Lost
Heritage
Robert Blake
Title: Lost Heritage
Translated by: Paul Bowen
© 2020 Robert Blake
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Contents
LOST HERITAGE
Prologue
Thessalonica, 1912
‘We’ve been waiting for more than half an hour in this suffocating heat,’ the Oxford professor growled as he looked at his pocket watch. ‘When is that ferryman going to turn up?’
He kept looking into the distance, but the dawn mist was so thick that no one could see hardly anything in front of their faces. Only the sound of some bird diving into the water in search of fish broke the profound silence.
‘I don't think he’ll be long,’ I replied as I took a look at the old parchment map once more.
‘Do you think we’ll find the exact place in this mist,’ added the professor.
Kalisteas, our Greek guide, seemed to be biting at his lip. He was growing weary of the old man's complaints.
‘As soon as the first rays of the sun come out, the mist will begin to evaporate and the lake will be visible.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve been here lots of times,’ he replied smugly.
The professor looked him up and down. He couldn't stand arrogance.
‘I hope you're right,’ I said looking him in the eyes. ‘We must have a bright clear day to be able to interpret this map.’
‘As long as it’s not some crude copy of the original made centuries later,’ added the professor with a half-smile.
‘Then our journey to Thessalonica will have been in vain,’ I replied wryly. ‘I’ve never undertaken an expedition without having evidence first. This parchment is from the 4th century AD.’
‘I know. That’s why I decided to leave my library behind. Even so, allow an old man to still harbour doubts,’ he sighed softly.
Suddenly, the ghostly shape of a ferryboat appeared from out of the mist. The ferryman greeted Kalisteas and waved for us to get on board.
‘They were thinking you weren't going to come,’ Kalisteas told him. ‘My companions were starting to get nervous.’
The ferryman stared at him. He didn’t like either being given orders or being held to a particular time.
‘It’s difficult to navigate in this mist, even for me’ replied the ferryman.
Kalisteas looked at him in surprise.
‘Let's go,’ he added bluntly. ‘It will take us twice as long to get there in these conditions.’
On one knee, the ferryman began to brandish his long oar from top to bottom, while the rest of us sat in front of him, trying to distinguish anything through the dense mist on that hot morning in which the water looked like a mill pond. Only the sound of birdsong broke the golden silence of the dawn.
The first rays of sunlight finally began to appear, penetrating through the clouds and punching holes in the mist, allowing us to glimpse the splendid morning in that extensive wetland.
The grotto to which we were heading looked like a simple gap in the rocks from a distance, but as we approached it became larger.
‘The water level hasn’t dropped down far enough!’ Kalisteas shouted while pointing. ‘Half the cave must still be flooded!’
Only the top part was dry. The water still reached up to three quarters of the height of the cave wall.
‘The parchment clearly states that this is the only month of the year in which the water level will drop far enough down to make the cave accessible,’ I replied.
‘Last month it rained a great deal. The water level is much higher than usual.’
‘So now what do we do?’ groaned the professor.
‘We swim, my friend,’ Kalisteas announced with a wry smile. He seemed amused by the situation.
The ferryman took us right up to the very entrance of the cave, so that we only had to jump into the water and swim a short distance to reach a rocky ledge running along the inside.
‘Have you paid the ferryman?’ the Greek asked after we had reached the ledge.
‘We didn’t have time. We had to jump into the water straight away.’
Kalisteas shook his head again and again.
‘I’ll pay him when we get back,’ I replied.
‘He was expecting to be paid then and there. How can you be sure that we’ll make it back?’ he added angrily and started walking towards a shaft off to his left.
‘Why is he so angry?’ asked the professor whispering in my ear when the Greek had gotten a few yards ahead of us.
‘Not
