The Rebirth of Pan | Page 5

not even sure what's
real.
One of the ubiquitous old women in black is standing near me, tears
streaming down her face. "He will rise again!" she is repeating over and
over to a bawling child. I don't think so, madam. I really don't think so.
Not this time.
But I don't feel safe until I get the news on Monday morning that he is
still dead.

2. LORD OF THE VINE
A world is more than days and place and folk
a world is dreams and vision, thought and word
a living thing that breathes, and grows and dies
and once the thread is cut will wake no more.
Yanni was not the best shoemaker on the island of Ithyka, but he was
the one who made sandals for the gods.
Ithyka was an island famed throughout all of Greece for its shoes and
shoemakers. There the old craft of shoemaking was kept alive, and the

old families of shoemakers handed down the trade secrets to each new
generation. Some said that the sandals made on Ithyka were the same as
those worn by Homer himself. It was true enough that their like could
be seen on many an old vase and bowl. The same was true of sandals
made up and down the Aegean, but somehow the reputation of the
shoemakers of this little green westerly island stood above the rest.
As everyone acknowledged that Ithyka was the best island for
shoemaking, so everyone acknowledged that the very best shoemaker
on Ithyka was Yanni's uncle Spiro. Spiro could make shoes that would
almost walk on their own, as the saying was, with stitches so tiny they
could hardly be seen. Spiro was so exclusive he made shoes only for
shoemakers. Yanni was not the most expensive shoemaker either. That
was his cousin Kosta, with his airy wood-panelled shop and his long
waiting list of rich Athenians longing to wear his handcrafted sandals.
Nor was he the cheapest, the cheap cobblers all worked down at the far
end of the harbour near the stinking tannery, in the part of the
whitewashed maze of streets known as the streets of the leatherworkers.
All the good leatherworkers had long since moved from those little
cramped workshops and found little cramped workshops scattered
around the town in more salubriously scented areas. Yanni's workshop
was only two streets back from the harbour, on a corner opposite the
whitewashed dome of Ag. Nikolaos's chapel and the priest's house. The
little shop smelled of new leather and leathergoods, and of the jasmine
which grew wild up the side of the iron staircase at the back of the
building.
All the people who came into Yanni's shop paused, blinked and sniffed.
Outside the sunlight was like a solid wall of heat and brightness. The
contrast of stepping through the hanging bags and sandals into the
shadowed interior was too much for human eyes. At the same moment
the newcomer would pause, inhale the characteristic fresh leather and
jasmine smell of the shop and sniff to catch it again. Yanni sat in the
back of the shop, at a little table with his set of lasts, working with
leather. Whenever anyone walked in he would glance up and watch
them blink and sniff. Mostly it was someone he knew, a regular
wanting another pair of sandals or a leather bag. Often enough it was a

tourist, who would gush enchantedly over everything from the donkeys
tied up outside to the quality of workmanship. Whoever it was, Yanni
would sum them up in one rapid glance. It was his only hesitation in his
work, and it was very brief. Even before his youngest sister Taxeia
bustled up to the customer and tried to sell them something, Yanni
would drop his eyes to the grey iron of his last, the pale gold leather
and the tools in his hands.
Just occasionally someone would come to the door and step inside
without pause, blink or sniff. That was Yanni's signal to put down his
work, dismiss Taxeia with a smile, and step forward, attentive to his
holy patron. What happened after Taxeia scampered up the iron ladder
to the upstairs room, what size and style sandals the gods wore, and
what coin they used, were things he never told anyone. Indeed, he was
a very close-mouthed man, even for a shoemaker.
When people asked him questions about Them he just smiled, or agreed
that he was indeed a fortunate man and tried to turn the conversation
aside. When Yanni had inherited the mantle of holy shoemaker at his
grandfather's death there was some surprise and muttering among the
other shoemakers. Spiro in particular was jealous, and quarrelled
bitterly with his sister, Yanni's mother Dafni. Though as time went on
Yanni's status