Saving his notes on tomorrow’s conferences with his graduate students, Dr. Stavros Kyriakos removed the memory stick from his computer and stretched his back to relieve the cramp hours over the keyboard created. He swiveled his chair around and rested his eyes on the fresh green leaves of the willow that brushed against his second floor office window.
He badly needed a few minutes to clear his head and organize his thoughts about his personal life before heading home to the quiet street in Horam where he and Lynn lived.
Although spring was usually a busy term at the university, this year was so much more complicated for him. The decision about whether or not to submit his resignation and collect his pension would have to be made before he left for Easter. This was a momentous choice and one about which he realized he was in two minds.
On one hand was the definite freedom of leaving behind university politics with its eternal meetings about budget and the competition for subject hours, office help, and classroom space.
For years he dared not miss a meeting in case a motion should be approved to cut his teaching hours or his research budget and cast his work back several years from which point he would have to struggle once again to reclaim lost territory.
It was a battle he had fought too many times. The study of classics was not a priority in the university’s lexicon. There were no grants attached to Ancient Greek and Roman courses but it was what he had always wanted to do with his life. As soon as he acquired the qualifications, he worked and waited until an elderly professor finally retired and relinquished the position to his younger colleague.
“Now I am the elderly colleague,” he whispered with some chagrin. “Who is waiting in the wings to take over my position? Will the department seize the opportunity to close down classical studies completely if I leave?” He knew Latin had vanished from the curriculum in a similar scenario several years ago.
Turning his head to left and right and rubbing his stiff neck, he could not help noticing the bookshelves crammed with text books and even his own writing on Greek culture and civilization as the foundation of modern democracy. The books were interspersed with a finely sculptured head of Athena and a delicate pottery vase with the elegant paintings of heroes and monsters striving to win glory. There was also a collection of coins and potsherds and framed scenes of the many archaeological sites where he had laboured in the summers.
Would retirement also mean the end of these summer courses in Greece with his most promising young students and the adults whose fees for back-breaking work under the sun made the entire enterprise financially feasible?
This summer’s dig in Aegina was fully subscribed already, although much of the travel and site organization was still to be finalized. Would this be his last chance to uncover something amazing hidden beneath the dust of ages; something that would make his name revered in the annals of historical research? If these summer courses were to be continued under his guidance, a part-time contract with the university would have to be negotiated soon; and with whom? Of late, deans of the university’s departments had been falling like leaves in the autumn. Each summer meant the danger of new personnel; the new brooms who might wish to sweep clean the traditional, and uneconomic, areas of study.
“Damn it all!” he exclaimed, drumming his hefty fists against the oak desk. “I have other things to think about.” He pushed himself up from the chair and moved to the wall where a map of Greece was pinned to a bulletin board beside a variety of timetables and department dicta.
Thrusting a finger at Paros, he pictured in his mind’s eye the piece of land near the Aegean for which he had made tentative enquiries about purchasing a dilapidated house and several acres leading down to a curved and secluded beach. The whole parcel of land was sheltered by a headland on the west and the location was far enough away from any hotels or tourist areas to be not only reasonable in price, but also, as yet undiscovered by the casual traveller. His own intimate knowledge of the island of his birth permitted him to seek out such places only the locals would know about.
The entire world knew how desperate the economic situation in Greece was becoming. Any outside observer could see the dire restructuring of the society that must be put in place despite the strenuous objections of the Greek populace. Only in the current circumstances could Stavros consider making a purchase of land in his homeland. His teaching career had provided a decent income and lifestyle for himself and Lynn but they had had such a slow start in life because of delays caused by Lynn’s family situation with her parents, that savings for the future were not a strong aspect of their present finances.
Now was the time to act on the dream of living in Paros far from the soggy English summers and the unpredictable climate. As a Greek-born man he was confident in his abilities to negotiate a good price with the landowner. He was familiar with the legalities involved and knew how to circumnavigate the pitfalls that might trap a less savvy man.
The final price would have to leave in reserve enough money to rebuild the house and furnish a home that would delight his wife and persuade her to leave England at last.
There was another matter of concern, however. Stavros was tall and strong from years of digging and hefting rocks on archaeology sites in Italy, Turkey and Greece, but he was not a skilled builder. He was aware he knew more about taking apart structures than he would ever know about putting one together.
How was he to accomplish this task while teaching the planned summer course? Which team of local men could be trusted to take over this work unsupervised, so that the shell at least would be secure before the winter months?
It was abundantly clear that many decisions needed to be made. Stavros thought his dilemma was like a temple with slender marble columns supporting a pediment roof. If any one of these columns failed to stay in place, the entire edifice would rock on its foundation, bringing down every stone and shattering everything.
For this, and a dozen other reasons, he decided to keep the debate from his wife’s knowledge for the moment. Surely she would be delighted to discover the completed plan when all was ready to be revealed?
Retrieving his laptop and the memory stick from his desk and stuffing them into his leather briefcase, he exited the office and locked the door behind him. By this time next week he hoped to be in a better position to steer a clear path through the morass of decisions facing him. Until then he would postpone any discussions with his wife.