Temple of Concordia, Agrigento

Listen for a moment. Wind moves through the olive trees, and somewhere below a cicada starts up and stops again. Under your feet the path is pale and dusty, warm even in the morning. Ahead of you, on a long ridge above the sea, a row of golden columns stands against the sky. This is the Temple of Concordia. It is one of the best-preserved Greek temples anywhere in the world, and it stands in Sicily, not in Greece.

To understand why it is here, picture this coast about 2,600 years ago. Greek settlers came from the city of Gela, further along the shore, with roots in the island of Rhodes. In the early sixth century before Christ they founded a new city called Akragas. They chose this ridge for a reason. It formed a natural wall on the southern edge of the city, and the temples along it could be seen from far out at sea.

Akragas grew rich quickly. It had fertile land, trade with Carthage across the water, and powerful rulers. The poet Pindar praised it as one of the most beautiful cities of mortals. The philosopher Empedocles was born here. He taught that everything is made of four elements: earth, water, air and fire. When you look at these columns, you are looking at the confidence of that wealthy, ambitious city.

The temple was built in the fifth century before Christ, most likely around the 430s. That makes it roughly the same age as the Parthenon in Athens. It follows the Doric style. In simple terms, Doric is the oldest and plainest Greek order. The columns have no base, the capitals at the top are simple cushions of stone, and the beauty comes from proportion rather than decoration.

Now count the columns. There are six across each short end, and thirteen along each long side. That six-by-thirteen plan was a favourite formula of Greek builders. Look closely at the shafts too. They are not perfectly straight. Each one swells very slightly in the middle and narrows toward the top. Greek architects did this on purpose, so that the columns would look strong and alive, not thin and rigid.

Here is the first surprise. Nobody knows which god this temple was built for. The name Concordia, meaning harmony, comes from a Latin inscription found nearby in the sixteenth century. The inscription had nothing to do with this building. But the name stuck, and it has been called Concordia ever since. So the most famous temple in the valley carries a borrowed name, and its true dedication is lost.

So why did this temple survive, when its neighbours fell? The answer is the second surprise. Near the end of the sixth century after Christ, a bishop of Agrigento named Gregory turned it into a Christian church. Tradition says he dedicated it to Saint Peter and Saint Paul. A building in daily use is a building that people repair. Its roof was maintained. Its stones were not carried away for new houses.

The Christian builders changed the structure to fit their needs. They filled in the spaces between the outer columns to make solid walls. Then they cut a series of arches through the walls of the inner chamber, so the space became a church with a nave and side aisles. Walk around the long sides and look at the inner walls. You can still see those arched openings, cut into the Greek stone.

In the late eighteenth century, the building returned to something closer to its Greek form. Restorers in the 1780s removed many of the later church additions and opened up the colonnade again. They did not remove everything. The arches in the inner walls stayed. So what you see today is a layered building — a Greek temple, shaped by a Christian church, and partly returned by eighteenth-century scholars.

Now look at the colour and the surface of the stone. It is a local sandy limestone, soft and golden, full of tiny holes. In places you may see small fragments of sea shells pressed into it. When it was new, the temple did not look like this. The stone was covered with a fine white plaster, and parts of the upper building were painted in bright colours. The warm, worn gold you see today is the colour of time.

The temple did not stand in a peaceful world. In 406 BC, an army from Carthage, the great power in North Africa, besieged and sacked Akragas. Later the city became Roman, and much later Byzantine and Arab rule followed. Along the old city wall behind you, look for rows of openings cut into the rock. These are tombs from the early Christian period, when people buried their dead close to the old sacred ridge.

Before you leave, look down at the bronze figure lying on the ground near the temple. It is a modern sculpture of Icarus, the boy in Greek myth who flew too close to the sun and fell. It is the work of the Polish sculptor Igor Mitoraj. The cracked, fallen body and the complete ancient columns make a quiet conversation. Many photographers frame the two together. Since 1997, the whole Valley of the Temples has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Take a last look from a little distance. Notice how the temple sits on its high platform of steps, and how the light changes across the columns as clouds pass. To the east, the path continues toward the Temple of Juno. Far below, the sea shines between the almond and olive trees. As you walk on, listen again for the wind and the cicadas. They were here when the first stones were laid, and they are still here today.