The Eagle of Spinalonga

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The Eagle of Spinalonga Page 7

by Nike Azoros


  ‘Or when you have a woman,’ added a man from the back of the group. The men laughed their agreement. She ignored them and continued, ‘The second must be when you have everything you need. There is enough to eat and you are warm and sheltered. You have a family, you feel comfortable and content.’

  Nikos stayed silent while his former neighbor spoke. He knew his own mother was now helping raise her three little children while her husband tried to sell his catches of fish. He knew she knew of these things because they had often sat on the front veranda and discussed them. ‘Keep going Ariadne, you are doing very well.’

  ‘Then the third is when we have an inner drive to complete something on our own, to achieve a goal that only we can accomplish and we can only do it by a great push of courage. When we achieve that we are truly happy.’ Nikos seized the moment to reel them into his plan. ‘Can a sick person be a happy person?’ Nikos asked of them. There was a small silence as everybody concentrated on the question then the response came as one voice, ‘Yes!’

  ‘We were sent here to die yet here we all stand, breathing and alive. We are living citizens entitled by our noble birthright to the exact same rights of any other living citizen of Hellas and I intend to see to it that I bring all these rights to you all. We are citizens of the city state of Spinalonga and we will be treated as such.’ From within the crown someone said, ‘You are going to need a miracle to do that. You are going to need God’s help and God doesn’t come to Spinalonga.’

  Nikos smiled a small ironic smile, ‘I said those words myself once but for now I will just keep my mind open. Anything can happen.’

  Chapter 6: The Fourth Divine Good

  When Nikos strode away from Manoussos the priest ran after him. Nikos ignored him as he tucked the bag of Alikhan into his trousers and buttoned up his jacket. It had become much looser on him now so it easily concealed the extra bulk of the bag. He walked through Dante’s gate, now oblivious to his surroundings but Manoussos was having a whole new experience. The first thing to hit him was the stench. It was the smell of putrid flesh. The next thing was the decay of the houses. They were ruins that offered little shelter. Decay was all around him even when he closed his eyes the stench saw to it that he could not escape the truth. Manoussos bowed his head in shame at the church’s abandonment of these blameless souls.

  Nikos had walked ahead to sit in his usual place on his front door step to calm down. Plato’s Laws fell open to a page in chapter one and the first sentence he read told him exactly how to begin the task he had set himself; that of making Spinalonga run like an efficient city state. He was trained in applying laws but here the population was either fragile or hostile or both but he had to make a start and Plato always provided some sort of answer.

  The Cretan laws are with reason famous among the Hellenes; for they fulfil the object of laws; which is to make those who use them happy; and they confer every sort of good.

  Nikos marveled yet again at how the clear and logical thinking of Plato was as accurate and fresh today as it was when it was the norm so long ago. None of his words had lost their power over the centuries. They were just as exceptional and enlightening as they must have been when first written. Logic and truth never fade. When he looked up to observe what was happening around him, there had to be fifty people just sitting, staring at the ground or at him. He had a forum.

  ‘What are you reading lawyer?’ Ikaros asked him.

  ‘I am reading Plato.’

  ‘What does Plato have to say?’

  ‘He says there are two types of good.’

  ‘How can there be two types of good. Good is good, bad is bad,’ one of them commented.

  ‘Well according to Plato there are two types of good. There is the divine and the human, each have four elements; and the human hang upon the divine.’ Manoussos stayed well behind but was able to witness the gathering. Nikos kept speaking. ‘Guess which one of the four human good is first?’

  ‘Health.’ said Pavlos.

  ‘Yes it is Health.’

  The crowd murmured their agreement with irony. ‘After Health the second was Beauty, third was Strength and fourth was Wealth.’

  ‘Well then Plato is no use to us, all of the human goods are absent on Spinalonga, and if the human goods are absent there is no point even knowing what the divine goods are,’ came a voice from the crowd.

  Nikos looked at the book again, ‘No, Plato says the human goods hang upon the divine.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means the more of the divine type of good we develop, the more of the human type of good manifests in our lives.’

  ‘Alright then lawyer read on and tell us the four divine goods.’

  ‘Of the divine good things Wisdom was placed first, followed by Temperance, Justice and Courage.’ Nikos saw the irony again and laughed to himself, ‘it appears I have more divine good within me than human good.’

  ‘Wisdom, Temperance, Justice and Courage’ Eva repeated. ‘I think Courage is the one to start with.’

  ‘Why do you say that Eva?’

  ‘Because when someone sets out for a task or when something difficult arises that is the first thing people say to each other, have courage. It must be a tradition from our ancient times that has stuck.’ Nikos remembered how he and Father Manoussos had often discussed such things and how they shared in the study of the great texts and then they would have a vigorous debate about which books serve humanity better; the religious texts or the philosophical ones. The population had yet to learn there was now a priest on Spinalonga and he wondered how they would react when they would find out.

  ‘Wealth,’ Nikos uttered, ‘I know wealth could fix a lot of problems but we have none.’

  ‘Ah, your ego is so human, recall all the divine goods again,’ commanded Manoussos. All turned towards him. Manoussos, with his beard and robes, looked like a dark version of Plato himself. Nikos had to admit if there was one thing about Manoussos it was his use of words. He didn’t speak much but when he did it was direct and meaningful. Manoussos believed words were like water, an overflow was destructive, none at all at the wrong time was just as destructive, just a trickle was often not enough but a few well placed ones had the power to spring forth life.

  Nikos re-read the list of the four divine goods and he looked to number four, it was Courage. Manoussos sat on the rock across from Nikos while everyone around was whispering, ‘When did a priest arrive? Is he sick too?’ Manoussos nodded at the faces all around him then addressed Nikos,

  ‘What is Courage?’ That sounded simple enough, Nikos was sure he could answer that one,

  ‘Courage is being brave, it is having no fear.’

  ‘Is that what you think Courage is, having no fear? A child has no fear when they run ahead of their mother to paddle in the sea does that mean they act from courage?’

  ‘No, that is the innocence of a child.’

  ‘Then what is innocence?’

  ‘It is the lack of knowledge that something might be harmful or very difficult but having the faith that it is not.’ Nikos thought he answered that one well.

  ‘What then if we do have the knowledge that something is harmful to us?’

  ‘That is fear and fear does not let us proceed.’

  The crowd was enthralled in the repartee between the two learned men. Manoussos continued,

  ‘When would one proceed in the face of fear plus the knowledge that something may harm?’

  The words poured out of Nikos, ‘When we have the knowledge the thing that must be done is difficult and might be harmful but we proceed regardless of the fear, it is either for a greater good or for love.’

  Manoussos leaned forward, ‘That is Courage.’ Manoussos got up and walked away to stand by the wall. The words that had been required had been said. There was no need for more.

  Nikos remembered when he had read Aristotle’s Politics and read in the opening paragraph, the ultimate object of the state is the good life. Nikos
looked up at the sky so the words of Manoussos and Aristotle could settle into his brain. Happiness and a good life were not just created by the individual, the state had to provide for them as well and that would take some courage.

  ‘What would make you happy right now?’ He asked it as an open question to them all.

  ‘Food!’ said one ‘and a nice glass of wine,’

  ‘A bed’ said another,

  ‘To walk without pain,’ came from one woman.

  ‘Death,’ said a voice from under a pile of rags.

  ‘An egg, soft boiled with some good bread to dunk into the yolk. I have the courage to swim to Elounda to get a fresh egg.’ said Ikaros.

  All the lepers laughed, and then groaned in agreement.

  Nikos laughed too, mostly with joy, he had found where to start. The simple pleasures were the basis of happiness. All it would take to begin to bring them to Spinalonga was a little courage. The street philosophy was invigorating them all. He continued talking to the crowd. ‘We need to work out our sources of food. What do we have that could provide food?’ The gathered crowd provided answers,

  ‘The sea! If we had a boat we could fish.’

  ‘They will never provide us with a boat in case we try to escape,’ someone bitterly responded.

  ‘The sky! Said Ikaros. If we had a carbine we could shoot birds. I used to go hunting for ducks and geese.’

  ‘Sure, they can deliver the carbine along with the new boat,’ came back a sarcastic comment.

  ‘But a carbine would be good. We could have rabbits and wild goats all the time if we were on the mainland.

  Nikos shared their frustration, there was food everywhere around them but they couldn’t get to it. All the philosophy in the world was not going to help their stomachs get full. Food, they needed food. People could work wonders with a good meal in their stomachs. The health authorities sent over a supply package every week. It contained bread, some dried pulses, a few onions and sometimes there was coffee or a few bananas. The inhabitants of Spinalonga needed a lot more food than the meager weekly rations provided.

  Manoussos did a gentle cough to remind them he was still there. The crowd had gone silent at the sight of a priest but then gasped when Maria came charging through the crowd and almost bowled several people over. She had heard from the helpers that there was a priest on the island and that Nikos knew him. Once she saw it really was Manoussos himself standing before her she greeted him.

  ‘Father, welcome and not well come. How sad that you too are stricken with the terrible curse. How is Mama?’ She began to bend so as to follow the tradition of kissing the hand of the priest. Before she touched his hand Manoussos spoke, ‘I do not have the disease my child, and your mother is well.’ Maria froze midway through her bow knowing she was about to touch a healthy person. Manoussos looked around at his new parishioners and extended out his hand for her to kiss. He even helped her by bringing his hand up closer to her face. Maria hovered over it for a second then with a slow and graceful action put her lips onto the back of the hand of Father Manoussos then stood back upright in another slow and graceful motion. The young woman smiled at the priest whose eyes were now rimmed with tears. He blinked them away and made a point of not wiping his hand on his rassos, not even discreetly.

  ‘Your mother sends you her love. She is continuing your work Nikos, she is teaching the underprivileged to read and write and she is running the assistance programs at the church.’ Nikos and Maria looked at each other but then quickly looked away. Their eyes too had begun to fill with tears, but now was not the time to shed them. Nikos saw the hypocrisy of speaking before the crowd on matters of civility and social structure when he had been anti social himself to Manoussos, who had done no wrong other than carry out the canons of the church.

  Nikos’s voice crackled when he did speak, ‘Father, tell us what is it that made you come here and put your own life in danger? You could barely be in the same space as me and yet now, well, here you are.’

  ‘Yes here I am. I had to come. Since the day you left it was your voice ringing in my ears so loud I couldn’t sleep. So I thought it best if I come here myself and check on you.’

  ‘The boat must be leaving now Father, you should hurry to make it,’ said Maria.

  ‘The boat has gone. I am staying here.’

  The rest had gathered around to hear what the priest was saying. ‘He says he is staying here,’ Ikaros called out to the others. Haunted voices began to jeer him from within the crowd and he answered each one with as much sass as they gave him. ‘Go back priest and if you come back again bring some chickens next time.’

  ‘I will but next time I will bring a goat too.’

  ‘There is no church for you here priest.’

  ‘Yes there is.’

  ‘It is in ruins, like us.’

  ‘As we will rebuild it so you will heal.’

  ‘There is no saint for lepers.’

  ‘Yes there is, Lazarus raised from the dead, like you.’

  Someone said, ‘He has an answer for everything this one, maybe he can survive here?’ Eva came forward, bent and kissed his hand, ‘Welcome Father. You have brought a little light into a very dark place but I am not sure that you will be able to get anyone to come to church again. There has been so much suffering that the people have lost all faith.’

  ‘But I have not my child.’ Nikos could see the crackles of excitement within the crowd. He knew that it was not about going to church again.

  ‘Tell me, you are all saying words of defiance yet I can see some of you are smiling. What is it that has made you all so more enthusiastic?’ It was Kimon who answered, ‘There is a priest standing here discussing church services. Just a few minutes earlier we were all sitting together as in the old days of the Agora and we were discussing philosophy. This population was in total despair just this morning. Today we are feeling like we live in a normal town where good things can happen. Maybe tonight we will go to sleep and look forward to waking up for the first time since we became ill, if we only had some proper food.’

  Nikos touched the shoulder of Kimon in empathy but kept his back turned to Manoussos. The priest knew there was no more to be said to Nikos today and turned to leave, ‘Nikos, I am here to serve. I will do whatever it is you require, all you need do is ask.’ Nikos slammed his book shut and walked away to the refuge of his hut, furious with himself all the way. He knew he was acting like a child but at that moment he did not care. He felt he was entitled to a bad mood and he was frustrated so he let his rage churn him up within.

  If Nikos wanted to see Spinalonga run along the lines of an orderly ancient city state then he needed to source food or find a way to have the fish lifted out of the water, the birds to fall from the sky and get the rabbits and goats to fly across from the mainland. He reached his dwelling and was sweating from his anxiety and the fast walk home. He unbuttoned his jacket and almost went to throw the book across the floor but checked himself. In his entire lifetime he had never thrown a book, to him that was as bad as burning them. The package that Manoussos had handed him from his mother fell to the floor and the bag of Alikhan fell out from under his jacket, cheering up the dark place with its red embroidery. Nikos knew enough of the Cyrillic script to be able to read the little tag that was poking out from the bag, he could read the name easily, Alikhan Azamatov, Berkutchi.

  Father Manoussos walked into the ruined church, his reunion with Nikos had not gone quite as he had hoped but he had time to work on that. He rested his hands on his hips and looked around him as he tried to work out how and where to make a start on rebuilding the utter ruin that was once the church when Nikos burst through the doorway panting as if he had run a marathon.

  ‘Manoussos, you said if I needed anything to just come and ask.’

  ‘Of course Nikos, what is it?’

  ‘I need you to help me catch an eagle.’

  Chapter 7: Pavlos

  The Greek prison system of the nineteen thirties w
as not clogged. Petty crime, spousal abuse and fraud were not even investigated. Even some killings were not classed as murders because they were often reported as accidents and also not investigated. For someone to be imprisoned during such times usually meant they were a pretty nasty character like Pavlos Damnatakis.

  Once, not too long ago, a pretty young woman named Irena Venetis was out walking to the bakery so as to bring bread to her mother. She was dressed in her best blue dress and her skirts swished around her ankles as she walked. Young Miss Venetis looked charming. She had begged to be allowed to wear her mother’s dangling earrings with the matching necklace and bracelet of golden florins even though it was not the done thing. Someone might see her so bedecked with gold and think she was already betrothed. Her mother didn’t want to risk her daughter’s chances of making a good match. ‘Please Mama, I will only wear them to the bakery and back. Let me feel what it is like to wear such fine things and pretend I am already a married woman.’ Her mother permitted her to adorn with the gold, what was the harm in it after all?

  Pavlos was standing on the street corner looking out for a victim whose pocket to pick when he caught sight of the glint of gold coming towards him. He also noticed the lovely creature the gold was adorning. He nestled himself back against a doorway and waited for her to come closer. The sun was in her eyes so she didn’t see him leaning back into the doorway until he reached out a filthy paw to snatch the bracelet from the girl’s wrist. She screamed and bolted away but Pavlos leapt back into the shadows. He liked what he saw so why rush? He watched her rush into the bakery and rush out again laden with breads.

  He had seen where she had gone and followed her to her house and watched through the windows as she dumped the bread on the kitchen table and sat and sobbed in the aftershock of the attack that almost happened. He ducked his head so she wouldn’t see him when she left the kitchen to go into another room. Pavlos stepped quietly to the back door and then walked into the house as casually as if he owned it. Within a few strides he had located her bedroom and found her removing the jewelry. She did not have time to scream. He covered her mouth with his hand and with the other reached out to grab the gold but found the sensation of a young woman’s smooth skin too irresistible to walk away from.

 

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