1 The Assassins' Village

by Faith Mortimer

  His derision gave her a wild strength. She grabbed at his shirt between both hands as he spun her round. Alicia went with the spin until they had almost come round full circle…then released her hold on him and… pushed.

  Afterwards, Alicia recalled it was almost like watching in slow motion. Leslie took an involuntary step backwards. He wobbled. The edge of the cliff crumbled under his feet, bushes scratched at his legs. Leslie’s mouth opened in surprise and then alarm. He tried to regain his balance; his arms frantically cartwheeled as slowly, he toppled backwards. He gave a short bellow of fear. ‘NO!’

  After the loosened earth and stones had stopped falling there was a silence.

  Taking a tentative step forward, Alicia peered down over the cliff edge. Leslie was spread-eagled on his back, almost hidden in thick acacia bushes. She heard a low moan of pain. He was alive then.

  ‘Alicia, I – I can’t move. My leg-’

  She knew that if she wanted the book – and she did, then she would have to go and get it.

  ‘Hang on! I’ll come down.’

  Finding a safe way down wasn’t easy. The soft earth around the rim gave way at the slightest touch from her feet. Heart thudding, Alicia knew she could end up falling herself if she wasn’t careful.

  Eventually, Alicia found a narrow steep path leading down to where Leslie lay. Slinging her leather bag over her shoulder and across her chest she made her way down, half scrambling, half sliding.

  Reaching the bottom of the cliff overhang Alicia took a look around her. Long ago the levelled ground would have been cleared and cultivated; this plot had been left unattended for many years and she picked her way through the ruderal plants. Thorny bushes attacked her clothes and skin with their vicious barbs.

  Nearing the thicket concealing him she called out. There was no answer. Grimly, she approached, not knowing what she might find. Her eyes darted around as she sought the book.

  ‘Leslie? Leslie are you all right?’

  He neither answered nor moved.

  ‘Wake up!’

  With trepidation she moved closer and studied his bleeding face. He was scratched; probably from the jagged rocks and thorn bush scattered all around. His leg was bent at an impossible angle. His eyes were shut, unconscious or -?

  A delicious shudder ran through her at the thought. Perhaps he was already dead.

  That would make everything much easier.

  Chapter 20. That same Sunday

  Let every man be master of his time.

  Macbeth. Act 3 Scene 1

  Alone, up on his balcony, Tony was intrigued. Watching Leslie saunter off on one of his walks made him curious; it wasn’t Leslie’s usual time for a stroll. Barely ten minutes later, a troubled but determined looking Alicia had marched along that same track. Checking back a snigger, Tony guessed she wasn’t going weed gathering by the furious pace she had set herself.

  Aha! It looks like Alicia is hurrying to catch Leslie up. Now why would that be? Could they be rekindling their old carnal lust for each other? Or had they never stopped meeting and just how did the old goat do it? What special method did he have; he was rarely without a lover of some sort. Lucky, randy old sod, Tony was filled with envy. It had been some time since he’d enjoyed a woman.

  All the same it would be good to find out what they were up to. He might learn something to his advantage. Failing that it could be fascinating to watch. He laughed at the thought of Leslie banging away at Alicia, watching illicit sex never failed to arouse him.

  Pushing aside his earlier thoughts of his special ‘DVDs, he clattered down his stairs. Pausing only to grab a grubby straw hat and cram it down onto his head, he threw open his front door and stepped outside into the lane.

  After the relative cool of his house, the full heat of the day hit him like a brick wall. It was almost tangible, and he felt as if every drop of moisture was slowly being sucked out of his body. With his usual loathsome slothfulness, he nearly decided to turn back and forget about Alicia and Leslie. But, something compelled him to follow her; and it wasn’t just the thought of sex.

  Tony puffed along the track away from the village, intent on following Alicia. She had been walking at a fair lick, and cursing out loud he knew he had to be quick to catch up with her. Before long he’d rounded a series of bends in the track and was hidden away from the eyes of any villager gazing down from Pano (upper) Agios Mamas.

  Out of condition, within minutes sweat had broken out on his top lip and brow; already he felt a slow trickle running down his back. He mopped away the stinging salt as it ran into his eyes. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Will it be worth it? He glanced at his wristwatch; he mustn’t forget lunch at the village taverna. Today promised a good party with all the regulars. He was just about okay for time. God, but that woman was really shifting, she knew how to set a pace. She must be eager. Who would have thought it? She looked more like the type who would play the organ in church.

  Ten minutes after he’d left the village and by now he was feeling unwell. This had better be worth it, if only he caught them at it. Oh boy! He would really have ammunition to fire back at Leslie. And Alicia too. Just lately, she seemed to take great joy in making him feel like a useless worm when rejecting his plays, one after another. Malicious, calculating old witch!

  Stopping for a quick rest and to catch his breath; he developed a stitch. The path was levelling off. She couldn’t be that far ahead now. Sweat was pouring from him, and his heart was pounding like mad. Tony could swear he felt the odd palpitation or two. Perhaps he should go back, he was feeling so sick and light-headed and stupid! What on earth made him decide to follow her? Deciding he’d take a proper rest before venturing back to the village, Tony staggered in the direction of a shady tree just ahead of him. He took the last few tottering steps towards it, and stopped. Noises, grunts and a strange mewling sound came from behind the large rock in front of him. What the hell?

  He understood what he’d heard. Good God! They were at it already! Almost laughing he tiptoed forward. His earlier discomfort forgotten and licking his tongue lasciviously around his lips Tony edged closer to the sandstone protrusion.

  Voyeurism had always been his favourite pastime, in any shape or form. From DVDs mailed to him from Germany, to visiting sex clubs in Thailand, Eastern Europe, Brazil and Africa. He never considered that he hurt anyone with his particular pastime, despite his patronage. The only time he’d experienced a near brush with the law was when he was caught with an underage Ukrainian girl. Inexplicably, Leslie found out and used it to his monetary advantage. Tony loathed him after that.

  Now with any luck, Tony was to get his own revenge. What could be more squalid and satisfying, than spying on your worst enemy rutting with the local witch out in the open? It was almost laughable. Regaining his breath and keeping it under control, Tony approached the rock.

  Taking great pains to be quiet, he positioned himself behind the rock and crouched down using the cover from a bush. He stole a peek. Fascinated, he followed the course of Leslie’s muscular buttocks as they moved between Alicia’s thighs. He was still an old randy goat then.

  All too soon, Tony’s free show was over. Feeling satisfied but uncomfortable in his hiding place he now longed to stretch out his legs. He dared not move out into the open track, as they’d eventually wander there themselves. For now Tony was trapped. Tony was wondering how long he’d have to remain hidden, when his attention was captured as he overheard their conversation.

  Rapt, and despite his cramped legs, Tony stayed where he was, listening to every one of Alicia’s bitter words and Leslie’s malicious taunting. Open-mouthed, he watched Alicia fly for Leslie’s face with her outstretched talons; their pulling and shoving one another at the cliff’s edge. With a shocking thrill that almost made him cry out, Tony witnessed Alicia give Leslie a violent push and his subsequent topple over the rim. With a jolt Tony realised what she had done.

  Was she totally mad? Had it been an accident? No.
It was deliberate. She knew of their dangerous position at the cliff’s edge and she had taken advantage of it. Alicia pushed him over.

  His thighs trembling from his crouched position, Tony discovered he couldn’t move. Some part of his brain told him to stay where he was and to hold his tongue. Better not to let her know he was there and that he’d witnessed everything. Tony had to think and quickly. Feeling a little queasy – she had looked quite mad; he couldn’t believe she possessed the strength to push Leslie away from her. But, wasn’t it common knowledge that the insane often had added strength when they needed it? What would she do to him if she discovered him there? Tony shivered; his bladder sphincter gave a violent spasm. He was a natural born coward at heart and easily frightened. Staying where he was and hardly daring to breathe, he listened intently to the brief exchange between them. Leslie wasn’t dead then. He could hear his querulous voice; something about his leg, he thought.

  Tony understood Alicia clearly as she told Leslie she was coming down. Tony waited, listening to her footsteps scuff away in the dirt. Risking a surreptitious look he watched Alicia searching the track for a path of some sort down to Leslie. Eventually, she disappeared from view and feeling relieved, Tony crawled out from behind his bush and rock. His legs and hands were shaking as he straightened up and he decided to risk a peek over the cliff edge. Gingerly, he peered down at the scene below him. Leslie was barely discernible and Alicia was some way off. She appeared to be hunting for something in the bushes.

  Now is my chance to get out of here, Tony said to himself, half relieved, half in panic. If I sneak away now, she’ll never need to know I was here at all. Best of all, she can sort out that old sod Leslie. It was her doing, her mess. Besides, I’d never make it down the cliff, it’s far too dangerous for a man my size.

  Giving another glance to his watch he realised it would soon be lunchtime and he was going to be late. The thought gave added speed to his legs. Despite everything he’d witnessed Tony was looking forward to a good Cyprus mezes with a bottle or two of cold lager followed by a crisp white wine. Without waiting to brush the dirt off his knees, Tony turned back for a last look over the cliff edge. He could no longer hear Leslie’s voice. What was she hunting for?

  He paused undecided. Should he go down for a proper look at the old bastard?

  Chapter 21. Sunday midday

  Thriftless ambition that wilt ravin up thine own life’s means!

  Macbeth. Act 2 Scene 4

  Shouldering his gun, Kristiakis whistled his pointer back to him. It had been a waste of time shooting today. It was far too hot and nothing moved in the thick cloying heat of the valley. The one hare he had shot, he never found. His latest gun dog was failing to live up to its initial promise. The dog ran to him, tail wagging and tongue lolling. In temper, Kristiakis gave a well-aimed kick with his boot at its thin ribs. The dog yelped in pain and dodged aside as another blow came his way. Kristiakis turned a deaf ear to its whimpering. Perhaps it was time he fulfilled the time-honoured custom of his family and took the dog further afield in his pickup truck and dumped it. Let it find its own food; he wasn’t going to waste his money feeding it. If it lived, it lived. At least he’d given it a chance by not killing it directly.

  Mind made up, Kristiakis paused to light another cigarette. He’d have to be careful of the spent butt; the bush was as dry as tinder. There had been too many fires again this year. Some people were not careful enough. He recalled the story doing the rounds in the Kafenio. A Cypriot from town took a fully-lit barbeque in the back of his pick-up into the hills of the Troodos Mountains. Blithely driving further up the road, ash and sparks flying from his truck, he set alight nearby bushes along his past route. And it wasn’t his fault he’d complained! It was the wind that had come snaking down the valley, causing the sparks to glow and ignite the bone-dry tinder. The fire brigade had had a frustrating day putting out the many fires he’d caused. Complete thoughtlessness.

  Turning, Kristiakis retraced his footsteps back up onto the track some way above him. His body was fit and lean, well used to traipsing over the hilly countryside and he climbed with ease. Covering the ground, his mind turned to other matters.

  Yanoulla had become a problem. Sex with her was all right; well more than all right if he was honest. She had learnt some interesting things when she was younger. And that was the problem. She was not getting any younger.

  But take Marina. Now, she was a stunning woman. Proud, a fabulous body, marvellous tits and good looks to match; and with her quick mind she was proving to be a real handful. But, Kristiakis knew that once he had gentled, controlled, and shown her that the Cypriot man is the boss, and then suffice to say, he would have less sleepless nights and days thinking about her. He sighed; he would have to be patient. Eventually, Marina would give in and become his for every sweet night. She made him go hot all over just thinking about her.

  A movement on the track above him caught his attention. Narrowing his eyes against the sun’s glare he thought it looked like that bastard, Leslie, and there was no mistaking the flaming red-hair of the Irish woman, Alicia. Ha! So that affair was back on was it? But why did they have to do it here in the open? Had they no thought of propriety? If he could see, then who else could happen upon them?

  Kristiakis did wonder, what Leslie saw in the witch anyway? Alicia had given him the eye a few times, but Kristiakis never took her advances seriously. When he had first given her a hand moving an old heavy wardrobe Alicia had given him the come on. Sex with her had been different. Despite Alicia’s looks and strange dress sense, she acted like a vixen on heat in bed. Kristiakis visited her house irregularly over the years. Although he was happy for a quick romp on the double bed upstairs she was not his type, and he laughed off any deeper entanglements. She was another easy foreign woman.

  He shook his dark head in puzzlement; he would never understand the British. Not that he wanted to. His thinking was narrow and not shared by all Cypriots. Kristiakis wished they and the other foreigners would all pack up and go home. Cyprus did not need their investments. If only the politicians could agree and persuade Greece to join with them. Ah! Eonosis! What a magnificent Nation they would be then.

  His musings came to a halt as the pair above him began to shout. He could hear quite easily the shrillness of Alicia’s voice as she shrieked at Leslie, and how his deeper voice laughed at her outburst.

  Kristiakis watched with some bemusement as the two circled round each other hurling their accusations. He didn’t understand half what they said but their posture was unmistakable. In the middle of this furious row Alicia suddenly lunged towards Leslie. Kristiakis was stunned. He stood open-mouthed watching Leslie flail his arms and tumble backwards over the cliff edge. He blinked at the speed with which it had happened. No! His eyes had not deceived him.

  Alicia had pushed Leslie. Shocked, Kristiakis realised what he’d witnessed. Did she mean to push him? He felt certain that she had.

  Running his tongue over dry lips excited thoughts were racing through his mind. Was Leslie okay? He could be injured; lying crumpled amongst the rocks and thorny bushes. Or perhaps he was dead. A fall like that could kill anyone. Kristiakis had a sudden nasty thought. He remembered far back in his past history with Leslie. ‘It serves you right!’ he wanted to shout. His inner voice said. ‘Have you no conscience?’ No’, he answered.

  He was torn. Should he go and see; perhaps help, raise the alarm. Was it his business or just an argument between the two Angllia.

  Hesitating, he wondered what to do. A movement on the top of the cliff caught his attention. A hidden figure rose from alongside the rock. Fat Tony! Well! Well! Today is full of drama and surprises. And just what is he doing there? As far as Kristiakis could recall Tony never walked anywhere.

  Kristiakis rightly assumed Tony was not involved in the fight and he saw his way out. With Tony being there it let him off the hook; another Britisher to help the skinny woman. Kristiakis could creep away without dirtying his hands. He
called softly to the dog and together they began to ascend the hill once again. Then he paused. First he wanted to get a clear look at Leslie, ascertain if he was still alive. Then, he could make a decision on what to do.

  ~~~

  Rolling over onto her side, Antigone stood up. Her coarse skirt was dusty from where she’d lain, but as usual she didn’t notice. Instead she picked up her stick and bag and pondered what to do next. Antigone had seen everything from her vantage point higher up the slope. With her detachment from society she had the furtiveness of a cat. Moreover, this reserve often made her seem invisible, when in fact she missed nothing.

  Antigone watched with a strange interest. Especially Leslie, waiting round the corner after he’d espied Alicia gaining on him. She witnessed their almost violent sexual encounter with a hard cold heart. When they fought and Alicia pushed Leslie over, she knew Leslie was destined never to walk up the track again.

  Turning everything slowly over in her mind, she was surprised but not shocked by the reactions of Tony and Alicia.

  When they finally left the scene she followed every move that her older brother made with a chilling look in her eyes.

  Chapter 22. Tuesday 31st August

  Dire combustion and confused events, new hatched to the woeful time.

  Macbeth. Act 2 Scene3

  Life in the village took on an almost surreal feeling. Gathering in the coffee shops, the village men talked about nothing else, whilst sipping their tiny cups of thick bitter coffee. The tavli sets stayed in their boxes and unexercised dogs lounged around their masters’ feet in the shade.

  The women in their customary black, stood around like groups of chattering magpies retelling the story again and again. Undoubtedly they were shocked; nothing like this ever happened in the villages, in the towns maybe, but never up here. Whatever must God be thinking of? Why did it happen? They hurriedly crossed themselves and looked over their shoulders superstitiously. They cackled and squawked, and then departed back to their houses and telephones, spreading the news in almost ghoulish fashion.