Read Online Dark inheritance by Roberta Leigh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roberta Leigh
Tags: Romance - Harlequin
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turnstile.
"By the way," she asked suddenly, 'What does the word 'Acropolis' stand for?"
"Polis means town and akros upper—hence, upper town. When we get to the top you'll see the two hills which rise from the centre of the city. The one over there is Lykabettos. The other, on which we arc now standing, is the Acropolis proper."
"Sometimes I wish I'd been born before my time, Barbara murmured. "To have seen this as it once was." They picked their way across the rough, stone-strewn ground to where the enormous bulk of the Parthenon reared itself against the sky. Constructed of milk-white marble, it shone with such punty that their eyes were dazzled by its reflection in the sunlight. The vein of iron running through the marble made it seem to be delicately patina'd with gold and it looked a fitting shrine for the Statue of the patron goddess of Athens, Pallas Athene, which it had been built to house.
"Even their enemies realized that this legacy of the Athenians to mankind must never be entirely de stroyed," the man at her side murmured. "When Alex ander conquered Greece he placed his trophies here; when Demetrius and Cleopatra aspired to divine rank they could only claim to receive it in the Parthenon. It was left to an Italian Admiral in the 17 th century to fire upon it because the Turks used it to store gunpowder. He paused for a moment. "It seems that everything of beauty made by man is doomed to be destroyed by him."
"Somehow I think it's more beautiful now than it can ever have been," Barbara said softly. "I could go on looking at it for ever."
They stood side by side in silence for a long time breathing in the tranquility of the atmosphere, then reluctantly turned away and went down the steps again where they were met by a barrage of photographers who offered to take their picture. In spite of then refusals the cameras clicked and as they walked along the rough ground on their way back to the temple of Nike, curling prints still damp from the developing solution were thrust into their hands.
Rockwood threw Barbara a comical glance and after some terse haggling bought a couple of the prints and handed them to her.
"They're not very good, but I'm sure you'll cherish them for ever," he said drily. "Show them to your friends in suburbia when you're feeling depressed."
The wide curve of Barbara's mouth lifted in a smile. "I shall look at them on the tube in the rush-hour."
She glanced down at the photographs. In her wide-brimmed straw hat and sun-glasses she was almost unrecognizable, but Rockwood had come out very well. Standing on the steps of the temple with the hills showing through the Doric columns behind him, he seemed at one with the majesty of his surroundings, as though he had kin with the Greeks who had conceived the magnificence of the Parthenon.
'This reminds mc of you at Crags' Height," she said.
The man threw down his cigarette and trod it out savagely. "Why must you mention Crags' Heights here?"
There was such bitterness in his voice that Barbara could scarcely credit the change from his light-hearted-ness of a few seconds ago, and he must have seen the stricken look in her eyes, for he touched her lightly on the shoulder in apology and turned away with a brief: "Come along, we must get back."
By the time they were seated in a taxi he appeared to have regained his equilibrium, and throughout the rest of the day remained cheerful and informative. They lunched at one of the small cafes overlooking Constitution Square, where Rockwood assured her they would obtain a far better meal than at any of the large, imposing hotels, and the youvetsi —lamb cooked with garlic, bay leaves and tomatoes—was as delicious as he had promised. Barbara felt so replete that she had no room for the rather sticky-looking sweet—a confec tion of sugar and almonds pounded to a paste with butter and semolina, called halva —that Rockwood ordered for himself, and she watched him with amuse ment while he ate
"By the way," she asked suddenly, 'What does the word 'Acropolis' stand for?"
"Polis means town and akros upper—hence, upper town. When we get to the top you'll see the two hills which rise from the centre of the city. The one over there is Lykabettos. The other, on which we arc now standing, is the Acropolis proper."
"Sometimes I wish I'd been born before my time, Barbara murmured. "To have seen this as it once was." They picked their way across the rough, stone-strewn ground to where the enormous bulk of the Parthenon reared itself against the sky. Constructed of milk-white marble, it shone with such punty that their eyes were dazzled by its reflection in the sunlight. The vein of iron running through the marble made it seem to be delicately patina'd with gold and it looked a fitting shrine for the Statue of the patron goddess of Athens, Pallas Athene, which it had been built to house.
"Even their enemies realized that this legacy of the Athenians to mankind must never be entirely de stroyed," the man at her side murmured. "When Alex ander conquered Greece he placed his trophies here; when Demetrius and Cleopatra aspired to divine rank they could only claim to receive it in the Parthenon. It was left to an Italian Admiral in the 17 th century to fire upon it because the Turks used it to store gunpowder. He paused for a moment. "It seems that everything of beauty made by man is doomed to be destroyed by him."
"Somehow I think it's more beautiful now than it can ever have been," Barbara said softly. "I could go on looking at it for ever."
They stood side by side in silence for a long time breathing in the tranquility of the atmosphere, then reluctantly turned away and went down the steps again where they were met by a barrage of photographers who offered to take their picture. In spite of then refusals the cameras clicked and as they walked along the rough ground on their way back to the temple of Nike, curling prints still damp from the developing solution were thrust into their hands.
Rockwood threw Barbara a comical glance and after some terse haggling bought a couple of the prints and handed them to her.
"They're not very good, but I'm sure you'll cherish them for ever," he said drily. "Show them to your friends in suburbia when you're feeling depressed."
The wide curve of Barbara's mouth lifted in a smile. "I shall look at them on the tube in the rush-hour."
She glanced down at the photographs. In her wide-brimmed straw hat and sun-glasses she was almost unrecognizable, but Rockwood had come out very well. Standing on the steps of the temple with the hills showing through the Doric columns behind him, he seemed at one with the majesty of his surroundings, as though he had kin with the Greeks who had conceived the magnificence of the Parthenon.
'This reminds mc of you at Crags' Height," she said.
The man threw down his cigarette and trod it out savagely. "Why must you mention Crags' Heights here?"
There was such bitterness in his voice that Barbara could scarcely credit the change from his light-hearted-ness of a few seconds ago, and he must have seen the stricken look in her eyes, for he touched her lightly on the shoulder in apology and turned away with a brief: "Come along, we must get back."
By the time they were seated in a taxi he appeared to have regained his equilibrium, and throughout the rest of the day remained cheerful and informative. They lunched at one of the small cafes overlooking Constitution Square, where Rockwood assured her they would obtain a far better meal than at any of the large, imposing hotels, and the youvetsi —lamb cooked with garlic, bay leaves and tomatoes—was as delicious as he had promised. Barbara felt so replete that she had no room for the rather sticky-looking sweet—a confec tion of sugar and almonds pounded to a paste with butter and semolina, called halva —that Rockwood ordered for himself, and she watched him with amuse ment while he ate
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