“I am not sure where to start,” said the old man, looking at me with a smile. “This is an ancient site, and it’s full of memories… of shadows too…” I was intrigued, but waited for him to continue. “A great poet once lived here, and also, later, people I don’t really want to say much about.”
From the edge of the little cave we could see the shadows moving fast across the dry ground. “There are several layers of old masonry below us, but this was never excavated other than just below the surface. You see, the present owners know: there are remains there that are best left, deep, undisturbed, forgotten…”
We moved out in the open, there was no-one around. Finally I asked: “But you are from here, I understand you are the best informed of our local historians here. This place is often visited, and photographed. What shadows are you talking about?”
There was a pause. “I will tell you, but not here. This place is haunted, and they can hear us. We must respect the past, whatever it was, and it is best to discuss these things away from them.”
Most appropriate at this site…
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