The Eagle of Spinalonga

by Nike Azoros

  Chapter 10: Clerical Correspondence

  When Nikos wasn’t training an eagle, he was writing letters. ‘We can’t both be here, it will be too suspicious. People will begin seeking us out and our mission with Artemis will fail,’ was what he said to Manoussos when the priest first offered to sit with him.

  ‘As you wish Nikos. I too have much to do as well as some letters to write.’

  ‘You have paper?’

  ‘Why yes.’

  ‘And pen and envelopes and stamps?’

  Manoussos understood, ‘I will bring you some right away.’

  ‘Thank you Manoussos. I have wanted to write letters from the first moment I arrived here when I saw the terrible conditions but was told that letters from lepers were not welcome anywhere. Also I had no idea things were as bad as they are.’

  Manoussos nodded, ‘There is also the problem of Pavlos.’

  ‘Yes, there is also Pavlos.’ How was he going to get his letters past Pavlos?

  ‘I haven’t thought of a plan yet for how to get the letters in and out safely without Pavlos intercepting them.’

  ‘I have,’ said Manoussos.

  ‘I need a chanter and I choose you.’

  ‘How will that get the letters in and out?’

  ‘A chanter needs the texts to read from, you will require the appropriate books.’

  ‘Oh, I see. We send letters out asking for books and the responses come inside the books.’ Nikos nodded in understanding. ‘But Manoussos there is one thing. Everybody knows you brought so many books to Spinalonga. You made a point of saying you brought along all the texts and a lot of us helped you carry them.’

  ‘I know Nikos, I know. But I think God will forgive me for the terrible accident I am about to cause that will require the replacement of so many of them.’

  Pavlos Damnatakis knew the exact schedule of the boatman. Unless he was busy terrorizing someone or had fallen asleep, which mercifully happened often, he was present at many of the boat landings to see who was getting what and he tried to intercept all letters in case they had any money in them. He would help himself to the money and then throw away the letter so the receiver never knew if his family had sent him anything and the sender never knew if their gift had been received.

  ‘Manoussos what letters did you say you were going to write?’

  ‘To Father Stavros, the new young priest who took over my duties. I need a few more of the texts.’

  ‘Perfect. Even Pavlos wouldn’t bother trying to open a letter from one priest to another. I have reason to believe he can’t read anyway. He only wants money.’

  The first letter Nikos wrote was to the Department of Health. He demanded to know why the lepers of Spinalonga were referred to as patients yet there was no hospital. Why were there no bandages, antiseptics or walking aids? There was not so much as an aspirin. He finished off the letter stating that he will also write a letter to the League of Nations informing them of the sub human conditions of the patients. He also wrote to the Department of Power, the Department of Social Security and to Metaxas himself, the President of Greece.

  ‘Help, help, there is a fire in the church.’ Father Manoussos was yelling from the church door. He had waited exactly for the time he knew Pavlos and the others would be heading towards the square and would be right outside the church door.

  ‘So what,’ said Pavlos as he kept on walking but the others rushed to help. Makis called out to Manoussos, ‘Father I will run and bring more help. We will bring water in anything we can find to carry it in.’ Ikaros and two more rushed in and began to beat at the flames with the couple of blankets Manoussos had with him. Makis and his helpers showed up quickly and splashed the water over the flames which soon died down. Pavlos leaned against the door watching and offered no help, just as Manoussos knew he would.

  ‘Thank you so much my children. Without you I do not know how I would have managed.’

  ‘What happened father?’

  I was filling up all the lamps with oil and lighting them so I could have a lamp burning before each of the saints as is the custom, I stumbled and knocked one over and the burning oil spread all over the pile of ecclesiastical texts I had put to one side here on the floor. Nikos has volunteered to be my chanter and once he is feeling better he will come and start reading from them. Now they are all gone or too damaged to use.’ Manoussos sounded genuinely devastated.

  ‘It will be alright father, can’t you send for some new books?’

  ‘Bravo! Thank you for reminding me there is always an answer Ikaros. I will begin writing letters to Father Stavros right away. It will take several letters because so many books were damaged it will take time to discover which ones I need. I best begin immediately.’

  Pavlos finally opened his ugly mouth, ‘Get your priest friends to send some money not just books.’

  ‘Sadly dear Pavlos they have none to spare, but I also thank you for reminding me. I will ask for them to send a few seeds for herbs that we can grow in pots.’ Pavlos groaned and walked away muttering obscenities.

  On the day the boatman was due Manoussos was standing waiting. There was no Pavlos present. The boatman looked at the white envelope which Manoussos had placed on the stone pier.

  ‘Did you wear gloves when you wrote it?’

  ‘Oh for goodness sake, I am not a leper and even if I were, I have done everything properly.’

  The boatman sighed resignedly, put on gloves himself and picked up the letter as if it were a writhing snake.

  ‘Please post it today, as soon as you get back.’ The boatman looked at Manoussos and shrugged,

  ‘I might forget.’

  The priest pulled the fifty drachma note out of his pocket that Nikos had given him and placed it too on the stone pier. ‘This might help you to remember.’ The boatman snatched the note and sailed off to post the letter.

  The letter did reach Father Stavros who obediently played along with the righteous ruse. He sent on the letter within the letter and did so with every letter he would receive from Manoussos. The letter that went to the Ministry of Health was opened by the nurse who was temping in the mail room, Angela Venetis. As instructed by the supervisor she had separated out the letters for each department and then was to open the ones that were general and not addressed to any one person in particular. She read the contents and knew it had to be brought to someone’s attention immediately. She went to the new junior clerk of the minister’s office, his name was Thanos.

  Just a few weeks earlier before Father Manoussos had left for Spinalonga he sat the young boy goatherd down to soften the blow of the news that his mentor and friend Nikos Lambrakis had gone away forever. Standing next to him was the mother of Nikos, Theodora Lambrakis.

  ‘Thanos, Nikos has arranged for you to get an education. One of the last things he said before he left was to make sure you continue your learning, he has organized for you to take a scholarship exam to get you into a good school in Athens.’ But the boy did not take the news well. He was in shock at the news of the tragic fate of Nikos and at the challenge of leaving the safety of the lands he knew well for the wide world of Athens.

  ‘Nikos has already educated me, because of him I know numbers, words and philosophy. He told me to read Plato every day and I do.’ The boy replied almost in defiance, he was still trying to absorb the news that Nikos gone forever. He had been father figure, big brother and best friend all at once. His leaving was too big a loss to comprehend. Theodora recognized grief when she saw it. She could see the turmoil the boy was in so she decided to help the situation along.

  ‘Do it for Nikos.’

  She said it softly but it was all that needed to be said. Thanos reached out his hand to accept the paperwork from Father Manoussos and ran home to tell his parents which did not take long. His parents were elated that their son had a chance to break out of the cycle of poverty they were stuck in. They took over the goat herding so Thanos could sit the exam the next week. He won the scholarship.


  The whole town was delighted for young Thanos and for the wonderful living memorial of Nikos Lambrakis that he symbolized. But Theodora could still sense reluctance in the boy, she knew he only had the clothes he stood in and still might decline the opportunity because he was too ashamed to show up looking as he did and with no money for books or food. Mrs. Lambrakis had understood his silence and had gone to see the priest.

  ‘Father Manoussos I am still unable to walk around freely in this town, people continue to view me as a leprophore but we need to raise some money for Thanos. If every person my son has helped gives just one drachma for each time my son did something for them we would have enough money to send this boy off wearing clothes of gold.’

  Manoussos listened to Theodora’s ideas, one was for a fair in the town square but to allay any fears she would have the women of the parish work together and prepare all the food. The local market stall keepers offered half of their profits from the big weekly market day. Extra trays were passed around in church on his behalf and even the boatman gave half of the fares he collected over three days. There was still a shortfall and Christos the council clerk somehow managed to give a generous donation from the municipality which he had always claimed had empty coffers.

  The past good deeds of Nikos Lambrakis brought people to the fair the town put on in the square. Within that one weekend the total proceeds plus the donations provided Thanos with a new valise and a fine new wardrobe to put in it as well as a handsome travelling outfit with fine black brogues, a new woolen coat and more money in his pocket than his family had ever seen in their entire lifetime.

  Thanos Mavrakis went to a proper school for the first time in his life at the age of seventeen. On his first day of schooling the government had sent a selector to pick out any exceptionally bright students for the entry program into the fledgling civil service. The inspector interviewed only the students who scored over eighty five percent of the exams they had set. Thanos had scored ninety seven percent. His results gained him a job with the Department of Health as a junior clerk while he continued his schooling. For Thanos this was better than winning the lottery, a paid for education and a paying job at the same time, all because of the goodness of Nikos Lambrakis.

  Thanos showed up for work looking efficient and eager. On day one he was shown around and introduced to everybody then shown how to schedule some of the Minister’s appointments. On day two he had to stand in for the assistant to the minister for Health who had fallen ill. The Minister liked the eager young man and by day three he was not only organizing the mail into files for him to read but even permitted to prioritize the ones he felt needed urgent attention.

  The entire department was talking about the new recruit and his sharp thinking, his organizational skills and his simple yet effective manner. Nurse Angela Venetis knew he was the one who needed to see this letter first. He would ensure it would be read by the Minister and given the attention it deserved.

  ‘It’s Thanos isn’t it?’

  ‘Why yes Miss it is. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Please take a good look at this letter and once the Minister takes action on it, that is I hope he does, please let him know that I am willing and able to be part of the medical team assigned there. It would be my honor to help these poor souls.’

  Thanos wasn’t sure what she was talking about but reached out to accept the letter she was holding out to him. He froze midway when he saw the handwriting. He would have recognized that writing anywhere. He scanned the letter and found out about the situation his friend was in. Thanos looked at Angela, ‘Are you really prepared to go to this place?’

  ‘They need me. Now go and see the Minister.’

  Chapter 11: The Ministry of Health

  Many years earlier in a small village on the mainland a man had developed an unusual rash on his arms and upper body. It was a strange rash of dry white patches and the skin beneath them was numb. The man was forty five years old and had a wife and one living child remaining from the five with which they had originally been blessed. Their son was smart and had showed much interest in reading and history so they did everything within their power to make sure he got an education. They sent him away to get his high schooling and he was so smart the principal managed to get apprenticed him in a government department where he commenced a career path that was rewarding and prestigious. His name was Andonis Kontos.

  The doctor who serviced the area was away in Italy to attend a medical symposium for two weeks so they sent the local midwife to take a look at the father of Andonis.

  She declared him to be a leper. The mayor of the village was alarmed by such news and felt he could not take the risk of such a cursed illness spreading throughout the population so he called an emergency council. The council took in the nature of his misfortune and then considered all the facts of the man’s life and the dangers of having him active in the community.

  They tried to reach their decision with logic. The mayor pointed out, ‘His only son is away working in the city and is doing well so he does not have the burden of small children left behind for us to concern ourselves with. His wife has her son to lean on for support so we are all agreed that the action we are forced to take, although cruel, is vital to ensure the health of the citizens of our village.’

  They went to see him that day and found him tending to his garden which was always immaculate. He straightened with concern when he saw the entire mayoral committee standing in his front garden and not one of them was smiling.

  ‘Gentlemen, may I offer you coffee.’

  One of the said, ‘We have not come for coffee Kontos. Please stop what you are doing and walk into your shed, turn and face us.’

  The mayor cleared his throat and addressed him, ‘Kontos, you are a friend and neighbour of us all and in different circumstances you would be here on the council with us and I believe you would have reached the same conclusion as we have.’

  ‘What is your conclusion?’

  ‘We cannot allow you to spread any risk of contagion through the village.’

  ‘So I am under some sort of house arrest until I can get taken to away to a leprosarium?’

  The mayor sighed and continued, ‘Kontos we are an isolated village, it is January and already the snows have blocked the roads and the heart of winter has not yet reached us. There are no carriages due to come this way until after February and no one here is prepared to have you on their carts.’

  ‘I will wear a bell, I need to organize things.’

  ‘Your disease is a terrible one, you will become horribly deformed and die a slow and painful death and still carry the risk of passing it on to others. We have decided on the following actions to spare you this grim fate and to safeguard our population.’

  ‘What action?’

  ‘Step back into your shed and stay there.’

  ‘Stay in my shed, for how long? When do I leave?’

  ‘You will not leave, not alive anyway.’

  ‘What are you saying? Have you come here to execute me because I might be ill? What madness is this? We are not even certain if I have the disease. How can you sentence me to death over an assumption?’

  ‘Your symptoms speak enough. None of us will kill you, we cannot do so but all food and water will be withheld from you until you expire. The council has decided.’ They slammed shut the door on him and immediately began boarding up the window and door of the shed.

  Kontos pounded on the walls and began yelling,

  ‘Hang me instead. Don’t leave me here to rot to death. My son, my son, let me see my son?’

  His wife until now was speechless in disbelief but when she saw them boarding up the barn she screeched, ‘Barbarians! Murderers! Let me give him a blanket, let me give him a pot of soup and jugs of water.’ The mayor ignored her screams and spoke over her, ‘I understand you are just being a good wife but you will only delay his suffering, he will die quicker this way.’

  ‘Barbarians, you are worse than
Turks!’

  ‘Watch your tongue woman or we will burn down your house. Besides, do you really want to risk losing your son as well? We do this for your own good as well as ours.’ Kontos screamed from within his prison. His voice now an eerie echo, ‘Hang me instead of this torture. Hang me now!’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense Kontos, that would be murder.’ The men all walked away satisfied with a job well done. From that day on his wife was referred to as his widow while her husband was still breathing but to make things a little easier for her a telegram was dispatched to her son to leave his fancy offices and come and retrieve his mother so she could get tested and so she didn’t have to listen to her husband die.

  It took a week for the telegram to reach Andonis Kontos and another week for him to make his way back to the village. The village elders met him and warned him not to try to interfere with their decision as it was made for the good of the village and that he should regard the loss of his father as a noble sacrifice. His mother was half dead from the trauma of being shunned by all the villagers as a possible carrier of the disease and of the horror of hearing the frenzied beating on the door of the barn.

  The snows had fallen heavily across the mountains, they were the heaviest falls that anyone could remember. The villagers said only good thing about that was that Kontos would die quicker. Andonis was trapped with no option but to listen to his father die. He held his mother each night as she sobbed herself dry and then whipped herself into a frenzy of frustration trying to get her husband out.

  Andonis knew nothing about leprosy or how one contracted it. He just knew, as everyone else did, that is was a disease that defined you. If you were a leper you were a walking dead until you were truly dead. He lay on the little iron bed next to his mother’s bed and all night had to listen to his beloved father moan in tortured tones. He was very weak now after two weeks without a drop of water to drink or a crumb of bread to eat and of lying in bitter cold. The moans were softer but no less heart wrenching, ‘Water, water, in the name of God give me a sip of water.’