Maria got the chills as she remembered something

puzzling that she had seen—or, rather, had been shown—

at the same hill site, many years earlier, as a teenager, when

visiting Greece with her family.



It was something that back then had both fascinated

and perplexed her at the same time—but now that she

had researched the area and read about the rising seas at

some point pushing the port back, it all made sense. It

was also evidence that this area, like the nearby Thyrea

area, had been greatly affected by the huge tsunami waves

caused by the volcanic eruption.



Maria had gone for a walk up the hill with a special

acquaintance—yes, the same culprit who had almost

knocked her into the sea near the Portes wall ruins.

As they were walking up the path that led to the small

walled-in church at the top of the ancient Anthini hill, he

had taken her by the hand to show her what was hidden

beyond some bushes off the side of the hill: thick, heavy

chains hanging off the side of the hill facing the sea.



When Maria had asked him what they were, he had

explained that at some ancient time the chains had been

used to secure ships; however, something had happened

that had caused the land to shift, lifting it from the sea-

coast and pushing it into the side of the hill where they

now stood.



There they were, Maria remembered—heavy chains

just hanging off the side of the hill, over land instead of next

to the sea. I wonder where he is today, that handsome young

man with the mesmerizing amber eyes and beautiful smile.



Maria again thought back to when she was only six-

teen years old and visiting Greece with her parents

and younger brother. It was their first visit back since

her family had moved to the United States—many years

before, when she was only four years old —and they had

come to stay for two months in the summer.



They had spent most of those two months at their

family home in the Parnon mountain village of Kastri,

where she was born. However, they had also stayed for a

couple of weeks at a relative’s house in the seashore town

of Agios Andreas.



Since the relative’s house was small, Maria and her

younger brother slept in a tent—they had coincidently

brought with them from the United States—alongside

the relative’s house.



It was a bit of a walk to get to the beach from where

they were staying—about a fifteen-minute stroll—but it

was a very pleasant one, for the path took them through

planted fields filled with tomatoes, cucumbers, leafy green

plants, and herbs.



One day after having returned from the beach, as

Maria was alone in the tent and just about to change from

her swimsuit, she heard a soft, sweet male voice outside

saying “Pssst . . . pssst, hey you, hey you.”



Still in her bikini, she had gotten out to see who was

calling, thinking it may have been someone she knew, for

he was speaking with an American accent.



As she emerged from the tent, she found two people

close to her age waiting for her: a handsome young man

and a young lady.



The young man had been a just a few years older than

her—she thought he was maybe nineteen or twenty years

of age. He had been wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt and

tight beige shorts that showed off his toned tanned skin and

muscular body. He was a very handsome young man, with

dark hair, olive-colored skin, and a beautiful, gleaming smile.



Of course, Maria was not bad-looking herself, with

her long, wavy, golden-brown hair, slender bikini body,

tanned skin, and green eyes. She was also wearing a

halter-style tiger print bikini, that gave away her true

nature (she had been born the year of the tiger.)



The young man was on his knees in front of the patio of

the house next door, not far from the tent, patting the neigh-

bor’s dog. Next to him stood the young woman who gave

him a strange look when he introduced her as his cousin.



“We’re going to a night club in Astros,” he said.

“Want to come?”

Maria sighed. “I can’t, my parents won’t let

me go out at nights unless an older cousin comes with

me, and none are here today.”

“Go ask anyway,” he said, flashing that smile of his.

“I’ll wait here.”

“Okay,” Maria agreed with a shrug.



She went into the house and asked her parents—and

the answer was no, just as she had expected. When she

had told him so, instead of being disappointed, he just

replied that he would come back the next morning to

accompany her and her brother to the beach.



He came back early the next morning, just as he’d

said he would, and he advised Maria and her brother to

take a couple of bottles of water with them—“You’ll need

it,” he said.



And it was a good thing they had listened, because

instead of just walking to the beach, as they had expected, the

handsome young man took them for a hike up a hill located

just north of the beach area: the hill of ancient Anthini.



The climb up the hill was not that steep but it was

steep enough in some areas that it was a bit difficult, and

it took them about twenty or so minutes to reach the

top. On the way, the young man showed Maria the thick

metal chains that she would remember so well all those

years later.



At the top of the hill, they found a small church

surrounded by a wall with a locked front gate the young

man had managed to open, however—and the locked

church as well—for he knew where the keys were hidden.



Together, the three of them venerated the icons inside

the small church and lit candles. Afterward they walked

around the walled-in church grounds, admiring the pan-

oramic views.



“In old times,” the young man told Maria, as they

looked out at the coast, “people came here on summer

nights to watch ‘a rain of stars.’ You could see them so

clearly that it was like they were close—like they were

falling right into the sea.”



Excerpt from first book of the Peloponnese Series: “Artemis Child: on the East Coast of the Peloponnese”



See author’s website: https://dianeioannou.com