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Archondesa and the Silver Loom

Vasiliki Gardiakos


It was that mystical hour before dawn. Everything was hushed and waiting. The old mulberry tree stood silent while the young moon spread its pale silvery light on the top most layers of the tree’s thick clad well-rounded figure was hardly discernible in the deep shadow of the mulberry tree. She looked searchingly towards the east trying to make out the shape of the mountain that loomed in the far distance.

“Go to Armitsa… There you will find the silver loom”. The voice she had heard in the dream echoed in her ears like had so many times before since the night had had the dream.

Wild expectation stirred inside her as she thought of reaching Armitsa, of finally getting there. She reached out with both arms as if to touch the mountain. Armitsa was somewhere up that mountain and she wanted to reach the top now with one giant leap.

“As you make the last turn up the mountain and to the left of the big pine tree you will find a small cave… There, if you follow my directions correctly, you will find the silver loom”. She felt a new surge of excitement tingle her body as the words of the dream came and went through her ears, her mind, and her heart.

And for an instant she thought she saw the lustrous silver loom sparkling in the almost total darkness of the cave. She wanted to get closer and touch it and she extended both arms even further but she couldn’t quite reach it. A soothing cool breeze smelling of the sea began rustling the leaves overhead. Archondesa withdrew her arms suddenly and seemed a bit dazed as if she awoke from a dream.

The mountain was hardly visible yet, but she knew it well and could estimate accurately where it met the sky. It ran all across the eastern sky and dipped its southern foothills in the sea where they have been washed and shaped by the Mediterranean tide for eons. Her fiery eyes, sparkling even in the dark, traced its outline against the sky. Whatever light there was, was coming from above, from the moon and the stars not from behind the mountain where the sun had hidden all night. No pink glow was to be seen yet, but she sensed the sun rays creeping up behind the mountain.

“Kyra Archondesa, don’t you it’s time to start moving? Dawn will be breaking soon”, one of the man who had already mounted his horse said, as he shifted impatiently on his saddle.

The man’s voice startled Archondesa. She turned around and made a fast silent inspection. The mules and donkey were saddled and packed. The rest of the man were also beginning to mount their mules one by one. She had known most of them since the day they were born, few could remember her as a child. She came of a proud and noble family. Her father had been the Archon of the village and when she was born, after six sons, he had nicknamed her Archondesa. He had named her well, for she grew up into a rare beauty but even more than that, she had a graceful but firm manner about her that made everyone call her Archondesa. The name had stayed with her even to her old age.

As she continued her inspection her eyes stopped momentarily on the gray haired village priest that was already on his donkey. He was sitting sidesaddle. His robes made it difficult for him to ride any other way. But why would she notice this now and ponder on it, he always rode sidesaddle. Yes always, she thought, till the day he dies. Her eyes moved and then lingered on the young village teacher, sitting straight and tall on his mule. He was the learned one. When she had told him the dream, he didn’t laugh. He Listened and wrote down all the details she could remember. There have been many instances of persons locating a buried church or icon because of directions given to them in a dream, he had told her. This she knew herself, but it was re – assuring to her it coming from him. He had searched and looked for many nights in his books and indeed had found some historical mention or fact here and there that might turn this dream of hers into reality. She had provided the dream, he the fact. He had helped in convincing these men to take part in this venture. Archondesa was standing near her mule as she reached out to take the reins in her hands. And in a clear voice that cut through the black silence of the night said, “Teacher, let’s beat the sun up to the Orchards”.

“Lead the way, Kyra Archondesa”, answered the teacher. “We’re right behind you”.

Archondesa had already started moving away from her farm house in the valley, where everyone had gathered, toward the path that would lead them up the Orchards. Her mule was following right behind although she hadn’t pulled the reins once. As soon as they were on the path, she found a spot where a lot of rocks were heaped together and used them as step to mount her mule, while the others waited for her. She began to lead the way again but now at a much faster pace.

Some ways up the path, as they were moving, a rooster was heard crowing somewhere in the far distance. Almost instantly another answered his call. Archondesa stretched her arm to feel the rooster that was hanging, with legs up and head down, from the mule’s saddle. Ah yes, he was still there alright.

“Bring your best rooster for sacrifice”. The voice in the dream had said.

It was a spirited bird with beautiful multicolored plumage and the best she ever had. All the villagers admitted that it was the village’s best. The rest were just roosters but this one was called Archondesa’s rooster. She smiled to herself in the darkness and sat upright with her head tilted slightly back.

As they moved upward, the black undefined shapes began to take on hints of light. Night was disappearing and a weak colorless light was conquering every shape and figure. Things that had been visually non – existent before were now appearing. And then suddenly, as if unexpected, everything was flooded in translucent light. This flood of light was taken over by a storm of colors that seemed to re – shape everything they found in their way. The summer night chill had’ almost left the air. Archondesa loosened her shawl for it was beginning to feel a little heavy on her shoulders, but not enough to be taken off yet. A whiff of thyme and oregano reached her nostrils in a pleasing invigorating way. She inhaled deeply and the cool refreshing air mingled with the smell of blooming herbs awakened all her senses to a re – kindling of her love of nature. How she loved to watch the poppies dancing in the breeze late in the afternoon as the sun filtered through their crimson petals and made them burn as if they were on fire. Some people thought she was a crazy old woman sitting there and staring at some wild weeds. Mitso didn’t   think so, he understood. He always had a way of understanding, of knowing without words. Archondesa turned her head as they were coming to a bend and got a glimpse of the men coming behind her. That’s the way she was riding, ahead and in front of everybody, the day she became a bride. She had never felt so beautiful before. All the gold pieces hanging from her neck all the way down to her waist were dull looking compared to her radiant face. The bridal songs that the relatives and quests sang as they were coming behind, filled the air and made her drunk with joy. But there is no remembrance, no happiness greater than the happiness of remembering Mitso. He was riding straight and tall, next to her, on a white stallion and his strong masculine hands seemed overpowering as he held the reins. His eyes, two black olives, constantly dancing and whispering tender little words to her, pierced her soul when they fell upon her.

One day, long before a single white hair had appeared on his head, he rode away on a black stallion, handsome as the day he was a bridegroom. He rode away with death, into the darkness, as if he were going on a hunting trip and would return the very next day, proud of the game he had brought home. There had been no reason for concern. But an old dream she had had on the eve of her betrothal kept coming back in the form of an annoying feeling in the back of her mind pestering her with persistent regularity. She could not deny its existence and yet she didn’t understand. The flowers in her heart wouldn’t let her understand. Maybe it was better that she hadn’t understood till the very end, till his eyes spoke to her no more, so soon. Then, a hand placed over his eyes, closed them forever. It had been her own hand. Now, for that, she was glad. She asked no one to do it for her, her weeping heart would not let her eyes cry. He had been so strong in life, she had to be strong in death.

“Kyra Archondesa, what do you say we stop for a snack?

Archondesa was somewhat startled, for her mind had been wondering unconsciously into the past all morning.

“A snack, so soon? Let’s wait till we get to the Orchards, Teacher. It won’t be long now. We’ll find a cool shade and a crystal clear spring there”.

Everyone else knew, without asking, where they would stop for a short rest and a mid – day snack but the teacher was city – bred and somewhat new in this part of the country. Therefore, quite understandingly, unfamiliar with routine matters of the villagers.

Archondesa’s short conversation with the teacher, was like a comma in a sentence and she hurriedly slipped back into her thoughts. When she had first seen this new dream she had dismissed it, half remembering it at first. But it kept coming back, more and more clearly each time. When she could stand it no more, she went and told the teacher who instead of helping her to erase it from her mind, made it very real and possible.

“Go to Armitsa”. The voice had said.

“To Armitsa? But there’s nothing there but caves and rocks”. Archondesa had replied.

“As you make the last turn up the mountain, and to the left of the big pine tree, you will find a small cave. Do not be deceived by its size. Crawl in it if you have to, for it is the lock and key that will lead you into another opening that will in its turn lead you into a very large cave. There, if you follow my directions correctly, you will find the silver loom”.

It wasn’t high noon yet, but the sun was already licking their shoulders and backs with flaming tongues. Knowing that even a chilly morning can bring a very hot day, all the men had brought along straw hats to protect their heads from the sizzling heat of the sun’s rays and their eyes from the blinding golden light. Most of them had already put their hats on, slanting them in such a way, as to get as much shade as possible on their faces.

“Even the grasshopper will burn today, Kyra Archondesa”. The teacher said as they were moving up a path was completely barren of shade. Archondesa just shook her head in agreement to the teacher’s remark, for she didn’t feel like speaking right then and there. Whenever she had been thinking of Mitso, she didn’t want to leave him suddenly, and therefore let her thoughts linger on a bit longer, on his face and words, till they faded away slowly. Then she took complete notice of her present situation whatever it might happen to be at that moment. She had been feeling uncomfortable for the last half hour or so but hadn’t realized why till she heard the teacher’s observation. She took her heavy woolen shawl of completely and her shoulders felt unburdened and light. She also placed a large black straw hat on her head that cooled her burning forehead and she gave a little sigh of relief.

After a while, as they continued to ride, fruit trees, mostly orange and lemon trees, began to appear on both sides of the path. However, they made very little shade, for these type of trees do not grow very tall. They were entering an area that has for endless years been known as the Orchards. They went up a ways, till they reached a thickly shaded area that seemed like an oasis in the heat of the day. This was the water sport that Archondesa had spoken of earlier. As they got closer, there was an immediate change in the air they breathed. It went in and out of their nostrils, cooling and relaxing every cell in their bodies. Right at the source of the spring there was a huge old plane tree whose outstretched branches seemed like arms trying to make as much green soothing shade as possible for every and all weary travelers. All around it there were other plane trees, but this one stood out majestically above all the rest. But the plane tree, wherever it is, isn’t there just to comfort the body of the weary traveler by offering a cool roof from the sun’s heat. It also gives off a balmy scent that refreshes and perks up the mind and spirit of every passer – by re – kindles his will to go on.

As soon as they dismounted, they all took down their hand woven bags filled with bread, olives and some, perhaps with cheese and emptied them out. Their tables and chairs were the many rocks that abounded there. Archondesa filled a metal cup she had with water, and then soaked a large piece of dark dry wheat bread in it. She let it soak only a few seconds, then took it out and wrapped it in a clean white napkin. Many of the others did likewise.

“Teacher, come over here and have some of my olives. They’re from my very own crop, I’ve prepared them myself”. And as Archondesa said this, she unwrapped the bread and sprinkled it with rough unprocessed sea salt. The teacher went over to Archondesa and sat on a rock next to her. “Ah!” Archondesa sighed deeply as she offered the teacher not only olives but bread and cheese as well. “It’s good to be sitting here again, after all these years. I remember the songs, the great appetite, oh, what an appetite! The many stories we used to tell and laugh and cry about. And on our youthful faces, springtime shone on every smile. Ah, yes! I had spent many hours here with my friends. Now, they’re all old men and women, grandfathers and grandmothers, or maybe they are no more… haven’t been here since it changed hands”.

“Since it changed hands?” The teacher looked at Archondesa questioningly. “You see teacher, all this area called the orchards used to be my father’s. We’re at the edge of it so you can’t see much of it, but it’s a very large area. Time and misfortune have taken it out of my family’s hands. And time and death have taken all my family away”. And as she said this, she lowered her eyes and moved her head slightly up and down. The teacher seemed like he wanted to say something, to offer a comforting word but no words came to his mouth. Perhaps he understood that a casual comforting word would not for Archondesa. So, he sat there, staring at Archondesa and at his own silence.

Seeing that the teacher had already finished eating, Archondesa of – fared him some more bread, cheese and olives. She took much delight in watching him eat with such youthful relish.

“I’m an old woman now, but I too was once a young girl, I suppose I was luckier than most girls of that time. Imagine me, a female, being sent, not just to school, but to the capital to be educated along with my brothers as if I were a son, too”. Her voice had an almost girlish quality as she said this.

“It’s unusual even today for a girl to be educated in the capital, you were very lucky Kyra Archondesa. How did it happen that you were given such an opportunity?

“It was all my father’s idea. Strict though he was, he believed in an educated mind. He thought that if his sons were being educated why shouldn’t his only daughter? I was his youngest and very dear to him. When he was especially happy he used to call me Vasiliko, like the sweet scented basil in the pot”. Archondesa’s eyes sparkled as she said this, but on seeing that the teacher was looking straight into her eyes she turned away slightly, perhaps out of embarrassment, that she had revealed too much of herself. “How far is it to Armitsa from here? The teacher asked quickly to help Archondesa over the uncomfortable moment.

“We still have a long way to go yet. A couple of hours I estimate. It’s summer and the day is long, otherwise we wouldn’t get there till after nightfall”.

“And when we get there, you’re sure you’ll recognize the right cave, there are so many there”.

“I will know!” Archondesa answered assuredly. “It’s in my mind like a picture. But why are you questioning me now, you have all the details. Could it be that you are loosing faith? You think maybe it’s just a dream. Oh well, maybe we won’t find the silver loom, but we certainly will find the cave. If nothing else, we can always claim credit for the discovery of the larger cave which would have otherwise remained undetected. Now, whether we’ll be able to claim credit for anything else, I don’t know”, A hint of a smile was detected on her face, as she said this.

“Kyra Archondesa, no I’m not loosing faith, but I don’t understand could it be that I believe more in your dream than you do?

“Teacher, I have had so many dreams, either in my waking hours or in my sleep, which I have either misunderstood, misinterpreted or which never came true even though I put all my power in each particular dream… And teacher, it’s no longer my dream to you, but it is just as much yours. You believe in it. Never stop believing. You see, you have two things that help you believe in it. One is your youth, and the other is what you call historical facts. No one believed troy really existed. And no one believed Schliemann would find this city, but he did. And I ask you, how many others have dreamt of other cities that no one has ever looked for or perhaps never found”.

The teacher looked at the woman in surprise, for although he respected her, he had taken her to be a little less simple than the other village women.

“I have a feeling that our city, treasure. Silver loom, call it what you may, does exist”. He affirmed.

“It isn’t so much that I don’t believe in my dream, but rather, that I was afraid to believe, thinking that I might be deceiving myself. I do have a feeling that it does exist, but I also have a feeling we’ll never, at least I, will never find it”.

“Do not lose hope, we shall know by the end of the day. If nothing else at least we tried, and this is just as important. For your age, it is even a greater accomplishment. I would like to know one more thing though. Why are you going through the trouble of finding the silver loom? This trip must be very tiring for you, and you certainly have no need of money, being one reason for searching for a treasure”.

“The silver loom is not a treasure for me. It is the silver loom. It is what it is for me. I don’t wish to call it by another name. I want to find it as I saw it in my dream. But why? I don’t know. Or maybe I know and don’t know at the same time. Does one have to be logical all the time? It’s absurd. Why would anyone want it? I must admit it is a very odd thing to be looking for a silver loom. It reminds me of a fairy tale”.

“Then you don’t know”.

“Do you?” Archondesa questioned emphatically and without waiting for an answer went on. “Teacher, you don’t have to answer that, perhaps in your mind will find an answer one day. A real answer. Be happy that you are beginning early in your life to look for one of your dreams. There will be more. Try to find as many as possible, so when your bones ache from old age, you will have no regrets”. And as she said this, Archondesa reached out and filled her cup with water from the spring. She drank it all, enjoying even the last cool drop.

The deacher looked at Archondesa in silence while contemplating for a few minutes. After then he pointed to a corner of the spring and said, “Kyra Archondesa, I’ve placed some grapes in the spring as soon as we got here that should be quite cool by now. A student of mine brought them to me yesterday. Let’s share them”.

The teacher’s gesture pleased Archondesa greatly. Something warm and human had stirred inside her. It had been such a long time since she had shared something with someone. All those long years it’s been her and that big empty house.

Everyone was by now through eating. All water containers were filled to the brim, and carefully hung and tied from cash saddle. Some of the men had already mounted and were waiting for the others before starting off Archondesa went to the mule’s saddle and hung her bag, which still held plenty of bread, cheese, and olives. As she reached up to hang the water container, she noticed that the rooster was breathing very heavily while his tongue was moving in and out of his mouth. She recalled that the bird probably hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday, at sundown, when birds go to roost. Knowing its fate, she disregarded the impatient waiting men and wet a few crumbs. She then held the crumbs in the palm of her hand, while the hungry rooster, still tied up, began to peck at its food.

The now mounted men watched as smiles spread across their faces. Some smiles were childlike, or contemplating, while others were outright sarcastic.

“It’s not going to make any difference where he’s going, Kyra Archondesa!” An older man said mockingly, putting extra stress on her name as he spoke. “But he hasn’t gone yet”, Archondesa asserted defiantly. And almost under her breath in a pitying voice added, “Eat poor bird, it’s your last one”. The old villager would have liked to have had the last say in this matter but on knowing how headstrong and quick with answers this woman was, didn’t reply. He only shook his head and looked to see if anyone was watching or agreeing with him. Two men shook their heads in unison. Noticing that the rooster was still breathing heavily, even after he ate the last crumb, Archondesa looked for a suitable water container. But on not finding one, she cupped her hands together and had one of the men pour some water in them. From there the bird drank whatever amount of water it could. Then she gave it a head shower. The bird shook its head as much as it could. Archondesa got a spray of water on her face and hands and shook in delight, almost like a bird.

Seeing that the rooster was breathing normally again, Archondesa mounted and started to lead the way immediately, for she felt the impatience of the men breathing on her heavily, like hot air.

The path that Archondesa was following cut across a section of the Orchards for a while. A slight cool breeze rustled through the fragrant citrus leaves and made their passing through there very pleasant. But as soon as they were out of the Orchards the air changed drastically and became very hot. The few olive trees that appeared here and there made very sparse shade. Their path was also very dry and dusty, for it hadn’t rained in these parts for weeks. Everything around them seemed to be crying out for a drop of water. Every turn they took led them to higher and higher ground but the air didn’t get any cooler. If and when they saw a tree ahead, they always tried to ride on the side of the path that the shade was falling on.

This arid scene came in contrast with the blue serenity of the Messinian Culf which could be seen in its entirety from up there. It was spread out below them, at the base of the mountain, like a velvet azure poll. Little specs of crystallized light danced across the while twinkling off and on like the Milky Way does at night across the sky. They were kisses made of light that the erotic sun had thrown down to the waiting sea.

Archondesa couldn’t take her eyes off the sea. It had a magnetic effect on her. How great and all encompassing it seems from up here, she thought. And yet, I with my tiny eyes that are like two drops of water in the ocean, can see all of it in one glance. It is strange that the further and further away I get, the more I see. But when I’m standing close to it, right on the beach, I see only a small fraction of it. And so it is with life. Now that I’m moving away from it, and towards death, I see all of it, parading in front of me, fresh and alive, as if the events were happening right now. Sometimes the yearning is so strong that even the things or events that could have could have happened parade in front of me, as if they really did happen. But alas, I know in my heart that they didn’t happen. Thinking of unrealized dreams is the pastime of old people. Is that all that’s left? What good is it now to regret and to tell myself, Archondesa you didn’t make your little mark in the pool of time. These thoughts and many, many more went through her mind as if she was having a regular conversation with someone.

Then the teacher’s words came to her mind. “Why are you going through the trouble of finding the silver loom?” She had been asking this same question of herself for days now, but could find no clear cut answer. Why, why, she kept asking repeatedly but all she knew and understood was her overwhelming desire to do it, to get there and find the silver loom. Maybe I will know why, when I see the silver loom, she told herself. No, no she reproached herself, I must know now, before then.

“Ancient silver dreams

secrets of the heart and mind,

Let me find

The silver loom,

Bright and shiny,

Like a brand new moon”.

The little verse she had heard in the dream rang in her ears in steady rhythmic tones.

“You must utter these words when you are in the large cave with the many corridors. The corridor in which you hear a double echo is the one you must follow to locate the silver loom”.

Archondesa thought about all the directions given to her in the dream but her mind returning to the little verse.

“Ancient silver dreams, secrets of the heart and mind…”

Maybe the answer is not in finding the silver loom, but rather in the dream itself. Maybe, just maybe, the answer is to be found in the verse, hidden there among and between each word. Again she conversed with herself. Even though her was braided a hot little breeze managed to blow a small strand into her face. Archondesa reached up and tucked it between other hair so that it wouldn’t be blown into her eyes again. It was then that she noticed she didn’t have her hat on. She looked to see if it was hanging from the saddle but much to her disappointment it wasn’t. She had forgotten it at the spring when she had mounted in a hurry to relieve herself from the impatience of the waiting men.

She knew that if she mentioned that she was without a hat one of the men and probably the teacher would offer her his own. But she didn’t want any special treatment or attention. After all, didn’t they need their hats just as much? No, she wouldn’t say anything about it. Besides she had too much on her mind at this point to bother with such trivialities. Take this path for instance, she thought. I want to turn every bend I find on the way. I want to know what’s on the other side. Every turn is a joy, it is an act of life. To stand still, without inquiring, is death. I have lived more in these few hours than I have for years in the lonely house.

“Isn’t that the last bend up the mountain?” One man asked as he pointed with his finger.

“Yes”, answered a short chubby man who knew these parts well.

“then we are almost there, isn’t that so Kyra Archondesa?” The teacher inquired.

“If we see a large pine tree to the left of us when we turn the bend, then we must be there. But it’s not as close as it seems from here. We still have a bit of riding to do”. Archondesa answered back.

The hot air came in waves like the tide of a volcanic sea. It was one of those extremely hot days that occurs only once or twice in the summer and may be remembered years later like an unusual snowfall is remembered even after it has completely melted away. Archondesa felt as if she was standing in front of a furnace and the door kept opening and closing. She imagined the hot air coming directly from Africa and the Sahara Desert being the center of the fire where the hottest. And the Mediterranean sea was the door, through which the air had to pass. When the air was very hot she knew that the sea could not stop its passage, but when it was somewhat cooler the hot could not stop its passage, but when it was somewhat cooler the hot African air had not gotten past it.

Hot and uncomfortable as she was though, she was filled with awe that she could almost taste the Sahara sand on her lips. Just think, the Sahara air is in my lungs, she outstretched her arms as if to embrace everything around her, the sea, the mountains, the sky. But it was too much to really hold. Only in her mind and even better only with her heart could she hold everything. She trembled slightly, so overcome was she. They had reached the bend now and were turning when a huge pine tree was seen on their left.

“That’s the very same tree I saw in my dream”. Archondesa said excitedly as she felt her heart pounding against her chest.

Everyone’s eyes fell on the tree and then on Archondesa waiting to hear more information or directions from her.

Archondesa began searching with her eyes on the slope of the mountain to see if she could recognize the cave she had seen in her dream. Her shoulders felt very heavy like someone was pushing down on them and she felt tiny prickly pains in the middle of her back. Her head began to spin, and she felt the sweat on her forehead like hot molten lava drops. Her feet felt like iron balls as they hung from the horse’s saddle.

She wanted to speak, to raise her arm to show them the cave, but she couldn’t. Her chest was moving in and out at a fast unnatural pace, and it became harder and harder for her to get a sufficient amount of air through her nostrils down to her lungs. But why was everyone gazing at her strangely? The teacher got closer to her. He was saying something but hard as she tried, she couldn’t make it out.

Then she heard the voice of the dream again.

“When you get to the pine tree you must sacrifice the rooster first, before you begin to look for the cave, otherwise great harm will befall you”. “Roo, roo, rooster”, Archondesa  rounded her lips and put all her effort into saying this one word.

“Rooster”. She finally said, and as she did her whole body slumped down on the horse. Some men grabbed her, took her off the horse and placed her on the ground under the shade of the pine tree.

One of the men took down the rooster from Archondesa’s horse, and they all began to whisper among themselves. What are they doing, she thought. Can’t they see the cave? She looked at the men, but she couldn’t recognize their faces. She continued looking until their bodies faces became one unrecognizable mass. She looked away, up toward the slope, strangely enough she could see the cave very clearly.

“All the directions must be followed to the letter. But above all, you must come alone. You must come alone. You must come alone”. And again she heard the voice of the dream like thunder in a nearby mountain repeating itself over and over again.

“You must come alone”.

Despite her condition, Archondesa now understood. She had forgotten this last phrase till now, when she heard it again. Yes, of course, alone, a dream can only be found alone. She beckoned with a slight movement of one hand to the teacher who was bending over her to come closer. He placed his ear almost next to her mouth and waited.

“let this pine tree be my roof. I’ve come so far, don’t take me away from here”. She wanted to say more and she continued talking but her words became more and more indistinguishable as she gasped for air. Then the muscles on her face relaxed and her body began to feel much lighter. A slight smile lighted up her face. Now she felt a sharp pain like a drill in the middle of her chest. But it didn’t last long. After that she felt nothing else. Her eyes remained fixed on a spot on the slope, reflecting some inner happiness of strange proportions.

The teacher, the priest, and the rest of the men decided to grant Archondesa her last wish and buried her under the pine tree. From that day forward and for many generations later the pine tree has always been referred to as Archondesa’s pine tree, and the whole area there is also known as Archondesa’s.

It is said that no matter what position the sun takes through the different seasons and during the day, the branches of the pine tree and the pine needles always face and point toward the cave as if looking anxiously and constantly to enter and seek out the silver loom.


Copyright 2007 Vasiliki Gardiakos

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