Aphrodite's Tears

by Hannah Fielding

  ‘Thanks.’

  They were off and Oriel nestled in the brown tartan throw, sitting quietly on the far side of the seat. As they drove, the darkness in the sky dissolved as though rinsed in light. Dawn was creeping up, and she watched the advancing glow of the rising sun as it illuminated the sky in the east. Damian drove silently, hands relaxed on the wheel. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts and Oriel found herself wondering what they might be. What kind of a night had he spent? Had he just come from Yolanda’s bed that morning? She stole a look. Like the rest of him, his profile was arresting, the lines clear and well defined on his face. She noticed that his complexion was paler than the usual deep suntan, and the scar across his cheek seemed more prominent.

  ‘What are you thinking, beautiful Calypso.’ Damian’s voice broke through the stillness, taking her by surprise. He’d been so absorbed himself just now that she hadn’t felt as if he was even aware of her.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  He raised his eyes heavenwards. ‘Such a typical female answer! Why do women always say that when you ask them a question?’

  Oriel shot him a wry look. ‘I thought it was usually the other way round. Besides, isn’t it better than saying “It’s none of your business?”’

  Damian didn’t answer but his eyes briefly settled on her face. Confused suddenly, Oriel turned her gaze back to the road. She watched the beginning of the sunrise, like a lady’s delicate white finger pointing across the sky in the east. Water and countryside, which had been soaked in blue light, were now wrapped in a pinkish glow.

  ‘The dawn of a new day. Enjoy it.’ Damian’s voice was quietly husky, as though it came from a distance. Was there a double meaning in his words?

  As if he’d read Oriel’s thoughts, he reached over and took her hand. She pulled it away gently and pushed back a strand of hair that had flown across her face. Then she turned, meeting his gaze full-on. Damian was smiling and, for the first time since their argument she softened, venturing a small smile in return. ‘I intend to,’ she said slowly.

  When they arrived at the marina Damian led the way from the quay on to the wooden jetty. Oriel could see Stavros waiting for them at the far end, on the forty-four-foot yacht, Alcyone, which rocked gently on the swell. ‘Yassou, Damian. Kaliméra, Oriel,’ he said as he took the cases from Damian.

  Oriel gave him a warm smile while Damian started issuing instructions.

  ‘Yassou, Stavros. The camping gear is still in the Jeep.’

  ‘Den eínai éna próvlima, no problem. I’ll fetch it.’

  Damian swung himself lithely into the cockpit and held out a hand to help Oriel step down to join him. ‘Ela tohrah, come on.’

  White and silver, the Alcyone was a two-mast craft, small and sleek in comparison to the dive boat, Ariadne. This was no caique but the final word in compact luxury. Its name was painted in bold, black letters on the hull and it flew the blue-and-white Greek flag. There was plenty of space on the sundeck to stretch out and work up a tan, should one want to, and a canvas bimini sunshade, which could be extended over a table, was half stretched over a stainless-steel frame fastened above the cockpit. Oriel could imagine nothing nicer than relaxing in the shade on one of the orange-cushioned benches while looking out at some wonderful panorama, or dining at the handcrafted, teak folding table. Just now, it had been set for breakfast.

  Damian took Oriel below deck, where polished mahogany panelled the living area, concealing an array of sophisticated electronics, including a music centre and a hidden bar. Overhead was a square Art Deco ceiling and on the walls were lamps with brass fittings. Glass-fronted cases of leatherbound books graced the walls behind the built-in sofas, which were set in a semi-horseshoe shape on each side of the saloon. A table stood in front of one of the sofas with two stools tightly fixed to the floor, creating a comfortable dining area for four. There was a kitchen in one corner that seemed, from Oriel’s cursory glance, to be equipped with all the facilities required for modern cuisine. The room had been well thought-out, with no waste of space, and it was neat, functional and elegant.

  The soft furnishings in shades of brown, gold and beige felt masculine in their conception, and the interior even smelt pleasantly of leather and fresh tobacco – warm and sensual – which she immediately associated with Damian’s personality.

  Oriel couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s beautiful. But I thought that we were going on an archaeological expedition, not a luxury cruise.’

  ‘True, but there’s no reason why we can’t make the journey in comfort, eh?’ His grey eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘Besides, this boat has a nice shallow draft, which will allow us to explore the waters close to Delos,’ he explained. ‘That part of the Ionian is full of fascinating sites under the sea. You never know what you might stumble upon.’

  There were two cabins, Oriel was relieved to note, each one tastefully furnished in the same neutral, masculine colours, with a double bed, dressing table and an en suite bathroom. It meant that if they had to spend a night on the boat, she would be able to shut herself away from Damian’s male scrutiny. Inside, she smiled at the irony: the night before he had told her to lock her door against the men at the staff house and tonight she would be locking her door against him.

  Stavros returned with the camping equipment, which he handed to Oriel. ‘There’s freshly baked bread and pastries in the warming oven,’ he said as he untied the rope and tossed it to Damian. ‘You’ll find plenty of figs and apricots in the fridge. Have a good journey. Don’t worry about the excavation here, I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘The people from the Ministry of Culture are coming to inspect the wreck site some time after the weekend, so we wouldn’t have dived it before then anyway,’ said Damian. ‘But yes, do keep an eye on the team at the temple site. With Vassilis away, they’ll need overseeing.’

  Stavros raised a hand and nodded as Damian coiled the rope neatly before manoeuvring the yacht away from the shore. ‘Efharisto, Stavros. See you soon.’

  The yacht set off, out of Helios’s harbour, trailing foam just as the sun was coming up behind the horizon.

  ‘If you’d like to stand next to the mast, you’ll need to wear a harness as there are only two of us on board. In open water it’s either the cockpit or being tied on, né?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I am quite aware of the rudimentaries of sailing,’ Oriel replied, a little miffed at his patronizing tone. Her evident irritation was met with a mischievous grin from Damian, as though he enjoyed seeing her nettled. While he went astern to the self-steering device fixed to the rudder, Oriel leaned into the comfortable cushions in the cockpit under the bimini and looked back at Helios as it diminished slowly into the distance.

  Once they were out at sea Damian turned round and signalled to her, ‘Éla, Calypso. Come and feel the rays of the early sun on your face and the wind in your hair, agápi mou. You’ll have a much better view of paradise from here.’

  He looked formidable gripping the great wheel of his boat, strong legs braced against the deck, bathed in the glory of the sunrise. Even from the back, with his wide shoulders outlined against the dramatic sky, he appeared to Oriel a striking and masterful figure: haughty, almost unreachable, at one with the grandeur of nature in surroundings that suited him well. Apollo, the audacious god from whom no virgin was safe, came to mind. Oriel hadn’t known that the silent physical presence of a man could be so overwhelming. Still, despite this apparent self-sufficiency, Damian carried an aura of loneliness as he stood there guiding his craft through the waters and her heart ached for this man, whom she hardly knew and yet with whom she had enjoyed such rapturous intimacy.

  Oriel looked down at the sea, sparkling and dancing around the boat, feeling its restless buoyancy suddenly thrill through her veins. Her pulse quickened at Damian’s invitation, although warning lights flashed amber. The idea of standing so close to him right now made her acutely nervous, even though that was the very thing she wanted to do. ‘Maybe I should go downsta
irs and make us a cup of coffee.’

  He looked at her speculatively over his shoulder. ‘Once we’re in open water I’ll set up the self-steering and we’ll settle down for breakfast. It won’t be long now. Éla matia mou, come here.’

  Oriel went on looking at the water. She didn’t want him to perceive the internal battle she was having with herself. ‘I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.’

  Damian shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. Have you ever handled a boat?’

  ‘I’ve taken the wheel sometimes but I can’t say I’m an expert, or that I’d be able to hold my own in a strong wind.’

  His eyes glinted. ‘I can teach you.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but maybe not today.’

  Oriel waited for Damian to comment but he didn’t. She turned away from him and they didn’t talk for a while, soaking in the beauty of the hour, each absorbed in their own thoughts, the silence sympathetic to their mood. The sun was climbing into the heavens, its golden rays shining directly upon the water, beams diffusing themselves over the vista with a dense, coppery hue. The light grew brighter now, glowing on the ancient villages that clung to wooded slopes that clambered their way up into the jagged mountain peaks. It was like a flamboyant painting, with the sparkling Ionian, the olive-groves, a burning sun and a sky of illimitable blue.

  Soon the coast became barer and more arid. The last of the islands, which lined the corridor between Helios and Delos like ancestral totems, was now vanishing into the distance. They had left behind all evidence of human habitation and now there was nothing but sea to look upon. They were going swiftly now, the water rushing along the sides of the boat.

  Oriel’s breath caught in her throat as, suddenly, Damian loomed large beside her. Before she could protest he had put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her to his side. ‘Deíte! Look!’ he said, pointing ahead at the water. Two dolphins danced through the wavelets at the bow. They were quite close and she watched, fascinated, as they leapt out of the water in curves of inimitable grace. Dolphins dancing over an azure sea! It was a childhood dream come true.

  ‘How beautiful,’ she murmured.

  ‘Shall we have breakfast? I’ve put the boat on autopilot.’

  ‘Oh yes, please, I’d really welcome a cup of coffee.’ She became aware of his hand on her shoulder and through her shirt the heat of his torso next to her breast flooded her with warmth. ‘Are you sure you can leave the wheel unattended?’

  ‘Don’t worry, the sea’s calm and we’ll have our breakfast up here where I can keep a weather eye on it. You don’t need to come down, stay and enjoy the view. I can manage on my own. I won’t be long.’ Damian half bent towards her then, seeing Oriel tense suddenly, he drew back. There was a momentary tightening of his jaw then he went below deck.

  The air was still bracing and cold but the sun shone from a cloudless sky. The sea was as smooth as an ornamental lake and Oriel’s eyes travelled the far horizon from east to west, slowly surveying the limitless expanse of water that glittered like a carpet of diamonds. She tried to concentrate on the view but it was hard to focus on anything when she was so aware of being alone on the vast sea, with an intensely disturbing man who did strange things to her body and mind. All at once she felt helpless: there was only one way this could end. Her head was heavy and yet light, and inside her every nerve quivered, humming with tension. Was that what she wanted? Oriel felt as uncertain as if she were standing at the edge of a high precipice and was being dared by fate to leap off.

  Within a few moments Damian returned with a tray laden with a coffee pot, a bowl of fruit and two dishes: one piled high with several varieties of mouth-watering Greek pastries, the other with warm rolls and croissants. He placed everything on the table, where chilled butter and milk, sugar and an array of jams had already been set.

  Oriel smiled and gave him a quizzical look. ‘Croissants?’

  ‘Just in case you aren’t fond of our national pastries. Some people find them too sweet.’

  Damian sat down opposite her under the canvas awning and chose a fig from the fruit bowl. He set about peeling it before offering it to Oriel. ‘The fig is a legendary tree. Volumes could be written about the stories and superstitions surrounding it.’

  She took the fruit from him and bit into it. ‘Thank you, these are really delicious. They taste like honeydew, and they’re so much smaller and sweeter than the ones I’ve had before.’

  ‘I’m glad you like my figs. They’re called St Anthony. I brought the seeds back from Italy one year. It’s the variety we keep for ourselves at Heliades.’

  Oriel helped herself to another. ‘I love figs but it’s rare to find them in shops in England.’

  ‘Fig trees are everywhere in Greece. Did you know that they’re associated with Dionysus? According to Plutarch, a basket of figs was always carried in any procession that honoured him. And I bet you didn’t know, the wood of the fig-tree was invariably used for statues of Priapus and his sacred phallus.’

  Hearing the amusement in Damian’s voice, Oriel steadfastly refused to meet his eye. Typical that he should allude in one breath to a god associated with drunkenness and a satyr who symbolized sexual desire. Eyes down, with a blush rising in her cheeks, she fought the flames Damian was trying to ignite. He really is one-track minded.

  She felt his eyes intently upon her, as if reading her mind, though his voice was even as he went on. ‘The fig tree is a lover of men. That is why we foster it. Besides food, it gives us shade and, when the leaves fall in winter, it allows the sunlight to percolate into our rooms. You’ll never find evergreen trees planted near our windows. We know the value of sunshine. Ópou o ílios baínei o giatrós den títhetai, where the sun enters, the physician does not, we say in Greece.’

  This short lecture had given Oriel time to recover from his mischievous teasing. She decided to change the subject before he had a chance to get on to Adam and Eve covering themselves with fig leaves – she didn’t need to be reminded of the foolishness of tasting forbidden fruit.

  ‘What’s the plan? Where exactly are we heading?’ Oriel asked him.

  ‘We won’t be able to make Delos tonight, so I thought we’d stop for the night at Milos. It’s seventy-three nautical miles from here. We’ll anchor in the bay of Kleftico. It’s beautiful and its sandy beach isn’t accessible from land.’

  ‘I’ve heard it’s called Bandit’s Lair. Was it a smugglers’ den?’

  ‘Yes, in the old days it served as a hideout for the pirates of Capsis and Barbarossa. With any luck, we’ll be there by eight or nine tonight.’

  ‘Aren’t you being a bit ambitious? There’s almost no wind at the moment.’

  Damian shrugged. ‘Dhen Peerahzee, never mind. If the worse comes to the worst, we’ll use the engine. Not as romantic, I admit. Then the next day we should reach Delos by evening. We’ll camp that night. We’ve got sleeping bags with us. I’m afraid you might have to rough it for a couple of nights.’

  ‘I’m not worried about that, I’ve roughed it before. I’m more concerned with the sailing part of it. Aren’t the waters around the Cycladic Islands meant to be dangerous? Can you handle the boat if it gets really choppy? You’ll be pretty much single-handed.’

  Damian burst out laughing and shook his head. ‘Gynaíka oligopistos, woman of little faith, you really don’t trust me, eh? Sou eeposkhomay, I promise that you have nothing to worry about. I’ve sailed these waters many times, and with smaller and less powerful boats. True, the Cyclades attract their fair share of rough weather now and then, when conditions can be really bad, but that’s mostly when the meltémi blows, or when we feel the aftereffects of an earth tremor somewhere near Kythira. I’ve studied the weather forecast and it looks fine.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘Reassured now?’

  Oriel remembered now that Mattias had told her that after his breakup with Yolanda, Damian had spent a year sailing around the Mediterranean. She laughed, feeling a little foolish. ‘That’s good. Yes, of course, totally reassured �
�’

  ‘Look, if I felt for one minute that I was putting your life in danger I would never have suggested you accompany me on this expedition.’ His mouth quirked with amusement as he poured himself a second cup of coffee and lit a cigarette. ‘There are plenty of other ways I could engineer time alone with you if I so chose.’

  Oriel silently took a mouthful of her coffee. All of a sudden she felt like a nervous horse, ready to bolt, but there was nowhere to run to on the sailboat so she would have to stay calm. She returned to safer, more impersonal ground. ‘Tell me about Delos. I’ve always wanted to go but I never got round to it that student year I worked in Greece.’

  ‘Tourists are allowed on the island but where they can go is limited. It’s of great value to the entire world, not just to Greece, because of its vast array of archaeological finds. UNESCO has made sure that the sites and ruins are protected from harm.’

  ‘I thought getting permission to stay there overnight was almost impossible, especially as all food and provisions have to be shipped in. No one actually lives there, do they?’

  ‘Only those who work on the sites. As archaeologists, they’ve issued us with a pass. Don’t worry, agápi mou,’ Damian smiled, eyes twinkling, ‘if we’re short of food we can always dive for our dinner.’

  Oriel shot him a quizzical look. ‘I thought you just said you weren’t allowed to fish around Delos.’

  Damian burst out laughing. ‘Touché! You are too quick for me, koukla mou.’ He drained his cup and stubbed out his cigarette before rising from the table. ‘Right, let me see to the sails. As soon as we’re on an even course I’ll engage the auto-helm and then we can talk.’

  ‘Can I help at all?’

  ‘Oyhee efharisto, no, I don’t need help. Technology is so advanced in these boats nowadays that almost everything is done with the press of a button. Come, I’ll show you.’

  Oriel joined Damian at the wheel and he began to point out the features of the boat’s autopilot system. The faintly musky masculine scent of his body and the warm air caressing her neck from his breath as he leaned close to her to explain what he was doing made her feel strangely dizzy, and she shivered involuntarily.