EPISKOPI.
Next morning I could not resist taking another look at Old Paphos, and
accordingly made my way to the heights behind the village, in order to
impress the charming landscape as deeply as possible upon my memory.
The morning air was delightfully fresh, the far-reaching coast was
fringed with narrow lines of foam left by the rippling water, but the
sea itself lay heavy and motionless as a sheet of metal. The mountains
were partially concealed by a misty veil, only the village being
clearly seen surrounded by its verdant fields.
On returning I entered the little coffee-house, which on the preceding
day had afforded me by no means bad accommodation. The master sat
before the door smoking his chibouk. He immediately, respectfully,
made room for me, and I sat a short time conversing with him by signs.
On recommencing our journey, we walked for about a mile along the
sea-shore, after which we turned more inland and entered a myrtle
copse. The farther we advanced the more luxurious the country became.
The undergrowth of bushes was interspersed with wild roses, orchids,
and many luxuriant flowers, the varied colours of which enlivened the
green grass over which our course lay. Here we encountered some women
engaged in cutting off the heads of thistles. Hussein begged a handful
of these in order to let me taste the seeds, which he shelled out from
the husks. I found them rather dry but not bad to eat; in fact, almost
all the vegetables in the island afford something edible. A grey-headed
old woman sold us some wild artichokes, and told us to eat them raw,
but they were too coarse to be palatable.[14] The old dame was dressed
after the Turkish fashion, and kept her face closely veiled.
Our path now lay through a deep dell, and was covered with brushwood,
while around us were cypresses, olives, and various fruit-trees, but
all utterly neglected. A hundred thousand people might find ample sites
here for most delightful residences. As I was walking along, I trod
upon a snake. It was of a grey colour marked with black rings, about
a foot and a half long, and as thick as my arm. A powerful scent of
melons was perceptible here and there, and on seeking for the cause,
I found it came from some yellow berries, which grew upon a, to me,
strange plant. The underwood was full of game, and many birds whose
names were unknown to me were flying about. One, I especially noticed,
which closely resembled a jay, but was more brilliantly marked with
blue and red.
According to my map we ought to have passed through three villages.
Hussein, however, either knew a shorter way or participated in my love
for solitude. Not a single village did we see; but we got a glimpse of
Adimu at a great distance. Hussein, instead of taking me right over
the heights of Old Kurion brought me again into the plain, assuring me
most confidently that there was nothing to be seen there but a couple
of large stones. Ross informs us that twenty years ago he saw there
the remains of an ancient race-course, and the foundations, and some
fragments of pillars belonging to the Temple of Apollo Hylades. Except
these, my guide declared there is no longer the slightest trace of
these structures left visible. I well believe it, for during the last
few years all seem to have been bent upon removing the last remnants
of antiquity left in Cyprus, as though anxious to make the work of
destruction complete. Whenever a building is to be erected either in
Syria or in Egypt, it is to Cyprus they come for stone, taken from her
old walls and bridges.
Right under the rock of Kurion, and not far from Episkopi, we came
again to the sea, which, during the day, had so often delighted us. As
we wound round the rocks, it sometimes seemed as though its laughing
blue waters, enclosed between the far extending capes, was contained in
an enormous bowl.
Cesnola tells us, that, along the southern coast of the island are
several guard-houses, built near the shore, on elevated ground, some
of which, now dismantled and roofless, are of Turkish construction,
and two or three hundred years old. Most of them appear to have been
erected for the protection of the neighbouring villages against
Algerine pirates, who, not more than sixty years ago, were daring
enough to land and carry off wealthy inhabitants, and to detain them
until the required ransom was paid.
From the heights above Episkopi one could see the long chain of
mountains, looking as if they had been carefully folded one behind
the other. The whole peninsula had the appearance of a great plank,
both ends of which sloped off into the sea. In ancient times it was
named Kurias, and belonged to a town of the same name, built upon the
neighbouring sandstone rock.
The hills are situated at the beginning of the peninsula, just where
the stream Lycos discharges itself into the sea, amid thickets of
orange and other fruit trees, above which the slender stems of lofty
palm-trees rear themselves gracefully into the air. Everywhere among
the houses and gardens little brooks make their way through the
fruitful plain. I could almost suppose the ancient Kurion, must have
been situated here, and that the rock above us was merely its acropolis.
Hussein left us in this beautiful spot whilst he went into the town to
seek a lodging; the inhabitants were of a much higher grade than at
Paphos. The Turks find everything here that their hearts desire—quiet,
green trees, and murmuring streams. Several little groups of veiled
women passed us with dark brown eyes gleaming above the covering of
their faces. I was informed that the Turks, who principally inhabited
this beautiful place, finding a scarcity of women, had imported all
these dark-faced beauties from Egypt.
After we had wasted some time, Hussein came back with the news that the
Greek population of Episkopi were so poor that we could procure neither
beds, food, nor wine. The Turkish houses were all full; nobody appeared
willing to receive us, and to quarter ourselves upon them uninvited was
out of the question. Notwithstanding the episcopal name of the town,
so far from there being any bishop there, the Turks had driven all the
Greek priests out of it, leaving only a few poor huts at the disposal
of the Christian population, and even the occupants of these could not
receive a stranger without permission of their Turkish neighbours.