“Mama, there were no kings buried here”,
says the little girl after reading the kiosk narrative.
No, no kings.
But also not insignificant.
People have been buried here since the Hellenistic period,
nearly two thousand years ago,
in simple tombs,
chamber tombs,
or monumental tombs with many chambers,
their graves carved right out of the rock.
The Doric columns that have survived
suggest people of importance and wealth.
But the tombs have not only been used for burials.
Some tombs provided refuge for early Christians,
another was inhabited by a hermit,
and one was converted into a church.
It’s quiet among the tombs;
the only sounds are the crunching of stone underfoot
and the voices of tourists as they discuss
with their families and friends what they are seeing.
Parents hold tightly the hands of their children
since the stone steps are uneven
and an unwary step in the dim light
might send someone into an open grave,
or, worse, over the edge of a wall.
The air is hot,
but the tombs are cool and dry,
a place for comfort,
both now and evermore.
