“Then, perhaps you might like to join me for dinner one night. Afterward, I could show you the crew quarters, the engine room, the engineer’s cabin, the chain locker, where we store the anchor, and the war room.”
“The war room?”
“It’s actually a small arsenal. For security purposes. It’s not a common occurrence, but there have been incidents with pirates in various parts of the world.”
“Pirates?” The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
“Not so much where we’re sailing now, but Athena’s a classy ship with a wealthy clientele. It’s always wise to be prepared. However, if we needed to, Athena could outrun any ship that would cause her trouble. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Chapter Six
Ithanked Byard for the tour, and sensing he was as committed to truth as he was to his sobriety, I dismissed the idea that he had anything to do with Dede’s questionable disappearance and returned to Dede’s apartment. I was too exhausted to even think the idea of pirates might be a problem. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had blocked out any thoughts that the gold coin might be anything more than a talisman Dede had hidden in her bag and allowed Athena’s swift sail to lull me into a deep sleep.
The following morning, a thin stream of yellow sunlight eked through the bedroom blinds and woke me, along with the squawking sounds of seagulls outside my window. I got up and opened the drapes to a picture-perfect view of Procida beyond my deck. Like a post-impressionist painting, the sunlight danced on the Med’s bluer-than-blue water surrounded by a pastel-colored harbor of houses stacked like boxes, one on top of the other—pinks, blues, and yellows—rising from the sea and cluttering the mountainside.
I slid the window open, the briny smell of sea air refreshed me. Coffee. I need something strong and black and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.
I stopped halfway down the hall. Beneath the front door, Finn had slipped a copy of Athena’s Daily Call, a two-page newsletter. I picked it up and, taking it to the kitchen with me, skimmed the headlines. Little more than a summary of the world events, along with a more extended section entitled Onboard Tid Bits: The Commissary was having a two-for-one sale on wine. Movie Night included a showing of You’ve Got Mail. A gray-scale box marked Celebrations announced today was Nicholas Marcopoulos’ seventy-ninth birthday. I knew from the picture this older-looking, grey-haired gent, wearing a yachtsman’s hat, had to be Marcos, Athena’s resident sleepwalker Chief Sully, and Captain Byard had warned me about. Considering his age and the fact he was a known kleptomaniac and naked sleepwalker, I wondered how many more birthdays someone like Marco might celebrate on board. In a separate column was information about today’s Port of Call. The forecast showed a high of 86 Fahrenheit, 30 Celsius, and described Procida as the Secret Island in the Bay of Naples. The smallest of the three Poet Islands—Ischia, Procida, and Capri—Procida was best known for her warmer waters. An italicized note indicated that those wishing to go ashore should disembark on the Marina Deck. Athena would be using a local tender, a small boat from the island, to shuttle us back and forth throughout the day.
Taking my coffee with me, I grabbed a banana and a couple of grapes from the gift basket in the living room, then went out on the balcony to enjoy the view. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, but already I could hear the voices of those preparing to disembark on the Marina Deck below me. I watched as a small motorboat approached and then leaned over the railing for a better view. Several crew members, including Captain Byard, dressed in nautical whites, were helping to guide the boat up next to Athena’s open portal so that her residents might tender ashore.
I watched as the last of Athena’s residents who were going ashore boarded the tender. I was about to back away from the railing when Byard looked up and waved.
“You plan on going ashore?”
“Soon as I finish my coffee.” I lifted my cup and smiled.
“Take a good pair of walking shoes. The view of the bay from the top of the hill’s beautiful, but it’s a bit of a climb.”
“Won’t be a problem,” I said.
I had read up on the island. I knew the narrow cobblestone streets and steep climb up to the walled medieval village of Terra Murata might be a challenge for some, particularly Athena’s older residents. But I wasn’t concerned. I looked forward to the hike and stretching my legs after the long flight.
“Dinner tonight?” Byard cocked his head and flashed a sexy grin in my direction. It didn’t take much to read his mind, nor could I say we were on different pages. I had already begun to fantasize about what it might be like to spend a week on board in the captain’s company. But in the light of day, I decided to slow it down a bit. Not that I wanted to.
“Sounds good.” I waved a friendly goodbye.
* * *
It was easy to see why Procida was considered one of Italy’s most beautiful seaside villages. Dozens of small fishing boats buoyed in the harbor while the morning light shimmered like crystals on the Med’s deep blue water. Everywhere was a rainbow of color. Quayside, the Marina Grande, a narrow coastal road marked where the water met the shoreline and was crowded with small shops. Outdoor tables were piled high in front of their open doors with the day’s catch, fresh octopus, and large silver fish in crates of ice.
My plan was to walk along the Marina Grande and take in the sights of the harbor and the tiered bungalows above the busy shops before heading up the hill to the Piazza D’Armi in the village of Terra Murata. There, I planned to visit the Abbey of San Michele Arcangelo and the Piazza Dei Martiri before heading down to the small harbor of Corricella on the other side of the island. I estimated the entire walk to be no more than about one-and-a-half miles and would give me a good feel for the island and its history.
It wouldn’t have mattered which street I chose to head up to Terra Murata. Each was as inviting as the next, cluttered with shops nestled beneath residences with wrought iron balconies, some bursting with colorful flower boxes, others with bed linens perched over their railings, while below, a chorus of happy voices greeted each other. Ciao! Salve! Buongiorno!
The view from Terra Murata, with its grey stone fortified walls, had been built in the early 1500s for the island’s governors and, despite the heat, was worth the climb. Behind its walls, the Palazzo d’Avalos was home to four museums, including the Royal Palace. It was later converted into a prison citadel and remained so until it was closed in 1988. I snapped several dozen pictures and scribbled as many notes on my notepad, then hurried on to the Abbey of San Michele, famous for its Renaissance art collection.
Satisfied I had taken all the pictures and notes I needed, I stuffed my notebook back into my backpack and was about to leave Terra Murata and head down to the Marina di Corricella when I noticed a poster advertising antique coins and jewelry next to a souvenir shop outside the Abbey. I’m not much for souvenir shopping, but the sign had several pictures that caught my eye, including a gold pendant necklace that looked remarkably like the gold coin I had found in Dede’s bag.
Curious I might find some answer as to what the coin was all about, I entered the shop, a musty narrow space, no more than three aisles wide and twelve feet deep. The shelves were crammed with religious paraphernalia, waxed candles, rosaries, and prayer books. In the back of the store, an old man sat hunched on a stool behind an antique brass cash register, reading a newspaper.
“Buongiorno, signorina.” The old man folded his paper and shuffled from behind the counter. “How may I help you?”
I pointed to the sign outside. “I was wondering about the coins you have advertised. Do you have any I might see?”
The old man adjusted his glasses. “Are you a collector?”
“No, I’m a travel writer. I was hoping you might know something about the necklace with the coin. It’s very unusual.”
“Yes, it is. But unfortunately, a buyer was here a few minutes ago and bought all I had left of my coins, including a copy of that very necklace. Lovely piece. However, if you’re interested, I have something similar in silver I could show you. Give me a minute.” Without waiting for an answer, the old man hobbled back behind the counter and a black curtain that separated the shop from a small office. A few minutes later, he returned with a slim brown leather box and placed it on the counter. “Here. Have a look.”
I dropped my backpack on the floor and looked closely at several pieces of gold and silver jewelry inside the box. All high-end costume pieces are designed for tourists, made from copies of old Roman coins, and crafted into rings and bracelets with matching earrings. But the most stunning of all was a solitary silver coin pendant necklace, very much like that on the poster. Other than being silver and much bigger than the coin I had found in Dede’s bag, it was an exact match. I picked up the pendant and held it in my hand.
“How much?”
“Twelve hundred US dollars.”
I handed the necklace back. “I’m afraid that’s too rich for my taste.”
“Too bad.” The old man held the necklace up to the light. “For a pretty lady, it would look very nice around your slim neck.”
I smiled and shook my head. Flattery wasn’t going to make a difference.
“Maybe if it were real, I might consider it.”
The old man placed the necklace back in the box and laughed. “If it was real, I could retire a wealthy man. Do you have any idea what this coin represents?”
I shook my head.
