The two old men appeared delighted to meet with an inhabitant of the outer world, and earnestly pressed me to remain for some days. My time was too valuable even for lingering in this delightful retreat. Our fare consisted only of vegetables. Cyprian monks would appear to be always fasting—one day they eat turnips and onions, and on the next pumpkins and beans. This fashion is none of the pleasantest in a country where the monasteries are the only houses of entertainment that are always open. As soon as my hosts learnt I was a Bavarian, they informed me that the celebrated Maria of Molino was the foundress of their monastery, and a Bavarian by birth. I think the simple-hearted creatures had a sort of vague idea that she must have been an ancestress of my own. Dinner over, I seated myself in a cool corner, but was at once entreated, with outstretched hands, to take another place, as I was still warm after my journey. This is always the way in the East. If you are tired and heated, you must not drink, you must not sleep, and above all, in Heaven’s name! never sit in a draught, without you want to have fever. The only thing you are permitted to do is to throw a covering over you and wait till you are cool.
These constant precautions are no doubt necessary in these climates, still they produce an impression that danger is always at hand. This monastery of St. Chrisostomo, which was, probably, founded at a very early date, contains an ancient picture of Panagia. Great additions have been made to the original edifice, including a fine entrance and portal. The church is formed by two chapels with cupolas. At the time of my visit the floors of the chapels were thickly strewn with branches of myrtle in celebration of the feast of Easter. It is probable that Mary of Molino only beautified this edifice and increased its revenues. Tradition says that the unfortunate saint being a leper, was advised by St. Chrisostomo to bathe in the rivulet in the monastery garden. She did so, and was healed; her gratitude being shown by munificent gifts to the brotherhood. Certain it is that two hundred years ago crowds of lepers visited this spot, in order to wash in the monastery stream, to be cured of their fearful disease. This pilgrimage is now never undertaken, either because the water is not as abundant as in days gone by, or because happily this hideous malady is comparatively rare. During my stay in Cyprus I did not see one leper except outside Nikosia. This same Mary of Molino, whose bones lie in these mountains, according to another tradition, built the castle of Buffavento, choosing this elevated situation, we may suppose, to remove herself entirely from the haunts of men. If she executed such an undertaking, she must have enjoyed the revenues of a princess. Looking up at this grand old pile one is struck by its strength and size, and when, on closer survey, one finds that two similar fortresses are situated on the same chain of mountains, at about four leagues right and left of Buffavento, called respectively Kantara and St. Hilarion, that these castles command the mountain passes and the roads to the city of Keryneia, and that this town had the best haven on the north side of the island, one is naturally led to conclude that these fortresses were in fact erected by some enterprising conqueror, in order to hold the whole island under his control. Buffavento, perched high upon the Lion Mountain, looks down upon its companion fortresses with the air of a defiant spirit gazing down upon the country that it formerly kept in check. On my inquiring of my hosts if any one ever climbed to the castle, they assured me the ascent was some thousand feet high, and that they had no guide to assist me. Their awestruck manner whilst speaking of such an attempt led me to suppose that they fancied the ruins were infested by evil spirits. They, however, informed me that ten years ago two Germans attempted the ascent, and that the younger of the two reached the top. This was no doubt the traveller Kotschy, an account of whose ascent is given by his companion Unger.[4] Encouraged by this report, I determined to make the attempt myself.
CHAPTER VII
BUFFAVENTO.[5]
Our road (with my servants we were a party of four) lay now for half a league along the declivity, our path appearing and disappearing at frequent intervals. As we passed along I observed many bee-hives. These were formed by earthen pots placed one upon another, with a small hole at the side. Close against a rocky flight of steps we found a small building in ruins. Here, I am told, there was formerly a garden, so lovely that it was known as “Paradise,” Buffavento was previously called “the Queen’s Castle,” Castello de Regina, from its having been a favourite resort of the island queens during the hot season. We can well imagine that whilst they held court above, their knights and squires had jovial times in the neighbouring monastery of San Chrisostomo. When we reached the house called “Paradise,” I dismounted and looked around. Certainly the spot was one on which the eye loved to linger. Formerly the mountain was covered with trees, which have now disappeared. Below lay rippling waters and fertile pastures, and in the background the beautiful capital of the island. As I looked I saw in the distance a shepherd boy, who, it occurred to me, might be willing to act as guide in our adventurous undertaking. My zaptieh galloped after him and brought him to me. The young peasant seemed to regard the matter as an excellent joke, and willingly agreed to conduct us, honestly assuring us, however, that he had never yet reached the summit himself. Our guide at once commenced mounting with the agility of a young goat, and I followed in his wake, whilst behind came my dragoman and zaptieh, groaning and panting, with drops of anguish upon their brows. My heart beat with delight when, after half an hour’s climbing, we reached the mountain’s ridge, and looked down from a precipice several thousand feet high, broken in all directions by enormous clefts and gullies, whilst beyond lay a broad expanse of blue sea. The coast from here is about a league from the foot of the mountain, and every inch of the ground is valuable. Gardens, orchards, and meadows extended formerly in all directions. Along the coast are small villages, lying, as is very unusual in Cyprus, so near, that I could see from the one to the other. In this narrow strip of country are still to be found some traces of the ancient beauty and fertility of this neglected island. This is certainly rightly regarded as the richest district in Cyprus, whilst its fine sea breezes and numerous mountain streams render it one of the healthiest. My gaze lingered long on Keryneia, whose elevated fortress formed a most striking object on the line. Directly beneath us, so close that I could have dropped a stone upon it, lay Bellapais embedded in olive-trees, the finest monastic ruin I am told in Cyprus. Cloisters, refectory, and the knight-chamber are still recognisable. The abbot was entitled to carry the spurs and dagger of a knight, and his monastery was a favourite resort of crusaders and pilgrims. As I turned towards the interior of the island, I beheld a broad expanse glowing in the sunlight. This, the extensive plain of Messaria, occupies nearly half of the island, and two centuries ago was one huge highly-cultivated field, filled with corn, vines, fruit, and vegetables. Numerous cotton and silk weaving establishments also formerly flourished here. Every year this once fruitful plain becomes more unfit for cultivation, and stones and marshes usurp what was once a scene of the highest cultivation. Nothing fills the mind of the traveller in Cyprus with sadder reflections than the sight of this general ruin and rapid decay.
I now commenced climbing the precipitous mountain before me, which towered aloft in rugged majesty, stretching its peaks and precipices to the right hand and the left. My dragoman endeavoured to follow me, but sank down in dismay at the task before him. Indistinct murmurings reached my ear, and I have no doubt that if I could have heard his words, they were not prayers for my success, but maledictions on my adventurous head. I believe he and my zaptieh were fully convinced that my ascent was made in the hope of finding concealed treasure; for when at last they reached the ruin, my slightest movement was jealously watched, and my every act evidently regarded with suspicion. We entered the ancient fortress by an arched doorway, which is still in good preservation, and mounted slowly from one ruin to another; many of the chambers in these being mere excavations in the solid rock, and resembling bakers’ ovens in appearance.
In such places as the nature of the rocks would permit, hollow basins were formed and channels cut to receive the springs that then flowed in all directions on the mountain. We came upon several of these receptacles, and saw traces of what had evidently been much more important water tanks. In the fortress itself, comparatively slight walls were interspersed with rude masses of masonry, and both were cemented to their foundations by mortar, literally as hard as stone. The ruin appeared to consist of six divisions rising one above the other, and all connected by the ramparts. Such a fortress could never have been reduced as long as its defenders had bread and wine enough to support life. Perhaps there are few stranger scenes than that of a ruin situated thus in mid-air. Danger in climbing there was none, beyond the risk of slipping, as we seized at a piece of old masonry in mounting from rock to rock and tower to tower.
One of the principal towers is still in tolerable preservation, and to this I at once ascended, and was more than rewarded for the attempt. Before me lay on the one side an awful precipice, at the foot of which stretched green plains and a broad expanse of sea, and on the other side a sunny plain extending to the lofty mountains of the western part of the island with Mount Troados showing its snow-capped head. On one side a wall or rock rose towering towards the sky and hid a portion of the coast from my view. Observing the summit of this rock attentively, I felt convinced that I could discern a building on its peak. My servants were tired and refused to assist me in any further explorations. Formerly, no doubt, this eminence had been reached by means of wooden bridges, but no trace of them was left, and a sheer and rugged wall towered above us and presented the appearance of being perfectly inaccessible. In vain I sought for anything like a foothold. At last a bright idea flashed upon me; I seized our guide by his shoulders and pointing out the building at the summit of the rock, put my arms about a block of stone, mounted upon it by this means, and then again pointed to the summit. The boy laughed and nodded, and, without a moment’s hesitation, commenced scrambling up the face of the rock, pausing as he every now and then reached a safe footing, to look down upon us after the manner of the mountain goat, whose agility he emulated. My zaptieh gazed upon me with a countenance highly expressive of the conviction that all chance of his sharing any hidden treasure I might find was now over; but I have no doubt comforted himself with the hope of getting from the boy a full account of all that was done above. I now commenced following my nimble guide, and, thanks to a steady head, found the attempt by no means as dangerous as it had appeared from below; reaching the summit considerably sooner than we anticipated. Here I found a tower and the remains of a wall with apertures where windows had once been, and chambers excavated in the rock. The view from this point amply repaid me for all my exertions. A long greenish yellow line of coast lay between the sea and the mountain, whilst the towering rocks of Asia Minor were visible on the horizon. At first they appeared like clouds, but gradually I distinctly recognised the Caramanian range and the Cilician Mount Taurus, and could distinguish their various outlines and fields of snow.