Who Pays the Ferryman

by Michael J Bird

  'Where are you going?' Petros asked her.

  'Where else?' she snapped. 'To see Father Kaphatos.' Matakis offered to go with her but she shook her head. 'This thing must not happen. It cannot happen.' And then she added scathingly, 'And I thank God that in this at least I do not have to rely on you to make sure of that, my son. For this I can do alone.' Her lips tightened determinedly. 'And I will.'

  Two hours later the old Citroen, with Noukakis at the wheel and Katerina sitting regally in the back. pulled up outside the door of the priest's house.

  Noukakis' knock was answered by Father Kaphatos himself. a short man in his middle fifties. His reaction on seeing his visitor was one of surprise then. adopting an attitude of great deference and respect, he ushered her inside.

  And the word spread quickly through the small village.

  And the word was that Kyria Katerina was back again in Dhafnai.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Haldane was enchanted by Dhafnai from the moment they drove into it. He parked the Fiat in the shade of a pepper tree on one side of the small square in the centre of the village, got out and opened the passenger door for Annika.

  It had been an exhilarating journey up into the mountains. driving with the hood down, negotiating the tight bends and all around them the wild countryside of the Cretan uplands saturated in mellow spring sunlight. Often they had had to slow to a crawl to edge past or gently nudge their way through flocks of sheep or goats herded by lean, alert dogs and men in sturdy knee boots and baggy, blue breeches with yellow fringed, black bandannas wound around their heads. On the lower slopes they had passed women in homespun dresses and with dark scarves tied over their hair and draped so as to conceal the lower half of their faces, working patches of rust red soil among gnarled and ancient olive trees while further on from them an old man guided a wooden plough drawn by two oxen. And all of them, shepherds, the women and the ploughman, had waved and called out a greeting.

  This was Crete as Haldane remembered it. Here, as in Sfakia, nothing had changed. The coastal strip with its proliferation of hotels and holiday villas seemed a million miles away and in another, far less attractive, age. He was content and at peace with himself. And so was Annika. As they had driven she had sung some of the traditional songs of the island. Whenever he could, Haldane had joined in and she had laughed gaily on the many occasions when he had had difficulty in remembering the words or managing the Cretan dialect. It was a good and happy time on the road and Haldane, as if subconsciously aware that the happiness could not last, had driven slowly so as to linger in it, fearing also that, despite all that Annika had told him about it, Dhafnai might, after the unspoilt beauty alongside the twisting road which led to it, be something of a disappointment.

  Looking around the square of the remote, mountain village, though, Haldane could see that his fear had been groundless. Dhafnai, too, had remained largely unchanged by the twentieth century.

  There were fewer than fifty white-washed houses nestling in a fertile hollow of orange, lemon and olive groves amid fields bright green after the winter rain and the melting river of snow. The houses, with narrow alleyways between them, were mainly boxed in around the square with only a handful of them straggling out onto the gently rising ground beyond, one slope of which was crowned by a squat, Byzantine chapel, its gold-painted cupola reflecting and refracting the sunlight.

  The square itself was dominated by an ancient stone well and drinking fountain from which, as he watched, Haldane saw two women draw water into earthenware stamnoi, identical to those depicted in Minoan frescoes, then carry them away on their shoulders through the flock of goats being driven across the square by another, older woman assisted by a beautiful but solemn-faced child who Haldane suspected was probably her grandson. On the opposite side of the square from where he had parked the Fiat was the local taverna, its door open to a dark interior and with half a dozen men sitting at tables outside it playing tavli.

  There were other villagers about in the square; women who had been standing talking until the arrival of the car had diverted them from their gossip; three women sitting spinning on the front steps of their houses and a fourth wrapped in a shawl against what was, to the local people at least, the still chill air of early spring, preparing vegetables for the midday meal. Two old men sitting together on the ground, their backs against a wall, were asleep. It was a scene which in minor detail only differed little from any mountain village in Crete over the centuries and Haldane revelled in it. But he too felt the difference in temperature at that altitude and he saw Annika shiver as a breeze fluttered the leaves of the pepper tree, so he reached into the car for his jacket and her woollen cardigan. Then they made their way slowly across the square.

  They were the object of much curiosity and interest.

  Annika had been recognised immediately by the villagers and all acknowledged her with a wave, a smile or a polite greeting. Over polite. over respectful. thought Haldane. Their attitude towards her was uncharacteristically deferential. True she had made good outside the village and she was successful in business hut he sensed more than mere admiration in their greetings. He even imagined he detected a trace of awe. if not fear. But if this was so Annika was either clearly accustomed to it or oblivious to it. As she also seemed unaware of the whispering that was going on all around them. Probably no more than idle chatter and speculation about who she was with, Haldane conjectured. But there was a note of urgency and gravity to the whispers which did not fit in with that theory. He shrugged mentally and decided there was nothing more behind it than excitement at the visit of a stranger which, in a village as isolated as Dhafnai, would be rare event.

  However Annika was as surprised as he was when the old woman herding the flock of goats broke away from them, hobbled over to Annika, took her hand, kissed it and then looked up into her face with an expression of sorrow and sympathy. She mumbled something which Haldane did not understand and then, with a nod to the Englishman, moved away again in slow pursuit of the flock which her grandson had, by now, driven across to the far side of the square.

  Annika frowned.

  'What did she say?' he asked her.

  'She said 'Such a sin! And against us all. It shall not happen', replied Annika, looking puzzled.

  'What does she mean?'

  'I do not understand.' She shrugged dismissively and smiled. 'Who knows. The people here are very superstitious.' And that explanation seemed to satisfy her.

  Taking his arm, she guided Haldane through the village. It was a short tour. There was not much to see. They wandered through the narrow alleyways and in one of them Haldane noticed that a woman, sitting in her open doorway, greeted Annika and then crossed herself as they passed. They visited the chapel, obviously fairly recently and extensively restored, and Annika was pleased by his enthusiasm and knowledgeable admiration of the work that had been done on it and his genuine appreciation of both its interior and exterior beauty. She was clearly very happy about his reaction to Dhafnai in general.

  Finally she led him a little way out of the village and up a narrow path to a small, old and ramshackle house which stood alone amid some olive trees. It appeared to be unoccupied but Annika stopped four of five yards away from it and pointed. 'Well you have seen the chapel in which I was christened and now here is the house which my grandfather built. The house in which, for many years, my mother and father lived. The house in which I was born.'

  Haldane gave her a look of astonishment. From all that he heard and from what he had seen for himself this simple peasant home in no way fitted into the present lifestyle and wealth of the Matakis family. Annika read his thoughts. 'My father was very poor then,' she explained. 'He had only this house and a little land. But later things changed. He was very clever. And he worked hard.'

  Haldane gazed thoughtfully at the house again. 'He must have been quite a man, your father.'

  Annika nodded. 'Yes,' she replied quietly. 'He was.'

  He turned to her. 'So wh
ere now?' He smiled and then added jokingly, 'To the diamond mine he discovered?'

  Annika laughed. 'No diamond mine. Just a great deal of sweat. A sharp mind and more than a little cunning I think.' And then, suddenly serious, she frowned as though remembering things and events from the past; times of troubles and difficulties which still haunted her. 'Money, position, respect. For these things my father was hungry,' she added staring into space and Haldane detected a note of bitterness in her voice. And then, conscious that he was looking at her, she shook her head dismissing the ghosts of the past.

  'And so am I.' She smiled. 'Hungry. So now we eat, eh?'

  They turned from the house and strolled back to the village and into the taverna where the proprietor, a fat, smiling man wearing a vest, trousers, plimsolls and a far from spotless apron, hurried forward to greet them.

  'Welcome, Kyria Annika. You honour me,' he said with a slight bow.

  'Thank you, Christos,' replied Annika graciously and faintly embarrassed. She indicated Haldane. 'This is a friend of mine. He is from England.'

  'A friend of Kyria Annika,' he said flowerily, 'is a friend of all of us here in Dhafnai.'

  Then he led them to a table. Haldane looked around. The taverna was typical of those to be found in any village on Crete as yet undiscovered by tourists; short on comfort and cleanliness, long on atmosphere and hospitality.

  'Do you like kokoretsi? Annika asked him.

  Haldane nodded. It was a long time since he'd eaten the dish of offal wrapped around a spit and grilled over a charcoal fire which was a speciality in Crete, particularly during the Easter festivities.

  'But should we? he asked in English. 'It's not very devout. In Lent. We should be fasting.'

  Annika frowned, clearly afraid that she'd given offence.

  'I had no idea that you had such strong feelings on religious observance,' she replied.

  ‘I don't,' Haldane reassured her.

  Annika was relieved. 'Neither do I.' And then she added, 'I regret to say.

  'But if it upsets anyone .... Haldane shrugged.

  Annika shook her head. 'As far as Christos is concerned, he'll be only too glad of the business.'

  She gave the proprietor their order. He nodded approvingly and scuttled away. He returned almost immediately with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses which he put down on the table in front of them. And then he disappeared once more into the kitchen at the back of the building.

  As Haldane filled their glasses, Annika glanced around the taverna. There were not more than a dozen tables, most of them occupied by men from the village and they were all staring unashamedly, not out of any lack of politeness but prompted by their obvious respect for her and by a genuine concern for the well-being and satisfaction of both of them.

  Annika picked up her wine and raised it in salute to the assembly. 'Yassou,' she said.

  The men smiled and lifted their glasses in response . . Yamass,' they chorused.

  The kokoretsi was excellent and Haldane savoured it along with a crisp and delicious salad dotted with feta cheese which Christos had also prepared for them.

  'It is good?' Annika enquired anxiously and looking up from her plate.

  'Very good,' Haldane replied and kissed the tips of his fingers in a gesture of appreciation. She was pleased. He sipped his wine. 'Do you come to Dhafnai often?'

  'Not as often as I would like to.' She pulled a face. 'Or, as I should perhaps. I have not been here for more than a year.'

  'Well, obviously everyone's very pleased to see you. A royal welcome.'

  Annika shrugged. 'They are kind to me. Most of them have known me since I was a child. Besides, they are my people.'

  They heard the motor scooter roaring across the square and then stop outside the taverna and, together with everyone else, they looked across at the doorway enquiringly as the rider burst in. He was short and thickset and clearly agitated and excited. He paused just inside the doorway and looked around. He frowned when he saw Annika and Haldane and seemed to hesitate. Then he moved quickly through the tables and whispered something urgently to Christos. The eyes of all of the other men in the taverna were fixed on the pair of them.

  Alarmed, Christos shot a look across at Haldane and Annika. Then, while his informant hurried out of the taverna again, he moved out quickly from behind the bar and, in a low, inaudible voice, passed on what he had been told to those sitting at the table nearest to him. The news spread from table to table in undertones and as it did so the men's faces took on expressions of anger, concern and resolution. Haldane and Annika exchanged bewildered looks. Annika shrugged.

  Christos and a man from one of the tables crossed to the doorway and, standing well back and out of sight from the square but with a good view of it themselves, gazed out into the sunlight.

  There was an edgy, expectant silence in the taverna.

  From outside came the sound of an approaching car. The car stopped and a door banged. Christos and his companion maintained their watch on the square.

  Now Haldane and Annika seemed to have been almost totally forgotten by the other customers; their attention was on the doorway.

  The silence was at last broken by Christos. 'He is coming here, he muttered and he and the man standing beside him turned from the door and moved hastily back down the length of the taverna.

  On Christos' announcement, the atmosphere in the place suddenly became charged with menace. Haldane frowned. 'What is it?' he asked Annika. 'What's going on?'

  She shook her head and then called across to the proprietor, 'What is it, Christos? What is happening? Who is coming?'

  At first Christos seemed reluctant to tell her but then, realising that he had no alternative, he crossed to their table and, after glancing apprehensively at Haldane, cupped his hand to Annika's ear and whispered something to her. As he did so her expression became grave and set hard. She nodded solemnly. Christos moved away from the table and back behind the bar.

  Annika gave Haldane an anxious look and bit her lip.

  She was clearly not sure how to handle the situation. Then she decided. She gathered up her scarf and handbag from the empty chair beside her. 'We should leave,' she said firmly.

  'Leave!' exclaimed Haldane, astounded. 'We haven't finished eating.'

  'Please, Leandros,' she urged.

  'No,' he said stubbornly and beginning to get angry. 'Not without an explanation.'

  Annika frowned deeply and desperately searched her mind for one. 'I have to get back,' she said sharply. 'I have a meeting at the factory this afternoon and I must not be late for it.' Then she challenged, 'Is that reason enough?'

  She was lying and Haldane knew it. 'Frankly, no.'

  She leaned forward across the table and put her hand on his. She was about to say something further and then the stranger entered the taverna and she knew it was too late.

  He was tall and athletic looking with a deeply tanned, open, friendly face beneath a shock of blond hair. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a jazzy, open-necked shirt under a light cotton windcheater. Haldane judged him to be in his middle thirties. The man looked around and smiled.

  'Good day,' he said and his accent was unmistakably Australian.

  Annika stared down at her plate but Haldane saw the looks of unconcealed hostility with which the men in the taverna responded to the stranger's greeting. And their expressions unnerved him almost as much as they did the Australian, who frowned. He was clearly unprepared for such a reception but he did not retreat before it. Instead he moved further into the taverna and looked around again. Christos and the other villagers continued to stare at him sullenly.

  Haldane glanced at Annika but she did not look up.

  Then he caught the Australian's eye, smiled weakly and nodded a greeting to him. But this did little if anything to ease his obviously growing discomfiture. However he stood his ground and forced a grin.

  'Anyone here speak English?' he asked. There was no reply. The Australian's grin faded. />
  Haldane scowled and shot another look at Annika.

  Surely she, at least, would offer her services as interpreter. But she made no move to do so and did not even raise her head. 'Annika,' he prompted her. Still she did not look up. It was almost as if she had not heard him.

  Haldane was now as much angered by her rudeness as he was bewildered. He got to his feet, crossed to the Australian, smiled and put out his hand. 'Hello,' he said pleasantly. 'Alan Haldane.'

  The man gave a sigh of relief and shook hands with him. 'Tony Viglis,' he said. And then he added, 'A pom, eh?' Haldane nodded. 'And you have to be an Australian,' he replied with a smile.

  'Right. True blue.' Viglis glanced around the room. 'They're a friendly mob, aren't they?' he said grimly.

  Haldane shook his head uncomprehendingly. They were,' he said. 'Until you arrived.'

  Viglis gave him a look. 'Great,' he said. 'Thanks a bunch. Is it something my best friends should have told me?' .

  In spite of the atmosphere around them, Haldane managed a laugh. 'In this place? I don't think it would be noticed. '

  'What is it then?

  Haldane shrugged. 'God knows. Can I help.'

  'Do you speak the lingo?' asked Viglis.

  'Enough probably.'

  'Well, I'm looking for the local priest. Father Kaphatos.

  I've been to his house. There's someone at home but they're not answering the door. And everyone else out there seems to have taken cover.'

  Haldane turned and looked first at Christos and then at the other men at the tables. 'This gentleman,' he announced in Greek, 'is looking for Father Kaphatos. He has been to his house but no one answers. Do you know where the priest is?'

  Only Christos looked embarrassed but neither he nor anyone else replied. Haldane surveyed the hostile faces around them. He could feel the tension in the taverna mounting. Then he glanced across at the table where Annika was sitting. She was still sitting, head lowered, staring at her plate and it was clear that she had no intention of intervening.