Island of Echoes (5 page)

The woman likewise placed her hand on her chest and uttered a single word. “Yawa.”

“Good day, Ms. Yawa. That is our ship, the
Bigorneau
,” he pointed to the little vessel on the sea.

The woman looked out at the ship and nodded. “Er thel
ó
n,” she said calmly and motioned for us to follow her down the path.

“Do you speak English?” Lady Pearson asked.

Yawa cast her warm eyes upon the lady though she did not say anything.

“Parlez-vous Français?” the Captain tried, but the old woman made no response. She again indicated for us to follow and began walking down the path. “Maybe someone in her town will understand us,” Travert hoped aloud.

Rémy and I grabbed our trunk and the six of us followed the little woman down the road. It wasn’t long before we spotted an approaching carriage. Ms. Yawa stopped walking and pointed at the vehicle. Four tan horses pulled a large open carriage unlike any I had ever seen. Everything from the shape to the craftsmanship was completely new to me. It appeared to be made entirely of wood, smoothed to a fine polish and painted white. The many embellishments of our own carriages, gold trim, decorative handles, and bedecked wheels, were nowhere to be seen. Despite its unornamented façade, it was superbly constructed. Intricately fitted panels came together to create a sleek and revolutionary shape to the structure.

The driver’s perch was large and padded with dark blue cushions. The driver, a young man similarly clad in a salmon-colored tunic, stopped the vehicle before us. Ms. Yawa opened the side door to reveal a cushioned interior and gestured for us to step in. Without a common language to inquire about distance or location, we decided to take advantage of the transport. Travert offered the woman several bills as payment, but she merely smiled and pushed the currency away.

Rémy assisted the Pearson women into the vehicle, for the passenger seats were positioned uncharacteristically high. We sat well above the wheels and even farther up than the driver’s perch. The interior was likewise padded in dark blue. Although it did not appear old, it was very simple and lacked much of what a modern coach should have.

Rémy and I placed the trunk of provisions on the floor. The interior was spacious enough to accommodate it with plenty of room to spare. Ms. Yawa set her offering of fruit on top of the crate and motioned to another basket already waiting inside the vehicle. It was nestled between several glass vases of water. I opened its wicker lid to reveal a horde of bread and olives.

To our surprise, the old woman did not join us. She closed the door, which did not have a traditional handle but simply snapped into place, and took a seat beside the young man in the driver’s perch. They exchanged a few words in their foreign tongue and we began moving away from the great temple.

The odd cobblestones which had so captivated us upon our arrival in this land proved an excellent conductor of horse and carriage. All the sounds and shocks from even the finest street were absent as our coach glided down the road. I felt deceived with the knowledge that four beautiful steeds drew us forward without hearing the familiar clapping of their hoofs.

The air outside was crisp and clear. The sun shined down with radiance and I breathed in the smell of flowers and wild grasses. It was heavenly. The countryside we crossed was charmingly picturesque. The rugged mountain pass was the most conspicuous feature of the landscape, providing the island with many lush valleys divided by steep red peaks.  Our path weaved in and out of the rich conifer forests as we made our way along the coast. I spotted a number of auburn rams grazing along the brush, their horns curved into great bony crescents at their sides.

The island was a haven for flora and fauna alike but empty of all marks of civilization. Everything from the largest farmhouse to the smallest road sign was missing. The road itself was the only man-made construction I could discern. It split off every few miles, though I could distinguish no particular destination to which its branches might stretch.

I sat at the forward end of the coach with the ladies. Lady Ella sat beside me, in the middle. Her grandmother was silently looking out toward the sea, arm stretched forward and resting atop her ornamented cane. I watched the scenery disappearing behind us and had a sense of déjà vu. I realized it was less than two days ago that I watched the shores of Alexandria shrinking away on the horizon.

“Do you see any landmarks?” I asked, though our view was rather limited by the terrain.

“I can’t make out anything,” said Father Daniel. “No ships, no people, no establishment of any kind.” He sat diagonal to me, looking out at the coast.  I still couldn’t quite place his accent. Lady Pearson must have had the same thought.

“Lady Ella and I have not traveled this far from England before,” she proclaimed, “I’m afraid we can’t offer much help in this matter. What about you, Father? What part of the world do you call home?”

Father Daniel stole a brief glance at the woman before him. “Far from here, I’m afraid.”

“Ah. The center of the continent would be my guess, no?” she continued to probe.

“It is not our origin that defines us,” he retorted.

Lady Pearson chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something to hide.” She had a twinkle in her eye and her air of superiority returned twofold.

Father Daniel met her gaze. “Nothing of the sort. But if I did, I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one.”

The point was made. Lady Pearson directed her glower out at the water while Ella pretended to be distracted by some hill in the distance. An uncomfortable hush fell over our coach as we continued on. It was quite a while, several miles perhaps, before Travert finally broke the silence.

“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed, and I was thoroughly startled at the outburst. He stood up to observe some point of interest behind me. I saw Rémy’s eyes grow wide and Father Daniel crossed himself. I looked to see what had caught their attention.

“Good heavens!” I burst out and we all turned to face the structure before us.

It stood taller than any tower I had ever seen. I would describe it as a cone in shape, but the sides, rather than straight, were curved inward elegantly like a giant trumpet. Its tip came to a perfect point high in the sky and the entire exterior gleamed like silver. Its base was still obstructed by the hills before us, and I could only surmise how much of the monolith our eyes were privy to. We were mute with awe as we scrutinized the monument, half expecting it to disappear before us like a mirage.

I felt such a complexity of emotion at that moment. Fear, naturally, for I realized I was seeing something wholly unknown. Excitement about the marvel before me. But most of all I think I felt lonely, for I instinctively realized that my companions and I had no friends, acquaintances, or even methods of communication among these truly foreign people. We gaped in silence for many long minutes as the structure loomed ever-taller before us.

“I need to put my head down,” Lady Pearson finally murmured, clutching her temples. Ella took a hold of her arm.

“I...” Rémy began, but was unable to finish his sentence.

“What sort of place is this?” Father Daniel whispered.

“I just can’t believe my eyes. I can’t believe our predicament! We have just discovered a new world,” Lady Pearson surmised.

“Come now, grandmother,” Ella retorted, “How could that be?”

“Do you have any other explanation? Anyone? My head is spinning,” she closed her eyes and placed a hand over her forehead.

“I admit, I have never heard of anything like this,” I agreed hesitantly.

“A blank space on the map?” Travert scoffed. “In the middle of the Mediterranean?!”

“I’ve read about these things, you know!” Lady Pearson piped. “Just look at what Napoleon’s men discovered in Egypt, and that’s not far from here. Or King Solomon’s mines in Africa.”

“That was a fantasy story, grandmother,” Ella reproached gently.

“No matter. Our eyes don’t deceive us, and that thing is entirely unnatural,” she declared heatedly.

“Well who knows what these foreigners may want with us,” said Travert, authority returning to his voice. “I say we prepare ourselves. Let’s get those rifles out.”

Rémy opened our trunk and searched through the blankets and tarps. “I can’t find them,” he admitted nervously.

“But you packed it!” the Captain growled.

“I helped,” I quickly added and assisted him in combing through the provisions, “but I honestly don’t recall even seeing them.”

“Well they didn’t just disappear during the night.” Travert began rummaging through the crate himself, though it was clear that the arms were nowhere to be found.

“We certainly would have noticed two rifles lying out on the grass, wouldn’t we?” Lady Pearson quavered. As much as we hated to admit it, our primary defenses were gone.

“Oh this is just lovely,” Father Daniel proclaimed.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Ella protested, “We’ve been treated with nothing but kindness thus far. These people seem civilized enough after all.”

Lady Pearson and Father Daniel sneered simultaneously.

“We should have stayed right where we were,” the priest grumbled.

“We can’t get anywhere with a damaged ship,” I pointed out. For better or worse, we were marooned with these strangers.

“Well I can only surmise what that tower may hold,” Father Daniel warned, glaring at the metallic monolith. “Perhaps this island never made it on the map because its visitors never departed!”

Lady Pearson placed her hand over her head again, a groan of despair escaping her lips.

“Well really!” Ella huffed. “I would kindly like to request that we stop these negative assumptions!” Her voice betrayed no fear and I admired her quality of character. She picked up one of the containers of water and wet a handkerchief to put over her grandmother’s forehead.

“These people are clearly gifted in the art of architecture,” I admitted. “I had the opportunity to visit the New York World Building during my last trip home, the tallest building on Earth, and this tower trumps it twofold.
At least!
”

“But I guarantee they lack any advancement in sea travel,” Travert ascertained.

Rémy nodded. “Yes, we would know of this island if they had ships.”

“Whatever this place may be,” I answered thoughtfully, “we must assume that we are witness to a wholly undiscovered people. We could very well be the first outsiders to walk these shores in millennia.”

“As a mariner of this sea, I simply can’t comprehend how that’s possible,” Travert admitted. “But my eyes tell me that it must be true.”

“Perhaps this is where the ancient stories of Atlantis had come from,” I added. “Suppose we
are
the first visitors on this island in centuries. We are ambassadors to the outside world.” It was not my intent, but the weight of my words settled upon my companions like a great burden. We remained silent for the remainder of the trip.

Our carriage reached the crest of a hill which descended down to a large stretch of flat land beside the sea. We were still a mile or two from the tower, but we were offered our first view down to its base. The silver cone protruded from a grassy field at the center of the densely forested region. Its base ended in a perfect circle on the turf, curving out like the lip of a trumpet. Although I spotted a multitude of other buildings among the trees, all were composed of stone and few emerged above the treetops. My rational mind was at odds with what I saw before me and I had difficulty judging the height of the soaring monument. It stretched into the heavens and I suspected it was about seven hundred feet tall. Its bright exterior contrasted beautifully against the deep green foliage of the area.

The red cobblestone road weaved down the hill and appeared to terminate at the tower, though the path was flanked on either side by a swimming sea of color. A horde of people, many thousands of individuals, stood between us and the tower’s base. Their pastel tunics flashed brightly in the sunlight. The entire group erupted in cheers when we came into view and their collective voices formed a distant roar of enthusiasm.

A line of highly ceremonial guards blocked off both sides of the cobblestone road so that our path was clear of the masses. Their uniforms were elaborate tunics of deep purple with thick gold belts across their waists. An ornamented purple cape fluttered from the back of each man and woman, for I noticed that both genders were reflected in the sentries. Heavy gold bracelets adorned their wrists. Unlike the sandals of the populace, the guards wore tall boots over their dark trousers. Although their belts had a number of objects attached to them, none were the pistols or swords that I would have expected.

Several dozen individuals, all attired in pastel green cloth, stood waiting for us at the outskirts of the crowd. They were musicians. Most of them wore drums attached to their torsos by leather harnesses. The instruments varied in length and width but all were wooden and beautifully carved with intricate patterns and symbols. The remainder of the group held long silver trumpets, which resembled the great building before us.

The musicians lined up in front of our approaching carriage; they would be leading us to the tower. As if reading each other’s thoughts, the drummers all struck their instruments in perfect unison and a thundering rhythm pierced the air. I do not know what tricks of sound they used, but the uproar was much louder than nature allowed. The cheers of the crowd were drowned out by the rapid percussion. My shipmates and I jumped up in surprise. The drumming was intense and more suited to a savage ritual taking place deep in the lost jungles of the world than among these smiling foreigners. The trumpeters soon joined the percussion with long powerful blasts which balanced the dominant beats with a hypnotizing melody. It was an entirely unparalleled presentation.

The locals went wild with excitement, smiling, cheering, and throwing flowers at our passing carriage. I noticed that they came from a mixture of hereditary backgrounds; I could discern every complexion among the group. It was most difficult to tell the men apart from the women. Both genders displayed varying lengths of hair, from extremely short cuts to shoulder-length locks, with flowers and braids as common embellishments on either.

Their clothing, likewise, was very similar in appearance. The tunics had a few folds, but with extremely simple silhouettes. Most ended just above the knee with short sleeves at the top, though several individuals, men and women alike, wore white trousers beneath the colored cloth. Everyone appeared to favor pastel colors: yellows, greens, pinks, and blues. The more I scrutinized them, the more I realized that I had already seen the garments before. They were chiseled into the decorative marble panels surrounding the roof of the great temple. What I mistook for poor workmanship was actually a representation of the simplified pseudo-ancient robes before me.

Accessorizing appeared to have no particular rule. Some people wore jewelry, everything from complex metal necklaces which spread wide across the shoulders to simple bracelets, while others wore none. Large ornamented broaches were clasped to the shoulders of most of the garments. I spotted a handful of odd hats with no brim but with silk sheets hanging off the back. Others wore purely decorative scarves, for the warm weather did not necessitate them, adorned with streaks of metallic thread. There were even a few silken capes fluttering in the breeze.