An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [10]
The door swung open and a tall, lean man in traditional monk’s garb strode in. ‘Welcome, my sons.’ He extended his hand.
For most, the ancient silver and wood cross about the abbot’s neck would be the first thing noticed, but Andreas was drawn to his long, jet-black beard. The man was young, looked to be forty at most. Not that much older than Andreas.
Andreas and Kouros immediately rose and kissed his hand. ‘Good afternoon, Your Holiness,’ said Andreas.
‘Please, sit.’ The abbot gestured with his right hand, then stepped behind his desk and sat in a tall-back Byzantine-era chair. ‘So, Chief Kaldis, how may I help you?’ He was looking directly into Andreas’ eyes and smiling.
‘Thank you for seeing us. I know how busy you must be during Easter Week, and now, with all that’s happened …’ Andreas shrugged.
The abbot’s smile faded and he nodded. ‘Yes, Vassilis was one of my favorites, all of us loved him. He will be missed.’ He drew in and let out a breath. ‘I cannot imagine who would have done such a thing.’
‘You anticipated my first question.’
‘It makes no sense. None at all.’ He shook his head.
‘There must be something. Has to be.’
The abbot gestured no. ‘I cannot think of a single person with whom he ever had even a cross word.’
‘What did he do at the monastery?’
‘Do?’
‘Yes, what were his duties?’
The abbot smiled. ‘He was a scholar. Loved the library. When we started modernizing - digitizing texts for computers - Vassilis insisted on taking part, “so nothing went wrong,” he used to say. He made himself computer literate and kept the younger monks on their toes.’
‘Was it unusual for him to be out of the monastery so early in the morning?’
‘Yes. I wish I knew why.’
‘So do I. Was something bothering him, was he complaining about anything?’
‘We live in a monastery, there’s always complaining. But Vassilis was one of the few who tried to discourage that sort of thing. He’d say, “Stay focused on the positive, let God deal with the negative.”’
The abbot had an easygoing smile and way about him. He seemed of the unflappable sort that never quite allowed you to know what he was thinking. The perfect diplomat, the perfect churchman, thought Andreas.
‘Sounds like someone who liked to avoid controversy,’ said Kouros.
‘Yes, I think that’s a fair way to describe him.’
Andreas said, ‘Well, some things must have bothered him.’
The abbot shrugged. ‘Not really. He even avoided discussions of politics. His sole focus was on the church and doing good.’
Andreas decided he’d better ratchet up the rhetoric or they’d get nothing from the abbot but blessings. ‘With all due respect, Your Holiness, how could he be focused on the church for forty years and not discuss politics?’
The abbot smiled again. ‘He was an unusual man.’
‘I see.’ Andreas nodded. ‘Is the monastery filled with unusual men like Vassilis?’
‘I wish I could say that were so.’
‘Then I assume others talked politics.’
The smile came, but not as quickly. ‘Some.’
‘So what sorts of things did they say that got Vassilis worked up enough to say, “Don’t focus on it, let God deal with it?”’
‘Nothing of consequence.’
Andreas shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. You’re saying that this “unusual man” who “liked to avoid controversy” would get worked up over “nothing of consequence?”’
The smile was gone. The abbot stood. ‘I have other appointments.’
Andreas did not stand. ‘Your Holiness, I didn’t want to come to Patmos and, frankly, I’d prefer getting back to Athens. But somebody with enough clout to pressure my boss, the minister of public order, wants me here asking questions.