Carver's Quest (46 page)

‘But there are young novices, are there not? When I was bundled from the net I saw one lad standing behind the monks. He looked no more than twelve.’

‘Some of the young boys from the village come up to the monastery to learn to read and write. They are the servants of the
caloyeri
. He must have been one of those.’

One of the monks had approached them and was trying shyly to attract their attention. He spoke to the lawyer, his words a jumble of half-familiar Greek words uttered so swiftly and in such a
marked accent that Adam was unable to follow them. Rallis, it seemed, had no such problem.

‘His name is Theophanes,’ he interpreted for Adam. ‘He will show you and Mr Quint and the professor to rooms where you can rest.’

Theophanes beckoned to Adam and his companions, who had both been engaged in peering over the monastery’s perimeter wall at the plain beneath. Leaving the lawyer, the three men followed
the monk through an arched opening into one of the buildings off the courtyard. A short flight of stone steps led upwards, which through the centuries had been worn away by the feet of generation
after generation of long-departed monks. As they began to climb it, Fields gave a short cry and fell to his knees. Quint, following close behind, nearly tumbled over him. The professor peered
downwards in the gloomy light of the stairwell.

‘Most interesting, most interesting,’ he said, removing his glasses and crouching even lower to examine one of the steps.

Brother Theophanes had stopped when Fields did and was looking down at him with polite puzzlement. Adam smiled at the monk as if to suggest that the professor’s action was odd but not
entirely unexpected.

Fields struggled to his feet. ‘Fascinating, Adam, simply fascinating. It is a burial stele. I can make out the words “Attyla, daughter of Eurypothus”.’

‘How did it come to be here?’

‘I have no idea. I can only presume that the monks in the Middle Ages, when they were building this place, brought it up from the plain. I must look at the other steps.’

Adam glanced at the monk, who was wearing the bemused expression of a courteous man faced by the inexplicable behaviour of foreigners.

‘I think that task must be postponed a while, Professor. Our host is patient but we cannot keep him waiting for too long.’

‘Ah, of course, you are right.’ Fields was unmistakably disappointed but he waved his hand to Theophanes to indicate that he was ready to move on. ‘Another time, perhaps,
another time.’

* * * * *

As midnight passed, Quint and Adam prepared for a nocturnal excursion. Brother Theophanes had led the travellers to the sparely furnished stone cells which were the
monastery’s guest rooms. Adam had explained to their host that they were weary and wished to rest. They required no food. They needed only to sleep. The day was drawing to an end and darkness
had already fallen. The monk, accustomed to retiring early to bed himself, had seemed to understand. Hand on his heart, he had bowed and left them. After a little conversation, the professor, Quint
and Adam had gone their several ways to their own rooms. Some hours later, the manservant, obeying whispered instructions he had been given earlier, had tapped on his master’s door. Now the
two of them stood in Adam’s room, ears cocked for the sounds of other people moving about, and prepared to reconnoitre the monastery.

‘We must not spend too long in exploration,’ Adam said. ‘But I cannot resist the temptation to escape the eagle-eyed scrutiny of the monks and look at the place
myself.’

‘Ain’t some of these bearded buggers going to be still awake?’

‘They will all rise in the night at least once to perform their devotions. Probably several times. But they will be asleep now. I think we have an hour or two in which to investigate the
monastery. Lead on, Quint.’

The manservant opened the door and peered out.

‘What can you see?’ Adam asked.

‘Sod all. It’s as black as Newgate’s knocker out there.’

‘There will be light in the courtyard. Light from the moon. Let us take candles for the corridors.’

Adam crossed the room and took the candles from the two iron sconces attached to the far wall. He handed one to Quint and the two men crept furtively into the passageway outside.

‘Which way?’ Quint hissed.

His master motioned to the left and they began to shuffle in that direction. They passed the doors to other rooms and then came to the top of the flight of stone steps they had ascended earlier
in the day. Even with the light from the candles, they found it difficult to see where they were going and Quint, in the lead, nearly stumbled and fell before he realised where he was. He cursed
briefly and began to edge down the stairs. At the bottom, the archway opened onto the courtyard, which as Adam had predicted was lit by the moon. Quint cupped his hand protectively round the flame
of the candle but the night was so still that he had scarcely need to do so.

‘Through the archway, Quint,’ Adam whispered. ‘Keep moving to the left. Let us see what other buildings face onto the court.’

The servant made his way through the next arched doorway, his master close behind him. They found themselves in what was clearly a chapel. It was tiny, only a few yards square, but its walls and
roof were covered in paintings. In the flickering light of the candles, Adam could make out the figure of Christ in majesty, surrounded by what were, he guessed, images of the saints. Peering more
closely, he could just see the Greek lettering that identified them all. Even in the poor light, the rich colours the painter had applied three centuries earlier still glowed. One saint had a model
of a church in his hand and was holding it out as if inviting the viewer to admire its architecture. As Adam turned to the left, an image of the Virgin and Child swam into view, the pudgy infant
grasping the middle finger of its mother’s hand. She stared serenely into the middle distance. Fields would claim these paintings were nothing but primitive daubs, he thought, and yet there
was something about them that held the attention. Numinous and otherworldly, they lodged themselves in the imagination.

A smell of incense percolated through the chapel. Adam moved his candle again to look at the next wall. Here the painting appeared to depict the martyrdom of two saints. On the left of the
picture, a man hung upside down from a gallows while another, not much more than a boy, was stabbing him in the neck. Blood was dripping to the ground. To the right a gridiron stood over open
flames and another saint, recognisable by his halo, was strapped to it. Given his circumstances, he seemed to be remarkably cheerful. There was even the slightest hint of a forgiving smile on his
face, as if he pitied his tormentors and wished he could point out to them the uselessness of torturing one of God’s elect.

The last of the paintings the candles revealed before the two men turned and left the chapel was the
pièce de résistance
. It was a depiction of the Last Judgement. At the
bottom a huge and hideous devil was sitting in a pool of fire and gnawing upon the bodies of several unfortunates. Around him capered a troop of merry imps armed with tiny tridents who prodded the
damned as they milled aimlessly around the flames of hell. Up above sat the souls of the blessed, appearing unsurprisingly smug.

‘Look at them little bastards with the forks,’ Quint whispered. ‘They’re ’appy as pigs in shit.’

‘They do look as if they are enjoying their work, don’t they?’ Adam agreed. ‘But we cannot stay to admire their devotion to duty. We must move on.’

They left the chapel and entered once again the small, paved courtyard which looked to be the centre of the monastery. In the dim light from the half-moon they could now make out two cypress
trees in the far corner. Two more arched stone doorways opened off the courtyard. Quint looked briefly into the first one they approached.

‘Nothing ’ere,’ he said. ‘It’s just another door into the room where we come in. I can see the winding gear as fetched us up.’

The next building had the outward appearance of another chapel. The two men stood outside its door, which appeared to have been designed for exceptionally short monks. For a moment, Adam
wondered whether or not it was even worth entering, but the temptation to look at whatever wall paintings it might hold was enough to persuade him to duck his head and go in. Quint followed him.
The room they entered was like a prison cell. Once inside, neither man could stand upright without grazing his head on the rough stone that formed its ceiling. As the light from their candles
illuminated the darkness, both of them started back in surprise.

‘Sweet Jesus in ’eaven,’ whispered Quint hoarsely. ‘What in ’ell are these doing ’ere?’

At the back of the room, there was a recess in the wall. It was piled high with human skulls. More than a hundred stared sightlessly out of the shadows. Adam had now recovered his composure. He
held his candle high and allowed it to throw its flickering light into the empty eye sockets.

‘It is an ossuary, I believe,’ he said. ‘These are the skulls of monks from long ago.’

‘Ain’t they got no decency?’ Quint said, in disgust. ‘Why didn’t they give ’em a proper burial like a Christian should?’

‘They have different beliefs from ours in England. To them it is no disrespect to leave the bones thus.’

Quint shook his head as if in sorrowful acknowledgement that, beyond England’s shores, the world was a bizarre and poorly governed place.

‘Wouldn’t take much to plant ’em in the ground,’ he commented.

‘You forget that we are a long way above it, Quint.’

There was a sudden sound from outside. Both men doused their candles and fell silent. They moved warily to the entrance of the ossuary and peered out. On the far side of the small courtyard, two
figures were silhouetted against the dim moonlight. One was instantly recognisable from its enormous height.

‘That’s Andros,’ Quint hissed.

‘And, unless I’m much mistaken, the other is his master.’

Rallis had in his hand a dark lantern. As they watched, he slid back its shutter and its light shone out. Standing by the parapet overlooking the drop, the lawyer waved the lantern from side to
side.

‘’E’s signalling to someone,’ Quint whispered, ‘someone down on the plain.’

‘So it would seem.’

‘Where’d ’e get the light from?’

‘The bags, I suppose. The monks hauled up two of our bags after we all made it to the top.’

The Greek continued to move his light from side to side. From where Adam and Quint crouched in the doorway to the ossuary, it was impossible to tell whether or not there was any answering signal
from below. Several minutes passed and then Rallis closed the shutter on his lantern for the last time. He turned to his giant companion and spoke a few brief words which the watchers were unable
to hear. The two Greeks left the courtyard. For a minute, the silence was broken only by the sound of some night bird cawing among the rocks beneath the monastery.

‘What the ’ell was all that about?’ Quint asked eventually, his voice still a whisper.

‘I have absolutely no notion,’ his master replied. Adam’s mind was racing with possible explanations for the lawyer’s behaviour. None that he could imagine cast Rallis in
good light. It seemed as if the professor had been right to suspect the man of treacherous intent. And yet Adam could scarcely bring himself to think badly of the Athenian. Even in the short period
of their acquaintance, he had grown to like and admire him. ‘He was making contact with someone in the village below. Or someone camped on the plain. That much was evident. But, for what
purpose, I cannot tell.’

‘What would ’e want to be waving ’is bleeding lantern at anybody for?’

‘As I say, Quint, I do not know.’ Adam moved cautiously into the courtyard. He looked from left to right and then beckoned his servant to follow him. ‘Presumably he was not
relaying instructions to them about the feeding of the mules.’

‘What we going to do about it? We going to ask ’im what ’e’s been up to?’

‘I cannot believe that he would necessarily tell us.’

‘We got to do something,’ Quint persisted.

‘We will keep an eye on our Athenian friend. And we will not always assume that he
is
our friend. We will listen out for anything that might be said that will cast some light on
his nocturnal prowling.’ ‘That won’t do no good,’ Quint said. ‘Not for me. What with Rallis and the monks gobbling Greek all the time. Even if I do listen out, I
ain’t going to make much sense out of anything I ’ear.’

‘Well, if your ears prove useless, keep your eyes open. But, for now, we shall retire. The monks will no doubt be stirring before too long. We would not want them to catch us creeping
about their domain like thieves in search of booty.’

I
n the tiny cell he had been given, Adam awoke to the sounds of birds and to the muffled gong of the
seman
dron
summoning the
monks to prayer. He had heard it once in the dark hours of the night but it had disturbed his rest only briefly. Now it proved impossible to ignore. He opened the shutters of the unglazed window to
the room and allowed the sun to enter. After dressing, he ventured onto the wooden walkway that ran outside the guest chambers and skirted the eastern side of the monastery. A white goat, a bell
around its neck, was wandering along the walkway. While Adam watched, the beast disappeared round the corner but he could still hear it jingling on the far side of the building. Looking across the
flimsy railings of the walkway which were the only protection against a precipitous drop, Adam shaded his eyes against the rising sun. He could see where another of the pillars of rock thrust its
way up from the plain. It too had a monastery on its summit. The building seemed almost like a natural outcrop of the rock. It was difficult to tell where geology ended and architecture began. Adam
cast his eyes downwards. At the foot of the rock pillars, he could see the box-like houses of Kalambaka with their red roofs and he could just make out the tiny figures of some of the inhabitants
as they emerged to begin their day. In the background, across the valley, the peaks of the Pindos Mountains soared into the sky, their slopes green with the trees that cloaked them.