Who Pays the Ferryman

by Michael J Bird

  'So now you can relax a little,' she insisted. 'First we shall eat and then we shall watch the procession together. '

  Nikos and Elena were delighted to see Haldane and Elena fussed over him, refusing to give them a menu.

  'Barbounia,' she told Haldane. 'Your favourite. Freshly caught today. And I will grill them myself for you.'

  And while she was preparing the fish, Nikos presented him with a bottle of wine. 'This is very special, Leandros,' he said. 'And you will please me if you will accept it as a gift.' The Englishman protested but Nikos waved his protests aside. 'We are all ashamed of what has happened to you here in Elounda. This bottle cannot compensate you in any way for that evil act but the good wine will, I hope, help to wash the bitter taste from your mouth.'

  The wine was excellent and so were the tender, red mullet served with a salad and preceded by dishes of taramosalata, fasolya. kalamarakia and half a dozen other appetisers.

  And when Haldane and Annika had finished eating and Alexis had been scrubbed and then, with his parents, put on his best clothes, they all went out to choose a good position from which to watch the procession that marked Christ's funeral.

  All of Elounda was on the streets that night and many dozens of tourists as well. Despite the solemnity of the occasion, the villagers were clearly all set to enjoy themselves. There was a great deal of horseplay and excited chatter which did not even die away as Haldane heard the procession approaching the spot where he was standing with Alexis on his shoulders and Annika, Nikos and Elena beside him.

  Heralded by small boys banging hammers on iron bars and ringing bells, the procession finally came into view. It was led by the bearded priest, resplendent in rose-gold robes and swinging a silver censer, its chains clanging and rattling. The air was filled with incense.

  The priest was attended by cantors and choirboys carrying the cross and banners. Behind them young men carried the flower, ribbon and streamer bedecked coffin which the girls of the village had spent hours decorating that morning. They were followed by the large crowd of worshippers who had been in the church for the service which led up to the funeral ceremony. And. as the procession passed, many of the onlookers also fell in behind, swelling its number. while others ran out from the pavement to kiss the priest's hand or to perform the good

  luck gesture of bending double and almost crawling under the upraised coffin as it was carried past them. It was a festive scene and almost as though the villagers were not only paying homage to Christ who had died on the cross for them but, in joyous spirit and in an almost pagan manner, were celebrating, as their ancestors had celebrated thousands of years before at this time of the year, the Earth Mother's return among them.

  The procession made slow progress, the priest stopping frequently to pose proudly and with great dignity for the ever-clicking cameras of the tourists.

  Matheos Noukakis was among the spectators in Elounda that night but his eyes were not on the procession. From where he was standing he could see Haldane and Annika and the Vassilakis family and his full attention throughout was on the Englishman.

  And from his vantage point on a balcony overlooking the street, Major Krasakis caught sight of Noukakis and saw the look on his face and the object of his attention. And what he saw made Krasakis wonder.

  Saturday was also a day of mourning but, at the same time, one of great activity and hushed excitement in anticipation of the miracle and the renewal to come. Very shortly after dawn women carried the large Easter cakes which they had made to the bakers who would bake them for them in their ovens. And, throughout the day, while children sat quietly in comers dyeing and stencilling eggs in bright colours, the local butchers, their hands, forearms and aprons stained with blood, were kept busy slaughtering lambs for the feasting which would begin on Easter Sunday morning and continue for some days.

  That night the church was again packed to capacity; the men standing at the front, the women at the rear, according to custom. And everyone clutched a long, unlit candle.

  On their arrival the priest had personally conducted Haldane and Annika to the place of honour in the stalls to one side and at the front of the church.

  'Can you see all right?' asked Annika in a whisper as she handed Haldane his candle.

  Haldane nodded. 'Yes. Fine. But I can't help feeling that we ought to be in among the others. With Nikos and Elena.'

  'No,' whispered Annika. 'In Crete a stranger, someone from another place, is thought to be from God. You are not a stranger here, Leandros, but the people of Elounda wish to show you the same respect. Even more so after the shameful thing that was done to you.'

  Haldane looked around. The church was decorated with boughs of rosemary, laurel and myrtle and filled with their heady scent. The electric lights illuminated the frescoes on the walls and the painted ceiling which together depicted, in the Byzantine convention, biblical scenes, including the Last Supper and the grieving Virgin and the other Mary at the foot of the cross and the faces of saints and prophets.

  The service began and it went on and on, seemingly interminable; the priest intoning, the congregation responding, their voices a dirgeful drone and their faces solemn and sorrowful.

  'Kyrie Eleison, , chanted the worshippers.

  'Kyrie Eleison,' confirmed the priest.

  The chant and the response were repeated endlessly until Haldane began to feel that he could stand it no longer.

  But then towards midnight the voices and the expressions changed, expectation grew, melancholy gave way to hope. As the great moment approached a feeling of excitement filled the church and the worshippers murmured and shifted restlessly, scarcely able to contain themselves.

  'Kyrie Eleison, 'they chanted.

  'Kyrie Eleison, ' boomed the priest.

  And then it was twelve o'clock. As though at the turn of a switch, the chanting suddenly ceased. And then a switch was turned and the church was plunged into total darkness and the darkness seemed to Haldane to last a long time and it was made even more eerie by the complete silence and stillness which was part of it. Then a single nickering light appeared from behind the iconostasis, the flame of the consecrated candle held by the priest.

  'Come and receive the light,' the priest proclaimed.

  Those in the front of the church pressed forward to light their candles from the flame. Then the first lighted tapers were passed from hand to hand and into the darkness at the back of the church until, in less than a minute, the whole building was filled with hundreds of bobbing candles, illuminating excited faces and casting dancing shadows on the walls.

  Annika lit her candle from a man standing close to her and then turned to Haldane. 'Come,' she said quietly. 'Receive the light.' And she lit Haldane's candle with the flame of hers.

  Followed by the cantors and his other attendants, the priest moved through the throng towards the door of the church. The door was thrown open and the priest, followed now by everyone holding their candles, processed out into the night.

  Three times the priest led the procession around the church before mounting a small platform and reading the Gospel passage describing the Resurrection. Coming to the end of the verses, he closed the bible and looked down at the throng of expectant, candlelit laces, around him and made the proclamation they had all been waiting for.

  'Christos anesti, 'he cried.

  'Christos anesti,' came the answering cry from the crowd. And in a corner of the churchyard a bonfire burst into flames, fireworks exploded and rockets and Roman candles flared up into the night sky.

  The villagers, still holding their candles, milled around the church, joyously repeating the cry of 'Christ is risen' and greeting friends, relatives and tourists alike with the salutation, 'Chronia polla, , to receive the answer from those who understood it as 'Many years' of 'Episis - 'And you.

  Haldane and Annika stood facing one another. Annika's face was radiant in the light from their candles and the flames from the bonfire. High above them the rockets exploded noisily
and cascaded coloured stars.

  'Christ is risen,' Annika said lovingly and looking into his face.

  'Christ is risen,' responded Haldane quietly.

  'Chronia polla. '

  Haldane studied her. 'Episis,' he replied with great feeling.

  Nikos and Elena came up to them. 'Christos anesti,' they cried in unison. 'Christos anesti,' answered Annika. Nikos put out his hand to Haldane. 'Chronia polla,' he said with a smile. 'Episis,' said Haldane, gripping his hand. And then they embraced.

  Elena kissed her aunt. 'Chronia polla. .

  'Episis,' smiled Annika. She turned to Haldane. 'And now we must each return home with our candles still alight. If we do, it is said that is a sign that we shall have good luck in the coming year.' She paused and then added. 'And all that we desire.'

  The bonfire was fed with more wood and flared even higher. More rockets exploded and cascaded in the darkness against a background of stars.

  Side by side Haldane and Annika, with others around them, walked 'slowly away from the church guarding the flame of their candles with cupped hands. The darkness around them was punctured by dozens of other tiny points of zealously protected flame.

  On a street corner they passed a group of young men who were singing a soft and romantic mantinade to the accompaniment of lyra and luta. They paused to listen to them and then moved on again, Annika picking up the song and singing it quietly as they walked. Above them rockets and Roman candles continued to flare and arc across the sky.

  They reached Haldane's house and together started to climb the steps to the front door and as they did so the flame of Haldane's candle, caught unguarded in a sudden light breeze, flickered and went out. Outside the front door they turned to one another.

  'I didn't quite make it,' Haldane said quietly, holding up his candle. 'Nearly but not quite.'

  'My light is your light,' she replied, her eyes on his. 'My good fortune is your good fortune. Share it with me. Receive the light, Leandros.' She lit his candle from the flame of hers once more and then again looked up into his face. 'And all that you desire,' she added.

  Haldane studied her and suddenly he knew that he no longer cared, that nothing was more' important than she was, than they were.

  'Stay with me,' he said simply.

  Annika smiled.

  He took her into the house and to his bed.

  They made love beautifully with passionate tenderness and later, lying side by side to the accompaniment of songs drifting into the room from the street below, Haldane gazed up at the ceiling lost in thought.

  Annika put a hand on his bare chest and caressed it. 'What are you thinking?' she asked.

  He looked at her and smiled gently. 'I was just wondering what it was that I have done to ever deserve this moment.'

  'Love is a prize we are given for doing nothing,' she answered. 'Only after we have it do we have to earn it.' Haldane turned to her, took her in his arms again and kissed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  'Are you ready then, Leandros?' shouted Hasapis with a grin.

  His caique was moored a few yards away from The Knot and he was standing alongside the mast with his sons on either side of him. Both boats had their bows pointed seaward.

  The Easter celebrations were in full swing and, judging by the size of the crowd which had gathered in the open space before the moorings, in Elounda at least one of the high spots of the day was to be the eagerly awaited race between the Englishman and Xenophon Hasapis.

  People had gathered there in their hundreds, men, women and children, villagers and tourists. Babis Spiridakis was among them. So was his wife, Sia, a very attractive woman in her mid-forties. They had left their own family celebration and had driven down from Heraklion to be present. It was something Babis had assured his wife that they could not possibly miss.

  Also in the foreground of the crowd was Andreas Hagieleftheris, inwardly confident, despite the odds being given around him in Hasapis' favour, that Leandros, with what he had done to the boat he had given him and being the man he was, would surely win. And he had placed 200 drachmas which he could ill afford to lose on him at one hundred to one as a mark of his confidence.

  As the seconds before the race ticked away so the air of anticipation and excitement grew among the crowd where, in the warm afternoon sunlight, the souulakia, bread and pastry vendors and balloon sellers were doing a brisk trade.

  Minds finally made up, last minute bets were made between friends and worry beads were very much in evidence among the men and being well used as an antidote for nervousness against the prospect that their owners might just have put their money on the wrong man.

  Haldane checked his boat. Nikos was in position and so was Annika who, despite his trying to argue her out of it, had insisted on making up his crew. He looked across at Hasapis and nodded.

  'Yes, I'm ready, Heracles,' he called out.

  Hasapis roared with laughter. 'Very well then,' he shouted and pointed out to sea where, some way off from the moorings, a rowing boat was riding at anchor with an old fisherman sitting in the bow. 'The rowing boat there marks the starting line. And old Georgillis is the starter. The race begins on his signal and the course is as we agreed. Yes?'

  'Yes,' called Haldane. 'From here to Spinalonga, through the channel, up the east side of the island, round the headland and back.'

  Hasapis nodded in agreement. 'And the first past Georgillis again is the winner,' he shouted. He looked up at the sail of his caique flapping gently in the north westerly breeze and then back at Haldane again. 'We have a fair wind. Good fortune, Englishman. May Poseidon be kind to us both.' He grinned broadly and teasingly. 'But take good care of my caique, uh?' At this Manolis and Costas laughed and then, on a sign from their father, prepared to put to sea.

  Stern lines were cast off, the sails of both boats were trimmed to catch the wind and the two caiques moved slowly away from the moorings and towards the starting line. Georgillis raised a handkerchief, held it high for a few seconds until the boats were both level and then dropped his arm. The race was on.

  For some distance the caiques sailed practically bow to bow. Haldane, Hasapis and their crews were alert and on their mettle to gain every possible advantage from the following wind. But then, slowly at first but with a steadily increasing lead, Hasapis pulled ahead.

  Nikos and Annika exchanged anxious looks but Haldane, his face expressionless, was intent on the helm and the set of the sails.

  Hasapis and his sons jubilated over their widening lead. And as Xenophon steered his caique into the channel between the Spinalonga peninsula and the island fortress, The Knot was lagging badly and fell even further behind as they raced up the eastern side of the island.

  On the turn for home Hasapis and his sons were confident of victory but now they were sailing into the wind and having to tack. And Manolis, glancing astern, reacted with a look of dismay and shouted to his father. With each tack Haldane's caique, with its ability to sail closer to the wind and its quicker response, was narrowing the gap between them.

  It was Annika's and Nikos's turn to be excited and encouraged now. Concentrating furiously and shouting orders which were instantly and expertly obeyed, Haldane steered the boat from one tack to another.

  Xenophon swore and his sons grew more alarmed when they saw exactly how fast The Knot was catching up with them.

  Half a mile off the finishing line the two boats were almost level on each tack but with Haldane still gaining. Helplessly, Hasapis watched as finally The Knot overtook his caique and, despite his efforts and those of his sons, their vessel was soon trailing well behind.

  To the cheers of the spectators as The Knot passed the bow of the rowing boat, Georgillis dropped his hand to signal the end of the race. It was a convincing win.

  Overjoyed, Annika and Nikos hugged one another and, for the first time since they set sail, Haldane smiled. To continuing cheers he brought The Knot bow on to the moorings and Nikos jumped ashore with a line and secure
d it. Then Haldane and Annika lowered the sail.

  Hasapis caique crossed the finishing line and also

  headed for the moorings. Xenophon and his sons were looking very subdued.

  Spiridakis was the first to congratulate Haldane and Annika as they stepped ashore. 'Well done, Leandros,' he exclaimed with a broad, happy smile. 'Such a win.' Then he looked across at the losing caique and his smile faded. He shook his head sadly. 'And for Xenophon Hasapis, such a loss,' he went on. 'For he has lost everything. Without his boat he has nothing. He is a rogue and as cunning as a fox but he is not a rich man.'

  Haldane laughed. 'You don't think I'll hold him to the bet, do you?'

  The lawyer looked at him gravely and with a hint of alarm in his expression. 'But you have to,' he said. 'Not to do so would be to dishonour him. And in public.' He appealed to Annika. 'Is that not so?'

  Annika, nodded. 'Yes. You have won, Leandros. You must take his boat as he would have taken yours.'

  As those in the forefront of the crowd surged in around them, cheering and shouting congratulations, Haldane frowned. Then the crowd parted to allow Hasapis and his sons to approach the victor. Xenophon was holding an unopened bottle of Metaxa brandy. He came face to face with the Englishman. The people around them were suddenly silent. It was the moment of settlement and a solemn one for everyone of the Cretans among the spectators was aware of the true extent of Hasapis' loss.

  Xenophon had shed little of his jauntiness and none of his dignity and pride but Manolis and Costas, while showing no resentment, were clearly very worried.

  'This Metaxa was to console you, Englishman,' said Hasapis, holding up the bottle. 'But you have no need for it. So I shall drink it myself, with my sons.' He nodded. 'You did well. I am proud to have been beaten by such a fine boat. By such a fine sailor.'

  'Thank you,' said Haldane quietly.

  'And now my caique is yours,' declared Hasapis. 'Take it. But you said that if you won it you would sell it.

  Without a boat I am nothing and I have nothing. So what do you ask for it, Leandros?'