Hearts of Stone

by Scarrow, Simon

  Thought required more and more effort and he was aware of darkness creeping in at the periphery of his vision. His mouth filled with the taste of his blood and yet he felt so thirsty. And tired. So tired . . .

  His eyes snapped open and he snatched a deep breath. He must not give in just yet. He must hold on long enough to ensure that Eleni was far enough away. Cold was seeping into his limbs and his hands started to tremble. Not yet! He cursed his frail body. No, not yet! But the icy tide of oblivion closed round him and threatened to draw him away into its dark depths. Summoning the last of his strength, Andreas laid his gun down beside him and reached for the detonator. He placed it on his chest, bracing it with his left hand as he closed his fingers around the plunger. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and pictured Eleni as he had seen her on the boat on the way back from Meganissi all those years ago. So beautiful. So happy. He smiled with contentment, and pressed the plunger into the detonator box with all that remained of his fast-fading strength.

  Peter had removed Steiner’s body and laid Eleni in the back of the car when a brilliant flash, followed immediately by a deafening roar, ripped through the valley. He turned at once and was struck by the concussion wave that hit him like a blow across his whole body. Instinctively he hunched over Eleni to protect her and a moment later the first of the debris rained down on the dig site and clattered off the car’s metal skin and cracked the windscreen. Slowly, as it seemed, the downfall eased and Peter sat up warily.

  Around him the last echoes of the explosion still sounded off the sides of the surrounding hills. Over at the cliff a great cloud of dust billowed into the sky. Peter sat and stared as it began to clear and now he could see that a large section of the rock face had gone, leaving a jagged scar in the cliff. The blast had flattened the trees in front of it and overturned one of the armoured cars. Dazed and dust-covered figures were staggering out of the swirling dust at the foot of the cliff.

  Peter blinked to clear his eyes and looked down at Eleni. Despite his efforts to cover her, a thin patina of dust and small clods of soil covered her and she coughed. He gently brushed her face clear and then eased her head up and rinsed her face with water from his canteen before letting her take a sip.

  ‘Sir?’

  He looked up and saw the driver standing beside the car. The man looked dazed and confused. ‘What are your orders, sir?’

  ‘Orders?’ Peter looked at the devastation around him. One truck was still burning, the others had shattered windscreens. Bodies lay scattered across the dig site and huge boulders and slabs of rock were piled against the ruined cliff. There was no sign of the cave and he knew that all that it had once contained was now lost. He and Eleni were the the only survivors who knew what great treasures lay buried there. Perhaps lost forever. The numbing shock of it would pass, he hoped, but the grief would go on and on until the day he died.

  He cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to the driver.

  ‘Get us out of here. The girl needs a doctor. Take us back to Lefkada.’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  London, November 2013

  Anna drained her glass and set it down thoughtfully as she reflected on what she had been told. ‘What happened afterwards, to Eleni?’

  Dieter blinked. ‘I take it she has not told you.’

  ‘No. There are some things she could not recall.’

  ‘Very well, my grandfather took her to a good doctor in Lefkada and left her there, with instructions that she was to be moved into hiding as soon as it was safe to do so. Which was just as well. He was disciplined for leaving the scene of the explosion and for letting a prisoner escape. Eleni, that is. They searched the island for her but her people kept her safely hidden while she recovered. There was a reward, but no one came forward with any information.’ Dieter smiled briefly. ‘People like to protect their heroes. Heroines, I should say.’

  ‘What happened to Peter?’

  A waiter was passing and Dieter called him to the table and looked questioningly at Anna. ‘Dessert?’

  ‘No thank you. Just coffee.’

  ‘Two coffees then,’ Dieter instructed the waiter who nodded and made off. ‘You were saying?’

  ‘What happened to your grandfather? You said he was disciplined.’

  ‘Oh yes . . . He was recalled to Berlin for interrogation into the circumstances of Steiner’s death and the failure of his mission to Lefkas. He told them as much as he could without giving anything away about Eleni. His superiors posted him to a penal battalion stationed on one of the Channel Islands, Alderney. There he remained until the very end of the war. When the Allies landed in Normandy they were content to leave the island garrisons alone. They were cut off, out of supply and slowly starved over the next year. After Hitler shot himself and Germany formally surrendered, the men of the Alderney garrison were the last soldiers to submit. By then, of course, they were in poor shape, skin and bones in worn-out uniforms.’ Dieter looked at her suddenly. ‘Not unlike some others.’

  ‘That was different,’ Anna replied deliberately. ‘I’m not sure there is much comparison.’

  ‘No? Perhaps not. But the experience left its scars. My grandfather’s health never really recovered after that. I don’t know if it was what he endured on Alderney that changed him, or whether it was what he had lost on Lefkas. Either way, living on islands did not seem to agree with him. He returned to Germany and studied medicine and abandoned his interest in history. The country had to be rebuilt from the ruins and needed doctors. I think he had seen too much death and wanted to make amends. To dedicate himself to saving lives. He met a nurse and married her. They had one son, my father. And so . . .’ he gestured to himself. ‘Anyway, my grandfather lived a long life. His wife died in nineteen ninety-eight and he followed her four years later.’

  Anna smiled sadly as the waiter returned with their coffees. She poured some cream into her cup and stirred it into a muddy combination. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Do?’

  ‘About the tomb? You know where it is now and what it contains. Will you try to see if it can be found again?’

  ‘That is my intention, yes. There is too much of value there to be left buried. So much we can learn about the past. But I will need the help of your grandmother. She is the only one left alive who knows where the cave was. It would be much easier to find it with her assistance. If you can persuade her to help, then I can bring my findings to the right people. I am sure there will be no shortage of enthusiasm to find such a treasure.’

  ‘I see . . .’ Eleni raised her cup to take a sip. But it was still too hot to drink and she set the cup back down on the saucer and stared at Dieter. He was an interesting person, she decided. Not handsome in a Brad Pitt kind of way, but attractive nonetheless. And he shared her passion for history and seemed moral enough. They probably had much in common, she reflected, before forcing her thoughts back to the subject at hand. There was a growing conviction inside her that some things were better left buried. ‘I wonder if there’s much point in looking for the tomb, or at least what’s left of it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If the cave was blown up and Andreas brought the cliff down on it, and himself, then it’s likely that everything was destroyed. If you dig it all up, then I doubt you’ll find anything of value left. It’ll all be pulverised. Useless.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Dieter shrugged. ‘Maybe not. We can’t know unless we dig it up. It’ll be slow work, but something might be found.’

  Anna thought for a moment and shook her head. ‘I can’t say I am comfortable with the idea.’

  ‘Why not?’ Dieter looked surprised.

  ‘It is not just a tomb, but a grave. That is also where Andreas’s body lies buried.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It is too soon. There are people alive who knew him in life. Like my grandmother. It seems . . . wrong to disturb his resting place.’

  ‘I am sure his remains would be treated with respect.’


  ‘I don’t think you understand, Dieter. It wouldn’t be right. Oh, I can understand why you would want to find the tomb of Odysseus. When people have been dead long enough they simply become an historical artefact, along with everything else. Something to stick in a museum case.’ A mental image leapt into her mind of a school party she had once brought to the British Museum. She could recall the morbid pleasure in the faces of her students as they looked at the remains of a mummy and she shuddered at the thought that Andreas, whom she had never known but now knew so much about, and felt for, should ever be reduced to being such a display. Robbed of dignity. The most naked possible form of exposure. It made her shiver with pathos and disgust.

  ‘I think it should all be left in peace. At least for now.’

  He frowned. ‘Leave it? Leave it alone? Why? Think of what is there. What we could learn from it. What secrets it would tell us about the past. Surely, as an historian, you understand its value?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do. But I am also a human being. Perhaps it would be better to leave it for a while longer, until Eleni has passed, and all those who knew Andreas. That long at least.’

  ‘You are being sentimental.’

  ‘I suppose you could accuse me of that. And perhaps I might accuse you of being insensitive in return.’

  He hesitated before responding. ‘I don’t think so. I understand what you are saying, but this is too important a discovery to ignore.’

  ‘I am not saying ignore it. Just delay it a while. What difference can it make to leave it for a few more years? For the sake of Eleni. She’s my grandmother. She’s very special to me. Even more so given what I have learned about her . . . She’s suffered enough loss in her life and I think she should be allowed to die in peace. That tomb is also the grave of the one man who was her true love. Let him be for a few more years. That’s all I ask, Dieter.’

  He stared at her thoughtfully for a long time and then nodded. ‘Very well.’

  Anna felt a surge of relief and gratitude sweep through her heart. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I would very much like to have met Eleni,’ he mused. ‘It is a great pity that I won’t. The woman who captured my grandfather’s heart. She must have been an extraordinary individual.’

  ‘Yes she is.’ Anna smiled.

  ‘Then long may she continue to be.’

  Their eyes met in a thoughtful embrace, before Dieter became self-conscious and glanced down at his hands. ‘So what happens now? Will I see you again?’

  ‘See me?’ Anna raised an eyebrow. She had not thought that this might be the last time she met him. ‘Why not? Later on. Perhaps then I can help you find what you are looking for.’

  ‘Yes. I’d like that.’ Dieter clasped his hands together.

  There was a brief silence before he glanced at his watch. ‘I must go. I have a plane to catch.’

  ‘All right. I understand.’

  He turned round in his seat and raised his hand. ‘Waiter! The bill.’

  When he had paid, Dieter made to leave the table, then stopped. ‘There is just one last thing.’

  He reached into his shoulder bag and took out an old tobacco tin. ‘This was amongst my grandfather’s effects. I did not realise its significance until after I had met you. Here, it is better that you have it.’ He set the tin down on the table and bowed his head in farewell and strode off between the tables, making for the stairs that led back to the ground floor of the museum.

  With a sense of regret Anna watched him go. She had meant what she said. It would be good to see him again one day. Then she looked down at the tin and picked it up to examine it more closely. It was battered and spotted with rust and the Germanic script made the brand name unreadable. She opened it and saw inside a chain and a small silver locket. Easing it open she saw two black and white portraits of an infant and a woman and the images seemed to shimmer ever so slightly as she held the locket in her trembling fingers.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Norwich

  ‘She’ll be up soon,’ Marita said as her daughter entered the kitchen. She poured them both a coffee and pulled up a stool and sat beside Anna. ‘Any further progress on that project your German friend was working on?’

  ‘We’ve gone as far as we can for now. But we’ll pick it up later on. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Good. He sounded like a nice person.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose he is.’

  Marita stood up. ‘I’ve got some croissants in the freezer. Will they do for breakfast?’

  ‘They’ll be fine, Mum. Shall I go and wake Yiayia?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t. She’s not been so well these last few weeks. She’s had a cold she can’t seem to shake and needs as much rest as she can get. Let her sleep a bit longer, eh?’

  ‘I don’t need sleep!’ a thin voice sounded from the kitchen door and the two women looked up to see that Eleni had quietly emerged from her room and made for the kitchen. ‘Ah, Anna. I thought I heard your voice.’ She looked a little confused. ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘Late last night,’ Marita sniffed. ‘She came up straight from London on the train.’

  Once Marita had poured the coffee and placed the croissants in the oven she excused herself and went upstairs to dress and get ready to go into the city to do some Christmas shopping. When the croissants were baked enough, Anna served them with some butter and jam and poured some more coffee. She watched as Eleni ate clumsily with trembling gnarled fingers. It was hard to believe that this frail, grey-haired woman had once been a fighter in the Greek resistance and Anna felt a pang of sorrow that so great a spirit could be ravaged this way by the passage of time. Age withered all people, she reflected, and perhaps recorded history was the saving grace of those who became old. A reminder that they too were once young and vibrant and making their mark on the world around them. And when they were gone they would be preserved that way.

  When she had finished and wiped her crinkly lips, Eleni regarded her granddaughter. ‘I’ve been hoping we might continue our discussion about my younger days. I had thought all that was behind me, but now I want to remember.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks to you, my girl.’

  ‘No. It’s you I should be thanking. I’ve learned a lot from you. All through my life actually.’

  ‘As a young person should. Even old people can teach the young something useful, eh? So we’ll talk some more. First, let me get dressed.’ She glanced sharply at Anna. ‘And comb your hair, girl, it looks like a rat’s nest. Then we can talk.’ She leaned forward and her face contorted as she coughed, again and again, and Anna began to grow alarmed and went to put her arm around the old lady’s shoulder, but Eleni waved her away and croaked. ‘Water. Get me a glass of water.’

  She felt better after a few sips and settled back with a worn-out expression.

  ‘Do you want me to help you, Yiayia?’

  ‘No. I shall be fine. I can manage. Now let’s waste no more time. Get dressed and come to my room when you are ready.’

  ‘You read my letter?’ Eleni asked half an hour later when they had settled in their chairs in her room.

  ‘Of course.’

  The old woman nodded. ‘Then you know what happened.’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry.’

  Eleni shook her head slowly. ‘It all happened long ago. Sometimes I remember it as if it was only yesterday, and it breaks my heart . . .’

  ‘What happened to you afterwards? After the fight at the cave?’

  Eleni did not appear to hear the question; she looked down into her lap and mused, ‘Andreas was a brave man. The bravest I ever met and that was part of the reason I loved him . . .’ She cleared her throat and looked up at Anna. ‘In any case, he was killed and I was wounded at the same time. Shot, here.’ Eleni indicated her side, halfway down. ‘I might have died, if someone had not taken me to a doctor. He saved me and then arranged for me to be hidden from the enemy. I stayed with a cousin of Yannis Stavakis for a month before
I was evacuated by a submarine delivering supplies. I was taken to Egypt and treated at a military hospital in Alexandria. That’s where I met your grandfather, Julian, for the second time. He had heard that I had been wounded and brought back from Lefkas and came to find me. It took me many months to recover and he came to see me and take care of me.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘He, too, was a fine man and I grew to have a great deal of affection for him. And so, he eventually asked me to marry him. I accepted, and after the war Julian brought me to England and the rest you know.’

  Anna nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It’s not much of a story after all. At least not to anyone outside the family. But it has been good to tell the old tale again. To remember. I hope I haven’t bored you, my dear.’

  ‘Of course not. Besides, I have been able to find out some more about what happened for myself.’

  ‘Oh?’

  Anna collected her thoughts and began. ‘You know you showed me that picture of you and your friends before the war. The one with Andreas, and the German boy, Peter.’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘You told me that you had met again when Peter had become your enemy. I know the story of that time now, Yiayia, from what you have said to me, and what Peter’s grandson told me. He has the diaries that Peter kept, as well as the notes of Dr Muller. He gave me an account of events from what he had learned. Dieter told me about the cave and what was in it. About how Andreas died and how you were wounded, and saved from death. I must admit, I had thought that Peter was not quite as bad a person as you said when we talked about this earlier.’

  Eleni sucked in a breath. ‘He told you everything?’

  ‘As far as I can tell,’ Anna admitted.

  ‘I see . . . Did this Dieter say what happened to my parents?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And knowing that, you were still prepared to speak with him?’