by Anna Harvey
“Don’t worry, Dr Sefton, you’re not the first my husband has deceived. He has broken the hearts of many others before. This fact I know well as his wife. But always the allure of wealth and power has brought him back. Truly I am sorry for your loss.” She lifted her head, an enigmatic expression on her face. “I know how hard it is to lose a child.”
Clemmie picked up a small bell and rang it. The shrill tinkle rang out across the room. “So, I understand the Odysseus project ends this week.” She now adopted a more formal tone. “I do not know if our paths shall cross again but I wish you a pleasant stay on the island.” Thea realised she was being dismissed.
As Stelios entered the room, Clemmie Archontakis turned to address her once more, a forced smile on her face. “Goodbye, Dr Sefton. Please don’t be too disheartened. One day he will pay for his actions but I believe revenge is always best served cold.”
It was a relief to escape the mansion. As Thea drove back up along the coast, she turned over the conversation in her mind, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It was puzzling how Dimitri’s wife knew so much about her, knew her movements and the planned trip abroad. It could not just be coincidence, she reasoned. And then it dawned on her. It was there staring her in the face, as she entered the hallway. Stelios! Dimitri’s Mr Fix-it. His faithful and trusted right-hand man. Always there to arrange things and do Dimitri’s bidding. But Stelios’ attentiveness and the way his glance lingered on her didn’t feel the whole story. Perhaps Clemmie Kampitsis had secrets of her own. Certainly the gilded wife lived up to her ancient namesake of Klytaimnestra.
Chapter 23
Endings and Beginnings
He rose at first light of Dawn and quietly left the bedchamber. Without disturbing any within the household who slept deeply, carefully he picked his steps down the broad smooth-stoned staircase. A dusty smell of charcoal hung in the air as the palace ovens were lit for the day. In the kitchens, he came across an elderly servant already risen and kneading the bread dough to bake in the hot ovens. His presence had startled her as she had not expected anyone one roaming the palace before first light.
The woman looked up from her work, her knobbly hands encrusted with the milky barley flour. “Good morning, Basileos.” She bowed her head towards him. “You startled me, master. I did not expect anyone would be astir yet. For I heard the sound of revelling going well into the darkness of the night.”
He nodded at her, recognising her as one of the older retainers within the household. “And greetings to you also, Hypomone. I planned to travel early by foot to Keratios, the ox-horned bay, to make libations to the goddess Athene. Is there any food and drink that I might take with me?”
“Yes, master,” the woman replied. Although her skin was furrowed and the face hooded, there was an alertness in her eyes. “There are meats left over from the festival and several goatskins of wine.” She dusted off the yellow flour from her hands and wiped them against her simple brown tunic. “I will fetch them for you. But first sit and take some barley broth, master. So that you will not tire on your journey.”
He did as the woman instructed, sitting close to the fire and allowing the heat to creep into his limbs. He ate the bowl of porridge placed in front of him, slowly sipping the runny gruel. By the time he had done, the servant had returned with the provisions. He slung the heavy goatskins around his shoulder ready to leave.
“Is there anything else you require, master,” Hypomone asked attentively, anxious to ensure he had everything for the long day.
“No, this will do fine” Odysseus reassured her with a nod of the head. “But let your mistress, Penelope, know of my intention and that I will be gone the whole day. Tell her not to have fear if I am late returning.”
“Of course, but take heed master.” She raised her head upwards at the rafters. “For that cursed white bird is still hanging around and I fear it can only herald bad news.” He turned and kissed the faithful servant lightly on the forehead, noticing her eyes misting up with tears. With that he left, without a further glance back.
The well-trodden dirt track out of the polis was easy to follow, under the silver light of the full moon. He glanced over in the direction of the olive grove, where the feast had been held. The shadows of the pitched tents could be seen in the darkness, but otherwise all was quiet and still. By the time he passed the spring of Hermes, already the rose-coloured fingers of Dawn had started to creep across the lands and the cultivated fields. The air was soundless except for waking birdsong and the light touch of a Zephyr.
He walked on, keeping the steep mountain on his best side, where the skin was less scarred from wielding a sword. The path wound round the edge of the mountain, before cutting through a low pass towards the sea. He felt high in spirit, his body and limbs loosened by the early morning walk. At the cliff edge, he slowed, following the rocky track leading to the bay, where the dazzling clear sea-green waters sparkled below. From this height, the distinct shape of the ox-horned bay could be discerned. This was the place where Telemachos had landed, when he had sought to evade the ambush of the suitors. Beads of sweat now stood up on Odysseus’ forehead, as he took care to place each footfall so not to plunge headlong to the depths below.
By the time he reached the sea shore, already Helios had reached his peak in the sky. Not far from the path, he found a clear stream and refilled a goatskin, taking a long draught of the cool waters. When his body felt refreshed and his thirst slaked, he made his way along the white shingle to a point where it faced out westward towards the land of Aiaia. There at the waters’ edge, he poured a measure of red wine into the finely decorated two-handled kylix. The cup had been brought especially for the purpose of libation. Holding the vessel high above him, he now spoke these words.
“Oh goddess Athena, you brought me home safely and always have protected me, despite the many hardships and sufferings I endured. You provided me with intelligence and quickness of mind to survive the trials that the fates spun.” As he held the kylix upwards, there was the gentle sound of the sea swell rippling over the pebbles. “Accept now these offerings of wine and meat and take the portion due to you.” He poured the wine out onto the rocky ground and carefully positioned the roasted meat on a make-shift slab of stones, as if a small altar. “And grant your favour to this kingdom and to my son, Telemachos, so that he may rule as a just king over the kingdom of Ithaka.”
He paused, squinting into the sunlight. “For myself, goddess, I have only one request. Help me find peace from these torments that afflict me, the sufferings I endure and trouble my sleep from the slaughter of that accursed Trojan war and the ill-starred journey home.” The next words almost stuck in his throat. “And cure me of this love I feel for the woman, Kirke. For I can find no rest now in my old age.”
When the libation was finished, he smashed the kylix on the stony ground, where it broke into large jagged pieces. Approaching the water’s edge, he removed his footwear and entered the sea, bathing his body in the salt waters. He cupped the water in his hands, vigorously splashing it over his hair, face, and arms, as if the water could wash away the warrior’s stain and the mental pain he carried.
There was a rock, not far from shore, square in shape and smoothed on top like polished metal. It looked as if it had been hurled from the mountain cliff by the earth-shaker Poseidon or a Titan, when the primitive gods had battled each other. He hoisted himself onto it, stretching out his body, allowing Helios’ rays to dry out his wet tunic which clung to him like a second skin. Slowly, lulled by sound of the waves and the sweet gentle Zephyr, he closed his eyelids until Sleep slowly overtook him.
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It seemed unclear what drew her back. The decision to book a room for the night had been on impulse, catching even Thea by surprise. As she mounted the pension steps, the exterior of the pension looked reassuringly the same: the high glass-fronted windows, the paved tiles and swimming pool, now inviting in the late spring sunlight.
The sunbeds were unoccupied as it was still early in the day. It had only been one calendar month ago since their stay, and yet so much had changed. Her hostess had instantly recognised her and greeted her enthusiastically. “And is your friend not with you?” Angeliki had enquired as she handed over the room key.
“I’m here alone,” Thea had answered with a shrug, trying to dismiss the memory.
“Never mind. You look so well together and the kyrios was so attentive!” Thea just smiled politely. It was too complicated to explain.
Situated at the darkened end of the corridor, the room was smaller this time. Apparently new guests now occupied their former room, but the simple whitewashed walls, pine furnishings and the smell of freshly laundered sheets remained the same. Thea pulled open the shutters and stepped out onto the balcony, taking in a breath of the clear air. The view was unchanged. The dazzling turquoise sea below, framed by steep-sided cliffs and the half-moon chalk-white bay. She surveyed the scene, her lips pressed together, unsure what she expected but mildly disappointed.
Thea stepped back into the room and stuffed a silk-green tunic and some beachwear into her rucksack. If this was to be the last day of the Odysseus Project, she thought, she was determined to make the most of it. She checked her watch. There was still plenty of time to walk down to the beach. Someone was sure to offer her a lift back for the upward journey.
It was a good hour’s walk down the cliff-side. The sun was now high up in the sky, beating down on Thea’s back and making the descent dry thirsty work. The beach road coiled downwards to the sea, closely hugging the contours of the rock face. Occasionally a small dusty path would cut across the rugged ground, avoiding the wide meandering loops of road to lessen the distance. Even then it required hard concentration not to slip on the loose stones underfoot. Hardly any vehicles passed by. It was a welcome sight when finally, nestled against the edge of the white pebble beach, the taverna came into view. It was a peaceful spot, with the gentle heaving of the waves against the white pebbled strand soothing like a lullaby. As Thea approached, the sound of metal striking metal announced the waiters setting the tables for lunch.
Richard was instantly recognisable, dressed in his light linen suit with his Panama hat and red bow tie. He was sat alone slumped over a large table, a carafe of wine in front of him already half drunk.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Thea asked, unsure of her reception.
He looked up distracted and for a moment didn’t appear to recognise her. “Of course, my dear, please sit down!” He rallied himself and pulled out a chair. “May I offer you some wine?” he asked, pouring out a large generous helping into a tumbler without waiting for an answer. Close-up his face had visibly aged and the greying hair had whitened overnight. He sat stooped and deflated as if the life had been sucked from his body. Clearly the last few weeks had taken their toll.
The wine tasted lightly resonated but perfectly chilled. “Where is everyone?” A high pitched female squeal rang out and Thea turned her head to see Belinda in the distance surrounded by a bevy of young male students splashing each other in the sea. Richard followed her glance and nodded in their direction.
“They wanted to take a morning dip,” he said, “so we arrived early. Helen and Alistair are still packing the final find boxes, ready for dispatch to the local museum.” He took a large sip of his wine, studying the drained glass in his hand. “Mark will be coming over shortly, bringing Mathew and Sophie, but he had a couple of things to take care of. Everything has to be cleared out before tomorrow morning.”
Without thinking, she looked around searching for Rob’s presence, when Richard interrupted her thoughts. He coughed to clear his throat.
“I think I owe you an apology,” he said, his eyes resting steadily on her face. A subdued hesitant tone had replaced the self-assured voice. “Unfairly I pressurised you to intervene with Mr Kampitsis. I don’t know the circumstances of your relationship, but it was wrong of me.” He clutched the empty glass in his hand, as if carefully studying its content. “I hope you can forgive me. I’m just disappointed we failed.” The sunken and hollowed cheeks suggested a broken man. In the twilight years of a glittering career, clearly Richard had been hoping for this one last glorious discovery.
Thea reached out towards him, gently touching his shoulder. “Thanks Richard. Your apology means a lot. I’m disappointed too as I was convinced we’re very close.” She smiled reassuringly, remembering Eleni’s words. “Perhaps the palace is just not ready to be discovered.”
He put the glass down on the table and was studying her closely. “You know Rob warned me about him some time ago.” He obviously was referring to Dimitri but the mention of Rob’s name on his lips startled her. Richard shook his head slowly. “About this all being a vanity project. But I wouldn’t listen and dismissed it.” Had Rob really had seen through Dimitri, she wondered, and taken her side. “I did you an injustice, Thea,” Richard continued, “when I refused your advice about Mousatoi. It just seemed easier just to scapegoat you for things not working out.”
“Perhaps there will be a next time, Richard,” she replied brightly, refilling their glass tumblers with wine. There were no hard feelings. “And if so, we will find the palace!”
“Let’s drink to that.” As they chinked their glasses to a toast of yeia-mas, her mind suddenly darted back to the end of that day, when they had walked the coastal path from Katsiki. They had stood at the edge of the village, looking out over a promontory, where a cluster of modern dwellings barred their way. They had stopped besides a boundary wall of one of the properties.
“This looks a natural place for a Mycenean palace complex,” Alistair had declared in an authoritative voice, exchanging a knowing glance with his wife. “It would sit high up commanding the lands around, but be strategically defended by the natural slope of the hillside. What a damn shame we can’t get any closer as it’s all privately owned.”
She noticed Rob had detached himself and was standing alone, the strange faraway look settled on his face. “I know this view,” he remarked, looking round puzzled at the sound of her footsteps. “The tall mountains across the gulf and Zante way in the distance. I’ve seen it somewhere before either in a book or photograph.” He cupped his hands over his brow as he squinted at the landscape westwards towards the deepening glow of the setting sun. “And I can’t shake the image of a plane tree from my mind.” He looked up at her, as if trying to read an answer on her face. “It makes no sense!”
She had glanced down at the earth and for a moment, she thought she glimpsed the ground pitted with the red flesh of crushed figs. But then the image was gone and there was only the hardened dried out earth.
“And is Rob joining us?” Thea asked, trying to keep her voice light, noticing some of the dullness had lifted from Richard.
“Oh, I think he’s left for the airport already,” said Belinda. She had appeared suddenly at the top of the steps leading from the beach, her blonde hair dripping with sea-water and a bright coloured sarong tied around her body. From the weeks of field-walking, her skin had changed to a deep brown colour like a ripened nut. “I overheard Matthew saying he had to leave early.”
They both looked at Belinda astonished. Clearly this was news to Richard too. Their argument earlier in the week must have caused a rift. “I suspect he’s had to return to take up his new position,” Richard answered thoughtfully, smoothing over any awkwardness. “Did you know he’s just been offered the directorship at the prestigious Coverdale Institute for climate studies? That one will go far!”
“I’m sorry I missed him,” replied Thea steadily, disappointment gripping the pit of her stomach. Even though she had hardly glimpsed Rob these past few weeks, his proximity somehow mattered. She drained her glass, tilting her head back to swallow the last dregs of the wine. “I think I’ll take a short walk to get some air,” she said briskly, setting the glass down on the table.
“There’s no hurry,” said Richard affably, some of the
colour restored to his face. “Lunch isn’t for some time.”
In the changing room, Thea swapped her walking clothes for a bathing suit and the loose fitting fern-green tunic. She unwound her hair, allowing her copper hair to cascade down her back in thick ringlets. She emerged to a commotion. A small crowd had gathered at the back of the restaurant, watching intently the noisy television screen. The news commenter spoke in a torrent of fast flowing Greek, the words firing in quick succession. The words “Newsflash” and “Archontakis Company” caught her attention. Curious, Thea stopped and peered over the shoulders, as pictures of the Piraeus headquarters flashed up on the screen. The television picture now changed to a press conference where Clemmie Kampitsis stood centre stage, regally dressed in an elegant silk-cut suit. Her words, sophisticated and elegantly crafted, carried over the airwaves as she announced the appointment of the new chief executive of the Archontakis shipping company. To rapturous applause, Stelios Ioannou stepped out of the shadows and took his place at her side.
Thea raised her eyebrows in surprise. There was no sign of Dimitri, but the puzzle was quickly answered. An image flashed on screen of a man, being hastily bundled into a car, hunted by a baying pack of journalists. Unshaven and startled, the target blinked and gaped in the scrum of the crowd and the flashing camera lights. His fine features were the same but bewilderment and shock had now replaced the charming smile and self-assured confidence. The large Greek caption on the screen caption announced “Dimitri Kampitsis – Embezzlement of Archontakis Funds”.
So this was what Clemmie’s parting words had meant, Thea thought to herself. Her revenge had been swift and brutal. To hurt Dimitri where it hurt the most. To depose him in favour of Stelios, her lover. Had something been stirred at their meeting? Just for a moment, there had been a glimpse of something. Then it suddenly struck her. Could it be that Clemmie too had suffered a loss, perhaps like her losing a child? Whatever had happened was no longer her concern. Thea turned her back on the blaring screen, the speaker now speculating wildly on the turn of events and Dimitri’s downfall, and started to walk down the white pebbled beach.