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.
CHAPTER XXIII
KOLOSSIN.
On our approach to this village, I sent forward my dragoman to secure us lodgings for the night. As we followed him at the distance of about a mile we saw a huge square tower standing on a farmstead, and on advancing found that it was a building belonging to mediæval times, but whether it had been part of a castle or a fortress I was unable to determine. The owner received us at the entrance of the court-yard in the kindest manner. He was a man of substance and good deportment, holding a position similar to that of the owner of a vineyard on the Rhine, and his house very much resembled that of a small farmer in the South of France. The lower part of the house was occupied by his numerous family. He himself lived in the upper part, to which we ascended by a wooden staircase leading from a kind of entrance hall. The furniture in these comfortable apartments had something of a European aspect; in the room were some fine greyhounds of a light yellow colour. Our host informed us that there were fifteen yoke of oxen upon the farm, but there was land enough to give employment to ten times the number.
After a short rest, we went to inspect the tower, under the guidance of the owner, who had ordered the servants to light it up from top to bottom with torches. It is a massive square building, with walls so thick that benches were placed in the recesses of the windows. A very simple coat-of-arms, carved in stone upon the exterior, shows that it was erected in the thirteenth century. The whole is a fine specimen of the very few baronial castles that remain. This structure is in excellent preservation, and furnishes a good example of Anglo-Norman architecture. I do not think that in all Europe there is any building of the sort in such good condition, except perhaps the well-known castle at Hedingham.
There are two lofty stories above the ground, and a deep cellar-like excavation beneath the level of the soil. The latter is divided into three compartments, and each of the former into two roomy chambers. Over the fireplaces are carved lilies, without any ornamentation, exactly resembling those represented in the coat-of-arms upon the outer wall. The portal is narrow, and a flight of small stone steps leads from one story to another; at the top is a broad platform surrounded by battlements. In the cellar there is a deep cistern or well partially filled up. The owner talked of having it cleared out, and I wished that he might have the luck to find some treasure at the bottom, to repay him for the bad harvests of the last two years, which, owing to want of rain, had been very scanty.
Manifestly the whole building had been constructed, not so much for a residence as for defensive purposes. It is situated near the middle of the peninsula, just where on the one hand the ground slopes towards the sea, and on the other spreads a wide amphitheatre of hills; it thus at once commands the sea, the coast, and the surrounding mountain region. This colossal structure must evidently have been unassailable by fire, by ladders, or by breaching the walls, while its defenders if hard pressed could retreat from one story to another. Under the battlements were numerous loop-holes, through which arrows might be shot with deadly precision against an advancing enemy.
The prospect from the lofty platform was extensive and beautiful. Sunset was rapidly approaching, and the clouds, illuminated by the departing rays of the glorious orb, were arranged in blood red masses and streaks, whilst beneath, the deep blue of the tranquil sea was here and there lighted up by broad patches of golden splendour. The mountains, however, were shrouded in a veil of grey mist. Low beneath us was the old church, whose architecture seemed a mixture of the ancient Roman with the earliest Gothic.
I learned that these old castles were crown property and belonged to the Sultan. During the course of our conversation the origin and intention of the building became manifest to me. I found that I was in the very centre of the world-renowned Commanderia. The Knights of St. John, after they were obliged to quit the Holy Land, established the head quarters of their order at Cyprus, just as at a later period they did in Rhodes and Malta. From Cyprus they issued forth under the protection and leadership of its knightly king, to fight gloriously against the Crescent, and very frequently the victory was due to the courage and prowess of these soldiers of the Church. The Bishop of Akkon, Jacques de Vitrey, in his account of the Holy Land gives us the following sketch of the Knights Templars: