Chapter 24: Death Awaits

Friday, 19 August 1955, Kastraki, Greece

Pol met Rebecca and Wesley at the gate when they returned from their walk late in the afternoon. Even after the exertions of their open air lovemaking, they had continued on up between the two highest of Metéora’s monasteries and then followed the road back past yet another. Tourists had begun to arrive for the weekend in Kalambaka to tour the open monasteries on Saturday or attend Divine Liturgy on Sunday.

“Have you been waiting for us, Pol?” Wesley asked. The boy nodded and uncharacteristically gave Wesley a hug. He turned uncertainly to Rebecca but she opened her arms to him as well.

“Mother Rebecca, my grandfather is asking for you. Can you come to him?” Rebecca was thrown at what she assumed was an honorific she would only have thought of in a Catholic sense. Nonetheless, she nodded.

“He is back from his daily walk?” she asked.

“He lay down after breakfast and has not left his bed since. Grandmother is worried. Father Wesley, he will wish to see you as well, but asks for a few minutes with Mother Rebecca first, if you do not object.”

“Of course. Perhaps you and I can talk for a few minutes, son.” Rebecca noticed, now, the bond that had developed between Wesley and Pol. The titles had not merely been honorifics, Pol considered himself, in a way, a son to the young couple.

“Please do not be angry, Mother, but I told him of our ... adventure coming down from the mountain. He has asked to see the stone.”

“Pol, I’m not angry. I would never be angry with you for obeying your grandfather.” She reached her arms around the boy again and gave him a big hug, which he returned enthusiastically. “My son, I will hurry to your grandfather’s side.” She turned and kissed Wesley once again and rushed to the old man.

Pol and Wesley watched her go and then turned to sit on a bench. Pol picked up three stones and began to juggle them, changing patterns as he went. Wesley watched until one of the stones slipped from the boy’s hand and he turned suddenly to face his friend.

“You set her free,” Pol said. “Truly? She is free now to seek me out? Will the promise of the gods be fulfilled?”

“Pol, I’m not a wise old man like your grandfather. Or even Doc or your father. I’m like a newborn when it comes to the stories your family has been raised with for centuries.” Wesley picked up a few pebbles and tossed them one at a time toward a larger rock near the well. “All I’ve learned is that I can’t predict how the powers fulfill their promises. Think. Ryan McGuire believes there is some kind of stone or golden statue that would bring him wealth, fame, or power. You believe in a goddess who will be the love of your life. I admit that I think of the love of my life as a goddess as well.”

“May I come to visit you in America?”

“As soon as your parents will allow you to travel to be with us.”

The two sat companionably silent for a few minutes. Wesley turned again to Pol.

“There is something else you should know, Pol. I have taken a vow to love and protect her. Them. If I must lay down my life to ensure their safety, I will do that without hesitating.”

“Greater love hath no man,” Pol recited.

“Faith ... Well, we all have it. A lot of people misunderstand it, though. Faith is believing in something for which you have no evidence but the promise. You have a promise and you must have faith, no matter how long it takes, that it will be fulfilled. You will recognize it when it is. Where people go wrong is in having faith in which the evidence is all against them. It is like believing the promise of one who is known to break his promises. Placing faith in that promise is foolishness. But you have seen that the gods are faithful in keeping their promise. Just remember that it has taken them centuries to fulfill this one. Do not be surprised if it takes a few ... at least eighteen, I hope ... years to fulfill this one.”

Pol looked at Wesley curiously and then his mouth dropped open as he looked toward the door of his grandfather’s house where Rebecca had entered.

Rebecca entered the patriarch’s home and was invited to sit by his bed. She did not remember him to be so old when she met him just a few days ago. In fact, he seemed to have aged at an alarming rate since breakfast. He seemed withered and frail as if he had been bedridden for weeks. She held his hands between hers. She imagined he might be her own grandfather. Perhaps it was just because she had so much love inside her that she could not help but reach out to him. If he had been a total stranger, she would have loved him and wanted to help make him well and young.

“Rebecca Allen, you are a wonderful sight to my old eyes,” he said. “My grandson has told me tales and I want to hear them from you, as well.”

For a moment Rebecca found herself absorbed in the aches and pains of the old man’s body. She could feel the arthritis that had weakened his hands and swollen his joints. Deep inside, her bones cried out for the pain.

Then it was gone—more quickly than it had come—and she looked at the old man again from the bedside.

“No, goddess. I will not give you my dying,” he said. “That is my final special gift. I thank you for easing my pain, but the time is right for my passing. Your promise has kept me alive long since others would have passed.”

“You looked no older than my own grandfather just a few days ago. What has happened?” Rebecca asked.

“When I was a boy, I took my journey to the City of the Gods as all in my family had. Each person who goes has his own personal experience with the powers and with the goddess. I was promised that I would live to see her release. That was nearly a hundred years ago. I lost my first family in the Unfortunate War in 1897. Two sons ran off to fight the Turks at Larissa and both fell in battle. Supplies to this area of Thessaly were cut off by war on all sides. A plague carried away my wife, daughter, and mother. I was already 50 years old and looked as young as if I were twenty. My father was also a great believer and looked young. He married a woman much younger than me and soon my brother Leo and sister Demi were born. They have known me only as their older brother, but neither knows how much older. Thea is no older than my little sister, but I waited patiently, knowing that I had been promised the sight of the goddess. I feared for my second family when the Great War embroiled all Europe and I lost my youngest son. But I have never given up hope.”

“But why now, Andrew? Why give up hope now?”

“Give up? Oh, no! I have not given up. I have seen the fulfillment of the promise. Show me. Please show me the dark stone that my Pol says cut a void in the mists and gave you firm ground beneath your feet. So glorious was the dark brightness of this jewel that when it appeared all would be lost, you were transported by the stone to land on your feet beneath the holy slopes.”

“Pol!” Rebecca snorted. “I think it was not quite as dramatic as that.” The old man laughed.

“He does have a slight tendency to exaggerate magical events. Perhaps you merely stumbled down from the mountain of your own accord. It will be a wonderful dream when I sleep tonight.” The old man squeezed her hand. “Please, Rebecca. Would you favor an old man’s whim and show me this fabled jewel? Perhaps I, too, will find guidance down from my mountain to the netherworlds to which I must travel.”

Rebecca fished the stone from her pocket and held it out to the old man. He stared at it for a long while, but it was her hand that held his attention.

“Is this not the hand that was red and blistered when we met?”

“Yes, it healed quickly.”

“Gods of thunder!” whispered the old man. “It is indeed the key to the ivory veil.” He reached out a bony finger and touched the stone. “Thank you, my goddess.” Rebecca placed a hand over her womb, imagining she felt an impossible response from the hours-old fetus. The events of that night were so like a fantasy, yet so real. The images. The lovemaking ... The goddess within her.

“She is free,” Rebecca answered.

The old man reached out to place his hand over hers.

“Serepte,” he whispered. He closed his eyes for a moment and smiled. “I have seen the goddess within you. All is complete. My life is full. It would do no good for me to cling to it longer than Lachesis has measured it. Give me a silver coin for the ferryman and a biscuit for the dog. I will pass the river unafraid, uncomplaining.”

They sat a while longer in silence.

“Thea?” Andrew called weakly. His wife hurried in. She must have been just outside the door listening, Rebecca thought. “Send someone for Father Dimitri. It is time for an old man to confess his sins. And my precious wife, please come back with Wesley so we may bless them.” Thea bent and kissed her husband before she hurried outside. She returned a few moments later with Wesley hurrying behind her.

“Leo and Demi are waiting outside to see you as well,” Thea said. “They say they just stopped by.”

“A family knows,” Andrew said. He reached for Wesley’s hand and joined it to Rebecca’s. His wife smiled and placed her hands over her husband’s as they held the young couple. “Your family is already blessed. You have been married together but have spent much of that time apart. I pray that you will be blessed and that the fruit of your union will bring joy to your lives and to the world she graces. Love and live. Our blessings abide with you.”

“Amen,” Thea said.

Once Wesley and Rebecca emerged from the tiny house, Leo and Demi rushed inside to visit their older brother. Rebecca wondered if they had any idea how much older he was. Why did he trust her with the story of waiting for the goddess? She found it too hard to believe and wrote it off as an old man’s meanderings. Yet, so much was unbelievable in her life. Why not this one thing as well?

By evening, other people in the village had come to pay their respects to Andrew Pariskovopolis before he passed beyond. Each visitor brought food so that Rebecca joined Sophia, Helen, and Sophia’s sixteen-year-old daughter Anna in putting out the food and seeing that everyone had eaten. Wesley sat in a corner behind the buffet and strummed his guitar. Pol joined him and the two sang quietly. The music tugged at Rebecca’s heart. While it was not particularly sad, it had a peaceful calming effect on the family and friends who gathered.

The priest, Father Dimitri, arrived shortly after sundown and once he had a full plate of food, he joined Wesley and Pol. It seemed an odd combination on the bench. Her husband, having been encouraged not to shave his beard until they were ready to leave Metéora, was a Methodist from birth who now espoused a special commitment to the goddess. Pol had been raised in the combined culture and teaching of Greek Orthodoxy and ancient mythology. A heavily-bearded priest, Dimitri took large swallows of wine to wash down each bite of the plentiful food. And herself. She’d changed to a long skirt and blouse out of respect for the local customs, but knew she would be more comfortable dancing naked around a fire to raise the power of her own pagan coven. Yet, here they all were, celebrating the life and awaiting the death of the old man.