Finding Ithaka

by Anna Harvey

  “But I can’t let you go,” Dimitri said, almost childlike, now pleading with her. “Not now!”

  “You can and you must,” Thea replied firmly, “if you really and truly care about me. This isn’t the life I would choose for myself. It’s a poor substitute. I may be no longer married, but this isn’t what I want either.”

  “And what about the project?” The mood now had suddenly shifted to something darker and menacing.

  “What about the project? What are you implying?”

  “If you walk now, then the project does too.” Dimitri was staring at her, the dark pupils of his eyes dilated. An ugly crimson mottling flushed his handsome features. “Do you want that on your conscience?” he continued. ”How you let your colleagues down?”

  “Oh no Dimitri!” Thea said, shaking her head, feeling her body begin to shake with rage. “You aren’t putting the blame for your actions onto me. What you and the Archontakis Foundation decide is up to you. But that should not determine whether or not I have an affair with you!”

  And then a veil that had been there for years finally lifted. Suddenly Thea saw him for what he was: the ego, the vanity, the conceit covered by an easy superficial charm. And with it the realisation that she had wasted most of her adult life yearning for Dimitri Kampitsis only to be confronted by a shallow shell of a man.

  “I was mistaken,” Thea calmly replied, meeting his glance head-on. “I thought you were someone else.” Decisively she stood up, picking up her bag to go.

  “Wait!” Dimitri cried out desperately. “Surely we can work this out? You can’t leave like this. At least let me run you back to the hotel.”

  But her mind was set. “You go on with your weekend plans. I can make my own way.” Almost as an afterthought, Thea turned back towards him and removed from her finger the expensive gold ring. “I’m sorry Dimitri but this doesn’t belong to me.” And she carefully placed it on the wooden table in front of him. He stared down at it, his nostrils flaring, speechless.

  The loose grit scrunched under the suitcase, as Thea wheeled it along the side of the road towards the airport. A large billboard announced the services of a car hire office. The procedure was straight forward. After rummaging through her bag to produce some ID, her driver’s licence and credit card, Thea was handed the keys of a small compact Korean car. The interior smelt of strong polish and synthetic plastic. She opened the electric window allowing the clear air to flood in. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, as she clasped the metal-grey steering wheel but found herself driving back along the coast towards the main town. To the only place that felt right.

  When Eleni opened the door, Thea fell into her arms sobbing, her body contorted with anguish. For several minutes the two women stood, the older one comforting the younger. Finally without a word, Eleni quietly led her into the kitchen, seating her at the table. A pot of tea and cups were produced. The china had seen better days: the painted roses had faded and the porcelain was chipped and cracked.

  “Ela, koritsi mou, tell me what happened.” Eleni glanced up at Thea, her face brimming with sympathy.

  “I told him Eleni. I told him everything,” Thea gasped between the sobs, the tears now falling quickly. “It’s over. Finished.” She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself so she could get out the words, blowing her nose on the tissue that Eleni now passed to her. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why I feel so upset. It feels like a huge gaping wound.”

  “You’re not crying for him.” Eleni stroked her forearm, looking intently into Thea’s face. “You’re crying for long ago and the child you lost. This man has affected your life far more than he deserves. What he did to you, abandoning you without a word, was cruel and callous. Come. Cry if you must! Far better this comes out then keeping this sorrow bottled inside,” the older woman reassured her with an understanding look, rubbing Thea’s back. “Stay here until you feel okay. Stay for the weekend. We’ll make up your old bed together.”

  Thea smiled at her weakly through her tears. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  As darkness had fallen, the two women made up the bed together. The covers were worn but scrupulously clean, smelling of washing powder and mountain lavender. From an old-fashioned wardrobe, Eleni had pulled out a heavy woollen coverlet in the hues of autumn red, green and orange. Other signs of her loving touch sprinkled the room. A collection of coat hangers had been placed on the bed. And on the bedside table, a small bouquet of fresh-cut flowers and beaker of water to quench any night-time thirst. Under bedclothes, Thea had curled herself into a ball and for the remainder of the night, she didn’t stir. She had sobbed her heart out until at last, the pillow wet with her tears, she fell asleep.

  The light was already streaming through the half-closed shutters, when Thea awoke the next day. Her watch-face told her the morning was already well advanced. Eleni would have been up several hours already, completing her daily tasks and chores. Thea looked around, absorbing the familiar features of her old room, but something was different. Her head and spirit were clear. As if a burden she had been carrying for many years had been lifted, like a pack-animal relieved of its load. Opening up her suitcase, Thea pulled out a loose tunic to match this new mood. Something had shifted as if an internal knot had been undone.

  When Thea entered the kitchen, she was met with the sight of Eleni bustling around and already several pots were bubbling on the stove. The metallic rims were streaked with ingrained marks, which neither scrubbing nor metal scouring pads could dislodge. Eleni was cooking up salves or herbal remedies.

  “Would you like something to eat,” asked Eleni, reaching out to kiss her on both cheeks. “My neighbour has just delivered some fresh eggs. We could have omelette with tomatoes and new bread.” It was the typical maternal response of countless mothers across Greece to feed away all troubles. Thea accepted gratefully, submitting to Eleni’s ministrations.

  “Pos eisai simera?” Eleni asked, as she took some eggs from a brown paper bag and cracked them into a bowl. The familiar polite enquiry took on an extra meaning.

  “Eimai kala,” Thea replied and meant it. Although she still felt drained from the release of the emotions so carefully stored away, she did feel fine. “Can I help?” she asked, keen to turn her attention to something other than her newly found insight and dwelling on Dimitri.

  Eleni responded with the typical Greek tilting of the head back to form a nod for ochi, meaning No. Instead, Thea sat as she was urged, watching the stooped and laboured movements of the older woman as she prepared breakfast. The kitchen electrical equipment was rudimentary: an old four-ringed stove for boiling or frying and a small fridge for chilling especially during the summer heat. And yet they belied Eleni’s formidable cookery skills and the mouth-watering feats that could be produced in that simple space.

  They ate together in silence, which was only broken by Thea. “Eleni, thank you for taking me in yesterday. I was glad you were there.”

  “You were very upset, e koukla mou.” Eleni studied her sympathetically, pausing to take a mouthful of food. “But you did the right thing.”

  “I nearly went away with him,” Thea shrugged, shaking her head. ”But in the end I couldn’t do it. It seems that this love between us is like poison. It hurts anyone who comes into contact with it.” She looked down, as if analysing the piece of torn bread in her fingers, a blank stare on her face. “But I’ve realised something else. All these years I’ve been carrying this love only to discover I’ve been infatuated with an illusion.” She gave a thin smile and looked up at Eleni. “And you know, the funny thing is that it has come between me and any relationship. Eleni, if I am being truly honest it was there in my marriage to David.” She paused. “I was drawn to him precisely because he was safe and steady.” Tears started to well up but she brushed them aside. She wasn’t going to let go of this new-found clarity for self-pity. “And I wanted to protect myself from being hurt or abandoned again.”

  “Perhaps now this love ha
s gone,” Eleni said quietly, steadily regarding her, “there is space to cultivate something else.”

  “Yes,” Thea agreed, nodding her head thoughtfully. ”Perhaps this is where my obsession with Odysseus and his palace comes from. I’ve actually spent most of my adult life immersed in the meaning of words and texts so I can avoid interacting with a real living and breathing man.” She laughed out aloud. “After all you can’t be let down by a mythical hero from four thousand years ago!”

  “Vevaios Thea! I always deeply believed you were born with the gift of love and healing. You deserve to be surrounded by the love of those who hold you dear.” Eleni paused, emphasising her next words. “And I believe that you will be a mother yet.”

  Thea looked up at her bewildered, a frown crossing her face. That statement again. “Perhaps I have become too independent and self-reliant,” she conceded. “But I doubt motherhood. My thirty-eight years are against me.”

  “Mi forvasai! There is still time, e koukla mou.” Eleni’s kindly eyes crinkled underneath her heavy eyelids and she pressed Thea’s hand. “Would you like to help me?” she asked, turning away to look at the pots still boiling on the stove. “Your company would be mia chara.”

  “It would be a pleasure.” Thea stood up, smoothing down her tunic and tied an apron around her waist. For several hours the women worked, heating pans of different concoctions. Some they made into herbal tonics to be drunk, others were reduced down and then squeezed through fine mesh and mixed with oil for a salve or tincture. Thea glanced across at her friend. Her indefatigable energy and vitality contradicted her advancing years.

  “Do you not have anyone who can help you,” Thea asked at last concerned, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow.

  “Of course,” Eleni replied gathering her breath, “but you are the only one who knows exactly what is required.”

  When they were hungry, they stopped to eat a simple fare of coarse bread, cheese and lettuce, just harvested from Eleni’s garden. As the daylight faded to darkness, they sat outside in the garden, covering themselves with blankets to keep out the night chill, talking about different medicinal linctus and treatments. They ate more lemon polenta cake, drank local wine and talked into the early hours until it was time for sleep.

  When Thea awoke the next day, it was another clear azure sky, the chill dissipated by April’s silvery sunlight. Not only had the deep sleep refreshed her but a greater clarity was permeating her mind. It had been her idea to drive up the mountain and forage for wild medicinal plants that grew on the wooded slopes of Mount Oenos. Eleni had been initially cautious, reasoning that she could not walk far, but had eventually come round to the proposition. Now they were driving in the rental car up the track leading to the higher slopes of the mountain. The landscape was ablaze with a hotchpotch of wild spring blooms: yellows, reds, whites and golds all competing for the attention of the pollinating insects. Thea’s trained eye instinctively categorised the wild mountainside shrubs into fennel, mint, sage, chamomile, valerian and rosemary. But her interest was surpassed by Eleni, who was growing more excited with each passing moment at the sight of the hillside in bloom.

  Under the shaded cover of the woods, Thea parked the car, near a picnic area with wooden tables. There was an air of dereliction, as if the spot had enjoyed happier times, hosting long summer evenings of campers or young people strumming guitars. The two women got out of the car, taking a couple of plastic bags to stash their foraging.

  “You look like a yeia yeia,” grinned Eleni, as Thea emerged with her hair bound beneath a headscarf, a plastic carrier bag in her hand.

  “I’m not a grandmother quite yet,” Thea replied laughing. “Do you think we will find horta here?” The wild green leafed plant grew wild in the hills and was traditionally collected and served up as a delicacy.

  “No, I think it’s too shaded here. But there are other plants which only grow in this place.” Without hesitation, Eleni set off leading them up one of the narrow dirt tracks into the woodland, where the trees thickened. Despite the slowness of her body, her head darted from side to side, scanning the woodland floor searching for the rare but familiar medicinal plants.

  It was well past noon and they had lost track of time, when Eleni leaned against a tall tree trunk, panting heavily. “I‘ll be alright in a moment,” she grasped as she caught her breath. “It’s just old age catching up on me.”

  “Shall we go back to the car?” Thea asked anxiously, studying her friend and reaching out to take her carrier bag. It was bulging with green cuttings foraged from the forest floor and garlic, which gave off a pungent smell. “We could snack on the fruit and cinnamon pastries we brought with us.” Without protest, the older woman accepted Thea’s arm as support and allowed herself to be guided back down the path.

  “Oreo,” Eleni commented, as they sat chewing. They were occupying one of the deserted tables and the earlier moment had been forgotten. There was a look of contentment on Eleni’s face, being close to this beloved landscape and the natural woodland. “Einai poly amorfa.”

  Thea inwardly concurred, the peacefulness of the place was indeed very striking. The leaves of the ancient forest showed not just one colour green but a whole spectrum of different shades: from khaki to lime; olive to sea-green; bottle-green to jade. Sunlight was now breaking through the forest canopy, providing a dappled light where clusters of insects danced in the sunlight.

  “You know there is a special kind of tree, that we only have here on Kefalonia,” Eleni commented pointing to the foreground, her eyebrows knitted together. “The Kefalonian fir.” Thea nodded as she followed the direction of Eleni’s gesture and noticed several deciduous trees. She knew this fact well from reading Homer. The boat oars of Odysseus’ Kefalonian contingent had been constructed from this native tree.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “The trees shouldn’t be like this at this time of year! Look at the needles, they looked dry and parched. They ought to be greener after the spring rains.” Thea glanced up at the towering upright giants. It was true, the shaggy pine branches were browning at their tips. The ground must be very dry. “It’s not a good sign for when the summer heat comes,” Eleni continued, her voice racked with concern. “You know our summers have become hotter. I’m afraid that the heat strains our Kefalonian fir. It would be a great crime to lose it. Ena krima!” Eleni tutted to herself. Thea looked up again at the tree with renewed respect. This magnificent species, standing lofty and proud, had witnessed Odysseus and the Kephallenians sailing off to Troy and over the millennia the countless comings and goings from the island. It was hard on this day, sat amongst the lush woodland, to envisage that this might become a casualty of a changing climate. That the natural order of the planet might be changing imperceptibly little by little, day by day, year by year. In silence, they finished their improvised picnic, breathing in the natural beauty that connected them to the generous and fertile earth.

  On their way back to the main town, Thea suggested stopping at a taverna in one of the small villages that dotted the mountain hillside.

  “Please, it will be my treat just to say thank you for your hospitality,” Thea explained to a reluctant Eleni. She already anticipated the familiar tussle over the bill, where the honour went to the person paying. She made a mental note to settle it early, before her friend could pre-empt her.

  When they pulled up outside the taverna, the place was deserted. It was still too early to expect the Greek families, who usually ate much later in the evening. They ordered a plate of grilled chicken, choriatiki salad, tzatziki and baked salty kefalonitis cheese. Thea poured out a glass of wine for Eleni from a carafe, before taking a sip of her own soft drink. It was still too cool to dine al fresco, so they had taken a seat near the balcony window. There was still a breathtaking view across the bay to the main town, fanning out over the facing hillside. Beyond, Thea could see the low lying swell on the Paliki peninsula, which inadvertently drew her attention. Eleni noticed and foll
owed Thea’s gaze.

  “So is the work going well?“ the older woman enquired, squinting out over the lagoon to the land beyond.

  “I think so-so.” The Greek that rolled off Thea’s tongue, etsi ketsi, expressed the meaning perfectly. “I’ve located a number of places that seem to match the Homeric descriptions for Ithaka. An island that has two beaches and a landing place with a sheltered harbour and cave. The geological work so far confirms Paliki was once a separate island.” Thea noticed her throat constrict as she thought of the lab. She did not allow her thoughts to dwell on it. ”But the field survey has been disappointing and they haven’t picked up any archaeological signs of habitation. And we’re running out of time,” she added resignedly. She looked up at Eleni, who had been listening attentively in silence. “But I feel it in my bones we’re on the right track. So close, I can almost touch it.”

  Eleni gave her a long look, which the younger women found hard to decipher. “Perhaps our island palace is not quite ready to be discovered,” she said slowly and deliberately. “But I think Thea, maybe you are close to discovering something else but not as you expect.”

  Eleni wiped her hands on the serviette. They had done justice to the freshly prepared food and only a few chicken bones and remnants of the meal remained. “So are you ready to go back?” asked Eleni, looking pointedly at Thea, “and face the world again?”

  “Yes,” Thea firmly replied. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 21

  Apollo’s Feast

  When Odysseus entered the bedchamber, newly fashioned robes had already been laid out ready. He took a moment to admire the finely woven garment. The hemline was decorated with a perfect row of symmetrical squares representing the unending path of life. The cloth was light in colour to offset the gold foil sewn into the collar to signify his kingly status. It came to him that this was the reason Penelope had been so occupied during the last cycle of the moon. To ensure the robe was ready for this important feast day.