her hands moving quickly, she readied the small boat and guided it out of the Knidian harbor with finesse. The small white sail, discolored with age and disuse, flapped in the breeze. Part of me thought that even if Celeste had not known how to sail, she still would have helmed the ship. She was a woman on a quest that was nearing its end. In those moments, a person will risk anything to win what they love.
Sal panned his spyglass across the water as we set out of the harbor. We had not gone far when he spotted Aphrodite’s fingers. “There,” he said pointing. “I can see the rocks jutting out of the water.”
Celeste adjusted the sail, and the small ship pushed through the waves.
I gazed down into the turquoise colored waters. You could see the sea bottom. Below, I saw the dark shapes of rocks and the quick movements of silver fish. The water was beautiful albeit terrifying.
It was not long until the rocky island came into view of the naked eye. To say it was an island was a bit of an exaggeration. In reality, it was five tall rocks sticking out of the water. Like a hand waving at the shoreline, the rocks really did look like fingers. The back of the hand seemed to face the sea, its dark black stones looking like knuckles. The palm faced the coast. The rocks looked like slim fingers jutting out at different angles.
Chasing the Star Garden: The Airship Racing Chronicles (Volume 1) Page 16