‘But where is Kyrios Lekkas? And why am I here on Paxi?’ Oriel asked.
‘The Kyrios will be back this evening,’ the maid replied. ‘Oh yiatros eepeh, the doctor said you needed a change of air. Helios is not a healthy place at the moment, the air is still full of dust and ash.’
Oriel looked at her doubtfully. ‘Did the Kyrios leave a note for me?’
Irini smiled at her, a mischievous glint in the depths of her dark eyes. ‘No, Despinis, but before leaving he prepared you this dish which he said to keep in the warming oven until you woke up. You haven’t eaten for many days and the Kyrios thought that today you would feel much better because your fever broke during the night.’ She placed a tray in front of Oriel. ‘The Kyrios also said that it is a breakfast dish very similar to the one you eat in your country … po … po … por something.’
Oriel laughed, a little reassured. That sounded just like Damian. ‘Ah yes, porridge.’
‘That’s it poreedge! This is a Greek version of your poreedge, called kykeon. The Kyrios made it himself with semolina and a white cheese that we make on Helios, mixed with eggs and honey.’
‘Efharisto, Irini, this looks great, and I am hungry this morning.’
There were so many questions going round in Oriel’s mind. She had a vague recollection of what had happened after Damian had found her and she was aware that disaster had struck the island, but she wanted to know more.
As the maid turned and was preparing to go, Oriel called out to her. ‘Irini, has there been much damage on the island? I remember now there’s been an earthquake and the volcano erupted, didn’t it?’
‘Né.’
‘It seemed so sudden.’
The maid shrugged and made a moue. ‘Poios xérei, who knows? My cousin who lives quite close to Typhoeus says he heard a moaning coming from the depths of the volcano. And he’s not the only one. It’s the spirits of our ancestors and the souls of those who perished long ago when the volcano destroyed the island. They were trying to warn us, you see.’
Oriel thought of the Oracle’s predictions. Maybe, after all, there was something in what most people dismissed as mumbo jumbo.
‘It could have been worse,’ Irini went on. ‘Efharisto ton Theó, thank you, God. But we’ve lost two from Heliades. Beshir was found at the bottom of a cliff and …’ Irini paused, eyeing Oriel carefully. ‘Did the Kyrios not tell you?’
‘Tell me what?’ she asked, apprehensive suddenly.
Irini looked stricken, clearly torn between the desire to tell and concern that her master might be angry if she did. She hesitated then spoke, crossing herself. ‘His cousin, Kyria Helena, may God rest her soul, died too.’
Oriel’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh no! How did it happen?’
‘She was out with Marika. The earthquake caught them by surprise and while they were trying to get back to Heliades, a tree fell on her. The Kyrios was there when she died. In fact, that’s where he is now: at his cousin’s funeral.’
‘Oh no … I must go to him!’ Oriel cried, setting aside the breakfast tray, throwing her covers off and attempting to get out of bed. But the room soon shifted in front of her eyes and she fell back against the pillows.
‘Ochi, ochi parakaló, no, no, please, the Kyrios will be very cross with me,’ the maid exclaimed. ‘You are still very weak. He gave strict instructions that no one should talk to you about the casualties on the island or about anything that happened.’ Irini’s eyes were wide with alarm.
‘But I can’t just sit here …’
‘Parakalό, please be reasonable, Despinis. Up until yesterday you were still running a fever. You have eaten nothing for days but some spoonfuls of broth. You will collapse and we’ll all be in trouble. The Kyrios will be coming back soon and I have already said too much.’ Irini smoothed the covers over her and moved the tray back on to her lap. ‘Eat your breakfast that the Kyrios prepared especially for you.’
Oriel sat back and began to eat her porridge.
Irini smiled. ‘That’s better.’
‘I know you’re not meant to unsettle me with talk of the disaster but there is something I want to know: what happened to Yorgos? I didn’t see him among the men that rescued me, but maybe I was in too bad a shape to notice all the people around me.’
‘O kakós ánthropos! The bad man!’ Irini exclaimed, shaking her head disapprovingly. ‘Crates of olive oil were found by the dogs in one of the caves. Apparently there was oil running down the main tunnel. Yorgos and Kyria Yolanda were caught trying to board Kyria Yolanda’s yacht. He had a suitcase full of dollars. As the saints are my witnesses, he was stealing from the Kyrios.’
‘How did they know it was him?’ asked Oriel.
‘I think the police were asked to put a watch on him. Or maybe one of Yorgos’s gang gave the game away,’ Irini explained. ‘Whatever it was, they managed to seize him before he got away in the chaos of the earthquake.’
Oriel shuddered. ‘Thank goodness they got him,’ she almost whispered.
‘Poor Despinis! You must have suffered a lot. Though you were delirious and your thoughts were confused, you spoke about what happened to you. The police already suspected Yorgos had a hand in your disappearance. When they caught him at the port, at first he denied it but he admitted it in the end.’
‘It was a horrible nightmare. I’m happy he was caught. Was Yolanda aware of her brother’s dealings?’
Irini shook her head doubtfully. ‘Though I think they suspected her too, the police couldn’t charge her because they had no proof.’
Oriel smiled ruefully to herself. She’d had proof for a while – the square sapphire earring with diamond surround – but it had become lost in the rubble and dust where she would leave it to lie, like sleeping dogs.
‘After her brother was arrested, Yolanda left the island.’ The maid paused and then asked: ‘Do you need anything more?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll get up in a bit and go for a walk outside.’
‘The grounds are huge. You won’t need to leave the property,’ Irini warned. ‘If you need me, just ring the bell. It’s next to your bed.’
‘Efharisto, Irini.’
The maid paused at the door and looked back at Oriel with a knowing smile. ‘Forgive me if I speak out of turn but the Kyrios seems a different man. Despite all that has happened … his many troubles and sleepless nights… his face is serene and his heart is warm. Up until now he may have been luckier than his neighbours, with riches and women at his feet, and I’m sure many envied him, but he still was not happy. We who see him every day know that. Something has changed him … it is you, Despinis.’
‘It’s very sweet of you to say that, Irini.’ Oriel looked warmly at the maid, who said no more, and merely nodded with a smile and was gone.
Once Irini had left the room Oriel finished her breakfast quickly – she quite liked this sweeter, smoother Greek version of porridge. She drank two cups of coffee, too. The hot brew revived her somewhat and she was able to climb out of bed. She thought of poor Helena. Although Damian’s cousin had tried to harm her, Oriel found that she harboured no ill feelings towards the invalid. How could she when the poor woman had had a miserable life, and an equally miserable death? No one deserved that.
Oriel went on to the veranda outside her bedroom, which looked out on to the bright green turf of the lawn that stretched along the back of the house. She could see fields of scarlet poppies edged with olives, cyclamen growing wild, hills brushed with myrtle and the holly-like ilex to the east. To the west, cypresses speared up blackly out of the silver-green groves and villas were arboured with green pelmets of grape leaves.
Beyond, the turquoise Ionian Sea lay calm as a mirror bordered by sandy beaches; nearer to her, in the grounds of the house, a fountain splashed through its centrepiece of copper turtles. Green ramblers with purple flowers were growing up the sides of the granite terrace walls at the side of the house. The scenery was too stunning for words. What was this par
adise Damian had brought her to? She must go down to explore it.
She went to the bathroom and took off her nightdress before stepping into the shower. As memories of her ordeal came flooding back, Oriel scrubbed herself from head to toe, eager to eradicate any residue of the experience, almost as if the hideous smell of the dank cave might still be stuck to her skin. Other memories also crowded her mind: recollections of the day she had arrived, of her first dinners with Damian, of their lovemaking, the Epiklisi festival and the islanders, of Mattias, the wise fisherman. She hoped that he had come to no harm. His son, Elias, she knew, was one of the men who had rescued her with Damian, but then her thoughts turned to Helena, who was now dead … Poor beautiful, crippled Helena.
After she had stepped out of the shower, Oriel studied herself in the mirror. Her hair, newly washed, was soft and shining but her face, innocent of make-up of any kind, looked suddenly pale and oddly naked. When she applied a hint of lipstick and blush it looked hard and too bright so she wiped it off and decided to leave well alone.
She found her clothes, which must have been brought from the staff house, nicely tidied away in the cupboard and drawers. Oriel glanced at her watch, it was only late afternoon – Irini had said that Damian would be back in the evening. She had time to explore the garden.
It was glorious outside. Oriel gazed back at the glistening white façade of the villa, built of Parian marble. It was pure Renaissance in style and yet there was something ancient about the site; perhaps a Greek temple had once looked out across these groves on the one side and the sea on the other. At the back the incline was sharp and a stone balustrade ran along the bluff, protecting the property from the steep two-hundred-metre drop to the bottom of the cliff. Now, as she looked down upon the Ionian Sea in the late afternoon, the waters displayed a different set of colours – stripes of Parisian blue and amethyst – than those she had perceived earlier from her window. In the distance, small boats drifted to and fro on the undulating sea. Oriel felt light-hearted. It was odd how quickly she had recovered her spirits.
She found an old swing hanging from a big plane tree next to the ground-floor terrace. Oriel hadn’t been on a swing since she was eight years old and now she sat on the rough wooden seat and kicked off jubilantly. The feeling was marvellous and she closed her eyes and swung higher and higher, thoroughly enjoying the sensation, until the sun started to slip down and Irini called out to her to say that Damian was on his way.
* * *
The night was still and calm and the scents of the island filled the air: the mingled fragrances of earth and trees and salt, iodine and sea. A magical summer’s night. The frogs in the creek that ran through the garden at the back of the house were setting up their nightly chorus and a large, hot moon glowed in the dark bowl of the sky overhead, blanching the pale olive grove. With the added sprinkling of iridescent stars, the firmament resembled a sparkling velvet coat. Oriel had always felt that these bright pinpoints seemed to know that the beautiful land they looked over had once been a sacred country, and now they shone with a thousand glistening tears as they looked upon the remains of Greece’s past glory.
She walked along the balustrade at the edge of the cliff in a long Grecian dress of thin lilac chiffon that Damian had left for her and Irini had laid out. She didn’t feel the slightest chill and her heart was warm, so warm. Now she could hear the boom of the sea clearly. The feeling of height, the great expanse of open water below her, gave Oriel the impression she was up in a balloon.
Damian would soon be there. He’d rung from Helios to say he was on his way in the two-seater plane that had flown them to Santorini. That night seemed such a long time ago. Once she had thought there were too many reasons against her loving Damian, too many differences between them to hold them together … but now she knew that they completed each other. It could never have been different; their love was inevitable from that moment they met on Aegina.
Oriel strolled back to the swing where she had spent such happy moments in the afternoon. Through the trees she could see the lights of the house through the windows. They were like friendly yellow eyes in the blue night.
She was swinging far back into the heart of the branches and was about to plummet forward again when a shadow moved into her line of vision, silhouetted against the night sky. Unable to stop, she swung right up to the figure and let out a little shriek, worried she was going to hit whoever it was, but he stepped deftly aside and she heard a low chuckle: Damian.
Swinging forward again, she dragged her feet on the ground to slow herself and he reached out and caught one of the ropes so that she jerked to a stop. Damian’s other hand caught the second rope and Oriel was imprisoned between him and the seat.
‘Oh, Damian …’ she whispered.
They stared at each other as though hypnotized. The leaves above them fluttered in a sudden breeze. Damian’s face loomed very close to hers and then he dropped his hands from the ropes and folded them tightly around her trembling body. Through the thin chiffon of her corsage she could feel the tight muscles in his arms and, as he drew her closer to him, Damian’s warmth seemed to flow into her like a burning tide. She gazed into his eyes, her mouth opening on a gasping sigh of sensuality.
Oriel said his name again in a wild plea of longing. Damian’s lips met hers suddenly and passionately. Like the breaking of a dam too long under pressure, the force of his ardour erupted and she was caught, submerged, drowned by waves of delight as they kissed in a frenzy of desire.
When at last they pulled apart, a little breathless, Damian smiled and tucked her hand into his arm. ‘Shall we walk? I’m cramped after flying for an hour in that small plane.’
They strolled for a while in silence up a small avenue of plane trees towards the orchard at the side of the house. Oriel noticed a gazebo there, and they made their way to it.
‘I’m sorry about Helena …’ she said eventually, once they’d reached the wrought-iron hideaway with its peaked roof and sides smothered in sweet-smelling roses. ‘Irini told me about the accident.’
‘Hush, my love. Let’s not talk of it now … She’s in peace at last, God rest her soul.’
‘Are Mattias and Anna all right?’
‘He’s very glad that I made him move to a well built cottage. So many other fishermen’s homes have been destroyed.’
‘Were there many casualties?’
Damian turned around a little towards the light of the moon and drew Oriel into his embrace. ‘Hardly any, but let’s not talk about unpleasant things tonight. Thank God you’re safe. I died so many deaths wondering if I would ever see you again. I thought you were lost to me forever.’ He took both her hands in his and carried them to his lips. ‘Life without you would be a prison of loneliness.’
Damian pulled Oriel towards him, his arms firm and strong around her, communicating his vow to never let her go. His head tilted towards her upturned face and he kissed her with an ever-growing intensity. His fingers weren’t content with moving over her dress; they slid underneath it and she caught her breath sharply as she felt the burning touch of his hands against her bare skin, that touch that made every nerve silently quiver, that touch she had missed, which was now putting life back into her body.
His hand floated upwards, one palm brushing against her breast, his fingers curling around its soft curve and nipping at the hard peak clamouring for his attention. A dozen different sensations burst through her, spiralling down to where her need for him was intensifying by the second, and she pressed herself against him to sense that part of him that she yearned to feel within her.
‘I know you are shaking inside, agápi mou,’ he murmured, his voice low and hoarse.
‘Yes, yes, Damian,’ she breathed against his mouth, his words fuelling her desire to an unbearable ache. ‘Touch me, I want to feel you inside me. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘I want you too, matia mou,’ he replied, as slowly he lifted his head and drew a little away from Oriel, leaving her trembling
and somewhat dazed. ‘I am not being cruel,’ he assured her, placing a peck on her nose. ‘Anticipation will only make the reality more enjoyable. Tonight, móno i agápi mou, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take you to rapturous places you’ve never been before. But for now, there is something I would like to share with you.’
Damian took a little box out of his pocket. He opened it and placed the ring it held on to the third finger of Oriel’s left hand and, once again lifting her hand to his lips, brushed it with the whisper of a kiss. His eyes as he looked directly into her face were bright though infinitely serious. His voice, too, when he spoke again, was vibrant with sincerity.
‘This was the only thing that survived the shipwreck of my Albanian ancestor. It belonged to his mother and he wore it on a string around his neck, a golden ring set with a pearl and a diamond. A lovers’ ring that symbolizes the best of all that is between us, the pearl for purity and the diamond for solidity. I love you, Oriel, with all the shocking lust and tenderness I am capable of. Ever since I set eyes on you I wanted you to be my wife, my companion, my mistress, the mother of my children, the one with whom I would grow old.’ His gaze devoured her, its ardent fire holding a promise that embraced her now and for all the years to come.
‘I love you, too, Damian,’ she breathed, her eyes shining with happiness, her voice husky with emotion. ‘I will love you until my dying day, and beyond the grave if that is at all possible. I will be your wife, your mistress, the mother of your children and your companion in our winter years.’
Damian hesitated, lifting a finger to trail it gently down her cheek. ‘How do you feel about my island … my home? After all that’s happened, will you be able to live on Helios?’
Oriel studied his earnest features. Helios … Was there ever a place like it? Beauty and horror, grim tragedy and sheer beauty walked hand in hand there. Helios had frightened her, horrified her, given her ecstatic happiness, intrigued and tortured her, but it had also stolen her heart forever. Vivid, amazing Helios. Terrible Helios … But oh, so dear!
Aphrodite's Tears Page 61