From her mother’s tone Lila could tell she had asked the question with a pretty good idea of the answer. It was her style of parenting: don’t tell, lead and elicit. ‘He’s afraid, too.’
Her mother nodded.
‘But why? He must know that I love him.’
‘Of course he does. He’s just not sure that’s enough for you.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You come from different backgrounds. He fears you later may regret your decision, that your feelings for him now are tied into having a baby together.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you think the same way?’ There was an angry tone in Lila’s voice.
Her mother smiled. ‘One of the things I like most about Andreas is how he’s learned to deal with this confrontational streak of yours. No, I don’t think that way. Besides, it’s not my life that will be affected by second thoughts and “what ifs.”’
‘I have no such issues.’
‘Good, then don’t push things.’
‘But it’s difficult to act as if I don’t care whether or not he marries me.’
‘I know, but trust me, he’ll come around. After all, how could he resist the best person in the world?’ She stood up and kissed Lila on the forehead. ‘And the mother of his baby.’ She patted Lila’s belly. ‘Got to run.’
Lila smiled and took her mother’s hand. ‘Thanks, I love you.’
She’s right, Lila thought. I shouldn’t push. Instead, maybe I should try hitting him over the head with a frying pan until he proposes? No chance, he’d never feel it. She chuckled despite herself.
The abbot was not pleased at the surprise visit. Even less so when Andreas insisted that the procession of monks entering his office, dropping to their knees before him, crossing themselves, and kissing his hand must end, and those already seated in his office told to leave.
‘We are reviewing the plans for tomorrow morning’s Holy Thursday Ceremony of the Basin. We have very important things to discuss.’
‘So do we, but unless you want to risk washing dirty laundry in front of everyone here today, I suggest you excuse them for now.’
Andreas could see the abbot was angry, but he told his monks to leave.
‘This better be important.’
Andreas was in no mood to be politic with anyone. ‘If I were you, I’d hope it isn’t.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘Do you remember telling me that the three monks we wanted to interview had left Patmos before you had the chance to speak to them?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that they’d left by boat late Sunday night?’
The abbot hesitated slightly. ‘Yes.’
‘And that the reason they left was so that they could “be back in their monasteries in time for Easter observances”?’ Andreas emphasized the last words with quotation marks from his fingers.
The abbot glared in a way Andreas figured he reserved for withering a most out-of-favor monk. Andreas looked at his watch, crossed his legs, and smiled.
The abbot blinked and let out a breath. ‘Okay, so you learned they couldn’t have returned home in time to celebrate Easter Week within their monasteries.’
‘That’s monastery. They all came from the same one,’ said Andreas.
The abbot bristled. ‘They are men who have found salvation and repentance in God and whatever they may have done in the past has nothing to do with Vassilis.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘Interesting, a monk who lived in your monastery for forty years gets his throat cut and you take it upon yourself to protect strangers who might be able to help us find his killer. I admire your sense of loyalty.’ Andreas watched the abbot struggle to retain control.
‘The three, they are from the Balkan conflict. They came to Mount Athos and earned the right to a new life. That is nothing new. For centuries Byzantine and Serbian rulers have sought and received refuge there. But police may not agree, and I saw no reason to involve them in this.’
‘Or perhaps embarrass whoever gave them sanctuary?’
‘That is none of your business.’
The abbot’s back was up and he seemed ready for a fight. Andreas stared straight into his eyes. ‘I think you’re way out of line on this, and in way over your head. I don’t know what you’re thinking or who you’re afraid of, but one thing is for sure, you’re going to end up on the wrong side of things if you don’t tell me what you know, and I mean tell me now.’ It was a wing and a prayer bluff, but one aimed at most politicians’ knee-jerk propensity for protecting self-interest over all else.
The abbot’s face looked as if he’d missed that possibility, and for the first time he sounded unsure. ‘I cannot tell you a name, but I’m not refusing out of fear. It would betray a deep confidence of a true friend. I never will reveal his name. He put those three men onto the true path of the Lord, and I trust his judgment completely. I’m sure Vassilis would have agreed.’
‘Did Vassilis know him, whoever “he” may be?’
‘Vassilis knew of him and of my regard for him, but we never talked about him.’ He paused. ‘Although I think he knew Vassilis.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because the three you seek sought out Vassilis. I assume to convey his regards.’
Andreas struggled to hold back what he was dying to say.
‘He is a spiritual gift to our life. I would never betray him,’ said the abbot.
Andreas bit his tongue. ‘I admire loyalty, but blind loyalty can lead you into the abyss. Now, where are the three men?’
The abbot stared out the window. ‘Honestly, I have no idea. All I know is they are gone from here.’
‘From Patmos?’
He paused. ‘From here.’
Andreas took that to mean he was finished with protecting them, but also with cooperating. Time to let him get back to preparing for tomorrow’s ceremony. Andreas wondered who got to play Judas.
What Zacharias missed most was his cell phone. The abbot forbade them in the monastery, and they didn’t work inside anyway. He’d tried, many times. If only he could convince the abbot that modern communication was not a thing of the devil. He’d tried that, too, many times, but the abbot was firm. As long as any telephone number contained the combination 666, the abbot considered all phones linked to Revelation’s Beast of Satan.
With so much in play on the outside at the moment, being incommunicado for more than a week was taking its toll on Zacharias’ good nature. He had to work extra hard at showing he was easygoing and stress-free.
Just take it one day at a time, he was thinking as he chanted prayers with his brethren. Stay under the radar, do not draw attention to yourself. It was a mantra he’d picked up many years before during another period of confinement, surrounded by lines of razor wire and watched over closely by men with guns.
That worked for him then; it’s what made him invisible and allowed him to escape. And it’s what was working for him now; it enabled him to remain in the shadows, quietly amassing a group that shared his vision or, to be more precise, a message he knew would sell. In his other life Zacharias had learned another important truth: it wasn’t the message that mattered, it was whether people were willing to buy it. All he needed was a malleable ally in each monastery, one he could promote to the other monks, and the message would carry itself. So far, so good — three tries, three new abbots.
And his vision was so very simple, only a slight variation on the message of Revelation to the seven churches: Let us find someone who will resolve our monasteries’ problems, lead us back to our first love of God, address the heresy that has infiltrated us, set our priorities back on the right path, and help us to reach out to save our fellow man.
It was a message that gave Zacharias a lot of flexibility. Yes, he definitely knew how to go with what sold.
‘“Into the abyss.” You actually said that?’ Kouros was shaking his head. They were standing in the piazza outside the monastery.
