Contacting the Dead Part 4
Two days later, we were excavating, searching for the sanctuary of the dead in a location I would never have dug had not Landers uncovered the ancient manuscript. As it was, I had my doubts. None of the details mentioned in Herodotus’ description of the sanctuary location matched the site.
Astrid seemed oblivious of any discrepancies, however, and continued on, tossing spadefuls of dirt onto an ever-growing pile.
I removed myself from her a short distance and began pulling away loose stone from the hillside. One rock in particular seemed firmly wedged and as I struck at it with my mattock, I heard an iron clang.
Astrid heard it too, and scrabbled over loose rock to get a look. It was an iron gate. The look on her face was ecstatic.
It took several days to clear the rubble that blocked the entrance to the sanctuary—no doubt, an earthquake had buried the site centuries ago, and it was arduous work removing some of the larger boulders.
At last, the entrance was cleared well enough to allow us to squeeze into the tunnel, and what we saw was amazing.
The sanctuary was built into a hillside and consisted of a series of labyrinthine tunnels. The faithful would follow these winding subterranean corridors through several sets of iron gates until they arrived at the central room of the temple.
We could hear running water—an underground spring trickled through cracks and crevices and some of the water was diverted into a huge, stone pool. Around the edge of the pool were tiny alcoves with candle sconces.
Apparently the seekers lit the candles and stared into the sacred waters and beheld the shades of departed loved ones.
Landers was moved to tears when we led him into the central room of the sanctuary.
“Just think,” he mused, “for centuries the secret of this temple lay buried beneath rubble, under the noses of unsuspecting archeologists—and now, we’ve found it.”
I nodded. “I think the honor of announcing it to the world should go to you, Perry—you uncovered the manuscript and financed the expedition.”
He shook his head. “I’m not concerned with that. I have a favor to ask of you both. Could you delay the announcement—say for a month? I would like to spend some time here alone, communing with Susi. I’ll gladly finance your stay.”
I glanced over at Astrid—eyes shining in candlelight—skin bronzed as when we slept in the land of Nod. I knew her answer.
This would be our Aegean vacation. We both agreed.
It was different this time sleeping out on the beach with Astrid, beneath Aegean stars. This is where she descended to earth as Queen of the Stars—this goddess I can never fully possess.
It was cool those nights after the sun went down and so, we always built a fire.
Astrid was inevitably curled up beside me and I could easily whisper in her ear.
On one particular night, I was feeling reflective, acutely aware of the briefness of the tiny lives we shared.
“We don’t choose our time,” I said softly. I was thinking of Landers and Susi separated by the Great Divide.
She turned over to face me, her hair backlit by the fire.
“But we do get to choose our stars,” she said dreamily, holding my hand in hers.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m thinking of one faint star I see from your rooftop terrace—it’s mine, and I could dwell upon it, but I’d rather be here in your heart.”
She touched her hand to my chest and I felt a familiar warmth. It spread to my limbs and suffused throughout my whole body.
You know what Addison said, I whispered—when a man becomes familiar with his goddess, she quickly sinks into a woman.
Her eyes grew huge. “Have I come down to earth?”
I kissed her. “That hasn’t happened yet.”
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