The Lost Island by Douglas Preston

Greek geography, and it described various legendary wonders of the world. Among these was a most intriguing place: an island ‘far in the West, where the earth meets the sky.’ The geography went on to mention a ‘great cave overhung with laurels on the face of a cliff far above the sea.’ There, the manuscript claimed, a ‘secret remedium could be found, the source of eternal healing.’ The manuscript contained directions to this location, which was ‘beyond the land of Iberia, two thousand dolichoi west of Tartessos.’ Iberia was the name the ancients gave to Spain, and Tartessos was believed to be an ancient city at the mouth of the Quadalquivir River. A dolichos was a Greek measure of distance equaling about a mile and a half. In short, this was a location far, far beyond the boundary of what was then the known world.”
    “Two thousand dolichoi west of Spain?” said Gideon. “That’s three thousand miles. That would put this cave in…in the New World.”
    Glinn smiled and replaced his glass on the table. “Exactly.”
    “So you’re saying these Greeks discovered the New World?”
    “Yes.”
    Gideon merely shook his head.
    “The old Greek manuscript gave this wondrous island a name: Phorkys, after an obscure god of the sea. Columba believed that God had placed this manuscript into his hands for a reason. He and his monks, being Irish, were already expert seafarers—and they had excellent ships. So Columba ordered an expedition to seek out Phorkys and bring back the remedium , the healing balm.
    “According to the journal, the monastery outfitted three ships, and a group of seafaring monks sailed from Iona, initially bound for the Mediterranean, preparing to follow the directions in the old Greek manuscript. They were gone for years. Columba eventually gave them up for lost. Finally, one sorry ship returned with half a dozen survivors. The monks had quite a story to tell.”
    Glinn paused dramatically, his eyebrow raised, then went on in his gray, neutral voice.
    “It had been a terrible journey. They traveled beyond the Straits of Gibraltar, only to have their ships caught in a storm in the Atlantic and driven southwestward, wrecked among some unknown islands that were, most likely, the Cape Verdes. They built new ships and set sail again. This time they encountered ideal weather, favorable currents, and steady trades that carried them across the sea to ‘unknown islands off a savage coast.’ Following the directions in the old Greek map, they finally reached Phorkys. Here they were beset by ‘the most dreadful monsters and giants,’ who guarded the healing balm, referred to in the Annales as ‘a secret physic, the jewel of the deep-delved soil.’ Many of the monks were slain by these monsters.”
    Glinn paused again to slowly savor another mouthful of the port. He was enjoying retelling this story.
    “Nevertheless, the surviving monks defeated the monsters long enough to steal a cista , or ‘chest,’ of the physic. Returning to the abbey, they presented it to Columba. He was overjoyed and ordered the monks to draw a new map, a Christian map, showing the route to Phorkys. And he ordered the old, pagan map destroyed.”
    He stopped, eyes glittering. “And that is the map we now possess—thanks to you.”
    “That’s quite a legend,” Gideon said drily. “So ancient Greeks, and then Irish monks, visited the New World long before Columbus.”
    “Yes. But that’s not the main point. The last surviving fragment of the Annales tells that the monks used this cista full of the physic to heal themselves of ‘grievous wounds, afflictions, diseases and infirmities.’ Columba himself took the physic, and as a result lived such a long and vigorous life that he was able to fulfill his mission and convert those three thousand souls.
    “But at the end of Columba’s life, the monastery fell on hard times. They were repeatedly attacked by Viking marauders. Columba, terrified that the Phorkys Map