help as well. Napoleon can be a good friend or a deadly enemy. If we carry back word that you’re a friend to the ideals of the revolution, it will open the way for possible partnership—not conquest—in the future. In return, is there anyone in Thira who might help us with these old legends? The rumors have reached as far as Paris, and our charge is to determine their truth before greedier and less scientific people come here instead.”
He looked at me shrewdly. “Yes, a curious group. You have the look of an opportunist, your friend is a mechanic, and then we have scholars of rocks and bones. One Frenchman, two Americans, and an Englishman. Why did Napoleon send you ?”
“Out of hope the Ottoman authorities would find us odd and inconsequential.”
“And why did you agree to go? Besides your rocks?”
“We have legal problems that Monsieur Gage caused in Paris,” Cuvier said. “This mission for Bonaparte will erase them, so we’re doing what we have to do—that’s the way the world works. Are you not obligated yourself to the Russians and Admiral Ushakov?” It was Ushakov who’d thrown the French off Corfu.
Kapodistrias nodded. “All men are in debt. All right, then. The missive I received from your agent said you have a clue for me that might help us find this secret.”
I took out the ring with its picture of dome and grave, with a man climbing out of the sarcophagus. “Do you recognize that building?”
“A church, perhaps. There are two dozen on this island alone.”
“Look at the dome. It’s broken, or half completed.”
“Ah.” He looked carefully. “But of course. Agia Theodosia! The Compromise of the Cannon!”
“The what?”
“The church and a Venetian fort rose in concert in the village of Akrotiri, faith through one gate and the state through another. But then artillery evolved, and as its guns were installed it became apparent that Theodosia’s dome was blocking the field of fire. The Venetian officers said the church should move, and the Orthodox priests said the fort should give way to God. It was proposed that the dome be lowered, but the monks refused even that—opinions are held strongly in Greece. Finally an impatient Venetian Catholic fired a cannon ball through the Greek Orthodox cupola, and threatened to destroy the entire church. Instead, the fathers reluctantly carved out a slice of the dome to allow the sighting of the gun toward enemies that, in the end, never came. The original dome architecture has since been restored, but the story of the ‘bitten dome’ is well known. There’s no other church in Thira this ring could refer to.”
I imagined the dome with a scoop out of it, one side concave, and admired the compromise. I think everyone should get along.
“Where is this church?”
“Not far—two kilometers, perhaps. But we had better hurry. If Ethan Gage is correct about those approaching ships we may be in a race, gentlemen, for the gate of Hades. And in that case, you will have to race alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s too coincidental we have all arrived at the same time. I will direct you to the church and wish you well, but I must not be caught with you. Do you have a ship of your own?”
“Gone to a neighboring island but promising to return.”
“Then look to your weapons and your wits, and hope your captain hurries.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The village of Akrotiri, on the southwestern arm of Thira’s crescent island, looked like a scrabble of stucco dice stacked on a grassy slope. It culminated in the modest ruins of a small Venetian fortress, half dismantled by the Turks more than a century before. What had once been some lordly fiefdom was now a ruin, on a lonely island at the edge of a decaying empire. Next to the fort entrance was a Greek Orthodox church, and it was here Kapodistrias led us under a half-moon. Akrotiri was still except for the bark of a dog or two, and in the silvery light looked empty and timeless, the peeling
He looked at me shrewdly. “Yes, a curious group. You have the look of an opportunist, your friend is a mechanic, and then we have scholars of rocks and bones. One Frenchman, two Americans, and an Englishman. Why did Napoleon send you ?”
“Out of hope the Ottoman authorities would find us odd and inconsequential.”
“And why did you agree to go? Besides your rocks?”
“We have legal problems that Monsieur Gage caused in Paris,” Cuvier said. “This mission for Bonaparte will erase them, so we’re doing what we have to do—that’s the way the world works. Are you not obligated yourself to the Russians and Admiral Ushakov?” It was Ushakov who’d thrown the French off Corfu.
Kapodistrias nodded. “All men are in debt. All right, then. The missive I received from your agent said you have a clue for me that might help us find this secret.”
I took out the ring with its picture of dome and grave, with a man climbing out of the sarcophagus. “Do you recognize that building?”
“A church, perhaps. There are two dozen on this island alone.”
“Look at the dome. It’s broken, or half completed.”
“Ah.” He looked carefully. “But of course. Agia Theodosia! The Compromise of the Cannon!”
“The what?”
“The church and a Venetian fort rose in concert in the village of Akrotiri, faith through one gate and the state through another. But then artillery evolved, and as its guns were installed it became apparent that Theodosia’s dome was blocking the field of fire. The Venetian officers said the church should move, and the Orthodox priests said the fort should give way to God. It was proposed that the dome be lowered, but the monks refused even that—opinions are held strongly in Greece. Finally an impatient Venetian Catholic fired a cannon ball through the Greek Orthodox cupola, and threatened to destroy the entire church. Instead, the fathers reluctantly carved out a slice of the dome to allow the sighting of the gun toward enemies that, in the end, never came. The original dome architecture has since been restored, but the story of the ‘bitten dome’ is well known. There’s no other church in Thira this ring could refer to.”
I imagined the dome with a scoop out of it, one side concave, and admired the compromise. I think everyone should get along.
“Where is this church?”
“Not far—two kilometers, perhaps. But we had better hurry. If Ethan Gage is correct about those approaching ships we may be in a race, gentlemen, for the gate of Hades. And in that case, you will have to race alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s too coincidental we have all arrived at the same time. I will direct you to the church and wish you well, but I must not be caught with you. Do you have a ship of your own?”
“Gone to a neighboring island but promising to return.”
“Then look to your weapons and your wits, and hope your captain hurries.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The village of Akrotiri, on the southwestern arm of Thira’s crescent island, looked like a scrabble of stucco dice stacked on a grassy slope. It culminated in the modest ruins of a small Venetian fortress, half dismantled by the Turks more than a century before. What had once been some lordly fiefdom was now a ruin, on a lonely island at the edge of a decaying empire. Next to the fort entrance was a Greek Orthodox church, and it was here Kapodistrias led us under a half-moon. Akrotiri was still except for the bark of a dog or two, and in the silvery light looked empty and timeless, the peeling
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