The house on the cliff

“Don’t move! Hands up.” This time it was an order. “Now, very slowly, come down.” The voice came from the entrance of the cave, behind the Gate. It didn’t sound like my father’s voice at all. I could not see him, and from where he was, he couldn’t possibly see me. “With my hands up, how can I hold on to climb down?” My voice shook. There was a brief silence, and then, in the plural and more gently, “Are you on your own? Who are you?” “My name is Anthí Velissári. That’s my house, up there. I’m alone.” I should have said there were others with me, I thought. Now he’ll kill me. “I’m a child”, I stuttered, hating my cowardice. Then he emerged from the opening behind the Gate. A…priest, tall and gaunt, with a thick grey beard and a thatch of hair, and the saddest, most compassionate eyes I had ever seen. We stood still, looking at each other and, slowly, I lowered my hands. “A child, indeed,” he said, and sighed, but his eyes seemed to smile. He dropped the plural. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Anthí Velissári. Come down and we can get acquainted. Don’t worry, I don’t have a gun.” It occurred to me then that I had been speaking aloud, though in those days, speaking was something I avoided. I think it was in that moment that I began to love him. IIIIII After issuing his invitation, he had taken two steps back, and sliding hastily down, I landed, clumsily and utterly without dignity, at his feet. Fortunately he made no attempt to help me up. Only when I had stood up, dusted myself off, and wiped my hands on my already grubby shorts did he step towards me, extending his hand as formally as if we had been introduced at a reception. It occurred to me to wonder if I was expected to kiss it and ask for his blessing. Fortunately, it was a simple handshake. It was all I could do not to giggle as he bowed his head over mine, as if I were a great lady. Afterwards he gestured graciously for me to take a seat on a rock. As if he were quite at home, and I the guest. That started to grate on me a little. When he too sat, folding in his long legs and wrapping his arms around them, he was looking up at me. He had given me the only good seat. I took off my glasses, and started cleaning the salt from them with the corner of my shirt. That way I didn’t have to look at him. “I think I must be your guest. I must beg your pardon for arriving uninvited, but I was under the impression that no-one came to the cave. It was only after I arrived and found your things that I realised my mistake, but it was too late to make other plans.”