‘Who dares wake me?’ The sleeping man, formerly a statue, had a voice and turned to look at them. Recognition mapped the man’s face. The ghost of Michael had disappeared.
Katerina and Aristo remained silent and waited, still trying to take in what was being enacted before their disbelieving eyes which thought that they were being deceived and were struggling to absorb the strangeness of the scene, what resembled a play with not exactly the most comprehensible plot.
The now woken man continued. ‘Ah, it’s Aristo and Katerina, isn’t it?
Katerina was quicker to recover and reply. ‘And you are Demetrios Palaiologos, brother of the last Emperor, Konstantinos XI.’
‘I am indeed. I just want to remind you about the inscription that Giorgos found in Cappadocia. That is the purpose of your quest. The unit that has been dismembered needs to be reunited and made whole again before the final rest will come. Inside the bags you will find the keys to places you will need to unlock to take you to your final destination. I mourn for my brother and his family and I don’t want to see them restless any more. Please, help us.’ And with that final word he went back to sleep and then, before their eyes, turned into a lifeless statue once more.
Then a different ghost appeared.
‘I am Zozo. My father was Antonios Symitzis. Before you go I must tell you a story. It happened in 1921 A.D. in Smyrna. It was the day that Kostas Vendis…’
Here the ghost of Zozo paused as she saw Katerina’s eyes expand in surprise at the mention of that name. She inexplicably nailed Katerina to the spot with a piercing gaze that made Katerina feel uncomfortable, as if she was being intensely probed inside the innermost reaches of her brain. Katerina recovered and fixed the ghost of Zozo with a piercing stare of her own.
Zozo relented from her challenge, turned away, and assuming a gentle expression, resumed her story. ‘… yes, Katerina, that was your ancestor. He visited my father to show him an object that had recently come to his possession. It was an icon, more specifically one of the pair of Likureian icons, thought lost for centuries, since well before Constantinople fell to the Ottomans.
‘I was present during the meeting and I asked to hold the icon and study it. At some point, after the discussion had concluded, Kostas Vendis asked to see my father’s famous garden and they went outside. But I stayed behind. I was lost in my own thoughts admiring the extraordinary artistry of the icon when I heard a noise behind me.
‘When I turned, Stephanos, brother of Nikitas and Manuel Symitzis, son of the redoubtable Zoe Symitzis, was standing at the study’s garden door, which only seconds earlier my father and Kostas Vendis used to get outside. I welcomed him and asked him to sit with me. But I knew something was wrong when he didn’t extend his usual warmth nor did he give me a hug. He just kept standing there staring at me.
‘I didn’t try to go close to him and the awkwardness of the moment transformed to unease when in the next few seconds we had a staring-down match. Then he made his move. He walked briskly into the room. I was expecting that he would come to me and make up for his earlier reticence. However, he moved to the door of the study leading to the rest of the house, turned the key to lock the door and just stood there.
‘Realising the danger I was in, I sought a chance to escape and began to walk towards the door leading into the garden. When I reached it and was starting to feel the, as it turned out, premature relief of being outside, my path was blocked by two huge muscle-bound giants.
‘They gave me no time to react. Besides, I didn’t stand a chance to keep them at bay let alone go past them. Even if I were an insect, squeezing past them would only have a high probability, in no way would it have been a certainty. They held me, tied me up and gagged me and one of them picked me up as if I was a rug and weighed no more than a feather.
‘Before they left with me over their shoulders they turned to look inside the room. Stephanos was absolutely still when he spoke to them. He didn’t even dare to look me in the eye, which I would expect at least out of courtesy for old times’ sake. Perhaps there was a part of him, a human part that was embarrassed that he had to treat me in such a barbaric and humiliating way. “Give my regards to your master.” Stephanos said. “Tell him I will be joining him later today. I have to do something first.”
‘With that the two gigantic men left, but Stephanos stayed behind. He took the icon that I had dropped on the sofa. I know that, because I saw it in his hands later that day. This is what happened next.
‘An hour later, Stephanos was boarding a ship and welcomed by the attendant to the powerful Malenca Pasha. Attendant was a soft and unsuitable term. Bodyguard was more appropriate, for he was a sequoia of a man, wholly-built of and bursting at the seams with muscle piled upon layer of muscle, all dressed in black and with a menacing posture, leaving Stephanos in no doubt that he was in for a rough ride, if he put even the slightest foot wrong.
‘Stephanos knew he would no doubt have to use all his guile and play his cards right to get what he had come for. If the muscle robot before him was hoping to intimidate him, it was not working, Stephanos said to himself. Stephanos, despite his smaller size compared to his welcoming committee of one that looked as if he had devoured a few of his mates, was immune to fear and intimidation.
‘His host was relaxing on deck on a plush divan, a throwback to the Ottoman days of old and out of place in the Smyrna and the Ottoman Empire of 1921 A.D. With an almost imperceptible wave of his right hand, bowls with morsels of food and fruit and jugs of wine magically appeared before him. He motioned for Stephanos to sit down on some cushions next to him, but at a lower level than the divan, unashamedly indicating that Stephanos was beneath him.
‘Stephanos obeyed. Being summoned by such an important man as the Malenca Pasha, daring to cross him would be foolhardy at best. Even the slightest hesitation would be a challenge to the Pasha’s authority, a grave personal affront and possibly fatal.
‘His host looked at him with contempt while his eyes and the corners of his mouth belied his amusement. “Here comes the messenger. What do you have for me? I hope you have not come empty-handed.”
‘Stephanos’ nose twitched in a discreet sign of disgust at the arrogance and greed of the man, and resisted from looking away from the gluttonous specimen lying in front of him. Lying, surely, because he could not move by his own volition, on his own fuel, as he could not be bothered to waste the energy to do so.
‘Stephanos wondered whether his host ever stepped on firm ground; most likely the Pasha was always being transported on a glorified stretcher with reinforced suspension and undercarriage. Stephanos knew of the avaricious nature and appetite of the man for food, flesh and disposal of rivals or those he did not like and of anyone who dared cross him or merely cause him displeasure after having crossed his path. Stephanos cautioned himself to be careful.
‘The Pasha was studying Stephanos with intense curiosity. Was he trying to guess Stephanos’ thoughts? “I can smell your fear. Why are you still standing? Nobody is allowed to tower above me. Now, come and sit down. I promise I will not harm you, at least not on my home ground and not until you have ceased to have your uses.” The Pasha certainly did not mince his words. Stephanos knew the rare and priceless value of the Pasha’s promises. “Zoe does me an honour. Sending her most faithful and favourite lieutenant, or is it perhaps her second favourite lieutenant? Hmm?”
‘Stephanos cursed under his breath. The Pasha certainly knew to hit where it hurt the most. Stephanos had always been sensitive where it came to his brothers. And he was prone to constantly playing the game of rivalry with them for his mother’s affections, admiration and respect. But now was not the place to admit his weakness, his jealousy.