The Venetian

by Lina Ellina

  “Culinary sounds already a lot more interesting,” Lorenzo said and took a photo of her with the ruins as background.

  “Maybe I should take some photos of you,” Marina suggested and Lorenzo put the camera in her hand.

  Marina did her best to use her imagination for more artistic snapshots. “I hope, at least, some of them are good,” she said a few minutes later when she gave him back the camera, and they set off.

  The car stopped its ascent toward the little village of not more than two hundred and fifty inhabitants, so a flock of goats could go by. The shepherd, riding his donkey languidly, raised his hand to greet them, and Marina and Lorenzo waved back at him.

  “Wow! Beautiful!” Lorenzo cried out excitedly hidden behind the camera.

  “This is authentic Cyprus,” Marina said, waiting patiently for the goats to cross the road before she continued to drive toward the village for a mile or so up the winding country lane.

  67 - 1468

  Agony took the place of the euphoria her relationship with Marin had filled her with, and Elena became self-critical for having let her guard down. He came into her life and splashed joyful colors on the grey canvas of her monotonous existence. And now? Not knowing what had happened was more painful than she could bear. She gradually began to appreciate the magnitude of her mother’s drama.

  She had a bad feeling about his lengthy absence, but she kept telling herself there had to be an explanation for it. From what she had been able to find out from women’s gossip in the village, he had ridden with his uncle to Nicosia to be introduced to other Venetian families. Elena knew she had no claim on him and that one day she would lose him. She feared that this day had come.

  In the meantime in Nicosia, one invitation followed another, as bourgeois families were only too eager to entertain the Kingdom’s Auditor and his protégé. If it was a coincidence that the Contarini were always invited, too, Marin wasn’t sure, but he feared he could now see through Andrea’s plan.

  When Marin mentioned he should be getting back to the mill and the estates, Andrea found all sorts of excuses to prolong his stay in the cosmopolitan capital. The young Venetian felt little surprise when later that evening, Andrea discussed an engagement to the Contarini girl.

  “Don’t be concerned with the bride price, Marin. You know you’ve always been like a son to me. I will match Anna’s dowry and provide the house. Consider this as my wedding gift to you. Soon, you will be able to start up your own business,” Andrea said while they were enjoying a commandaria after dinner.

  Marin contemplated the size of the fortune that would be bestowed on him with awe. A million things he could accomplish with so much money. His racing mind was already exploring all the possibilities. He could have everything but Elena, he thought. Andrea didn’t fail to notice the corners of the young man’s mouth twitch.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t see that native anymore – discreetly, of course,” Andrea said as if reading the young man’s mind.

  Marin pursed his lips. He felt little surprise that Andrea was so well-informed about everything.

  “Anna Contarini is your perfect match, Marin. Believe me, I considered all available options. It would mean a lot to me to see you married into this family. Now, I know that your mind is set on that widow, but when you give yourself some time to consider your good fortune with Anna, I’m sure you’ll thank me for this.”

  Marin looked at him silently, cast his gaze on his glass, and downed his commandaria.

  68 - 2011

  In Anogyra, Lorenzo watched the demonstration of pastelli[1].When he was offered a tasting, he chewed it carefully, trying to decide what was so familiar about the taste.

  “You know, this reminds me a lot of the Elah toffees we have in Italy,” he said while still savoring it. The similarities and the differences in the products and recipes used around the Mediterranean basin always fascinated him.

  When Marina took him to the dairy farm to watch a demonstration of freshly made anari, he found the likeness to Italian ricotta cheese remarkable. His curiosity to use halloumi in a recipe was triggered when he found out that it’s the only cheese in the world that can be grilled without melting.

  “This tastes really good. Here, try it!” He offered her his plate to taste.

  “It’s good. I know,” Marina said without taking the plate.

  “Have some,” he insisted, and when she did, he took another picture of her.

  “I think you are taking more photos of me than of Cyprus,” she said half seriously and half teasingly.

  “I know.” He lowered his camera and fixed his gaze on her. “You are Cyprus to me - warm and friendly... interesting... beautiful,” he said quietly.

  Marina cleared her throat. “Speaking of beautiful, we should take a walk in the center of the village. Come on. Let’s go. You have to see this.”

  They thanked the proprietor and walked to the cobbled village square with the quaint stone-built houses and the overhanging wooden balconies adorned with colorful bougainvilleas. Endless hues of geraniums and roses in terracotta pots along the cobbled lanes added an aesthetic final touch to the scenic square.

  Outside a little coffee shop, Marina stopped for a moment and cast a glance around, trying to orient herself. The village barber, an elderly man with a warm, friendly smile stepped out of the coffee shop, greeted them, and held a conversation in Greek with Marina. Lorenzo figured he was giving them directions. When several minutes later the elderly man waved at them goodbye, they turned right, followed a narrow lane that passed by the old water spring and reached the winery gate.

  “These were long directions for such a short walk,” Lorenzo observed.

  “He did not just give us directions. He invited us for coffee. Three times,” she explained with a smile.

  “But he didn’t seem to know you, did he?” Lorenzo asked with interest.

  “No, we are complete strangers. This is what I love about Cyprus, its people, especially in the villages.”

  “I’m impressed,” he said as the vintner came to greet them and perform a wine tasting for them.

  The tour of Anogyra ended with a visit to the olive park where they watched the process of olive oil extraction. They had a katsoura[2], watched a short video on the story of olive oil in Cyprus, and walked in the theme park featuring extraction methods of the past and exhibits on how olive oil was used in the Mediterranean diet, in medicine, and for beauty.

  When some time later, Lorenzo placed his purchases on the backseat, he said, “At this rate, I might need to buy one more suitcase.”

  “You could have a Cyprus night with all this artisanal products when you are back in Rovigo,” Marina suggested with a smile as she was opening the driver’s door.

  “I’d love that,” Lorenzo said and sat in the car. He fastened his seat belt and turned and faced her. “Marina, you are a mind reader. I absolutely enjoyed this little village, Ano… What was it called again?”

  “Anogyra,” Marina said, smiling and drove up the mountain road. The soft Greek ‘g’ is sometimes difficult for foreigners to pronounce.

  “Where are we going now?” Lorenzo took a look at the scenery.

  “I thought you wanted this to be a surprise,” Marina teased him.

  “Touché… What a beautiful day! Nothing like the storm when I arrived on Monday.”

  “It’s the halcyon days.”

  “Nice!” he said, stretching his right arm and casually letting it rest on the back of her seat.

  [1] Carob toffee

  [2] Toasted bread with fresh olive oil, sprinkled with oregano

  69 - 1468

  Elena adjusted her headdress properly, made the sign of the cross, and entered the chapel. She left a gros petit in the tray, lit a candle, and walked to the icon of Jesus Christ. She made the sign of the cross, said a short prayer, and kissed the icon. When she had repeated the same procedure with the other icons, she cast a glance in awe at the Pantocrator of the dome extendin
g his right hand in blessing and prayed one last time.

  An old monk leaned on the entrance door for a moment to catch his breath and dragged his old feet toward the analogion[1]. His ability to walk was diminishing fast with each passing day.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Father Efrem.” Elena kissed the hand of her starets[2], and he kindly patted her head.

  “Come, my dear child. You have come from afar to see an old monk like me.” He placed the Gospel Book and a blessing cross on the analogion and read an admonition warning for a full confession, holding nothing back.

  “Father Efrem, I’m afraid I’ve committed the same sin as my mother and my nana before me.”

  Father Efrem, who had been the family confessor starting from her grandfather, looked at her with sincere sympathy without judging. “Giving life is not a sin; taking it is... Is this new life a love child?”

  Elena nodded.

  “Child, you are not here just to hear the Prayer of Absolution. What torments you so?”

  “I hear he’s to get engaged to someone else.”

  “Rumors are not always accurate. Have you talked to him?”

  “I can’t. He’s been in Nicosia for days now... I’m afraid this time rumors are true... He’s Venetian. And he’s getting engaged to one of his own.” She pursed her lips.

  “Child, have I ever told you the story about the Christian who wanted to exchange the cross God gave him to carry with another?”

  Elena shook her head negatively.

  “God gives us all a cross to carry. This symbolizes the difficulties we face here on earth. Well, there was this Christian who complained to God that the cross He had given him was too uncomfortable for him and asked if he might be permitted to exchange it for another. The good Lord lent him a sympathetic ear and showed him where the warehouse with the crosses was. The Christian put his cross down and tried carrying the crosses in the warehouse one by one. When the day was done, he said to God, ‘Thank You, Lord, for the opportunity to exchange my cross with another. This one is by far the most convenient to carry.’ And then God replied, ‘Child, this is the cross you have brought back.’... The Lord never gives us more weight to carry than we can actually bear. We should not despair. Faith! This is our strength.”

  “I’m just worried about what will become of my children if anything happens to me.”

  “Child, the Lord provides for all his children, but He also acts in mysterious ways. His plan for our lives is like a piece of embroidery. Only He can see the beautiful side with the design from above. Down here, we can only see the back side with the knots and the threads hanging, and we are unable to comprehend the majestic work of art He has designed for us.”

  [1] The lectern

  [2] Her spiritual father

  70 - 2011

  The car came to a halt at the parking lot close to the stone-paved Omodhos bustling square with the whitewashed and stone-built houses, the mulberry trees, the tavernas, the coffee shops, and souvenir shops.

  “Another monastery!” Lorenzo said, looking at the monastery at the far end of the square.

  “Cyprus is sometimes called the island of the saints. In fact, Cyprus was the first Roman province converted to Christianity by Apostle Paul himself. This here is the Monastery of the Holy Cross, famous for its miracles. We can go there later if you like. We can also visit the old wine press and see some beautiful old houses and artisans, but first I’ve a surprise for you.” She looked at him with eyes glistening with excitement, like a child before opening a Christmas gift, and Lorenzo couldn’t help grinning.

  “Let me guess. It’s got to do with food, right?”

  “Right! But what?”

  “I don’t know. A nice lunch somewhere in the village?”

  “Close,” Marina said and walked to a nearby gate and pushed it open.

  “Close?” He asked following her.

  “You’ll see.” Marina knocked on the door and a large woman in her early fifties appeared at the door.

  “Uh, Marina! Kalos Orisate! Welcome! We’ve been expecting you. Everything’s ready. Come in! Come in!” The large woman gave Marina a warm, squeezing hug.

  “Lorenzo, this is Christina. She owns one of the tavernas here in the village, and today she’s going to cook just for us, and you’re going to cook with her – that is if you like.”

  “Sure,” he said, nodding and smiling.

  “Christina will be sharing her kitchen secrets with you.”

  “Great!” Lorenzo turned to the large woman and shook her hand. “Hello, Christina. What are we cooking today?”

  “Hare stew in wine sauce à la Christina. It’s a traditional dish, but I’ve made some slight alterations.”

  71 - 1468

  As the days succeeded one another without a word from Marin, Elena became conscious of the urgency for pragmatic action. She gazed at the stars above, the spectators of human agony and hope since the creation of the human race and prayed for strength.

  She commanded every morsel of her self-discipline and reached the decision to cut the Gordian knot. In her condition, she undertook the Herculean task of gathering livestock and paraphernalia, find lodging by the Catacombs in Paphos, and start afresh. She didn’t want to risk going back to Limassol in the vicinity of Ioanna’s grandparents. Nor did she think it wise to have her child all alone. She had witnessed too many deaths for that.

  Word in the village was that Andrea Cornaro had found a bride for the young master. Elena pondered on her options and decided she would rather not have him at all than share him with his wife. She also decided not to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She had Ioanna and her unborn child to care for. She wanted to live for them. Oh, how she wanted to drink from Lethe and erase his memory once and for all! But she couldn’t well do that in their love nest, as he called her house.

  She wanted to blend into the anonymity of a new place. At least, with the two hundred sezins, she wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while. She would settle down and ponder what she should best do with her life. Probably go on with healing – cautiously.

  She was heading west, making slow progress on the way to Pafos, when a horseman rode up the hill toward her mud-brick house. The horse followed the familiar route to her place while his master was torn in two inside. He was inflamed with desire to be with her again after so long, yet he knew he should break the news to her.

  He wondered sullenly if people really died of broken hearts. He feared that announcing his engagement would open Pandora’s Box and tried not to think of the possibility that Elena might harm herself. What would happen to Ioanna? He couldn’t live with that. Should he perhaps say nothing and let her love for him fade slowly? What a dilemma! Caught between Scylla and Charybdis, he debated with his inner voice, and prayed to Calliope for eloquent inspiration when he would soon speak to her again.

  In front of the porch, Marin pulled the reins and got down. What was that piece of paper hanging on her house door, he wondered? With a swift movement, he took it down. It read, ‘farewell, my love. I wish you well.’

  “What on earth?” he asked out loud. He tried the door, but it was locked and the windows sealed. The place seemed deserted. He went around the house. Her few animals were gone. “She just took off? Just like that? Without a word?” Marin realized he was talking to himself and tried to snap out of it.

  Where did she go? A part of him wanted to get on his horse, search for her, and demand an explanation. Another part told him he was lucky - more than he deserved. Now, he could get engaged to Anna with a light conscious. He just couldn’t have Elena any more. He pursed his lips and kicked a broken twig in front of his feet.

  72 - 2011

  “What a woman! So friendly - and a great cook!” Lorenzo said grinning, as they left Omodhos behind, ascending further high up.

  Marina snorted. “She’s had a lot of practice.”

  “Uh, yes, the tavern.”

  “That and seven children.”

  “Seven?
Wow! It can never be boring having such a large family,” he said.

  “Or quiet.”

  “Don’t you like children or are you too young for that?” Lorenzo found himself asking.

  “Uh... Yes, I do, and I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet. I mean I’m not even in a relationship right now. I don’t have a real job. But I would like to have children... one day.” She locked eyes with him but was unable to make out his thoughts.

  She focused her gaze on the road again. A couple of minutes later, she got onto a loose surface road and descended the winding narrow road for a kilometer and a half before she hit the brakes.

  “Where are we now?” Lorenzo asked, looking around when he got out of the car.

  “We are at the Millomeri waterfalls near Platres,” Marina explained as they took to walking. “Platres used to be a feud during the Lusignan Rule. Just above the village, there used to be a Frank Monastery, and its monks were dressed in white, ‘platres’ in French, hence the name of the village, at least, according to one explanation… Hear the sound of the waterfall?”

  Lorenzo strained his ears and nodded. They took to climbing down the steps to the wooden bridge, and the splashing sound of the water got louder and louder until the waterfalls were finally revealed to them. It was a secluded semi circle with the grey stone of the Troodos Mountain, water falling from the top right side from a height of less than twelve meters.

  Lorenzo took his camera and started taking pictures of her with the waterfalls as background. “It’s small, but it’s cute,” he said, admiring its unpretentious beauty.