The Lost Throne

47

When Dial and Andropoulos left the library at Great Metéoron, they decided to explore the grounds. Neither man said much as they strolled among the pink and white flowers and the manicured shrubs that lined the walkways. For them, it was a time of reflection, not discovery — a chance to ponder all the information they had learned before they returned to Kalampáka.

Many things stood out from their meeting with Theodore, including the missing pages in the history of Holy Trinity and the way the monk had fumed about it. But nothing mattered more than the black-and-white photograph of Nicolas. His connection to the abbot, which had lasted more than forty years, struck a chord with Dial.

Somehow he knew their relationship was vital to his case.

Finding a picturesque spot, Dial sat on a wooden bench that faced the valley below. His view was unobstructed except for a thin railing made out of crisscrossed logs. Andropoulos sat next to him, unwilling to speak until spoken to. He hadn’t known Dial for very long, yet he understood the dynamics of their relationship. Sometimes Dial just wanted to think.

A few minutes passed before Dial asked, “Have you ever been to Mount Athos?”

Andropoulos shook his head. “No, sir. Not many outsiders have. Visitors must have special permission from the Orthodox Church.”

“Why is that?”

“The Church likes its privacy.”

Ironically, Theodore was the one who had brought up Mount Athos, saying it was where older monks went to continue their spiritual growth. Then he had instantly regretted mentioning it. When Dial had tried to get more information about the place, Theodore had been reluctant to answer, claiming he had never been there, so he didn’t want to speak out of turn. Dial hadn’t pressed the issue, not wanting to sour their relationship after a very helpful conversation. Yet Theodore’s reluctance piqued Dial’s curiosity, as did the possibility that Nicolas might be recognized there.

“Is Mount Athos far from here?” Dial wondered.

“A few hundred kilometers. It sits to the east, surrounded by the Aegean.”

“It’s an island?”

Andropoulos shook his head. “It is a mountain on the tip of a peninsula. Greeks call it the Holy Mountain. It stretches from the water to the sky above.”

Dial tried to visualize it. Other than Hawaii and a few other islands that were formed by volcanic explosions, he had never seen a mountain surrounded by water. “It sounds scenic.”

Andropoulos nodded. “It is quite beautiful. I have seen many pictures.”

“Would you like to take some yourself?”

“Sir?” he asked, confused.

Dial glanced at the young officer. “I get the feeling that we’ve learned all that we’re going to learn around here. That leaves us with two choices. We can go back inside and help Theodore look through his old books, or we can go to Mount Athos and interview some old monks.”

“Just so you know, the drive would take all day.”

“No, it won’t. I have access to a helicopter. If we left now, we could reach Mount Athos by mid-afternoon. That is, if you’re interested in going.”

“Yes, sir! I would like that very much.”

Dial grimaced at his enthusiasm. “Don’t get too excited. This isn’t a date. I need an interpreter just in case the monks don’t speak English.”

“And some won’t,” Andropoulos assured him. “But…”

“What?”

“As I mentioned, visitors aren’t admitted without clearance. How will we get in?”

“Please!” Dial sneered. He was insulted by the question. “I’m in charge of the Homicide Division at Interpol. My credentials can get us anywhere.”

Henri Toulon burst out laughing when he heard Dial’s request. “You must be joking! I can’t get you access to Mount Athos.”

“Why not?” Dial growled into his cell phone. He stood up from the bench and walked away from Andropoulos so the young cop couldn’t hear. “This is for my investigation.”

“They will not care. They do not recognize our authority.”

“Why the hell not? Greece is one of our member states!”

Toulon nodded, sitting at his desk. “True, but Mount Athos is not a part of Greece.”

Dial paused, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Its official name is the Holy Community of the Holy Mountain. It is a self-governed state and has been for more than a thousand years. As my boss, you should know this.”

Dial wasn’t in the mood for insults. He wanted clarification. “What are you saying? It’s a separate country, like Vatican City?”

“Technically, no. Mount Athos is a part of Greece, but Greece doesn’t govern it. It is controlled by the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople.”

“Which is what?”

“A church council located in Istanbul.”

Dial shook his head, trying to absorb the information. “Mount Athos is run from Turkey? That doesn’t make any sense. That’s like Mecca being run from Rome.”

Toulon smiled at the metaphor. “That is a good line. May I use it?”

“Use whatever you want. But first, tell me what you’re talking about!”

Dial was fully aware of the political tension between Greece and Turkey. It had existed long before Greece declared its independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1821 and had been fueled over the years by several wars. There were many reasons for their disagreements, but Dial knew the fundamental difference between the two countries was religion. In simple terms, most Greeks were Christians and most Turks were Muslims. Which is why Dial found it so hard to believe that Mount Athos was run from Istanbul, a city with more than two thousand mosques.

Toulon asked, “Are you familiar with Constantine the Great?”

“Of course I am. He was Emperor of Rome.”

“Constantine was more than just an emperor. He was the emperor when it comes to Christianity. In the fourth century, he made the controversial decision to shift the capital city of the Christian world from Rome to Byzantium, a small city that was unstained by Roman politics and much closer to the lands of the East. Over a period of ten years, he expanded his city in hopes of expanding his empire. He built streets, sewers, aqueducts, and more. Then he decorated it with the finest treasures from Greece and Rome. In some cases, he actually disassembled temples, column by column, and reassembled them in Byzantium. Nothing was too good for Nova Roma, or New Rome, which officially became the capital in 330 A.D.”

“Great,” Dial said sarcastically. “You only have seventeen hundred years to go.”

Toulon smiled. “Eventually, the city became known as Constantinople, in honor of the emperor. It stayed that way until the last century, when the Turks officially named it Istanbul.”

“And that helps me how?”

“It explains why Mount Athos is run from Turkey. At one time, the entire Christian world was ruled from Constantinople. So it makes sense that the Ecumenical Patriarchate, an organization that is several hundred years old and provides spiritual leadership to the Greek Orthodox Church, would exist in that city — despite the presence of Islam.”

Dial nodded in understanding. Sometimes Toulon took longer to make a point than Dial would have liked, but the Frenchman always got there eventually.

“Okay,” Dial said, as he thought things through. “Turkey is a member country, too. So pick up the phone, call the Patriarchate, and ask them for a permit. I need to get to Mount Athos.”

Toulon shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Nick. The Patriarchate provides spiritual guidance to Mount Athos, helping them with religious decisions. Meanwhile, the Holy Mountain is governed on a day-to-day basis by a different body, known as Holy Administration. It is made up of representatives of the twenty ruling monasteries and an elected governor.”

Dial growled in frustration. He didn’t care about the details. He just wanted an answer. “Let me make this simple. Who is in charge of permits?”

“It is a joint decision. Every application is reviewed and thoroughly debated. This isn’t a rubber-stamp procedure. The committee evaluates a candidate’s worth and grants access only to those who qualify. From what I hear, they are very strict.”

“So what are you saying? I don’t qualify?”

“I am not sure. I will have to review their entry requirements. However, even if you qualify, these decisions are made weeks in advance. Permits must be granted. Sponsors must be found. It is all very complicated. There is no way I can accomplish this in an hour.”

“Fine! I’ll give you two hours. But I’ll need twice as many permits. One for me and one for my translator. His name is Marcus Andropoulos.”

Toulon cursed in French. He had worked with Dial long enough to know that he was serious. “You are asking for a miracle.”

“Come on, Henri. You’re always bragging about how intelligent you are. I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you’ll come up with something.”

“Oui, it is true. I am very smart.”

“I know you are. So do me a favor and use all that brainpower to help me out. Get me access to Mount Athos and I’ll give you a long weekend off.”

Toulon paused. “In that case, I will see what I can do.”