Who Pays the Ferryman

by Michael J Bird

  Haldane walked with Annika through the gateway of the cemetery and across to her car which was parked on the side of the road just outside it. As he opened the passenger door for her she looked up at him. He smiled and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  The Citroen, moving slowly through the villagers now silently spilling out of the cemetery, came through the gateway, accelerated and swept past them. Katerina grim faced, stared straight ahead but Petros saluted his sister with a wave.

  Annika waved back. Sadly she watched the Citroen pull away from them then, with a sigh, she got into her car. Haldane closed the door, moved around the bonnet, settled himself into the driving seat and started the engine.

  In the cemetery the policemen assembled alongside their vehicles and, on the orders of the sergeant, began boarding them. The two men from the village were filling in the grave and Tony Viglis watched each spade full of earth as it fell. Krasakis stood a little way off from him, waiting patiently.

  Viglis looked down, then stooped and picked up the branch of rosemary which was Petros' tribute to his grandfather. He gazed for a moment at the blossom and then, reaching out, dropped the branch into the grave.

  Katerina did not speak to her son on the drive back to Neapolis. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She gazed at Noukakis. Such foresight, she congratulated herself. I was right. I will have need of him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Noukakis opened the front door of Haldane's house and cautiously peered out. He had seen Haldane leave and he had waited until the Englishman had set sail in the caique with Annika and Nikos. Looking across the lagoon he could see the boat way out to sea and approaching the island of Spinalonga. But he still had to make sure that he was not seen by anyone.

  He edged out of the doorway a little. The street and square were deserted. The only people about were some fishermen down by the moorings and they were too busily occupied preparing their nets and too far off to trouble him. He stepped out of the house, closed the front door quietly and ran quickly down the steps. Still unobserved, he reached his car which was parked unobtrusively in a side street fifty yards up the road. He got into the car and drove immediately to Neapolis.

  Katerina Matakis received him cordially and then listened in silence as he made his report. When he had finished she crossed to the wooden cabinet and poured him a glass of raki.

  'It is my shame that, because my son lacks the stomach for it,' she said gravely. as she handed him the glass, . I have had to place this burden on your shoulders, Matheos. The burden of vendetta. And for a wrong done to my family which I cannot reveal to you.'

  Noukakis made a dismissive gesture. It mattered little to him that she had not explained her reason for hating Haldane. The mere fact that she did was enough and it suited his purpose admirably. Besides, who was he to question anything in the face of the inducement which she had offered in return for his co-operation. However. Katerina was not to be deflected from her declaration. ‘But you are performing a sacred duty,' she went on in the same solemn tone. 'On my behalf and with my support. The Englishman must be driven from Crete. And if he will not go ... ' She shrugged. 'Well, then you know what must be done. What I expect of you. And you will not find me ungrateful. You know that. You have much to gain. The inheritance which my son has forfeited.'

  Noukakis gave her what he hoped was a suitably grateful but, at the same time, humble smile and then threw back his head and emptied the glass.

  The caique was a joy to sail. The modifications which Haldane had made to her hull and by stepping the mast slightly further aft had greatly improved her balance and had, he felt certain, given her a much improved response and performance, particularly when close hauled, over those sailing caiques built to the traditional Cretan design. And, he congratulated himself, without sacrificing any of the beauty of those old craft.

  The restoration had been completed almost exactly to the schedule Haldane had set himself. The caique had been launched just three days before Easter. And now, twenty-four hours later, on the boat's second sea trial and running before the wind on a starboard tack towards Spinalonga, his hand on the tiller and with Annika beside him, he felt happy and exhilarated. And both Annika and Nikos, who had eagerly volunteered to crew for him, shared his excitement and satisfaction.

  Nikos, standing in the bow, turned and, smiling broadly, gave Haldane a thumbs-up sign. Haldane smiled back at him, waved and nodded. And Annika saw the look of pride and almost child-like excitement on his face.

  'You are pleased with her, eh Leandros?' she said, delighted by his expression.

  'Very,' replied Haldane, his eyes on the set of the sails and hauling the mainsheet in a little tighter. 'She handles beautifully. Even better than I expected.'

  Annika clapped her hands. 'Good,' she exclaimed. 'So now she may be christened.’

  Haldane glanced at her. 'Now? Today?'

  'Why not?' she demanded, smiling. 'I have brought the champagne with me. And you promised me the honour, remember?'

  Haldane smiled gently and nodded. 'I remember.'

  Then, looking past him, suddenly Annika frowned and almost at the same time Haldane saw Nikos, who was also gazing out over the port side, cross himself.

  Puzzled, he turned his head to follow the direction of their gaze. The caique was now entering the channel between the peninsula of Spinalonga and the small island on which stood the ancient Venetian fortress. now deserted and crumbling with decay. As they drew abreast of it the castle loomed over them, mournful and desolate, not more than a few yards off their port side. And above the roof of the ruined chapel on the upper ramparts Haldane could see two hawks slowly circling, their wings motionless, riding the air currents.

  Annika gave an involuntary shudder.

  'Spinalonga disturbs you?' Haldane asked.

  She nodded. 'Everyone, I think,' she replied quietly with her eyes still on the island.

  Haldane shrugged. 'It's just an old leper colony.'

  Annika, her attention now fixed on the circling birds of prey, shook her head. 'It is a place of the dead,' she said. And again she shivered.

  Then they were through the channel and Haldane altered course to take the caique round the island and then back down the lagoon to Elounda.

  Xenophon Hasapis watched the craft manoeuvring with great interest. He was standing on the cliffs opposite the island fortress, alongside his sons and a few yards from where a dilapidated and rusty Mazda pick-up truck was parked.

  Hasapis, a well-built man in his middle sixties but upright and muscular, with sun and wind-leathered skin, lazy, crafty eyes and greying hair and moustache, lowered the old pair of British Army binoculars through which he had been observing the caique and smiled. He looked at his sons and nodded.

  Manolis, the eldest, took the binoculars from him and trained them on the boat while Costas impatiently waited his turn.

  Manolis was forty-one and his brother three years younger, and both had inherited not only their good looks from their father but also his appetite for roguery.

  When Manolis, with a smile reflecting and confirming Hasapis' thoughts, passed the binoculars on to his brother and after he had observed the caique first come about and then begin to tack back down the lagoon, Costas handed the glasses back to his father, grinned and nodded in agreement.

  The three men turned from the cliff edge and strolled over to the pick-up truck.

  'For Leandros who gave new life to you,' proclaimed Annika. 'I christen you The Knot.' She swung the bottle of champagne and it exploded against the stem of the caique. 'May you and those you carry sail in the palm of God.'

  The boat was now tied up at the moorings in Elounda and the christening ceremony had been witnessed by a small group of gravely interested villagers and as Haldane and Nikos, both light heartedly enjoying the occasion, applauded, the faces of the spectators broke into smiles and they clapped too.

  Haldane took the neck of the broken bottle from Annika's hand. 'Thank you,' he said quietly. Their
eyes met.

  'You chose well,' she said. 'That is a fine name. The Knot. May it always hold fast and keep you bound to Crete and to all those here who love you, Leandros.'

  Haldane smiled and then, with a fleeting expression of consternation, looked away from her and tossed the jagged glass into a waste bin.

  At the sound of the approaching vehicle everyone gathered around the boat turned to look across the open ground behind the moorings. Xenophon Hasapis' pick-up truck had pulled off the road and was pitching and rolling its way towards them. The truck stopped and Hasapis and his sons got out of it and approached the group gathered around the bow of the caique. They were immediately recognised by the villagers who nodded and smiled in greeting to them. Xenophon responded with a broad grin and a cheery wave.

  The trio were also known to Annika and Nikos, both of whom frowned at the sight of them and were instantly on their guard. Haldane regarded the strangers with interest.

  With Manolis on one side of him and Costas on the other, Hasapis stopped two or three yards off from the Englishman and gave him an even broader grin. 'Kalimera,' he said. Then he nodded to Annika and Nikos in turn. 'Kyria Zeferis, Kyrie Niko.' Annika inclined her head in acknowledgement. Nikos, while in no way showing any hostility towards the newcomers, was clearly very wary of them. 'Kalimera' he replied guardedly.

  'How are you?'

  Nikos considered him suspiciously but his reply was polite enough. 'I am well. And you?'

  'Good,' said Hasapis expansively. 'Very, very good.' He fixed his eyes on Haldane and his grin changed to a warm but wicked smile. 'So you are the one, uh?' He put out his right hand and advanced on him. 'You are the Englishman. The one who they call Leandros. The one who was with the Andarte in the war.'

  Haldane shook hands with him. 'Yes,' he said. faintly puzzled.

  Hasapis held on to his hand tightly and gazed into his face. His smile changed to a look of wonderment. 'Such stories are told of you,' he exclaimed soulfully. 'Of the man you were then.' He shook his head and Haldane could have sworn that there were tears in his eyes. 'This is a great honour for me.' And then, to Haldane's surprise and embarrassment, he released the Englishman's hand, took him in his arms and kissed him on both cheeks.

  Annika and Nikos exchanged looks and from the other's expression each could see that they both found this warmth of welcome equally suspect.

  Hasapis released Haldane and took a step back from him. 'I am Xenophon Hasapis of Sitia,' he announced. 'These are my sons, Manolis and Costas.' Haldane smiled and nodded to the two men. 'You have heard of me?' demanded Xenophon.

  It was quite clear from Haldane's expression that he had not but this did nothing to deter Hasapis.

  'But then of course you have,' he affirmed grandly. 'Who has not? Am I not the best fisherman in all Crete? And is it not known for the truth that in my life and my way I have been the equal to Heracles. He to whom Eurystheus gave the twelve great labours.'

  Now it was Haldane's turn to grin. 'Heracles indeed,' he said and he looked impressed. 'Then it is I who am honoured.' His face took on a puzzled expression. 'But Heracles? Not Odysseus?', he enquired.

  Hasapis was flummoxed by this. His smile faded and he frowned. 'No' he reiterated. 'Heracles.'

  'Oh!' said Haldane innocently. And then he added with a faint smile. 'But surely it was Odysseus who was given to boasting, wasn't it?'

  The jibe hit home. Hasapis' frown deepened, his eyes narrowed and he studied Haldane warily.

  Fully aware that their father had just been insulted, however politely, Manolis and Costas scowled and. stepped in closer to him. Annika shot Nikos an anxious look. Haldane smiled at Xenophon and unflinchingly stood his ground and slowly Hasapis' expression softened from anger to admiration. He has spirit this Englishman, he thought. He grinned and then laughed, now genuinely enjoying the joke against him. His sons relaxed.

  'Odysseus! Heracles!' laughed Hasapis, playfully punching Haldane on the shoulder. 'It makes no difference. I am a match for either of them. I like you Englishman. '

  'Thank you, Kyrie Hasapis,' said Haldane.

  Xenophon looked deeply hurt. 'Uh no,' he begged. 'Not Kyrie Hasapis' Xenophon! And I shall call you Leandros, eh?'

  Haldane nodded. 'Please do,' he said, but all the while turning over in his mind just exactly what it was his new found friend was up to.

  Hasapis moved to the edge of the quay and studied Haldane's caique with a critical eye. 'So this is what you have done with the wreck which Andreas Hagieleftheris gave you? And with your own hands I hear.' He nodded approvingly. 'You have done well. That is a beautiful caique. '

  'Thank you.'

  Xenophon turned to him. 'You are proud of her, uh?'

  'I am pleased,' replied Haldane.

  'Pleased!' roared Hasapis. 'That is too modest. A man must be proud of the work he does otherwise what joy will he find in it?' He wagged a finger at Haldane. 'And I see your joy, Leandros. It is in your eyes.' He turned to study the boat again. 'Mind you,' he went on casually. 'In your work there will be mistakes. Many.' Again he turned to Haldane and smiled but this time condescendingly. 'But then you are a foreigner. uh? Not that I am against foreigners you understand,' he hastened to assure him. 'I am often in Athens. The people there are good people.' He shook his head sadly. 'But it is known as the truth. Only a Cretan can build a caique for our waters. Now I have one. Much like yours.' He made a deprecating gesture. 'Not so fine looking perhaps, and older.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'Much older. But with a sail.' He spat contemptuously. 'I despise engines,' he confided and then held up his right hand, his thumb and forefinger held two inches apart. 'So I have only a little one.' He grinned and then winked and went on. 'For those days when there is no wind, you understand.' He shrugged. 'I am a fisherman. And a man must make a living.'

  'True,' said Haldane.

  Hasapis put an arm around the Englishman's shoulders. 'But what I am saying is this, Leandros,' he said earnestly. 'I built my caique. As my father built his and his father before him also. And they were Cretans as I am a Cretan. So, old as it is, between your caique and mine it must be that mine is the better of the two.' He smiled. 'You agree. That has to be so, uh?'

  Realising that Hasapis was about to show his hand, and more and more intrigued, Haldane was only too willing to play along with him. He frowned thoughtfully. 'No,' he said uncertainly. 'Not necessarily.'

  Hasapis adopted an expression of surprise and shock.

  He took a step back from Haldane and looked at him in astonishment. 'You doubt it?' he said.

  Haldane shrugged. 'Without proof, yes.'

  Xenophon regarding him sorrowfully but then, as if seeing the reasonableness of his argument, nodded sagely. 'You are right, Leandros,' he said. 'A man should accept nothing without proof.' He made a helpless gesture. 'But how can one prove such a thing? That my caique is better than yours. How?'

  Now Haldane knew what was coming and he smiled quietly to himself. He nodded. 'Yes, that's difficult,' he agreed.

  The two men studied one another and Hasapis's inspiration came as no surprise to Haldane. 'Unless of Course ... ' Hasapis said eagerly. But then he broke off and shook his head. 'But no. That would not be fair,' he sighed.

  'What wouldn't be fair, Xenophon?' enquired Haldane, a lamb led to slaughter.

  'I was thinking,' explained Hasapis in a manner which suggested that he had already dismissed the idea. 'That perhaps there is a way in which we could settle this matter. To prove that mine is the better boat.'

  'Oh! How?'

  Xenophon shrugged. 'A test.'

  The trap was sprung. Haldane willingly stepped into it.

  'A race?' he asked doubtfully.

  Hasapis had the Englishman hooked and he was delighted. 'How better?' he asked and then shot a look at his sons and winked.

  The villagers gathered around them had been listening to their conversation with great interest and now there was a buzz of excited conversation at the prospect of a race. Annika and N
ikos did not share their enthusiasm. They were both deeply concerned and it showed in their faces.

  Haldane studied Hasapis as though turning the idea over in his mind. Then he nodded. 'When?' he asked.

  The sooner the better,' exclaimed Xenophon. 'At any other time I would say now. Today. But it is Easter. Tonight Christ will once more be in agony on Calvary.' He crossed himself. 'And tomorrow we must bury him.' He shook his head. 'There can be no race while we are in mourning,' he said respectfully. That would not be fitting. But on Sunday Christ will rise again,' he went on, smiling craftily . .'Is that not so?'

  Haldane nodded. That is so.'

  'And that is a time for celebration.'

  'Yes it is,' agreed Haldane. 'Sunday then?' he enquired.

  Hasapis nodded. 'In the afternoon.'

  'Over what distance?'

  Xenophon shrugged dismissively. That is unimportant,' he said. 'Whatever the distance, whatever the course we follow, the result will be the same,'

  'You are that certain you will win then'!' Haldane said with a smile.

  Xenophon gave him a serious look and shook his head. 'No, Leandros. I am certain of nothing. Except death.' Then he smiled craftily again. 'But I am confident. As you must be. Come,' he prompted. 'Admit it. Only a fool enters a race he does not think he can win.' He paused to study the Englishman once more. And then he added, almost as an afterthought. 'As only a fool enters a race for which there is no prize.'

  This was the crunch that Haldane had been waiting for. 'You're right, Xenophon,' he agreed thoughtfully. 'A prize. There has to be a prize.' He shrugged. 'But what?'

  Hasapis, apparently equally at a loss to think of one, shook his head. But then he had another, sudden inspiration. 'I have it,' he cried. 'Your boat or my boat. That shall be the prize. Whoever wins will have not one caique but two. We will race to hold that which is ours and to gain from the other.'

  Annika and Nikos, who had shared an uneasy feeling from the moment of Hasapis's arrival, were deeply alarmed by this development while the villagers, born Cretans and thus born gamblers, were a joy to see if the Englishman would accept the bet.