An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [49]
‘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