Travels in time alexander the great in pergamon (english)

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Mary Black

Travels in Time

Alexander the Great in Pergamon Alexander the Great Travels in Time

in Pergamon by Mary Black

big book

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big book


Alexander the Great in Pergamon by Mary Black Copyright Š Mary Black, 2013 www.mbbooks.gr

Translated and edited by Demetris P. Dallas Artwork by Roussetos Panagiotakis Bigbook Publications Herakleion 2013

ISBN 978-960-9433-35-8

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In memory of my mother Catherine, by her loss I also lost a part of my own soul

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INTRODUCTION Four children from Crete, Alexandros, Eirene, Kostantis and Nikolas, found a way to travel in time using a time-machine. They had discovered it by following the directions in an old map that had belonged to Alexandros’ grandfather. Kostantis unwi<ingly set the machine on, and the youths found themselves in Minoan Crete. Ariadne also travelled with them. She was an archaeologist, and tried time and again to steal the time-machine from the children. In Minoan Crete they made a friend, Radamanthys, and had many adventures with him. They were spectators at taurokathapsia, the ancient Cretan ritual games that involved a form of bullfighting, had a strange encounter with the Minotaur, and met the Great Snake Priestess. They were later apprehended by King Minos’ soldiers and led in front of him. Zakros, an uncle of Radamanthys, helped them persuade the king to let them return to their own time. They were at one of the fi;een-hundred rooms in Minos’ palace, trying to set the machine up to return home. But at that time a great earthquake made the walls tremble. A time-eddy emerged from the machine, pulled the children into it and transported them to about 1650 AD, at a time when the Venetians controlled Crete. There they met Bianca, the niece of Andrea Morosini, Governor of Crete; Fabio, a brave knight; Arete, a young maiden; and Pietro Longobardo, a Venetian noble. The four of them wandered in the avenues and backstreets of Candia (as Venetians called Herakleion in those days) and saw their compatriots of that time fighting and dying daily on the ba<lements to defend their tortured city. But then they were unjustly accused of treason and put in prison. They managed to escape with the help of their new friends and hid 5


in an old windmill across from St Andreas Bastion. Pietro Longobardo urged the children to set the time-machine up and escape. As Kostantis was crouched over the machine to make the final adjustments, a mine dug under the walls and filled with gunpowder exploded. The building started to crumble. A blinding light came out of the machine, engulfing them. Before they lost consciousness, Longobardo, Bianca, Arete and Fabio had time to see an eddy of light swirling the children again into time. Our time-travellers came out of it by mistake in Herakleion in the spring of 1941, during the the Ba<le of Crete. Aetomanolis or “the Eagle”, a courageous Cretan, sheltered them at his house. There they met his son, Christos, and revealed to him their big secret. He helped them repair the time-machine and at last return to their age. But their travels wouldn’t end there.

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CHAPTER 1

Almost a year had passed since the day Alexandros, Eirene, Nikolas and Kostantis had returned from their most recent trip in time. It was summer again. They had just finished their school examinations, and now their first thought was to meet with each other outside school. Alexandros invited them to his house. They’d be alone there: his mother was away on a trip. Since the death of his father she had worked even harder as a restorer of ancient artefacts to earn enough money for both of them. That was the reason she was away so o;en. The handsome, tall, fair-haired boy admired and adored her; his mother was easily the most precious person in his life. The other people he loved were his three friends, Eirene, Kostantis and Nikolas. Eirene had grown up in the same street as Alexandros. She was slim, beautiful and fair-haired, and had large blue eyes. Her father had died too, and this brought them closer together. Her mother was a historian, and the best friend of Alexandros’ mother. Eirene was also friendly with Kostantis, a bright and sturdy lad with jet-black hair, kind-hearted and full of jokes. He loved reading history and having adventures. Nikolas and his family had moved into their neighbourhood three years before, and the four of them had become inseparable since 7


then. He was rather short and skinny, but very fast on his feet and agile, with regular features and brown hair. He had a fiery temperament: a fundamentally good boy, but quick to anger. He was a computer whiz-kid and wanted to become a programmer like his father. The unbelievable travels they had made together using the timemachine had strengthened even more the bonds of friendship between them. Together they started to mature and explore new and unusual paths in their learning and thinking. Their adventures made them see the world in a different light. And now, safely at home, they could talk again and again about the improbable escapades they had had together.

Nikolas, Kostantis and Eirene arrived at Alexandros’ house in the early a;ernoon. When he saw them from the veranda where he was si<ing, he ran to open the door for them. “You’re here at last. What kept you so long?” “We went to buy some ice cream,” Eirene answered. “Brilliant! Come in.” They followed their friend to a veranda overlooking the sea. They sat in the large, low wicker chairs eating ice-creams, their eyes following the seagulls that flew among the short masts of fishing boats in the harbour. They could just make out far further the small island of Dia1 lying languidly in the blue waters of the Sea of Crete. “Where are we going on holiday this year?” Nikolas asked. Dia (or Dhia) is an islet of about 12 square kilometres, some 20 kilometres to the northeast of Herakleion. Jacques Cousteau discovered there a harbour of Minoan times (now below sea-level) and various ancient shipwrecks.

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“A nice small island, perhaps?” Eirene suggested. “That’s a great idea!” Kostantis said. “Do you have anything in mind?” “Mykonos,” Nikolas said. “I prefer Santorini,” Kostantis retorted at once. “Mykonos!” “I say Santorini!” “I say Mykonos!” The two boys started to argue. “Stop it now!” Eirene said. “You’re pushing it too far. Even when the Minotaur was on our heels, even when they were taking us to the scaffold Morosini had prepared for us, when Hitler’s bombs fell near us, the two of you were always arguing!” “But it was fun,” Kostantis said. “Big fun,” Nikolas agreed. “I have something important to tell you,” Alexandros said. “What’s going on?” Eirene asked. “My mother told me a few days ago that restoration work will soon start at the Koules2. We must take the time-machine to a safer place.” Nikolas blinked. “When?” was all he could ask. “The sooner the be<er,” Alexandros said. Eirene stood up. “Let’s go now.” And the four of them started off for the Koules. They were walking and talking along the coastal street that led to the Venetian castle. “We must be very careful,” Eirene said to Kostantis and Nikolas for the hundredth time. “Alexandros and I will enter the Koules to get the time-machine, and you’ll keep watch outside. Whistle if you see

A Venetian fort built to protect the port of Herakleion (Candia). It was destroyed by earthquake in 1303. In its place was erected between 1523 and 1540 the newer fort that still stands.

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anything suspicious.” The two boys nodded gravely. “And don’t start another fight, or you’ll draw a<ention to us,” she completed her directions. Kostantis smiled. “We might start a fight for diversionary purposes.” As soon as they turned the corner from St Peter’s church they saw that the old castle, still far away, was full of people, mostly tourists. When they arrived there, Eirene and Alexandros entered the forbidding Koules, whose walls stood a<ention-straight against the ravages of time. They made for the small, secret room where they had hidden the time-machine. Kostantis and Nikolas waited outside. Trying to be inconspicuous, they sat on a large rock and pretended to be drawn by the bright colours of the fishing boats in the harbour. Fishermen were mending their nets, readying them for next morning’s fishing. “Where do you think we should hide the time-machine now?” Nikolas said in a low voice. “I’ve no idea,” Kostantis answered in equally subdued sounds. “But we must find a safe place. I’m sure we’ll think of something.” “What’s taking them so long? They should’ve been back…” But before Nikolas had time to finish his phrase they saw Eirene and Alexandros running towards them. “What’s up?” Nikolas asked. “The time-machine isn’t there,” Alexandros said, still breathless. “Is this possible?” “When we hid the machine you guaranteed we were there alone,” Kostantis said. “I’m sure no-one followed us,” Nikolas said. “This is no time for fighting,” Eirene said. “One thing counts: we must find the time-machine. We have a great responsibility. Do you

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understand what might happen?” “I don’t even want to think of it,” Alexandros said. “We must contact Ariadne immediately,” Eirene continued. “I’m sure she’s taken the machine. We know she’s fixated on it for a long time now. Maybe she followed us, saw us hiding it in the Koules, and took it away a;er we le;.” “I think it wasn’t her,” Nikolas said. “If she’d followed us, I’d have noticed.” Kostantis smirked. “Now we can be sure!” The smaller boy looked at his friend, deflated. “You should have shown a li<le more trust in me,” he said. Kostantis lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry.” “That’s all right, no problem.” Kostantis looked at Eirene. “What’s this you’re holding?” “A black stone. We found it where the time-machine was. It looks like glass.” He asked the girl to hand him the stone. It was black, with paler streaks on its surface, and warm to the touch. He turned the stone in his hands, examining it carefully from all angles. “It looks like obsidian,” he said finally. “Come again?” “Obsidian is a volcanic glass, a semi-precious stone formed by the lava of volcanic eruptions. How could it be here?” “I suspect the stone was le; there by the person who took the timemachine,” Alexandros said. “Obsidian was held to be a sacred stone by many ancient peoples,” Kostantis continued. “Mayan priests thought it had magical qualities and was a symbol of power and authority. It is said that they could actually predict the future using obsidian stones. I’m sure it isn’t a coincidence the stone was found at the Koules. Someone is trying to warn us, or scare us away from the time-machine forever.”

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“And I’m afraid they’ve succeeded,” Eirene said. “Maybe we’re involved in something we can’t understand.” “Let’s go back to my place. There we may think of something to do,” Alexandros told them. When they returned they made themselves comfortable on the veranda again. They watched the tired sun se<ing slowly, painting the sea in reddish hues. The youngsters were downcast and puzzled. They knew that if the time-machine fell into the wrong hands, it could cause great damage to mankind. Silence fell heavy upon them until Alexandros spoke. “What do you think we could do?” “If Ariadne hasn’t taken the machine, things become much more complex,” Nikolas said. “The situation is strange and dangerous as it is.” “We must meet with Ariadne and her grandfather,” Kostantis said. “They may have a be<er idea about this. Perhaps they’ll understand what’s going on. A;er all, Mr Christos is an experienced archaeologist. Don’t you remember he took part in those excavations in Mexico, a Mayan city or something like that?” “You’re right!” Eirene added. “The stone may be connected with the excavations Alexandros’ grandfather and Ariadne’s grandfather made together in Mexico.” “Tomorrow morning I’ll give Mr Christos a ring. I’m going to ask him to meet us here, and take Ariadne with him too,” Alexandros said. The others were only happy to agree. Then they said their goodnights and started off for their homes with heavy hearts. As soon as they had gone, Alexandros ran upstairs to the a<ic. There he sat on an old steamer trunk and started again to read through his grandfather’s diary in the hope that he might find a clue to help them in the situation they had found themselves in. His curly

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cat, Mister Hair, rubbed against his legs, purring languidly in his company. “I’d almost forgo<en about you,” he said and gently tickled the cat between the ears. “Come on, I’ll make you dinner, and then we can go to bed.” The boy slept with the cat in his arms.

Alexandros opened his eyes, yawned, and looked around to find out what had woken him up. A playful ray of sunlight had found its way into the room through a small gap in the curtains. Mister Hair licked his toes. “Time to get up,” he told the cat and stroked his head. The white animal purred in agreement. The boy got out of bed rubbing his eyes. He stood in front of the window for a moment, and then opened it. He took a deep breath. The mountain slope in his line of vision was aglow in the morning light. Fishing boats in many lively colours made their way almost imperceptibly across the bay in a sea of the deepest blue. He dressed, took Mister Hair in his arms and went downstairs to the kitchen. He put some biscuits in a plastic plate for the cat and drank a glass of cold milk. Then he picked up the phone and called Mr Christos, Ariadne’s grandfather. “Hello,” said the old man in a drawling voice. “Good morning, Mr Christos. This is Alexandros.” “Good morning. How are you, my boy?” “I’m fine, thank you, sir. How are you?” “Not too bad. But I think you sound a bit uneasy. Is there anything

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wrong?” “Well, the time-machine has disappeared.” There was silence for a few seconds before the old man spoke again. “Where had you hidden it?” “At the Koules. We went there yesterday to remove it – you see, restoration work is starting at the Koules soon – but all we found was a black stone.” “A black stone?” “Yes. It’s obsidian. I think this means something, but don’t know what. I read my grandfather’s diary again last night, but I didn’t find any clue that might help us, I’m afraid…” “I’ll take Ariadne with me and we’ll drop by your place, then.” “My friends will be here too.” “Fine. Let’s meet in the early evening. Good morning,” Mr Christos said and ended the conversation before the boy had time to say goodbye. At once Alexandros messaged his friends to let them know about their evening meeting. Then he went on the internet and started to search for any leads that might help him understand their situation. First he googled “obsidian”.

By seven that evening, Kostantis, Eirene and Nikolas had arrived. Ariadne and Mr Christos came a few minutes later. Even before he sat down, the old man asked Alexandros to see the stone. The boy handed him the black stone at once. It looked like a black snowdrop.

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The old archaeologist examined the stone slowly and patiently, as if trying to discover some secret message. But there was nothing to the stone apart from the sinuous stamps formed on it by the process of crystallisation. “Unfortunately, I can see nothing strange,” Mr Christos said, thoughtfully pulling at his long white beard. “Can I have a look, grandfather?” Ariadne said. He handed the stone to his granddaughter. She held it in her hands and started to examine it herself with a magnifying lens she had pulled from her rucksack. As long as the tall and lithe young woman with the dark hair and the strange eyeglasses looked at the stone in stiff concentration, her grandfather was looking at her with something quite approaching pride. A smile formed on his thin lips. She looks so much like her mother, he thought. It’s a pity her mother hasn’t lived long enough to see her grow up. “I can’t see anything strange either,” Ariadne said at last, pulling her grandfather out of his reverie. “Maybe we should focus not on the stony part of the stone but on something else,” Nikolas said. “On what then?” Kostantis asked. “Maybe the black colour or the stone’s symbolism. I did a li<le research on the internet and found out some strange strands of information.” “Tell us, then,” Ariadne said. “You see, last night I spent a long time surfing the net. As soon as I googled ‘black stone’, I came upon some websites that had strange stories about a small street in Thessaloniki with the same name. It is Blackstone Alley, in the Upper City of Thesaloniki, by the ancient walls, at a place called the Pasha’s Gardens. There’s a legend that at midnight on some nights an alley appears there, something like a

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gateway to another dimension, and it disappears in a few minutes.” “‘Blackstone Alley’? And what’s the explanation these sites give to the phenomenon?” Eirene asked. “The more usual one is that this alley is a hub of geomagnetism or a high-energy concentration spot that causes temporal blanks as well as temporal transportation or transposition.” “If we believe these queer stories, then it seems that whoever le; the stone wanted to reveal to us that this alley must be somehow connected with the time-machine. But isn’t this illogical?” Eirene said. “You’re right,” Kostantis said. “On the other hand, it’s the only piece of evidence that connects the time-machine with the stone. Unless someone can propose anything else –” Alexandros suddenly jumped up, ran through the room and sprinted up the staircase. “What’s wrong with him?” Nikolas asked no-one in particular. “I suspect he’s remembered something,” Mr Christos said. “Nikolas, you’re a genius,” Alexandros shouted, barely balancing himself as he sped downstairs now, holding an old book in his le; hand. “What’s that?” Eirene asked. “It’s my grandfather’s diary. Listen, it says here: ‘During the initial stages I could not make certain of the reference to that place…When I finally did, I was quite surprised…So near to my place of residence, and yet so far! So many miracles were revealed to me when I walked uphill on the way of the Black Stone…’.” “Mr Christos, sir. Haven’t you told us that you found the time-machine during an archaeological dig in Mexico?” Eirene said. “Oh, no,” he answered. “Old-man Alexandros discovered during the excavation the map that led him to the time-machine. But he never revealed to me where exactly he did find it.”

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“You mean, you didn’t ask him?” “I did, time and again. I was persistent, but he refused to answer. I’d say now that in this way he tried to protect me.” “We might be<er travel to beautiful Thessaloniki,” Ariadne said. “I say you must make this trip too,” Mr Chris said. “I’m afraid now,” Eirene mu<ered. “I think we’re into something very dangerous.” “Ariadne will come along to keep an eye on you,” Mr Christos said. “What next?” Eirene whispered in Kostantis’ ear. “Thessaloniki is such a beautiful city,” Ariadne said. “There are so many museums and places to see there.” “So long, Mykonos,” Nikolas whispered. “I take it you mean Santorini!” Kostantis answered.

A couple of days later the four youngsters and Ariadne flew to Thessaloniki. They had booked rooms at a small, old and renovated hotel close to the Upper City of Thessaloniki; that is, the northern, higher part of the old city. The next morning they walked to Blackstone Alley, a narrow, flagstone-paved, uphill street. They walked about, exploring the area. “I can see nothing strange,” Alexandros said. “You’re forge<ing it’s midday, and, as legend has it, the gate only opens in the midnight hour,” Nikolas mocked his friend. “Let’s go back to the hotel and take a rest,” Ariadne told them. “We can return at night now that we know the place.” On their way back they passed through the Pasha’s Gardens, a beautiful small park just above Syntrivani Square, off the old city walls.

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There they saw the “Dragon Houses”. There are many legends about the construction of those buildings. The one most people know holds that they were built under orders from the Sublime Porte, the O<oman government of the time, more or less as decorative additions to the garden of a hospital, which is still operating as the St Demetrius Hospital. It is believed that this cluster of buildings was used as an informal cloister by Seifouleh Pasha and other O<oman freemasons: that might explain the strange symbols they saw on their walls. It is said the houses were built there because the area is a hub of geomagnetism, and it was considered to be a kind of a geographical holy site. Their architecture and even the building materials remain indeterminate. Some suggest the stones used in their construction had all been struck by lightning. The children and Ariadne walked about the strange buildings, looking at them in awe. “This is a very strange and blood-curdling place,” Kostantis said. “There’s a folk legend about these houses,” Ariadne told him. “The Dragon Houses are supposed to be the remnants of an unknown civilisation, the homes of dragons, actually, who roamed the mountains and the fantasy worlds of peoples in ages past.” “I feel that whoever le; the stone wanted us to come here,” Nikolas said. “I believe it is so, mate,” Kostantis added. “But why?” Alexandros asked. “I hope we’ll find out soon,” Ariadne said. Eirene was looking at the strange large buildings. “I’d rather we never came here again,” she said.

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The same night they returned to Blackstone Alley. It felt even more terrifying in the dark. They walked between the old, unlit houses, feeling that they angled precipitously above them, following their every step. With icy stabs of fear in their hearts they made their way along the alley until they found the place where, according to their calculations, the time-gate should appear. They stopped there and waited, huddling closer and closer together. At about midnight they suddenly heard something like a scratching and slithering noise. The children froze in place. “There’s something moving there,” Ariadne whispered, pointing with her index finger at something in front of them. “I’ll go to see what it is.” She went ahead in the dark, slowly, until the others could see her no more. Their hearts were beating so loudly that they thought they could hear the echoes multiplying against the walls on either side of the alley. “It was just a rat,” they heard Ariadne saying as she appeared again out of the gloom. Eirene shuddered. “I almost died of fear just now.” “We were all scared,” Alexandros assured her. “We must stay calm. Everything will be fine,” Ariadne told them in a steady voice. They continued to wait in the dark, until, frustrated, they finally decided to return to their hotel. Ariadne walked them to their rooms and bid them goodnight. The youngsters sat on the balcony of the boys’ room and talked in low voices to ease the tension they felt. “I think it’s useless,” Eirene said. “It’s a wasted trip. Is it possible that a time-gate exists in the midst of a big city?” “There’s something wrong about Blackstone Alley,” Kostantis answered. “I don’t know whether we’ll be able to find the time-machine, but I’m sure that what we’ve read on the internet, all that

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information, isn’t entirely lies now I’ve seen it.” “And I’m quite sure my grandfather didn’t mention Blackstone Alley in his diary just for fun,” Alexandros said. “We must show some patience. Don’t forget this was our first evening there.” “But I’m worried,” Eirene said. “I’m afraid we’ll land ourselves in trouble again.” Kostantis gave off a subdued chuckle. “A;er all the scrapes we’ve escaped together, are you afraid of a silly time-gate? You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” “I’m relieved now,” Nikolas said. “At least we’ve found a protector.” The two boys went on insulting each other lazily, keeping their voices low. “I’m sick of the two of you and all your bickering,” Eirene said at last. “I’m going to bed.” She le; the balcony in a hurry, banging the door behind her. “What’s wrong with her?” Nikolas opened his eyes wide in wonder. “She knows we’re friends. We’re doing this for fun mostly.” “She’s a bit more afraid than we are, that’s all,” Alexandros told him. “Let’s turn in. We have an early morning.” The three boys were asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. In the next room Eirene slept uneasily. Her dreams were strange. In the morning she found herself tangled in the bed-sheets and counterpane. Ariadne stayed awake reading her notes. She was trying to find a clue that might lead her to a conclusion. When she turned her light off, it was almost dawn.

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They stayed in Thessaloniki for a few days. During the daytime they would go sightseeing, mainly on foot, and piece by piece Kostantis narrated to the others the history of Thessaloniki in condensed form:

Thessaloniki (or Thessalonica) was founded in 315 BC by Cassander, then king of Macedonia, at the site of an older city, Therme. Cassander won the throne of Macedonia over the other Alexander the Great’s successors. Those successors went to war against one another a7er the great man’s death and carved up his great empire among them. Cassander, however, put to death Olympias, Alexander’s mother. That deed caused great consternation among the people, to whom Alexander’s name had already become legendary. In order to curry favour with the local aristocracy, Cassander founded the city and named it a7er Thessalonike, his wife and Alexander’s half-sister. (Thessalonike was Philip’s child also.) During the very first years of the Byzantine Empire (or Eastern Roman Empire), which lasted from 313 to 1453 AD, Thessaloniki became the base of Constantine the Great, the empire’s founder, in the war against his brother-in-law, Licinius, in 313 AD. The next year Constantine moved his army there, and constructed a new port in the place of the older Roman one to make an anchorage for his fleet. In the long centuries of the Byzantine Empire, Thessaloniki was second in importance only to Constantinople, the capital. Constantinople was the kingly city, the Emperors’ seat, whereas Thessaloniki was known as “co-regent city”, “the eye of Europe”, and certainly the greatest city in what is now Greece. By 1387, in the Empire’s long twilight, Thessaloniki was entering the fourth year of a siege by the O8omans under 21


Murad I. The inhabitants, rightly fearing pillage and bloodshed, agreed to pay tribute to Murad. Then in 1423, when the O8omans again laid siege to the city, its Governor, Andronicus Palaeologus, who was in very bad health, transferred it to Venice under clear terms towards its survival. But the Venetians soon imposed a tyrannical regime. Thessaloniki was weakened and in 1430 fell to the O8omans of Murad II a7er another siege. It was pillaged and almost totally destroyed. Thousands of its people were led in chains to be sold at the slave bazaars of the Orient. One by one its great Byzantine churches were transformed into mosques. About a hundred and fi7y years later, starting in the year 1492, Jews exiled from Spain and Portugal, speaking the Spanish language, started to arrive to Thessaloniki in large numbers. They came to be known as Sephardic Jews or Sepharadim, and gave the city an even more multicultural character. Thessaloniki continued to be a very important place during the entire O8oman period. The city was liberated by the Greek Army on 26 October 1912, the feast-day of St Demetrios, her patron saint. Ariadne gave the children guided tours to the city’s many museums. At the Byzantine Museum they studied sculptures, murals, mosaics, religious icons and inscriptions from a period that covered almost 1200 years. At the Archaeological Museum they stood in awe before sculptures from Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic Greek and Roman times, as well as the treasures found at Derveni3 and elsewhere.

3 Derweni ist eine Stadt in Makedonien, 13 Kilometer von Thessaloniki entfernt. 1962 wurden dort viele ungeplünderte Gräber und andere Funde aus der hellenistischen Epoche geborgen.

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They visited the White Tower, probably Thessaloniki’s most famous landmark, and Ariadne gave them many details about its history: “This is part of the old city walls. It was built in the 16th century, and has been used for various purposes, from a barracks for the Janissary guard to a jail for prisoners condemned to death. It has six floors, a height of thirty-four metres and a perimeter of seventy meters. Once it was called the Lion’s Tower, and in the 17th century was renamed Kalamaria Fort4 . In the 19th century it was yet again renamed Janissary Tower, and then Kanli-Kule, which means ‘Tower of Blood’ in Turkish.” “That’s blood-curdling,” Nikolas said. “Why did they give it that name?” Alexandros asked Ariadne. “Because it had become a prison for those condemned to death. The Janissaries beheaded them – they were the executioners. In 1826 Sultan Mahmud II ordered that all Janissaries be put to death, and the city was relieved of their looting and murdering. “And when was it named ‘White Tower’?” Nikolas asked. “That was in 1891. A Jewish prisoner, Nathan Guidili, whitewashed the entire tower in exchange for his freedom. During the First World War, a;er the liberation of Thessaloniki,” Ariadne continued, “it was used as the main Communications Centre of the Entente Army, the Army of the Allies, based in the city. Now it belongs to the Museum of Byzantine Civilisation and houses the City Museum.” “Is it true that it was built by the famous architect Mimar Sinan Aga on the orders of the Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent?” Kostantis asked her. “That’s the more probable version of the story, according to an inscription found at the entrance to the Tower,” Ariadne answered. 4

Kalamaria ist ein Stad<eil von Thessaloniki.

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At Nikolas’ insistence they visited the Museum of Technology, where they found very interesting exhibits about space, telecommunications, navigation, and photography. On another morning they took a stroll to the old quarter of Ladadika, close to the port. There, Ariadne told them, the city’s wholesalers had their warehouses until 1917. But in that year what came to be known as the Great Fire destroyed much of the old city, and the only ones who stayed in the district were the olive-oil merchants. Walking leisurely through the flagstone side streets, the children admired the listed old buildings that were painted in lively colours. They felt that the great rectangular windows took them back in time a hundred years or more. On the ground floors then there were stores and warehouses for olive oil and other foodstuffs. The buildings, now carefully restored even to the red-brick architectural details, still exuded a strong tang of the old city. Their minds were occupied with the past, until suddenly they were returned to the present when they emerged at Morichovo Square, full of life and people seated at restaurants, cafeterias and bars. On their last day they visited Sheikh-Sou, a planned forest on the edge of the city created in the 1930’s. Its official name in Greek, Ariadne explained, is Chilia Dendra, or Thousand Trees, but most people know it by the Turkish name for the area, which means “Sheikh’s fountain”. They took a long walk along the paths, admiring the tall trees and relaxing in the quiet.

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They had stayed for almost a week in Thessaloniki. Although they visited Blackstone Alley every night at midnight, they had observed nothing strange apart from the now familiar rat that had so scared them their first time there. But they kept their watch. And so on the last night before their return to Crete they found themselves seated on a stone bench in Blackstone Alley. It was almost midnight and they were very anxious, maybe even a li<le afraid again. Eirene, Nikolas, Kostantis and Ariadne were talking in low voices. Alexandros stood a li<le aside, examining for the thousandth time the obsidian stone le; them by the time-machine thief. Then, suddenly, he saw a flash coming out of the stone. He jumped, startled. “Look here!” he shouted, showing the stone to his friends. Kostantis was instantly alarmed. “What’s this?” “The stone is only a mirror for that light,” Ariadne said. “Turn to the other side!” Everyone turned to see. An eddy of light was whirling a few metres from them. “The time-gate,” the archaeologist said, looking at the moving blue light as if she were in a trance. “It exists,” Nikolas said. “It’s beautiful,” Kostantis added. “Follow me!” Ariadne told them, unable to take her eyes away from the blinding light. “No, no! I’m not going in there,” Eirene whispered. “Count me out, too,” Nikolas said. “Come with me, or I’m going alone,” Ariadne told them and started walking resolutely towards the luminous time-gate. The others finally followed her, drawn by the same luminescence. As soon as they walked past the time-gate they found themselves

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on a short, brilliantly lit path. It wasn’t more than one hundred metres long. They walked as if they were hypnotised. At the other end of the path they caught sight of a second luminous gate not unlike the one they had passed. “Another time-gate,” Kostantis shouted. “Now what?” Alexandros said to in particular. “We’re going in,” Ariadne told them. “That may not be a good idea,” Eirene said and stopped on her tracks. “We don’t know if we’ve got the time to get back,” Kostantis said. “We may only have a few minutes le; before the time-gate closes behind us.” “We’d be<er get back now,” Nikolas added. “I’m not leaving until I find the time-machine,” Ariadne told them. “Don’t you understand that both gates could close and we might get trapped between them?” Eirene was almost desperate. “I’m going alone,” Ariadne said. “You’d be<er stay here.” She started running to the second time-gate before they could stop her. At that moment a long-haired, swarthy man appeared before them. He wasn’t more than five feet tall. He wore a short, multicoloured skirt around his middle; or was it perhaps a loin cloth? Snakes were painted on his naked arms and torso. He held the time-machine in his right hand. Kostantis saw it and ran towards him screaming, “Thief! Give it back to me!” The man was so startled that the time-machine fell from his hand. The boy grabbed it with a fast and graceful move and ran back to his friends. “Let’s get out of here quickly!” he shouted. Suddenly the machine emi<ed thick white smoke and its timemeter dial started to gyrate like crazy. A luminous eddy wrapped

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them and again whirled them through time. “Fools!” the man whispered between his teeth; but they couldn’t hear him, and if they could, they wouldn’t have been able to understand his language. Then he walked through the time-gate, which immediately closed behind him.

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