The Wine-Dark Sea Read Free Page B

smell them: not the smell of one particular species, but a massed perfume, heavy and almost melodious, drifting across the limpid water to meet and enfold him. He sailed silently in like a coasting bird, and settled perfectly at the harbour steps, as one commonly does when not a soul is looking. Grigg sprang ashore, climbed the steps, which were made of marble, and made fast to one of the rings in the stonework at the top. He observed that here the ocean-verge was uncluttered with weed, so that he could look downwards many yards through the water and the shoals of fish to the sunny sand below.
    Having but borrowed the boat, he meant, of course, to remain for only a matter of minutes; merely to make up his mind as to whether there was anything on the island to justify the difficulty of a renewed effort for a more conventional visit. At once, however, he realized how glad he was to be alone, how greatly a professional boatman would have spoiled his pleasure.
    On this side of the long sloping balustrade were wide steps; a marble staircase leading from port to citadel. They were immaculate: even, level, and almost polished in their smoothness. Grigg ascended. On his right was the bare brown rock. He noticed that it was strikingly rough and gnarled, with hardly anywhere a flat area as big as a lace handkerchief. He put his hand on this rough rock. It was so hot that it almost burnt him. Still, soil had come from somewhere: as well as the wonderful flowers, there were fruit trees ahead and heavy creepers. Curiously coloured lizards lay about the steps watching him. He could not quite name the colour. Azure, perhaps; or cerulean. When he reached the citadel, there were nectarines hanging from the branches spread out against the yellow walls. They seemed much ahead of their time, Grigg thought, but supposed that so far south the seasons were different. He was feeling more and more a trespasser. The island was quite plainly inhabited and cared for. There was nothing about it which accorded with the impression given at the tourist office.
    The citadel had wooden gates, but they were open. Grigg hesitated. There was nothing to be heard but the soft sea and the bees. He listened, and entered the citadel.
    The structure ranged round three sides of a stone-paved courtyard. The fourth side, which faced away from the bigger island, had either fallen or been bombarded into ruin, and then perhaps been demolished, so that now there was nothing left but high, rough edges of yellow masonry framing the view of the open sea, vast, featureless, and the colour of the sky. Again there were flowers everywhere, with a big flowering tree near the centre of the court. The glazed windows stood open, and so did several doors. Grigg did not care to enter: the place was clearly lived in, and he had no justification for being there.
    Still he did not feel as yet like returning.
    On the far side of the courtyard was another open gateway . Grigg passed cautiously through it. There seemed nothing to worry about. As usual, no one was to be seen. There were not even the farm animals he had half expected. There was nothing but a tangle of collapsed defence structures from past centuries, starting with an irregular wall which ringed this entire end of the island at little above sea-level. Between the many ruined buildings was dense, sharp grass, reaching above Grigg’s knees, and unpleasantly suggestive also of snakes. None the less, he ploughed on, convinced by now that this was his only chance, as he would never be able to find a reason for coming back.
    A considerable garrison must have been installed at one time, or at least contemplated. The place was still like a maze, and also gave the impression, even now, of having been abandoned quite suddenly, doubtless when the Turks departed. There were still long guns, mounted and pointed out to sea, though drawn back. There were straggling, dangerous stacks of stone, and other obviously ancient heaps that might once