“Fortunately, the native population who became known as Eteocretans, or true Cretans, found the plateau quite habitable. Although the altitude makes the climate much chillier than the rest of the island, the farmland is rich, and water is plentiful from the spring run-off of mountain snows. To irrigate their farms and orchards, the inhabitants built windmills. Lasithi is sometimes called the land of ten thousand windmills though most of them have fallen into disuse in recent years.”
“I can see one of them now!” Cassie exclaimed, pointing out the rear window.
“Yes, I daresay the one you see carries an advert for the nearest taverna. That’s the march of progress for you.”
During Griffin’s lengthy explanation, the BMW had passed from open terrain through a succession of small villages. Erik accelerated as they emerged from yet another one.
Noting his surroundings, Griffin commented, “There are about a dozen villages that encircle the plateau. All very quaint and picturesque. Tourism is becoming an important part of the local economy though the area is still primarily agricultural.”
The scrivener turned to address Erik. “Do let me know when we reach Psychro.”
“Psycho.” Cassie chuckled.
Griffin gave her an annoyed look. “Now you’re just willfully mispronouncing the name.”
“I can’t help myself. I think it’s funny.”
“We just passed it,” Erik said flatly.
“What!” Griffin exclaimed.
“While you two were busy playing Trivial Pursuit, you missed it. The town we just drove through was Psychro. You wanted to go to the cave first, right?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” the scrivener admitted.
“It’s outside of town up the mountain.” Erik drove a short distance further until the road ended abruptly near a cluster of tavernas and souvenir shops. After parking, he got out of the car and opened the trunk to retrieve a back pack. “From here we walk.”
“Walk where?” Cassie asked.
“I’ve never been to the cave, but I believe it’s about a mile up the side of this mountain,” Griffin offered brightly.
“A vertical mile!” Cassie gasped. “You don’t have to sound so perky about it.”
They hurried to follow the security coordinator who was already moving at a brisk pace up the stony zig-zag path.
As they struggled along the steep incline, Cassie kept looking upward expecting to glimpse the cave mouth. They paused to catch their breaths about a thousand feet above the village on a wide stone shelf that gave them a panoramic view of the plateau and the mountains. Even at the point where they had to stop to buy admission tickets, Cassie still couldn’t spy the cave. A guide offered them lanterns, but Erik waved him away.
They resumed their march up the mountain single file and in silence. The trek became automatic, almost hypnotic. Cassie found her mind wandering until Erik stopped abruptly, and she collided with his back pack.
“We’re here,” he said simply.
“Where? I still don’t see it.”
“That’s because you’re looking up. Look down,” Griffin advised.
When Cassie did as he instructed, she saw a forty-foot hole in the ground directly below her feet. Farther below, she could see lights flickering from tourists already inside the cave. The sight made her dizzy and slightly nauseous. “How far down does this thing go?” she asked Griffin.
“I believe the depth is about eight hundred feet.”
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Cassie could see a winding stairway cut out of the rock wall to her right with a handrail to the left of the stairs.
“How are we supposed to find anything down there?” She felt a sense of despair creep over her.
Erik had removed his back pack and was rummaging around for something. Wordlessly he handed flashlights to his two companions. He managed to make silence sound like a reproach.
“Sorry,” Griffin apologized. “It didn’t occur to me to pack a torch. Stupid of me not to have realized we’d need them.”
“Let’s go,” Erik prompted. “Watch your footing.”
The two followed him down the first few stairs.
Cassie felt cool damp air hit her face. After the bright sunlight and dry heat outside, it was as if she’d dived into a pool. Then her feet began to slide sideways. The stairs were slippery from the moisture in the cave. She gripped the handrail tighter and threw her flashlight beam up toward the ceiling. The roof of the cave was rippled with stalactites. It would have been impossible to spot a carving of a lily, or a bird, or anything else for that matter. The wavy texture played tricks with the eyes. You could imagine any shape you wanted to see in those rock formations.
The trio traveled on in silence until they reached the bottom of the stairs which opened out into a huge chamber.
“This cave has been used as a sacred site since the earliest Minoan settlements on the island,” Griffin started to explain. “It was sloppily excavated at the turn of the twentieth century. Sections of the roof collapsed and then were blasted apart for removal which obviously disturbed layers of strata. This chamber is roughly a hundred feet by fifty feet. In it, archaeologists have discovered pottery and votive objects. Things like goddess figurines and small double axes. They also unearthed a large number of libation tables and cups for food offerings. Other offerings, such as animal sacrifices are evidenced by numerous bones from bulls, sheep, and goats.”
Cassie swept her flashlight around the chamber, noting even more of the gnarled, twisted stalactites sprouting from the ceiling. “It’s going to be almost impossible to find any key symbols here,” she observed bleakly.
Griffin shrugged. “We have to try. Each of us should take a portion of the chamber and focus on the largest stalactite and
