‘I must have been dreaming about that night we escaped from Constantinople.’ Phyllida was ashamed of the suggested lie the moment it was spoken. Angry with herself, she was angry, too, with Alex for getting her into this position. Tomorrow, she would speak to him.
But tomorrow the Philip had sailed.
Chapter 16
Easter passed gloomily. It was hard to put one’s heart into the traditional, ‘Christ is risen,’ with memory of Saint Spiridion still fresh as a wound. And though its fall should at least have left the way open for the relief of the Acropolis, nothing was done. The Greeks seemed paralysed, absorbed in mutual recriminations, while the Turks, inevitably, prepared to fight to the death. It was not only Phyllida who woke each morning to a deep, unreasoning burden of misery.
‘But at least Church hasn’t resigned.’ Brett was doing his best to be cheerful. ‘Those three ciphers who pass for the Greek government have arrested John Notaras, who had nothing to do with the massacre, and propose to make him the scapegoat. What worries me more is that Church and Cochrane seem to have learned nothing from the disaster.’
‘What should they have learned, B?’ Phyllida was increasingly silent and withdrawn these days, and it was Jenny who asked the question.
‘Why: the obvious. That they cannot hope to control the Greek troops. How on earth do they expect to carry an attack across the plain to Athens, in the teeth of the Turkish cavalry, when they can’t even control their men in a minor victory?’
Jenny flashed him a warning glance. ‘You’re just an old raven, B! Surely now Spiridion has fallen, they’ve got the Turks in a trap. They can’t lose. And anyway you said yourself that what happened there makes a negotiated surrender almost impossible.’
‘I did indeed.’ Grimly. ‘Would you surrender, if you were Reshid? To a pack of bloodthirsty barbarians?’
‘Oh, really, B.’ Once again her look was a warning. ‘You’re so prejudiced against the Greeks you won’t see reason. I’m sure this will have been a warning to them. They’ll do better from now on.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Of course I’m right. You may be a great author, but I’ve got female intuition. And that reminds me, I’ve another chapter copied out for you. Come down to the saloon a moment and I’ll give it you.’ And then, as he followed her down the steep companionway. ‘Brett, I’m worried about Phyllida. She doesn’t look a bit well.’
‘I know. I wish to God I’d never agreed to let her charter the Helena. She’d be infinitely better back on Zante, away from all this.’
‘You’re talking about Phyllida?’ In the saloon, Cassandra had heard his last sentence. ‘I’m anxious about her, Brett.’
‘That’s just what Jenny was saying. But what can we do? She’d never consent to go back to Zante now.’
‘No, of course not. But I think we must do something, just the same. She’s having nightmares, night after night. She wakes up screaming. It’s the same dream, I’m sure, over and over again. Anxiety, of course. I think it’s too hard on her to be here, right in the thick of things like this. Besides, let’s face it, the Helena wasn’t designed to accommodate so many people. I think it does us the greatest credit that we’re not quarrelling like cats.’
‘Yes,’ he smiled at her with affection. ‘But what can we do, Aunt Cass?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. In the night, listening to poor Phyllida, I’ve had a lot of time for that. I think I’ve hit on it. In fact, I can’t think why it didn’t occur to us sooner. When the attack on Athens comes, you’ll want to take the Helena up as near as possible, won’t you?’
‘Not with you women on board.’
‘Precisely. So we must go ashore. There must be somewhere safe on the mainland, Brett? Where Phyllida can hire another house?’
‘Nauplia, of course. It’s as good as impregnable. And not a chance in the world of the Turks attacking it now when they are so closely threatened at Athens. It’s not much of a place, I’m afraid, but it should be safe enough.’
‘What should be safe?’ Although she longed to be alone, Phyllida became restless when she was, and had come down to join the others in the saloon.
‘A house in Nauplia,’ said her aunt. ‘We’ve been holding a council of war, love—a fine thing to do without you there, who will have to pay the shot!’
‘A house in Nauplia! But why in the world?’
‘Because we’ve none of us been thinking,’ said Brett cheerfully. ‘The attack on Athens is due to start any day now and if you think I am going to stay down here when that happens, you’re crazy. Crazier still.’ He anticipated her reply. ‘If you think I’m going to take you with me. So, this afternoon, we are goint to sail round to Nauplia and establish you three in a house there. You must see, Phyllida, that even if I would let you, I can’t take Jenny into the war zone.’
‘No, of course not. I’ve been a fool not to think of it myself. But, Brett, do let’s lose no time! You’ll really go up to the Piraeus when they attack?’
‘What else? And bring Peter straight back to you. It’s another argument for a house. He’s bound to be exhausted after all these weeks of siege. He’ll need all the comfort he can get.’
‘Yes indeed.’ It did her good to have him talk as if Peter’s rescue were a matter of course. ‘But, Brett, it’s not just Peter—’ she hesitated, horribly aware of her betraying blush.
‘You’re thinking of Alex?’ For once, his cool, matter-of-fact tone was balm to her. ‘Of course I’ll bring him too if I can get him to come. Price says he should hardly be noticing those wound of his by now, but once the Acropolis has been relieved, he too, may feel glad of a rest.’
‘You really think it’s going to be relieved?’
‘Church and Cochrane seem sure enough about it.’
It was not quite an answer, and Jenny darted him one of her quick, bright glances, but it satisfied Phyllida. ‘Let’s start at once,’ she said.
Since the Greek government was now on Poros, Nauplia was considerably less crowded than when they had been there before, and Brett was able to find them a house set close between the shore and the towering cliff. ‘I’ve accepted it on your behalf,’ he told Phyllida next day. ‘I hope you’ll forgive me, but I thought you ladies would like it better if I had it thoroughly cleaned before you even saw it. Price is taking a detachment of the crew ashore first thing tomorrow to do so.’
‘Oh, thank you, Brett, you think of everything.’
But the house in Nauplia was a sad come-down after the Palazzo Baroti. Brett had explained, ruefully, that the Greeks, in their extravagant fury, had destoyed most of the Turks’ houses when they captured the town at the outbreak of the rebellion. The best of those that remained had been taken over by Prince Mavrocordatos, and Brett had been lucky to rent a smaller one belonging to a member of the government, now at Poros.
‘Well, at least, under the cliff like this, it should be shady enough.’ Phyllida mustered the best enthusiasm she could. ‘And what a wonderful job you’ve done, Price, in making it habitable.’
‘Thank you, miss. It looks a bit odd, the Helena’s furniture in these outlandish rooms, but never mind. We’ll be settled in no time, you see if we aren’t.’
‘And just think of all this space,’ said Jenny. ‘A study for you, darling B, and rooms to ourselves all round. You should get on like a house afire with your book now. But when can we go sightseeing? I’m dying to look at those romantic castles!’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Brett said doubtfully. ‘I’ve been talking to Marcos. I’m afraid you ladies are going to have to resign yourselves to a fairly cloistered life while I am away with the Helena. Greek ladies don’t go out much, you know. Of course Marcos will stay with you, but I can see he’s a little anxious about your safety. It’s a great responsibility for him, and I rely on you to make it as easy for him as possible.’
‘Oh B!’ It was almost a wail. ‘You mean we’ve exchanged the deck of the Helena, and all th
ose wonderful views, for this tiny airless courtyard.’
‘Well, not entirely. Marcos seems to think that it will be “suitable” if you join the evening promenade in the main square—I’ll take you there tonight. It’s not much of a place, I’m afraid, but better than nothing.’
So, that evening, he led the way through the narrow, noisome lanes of Nauplia to the small square, with its huge rustling plane tree, where the Greeks took their evening walk. ‘There aren’t many women, are there?’ Jenny had been watching everything with her usual lively interest. ‘And look at them! Wrapped up in shawls and veils like so many mummies! Only a good deal more shapeless. Something tells me we’re not going to have much social life here. Really, B, I don’t see what good it’s done the Greeks to free themselves from the Turks if they go right on behaving like them. I’d as soon be a Turkish woman as a Greek one any day. At least the Turks have a chance of ending up in Constantinople and the Sultan’s harem! What do you think, Phyllida?’
‘I think you talk a great deal of nonsense!’ It came out more sharply than Phyllida had intended, and, to make amends, she went on. ‘But tell me about the fortresses, Brett? Which is the Palamede and which the Itchkali? And are we going to be able to take Jenny to see them before you go?’
‘I’m afraid not. I made some enquiries about it today and it’s perfectly clear that visitors—and most particularly female ones—are far from welcome. Well, it’s understandable enough in time of war, but also I hear, there’s a good deal of ill feeling, just now, between Grivas, who commands the Palamede and Fotomarra at Itchkali. There’s been one outbreak of actual fighting between them already. I’m afraid it’s hardly the time for sightseeing trips to their strongholds.’
Jenny sighed. ‘And I know you’re going to tell me it’s quite impossible to ride over to Argos—we’ve got to be content with the distant view of the ruins there … and with imagining the Lernean swamp, and Tyrins—Not to mention Mycenae…’
‘I’m afraid so, for the time being. Even for men, sightseeing would be a chancy business these days. For you, I’m afraid it’s, simply, impossible.’
‘Heigh ho,’ sighed Jenny. ‘Do you know, sometimes I quite find myself looking forward to getting back to England.’
‘Oh, Jenny!’ Something about her tone roused Phyllida from her abstraction. ‘I’m sorry!’
‘Nonsense!’ Jenny gave her a quick kiss. ‘It’s I who should be sorry. I’m a brute to grumble, when you’ve been so angelic to me. It’s only—at Zante there were the flowers, and the walks … Even on the Helena there was always something going on in the harbour that one could watch. But what are we going to do here?’
‘Let’s hope we won’t be here for long,’ said Brett.
‘You think the attack will come soon?’ Phyllida asked.
‘Very soon. If you feel you can manage without me, I propose to go back to the Helena tomorrow. I want to be ready, with steam up, when Cochrane gives the order for the attack.’
‘Brett, you’ll be careful! I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt—or the Helena—on my account.’
‘Nonsense.’ He had been ready for this. ‘You mustn’t look at it like that. Don’t you see how selfish I am to dump you in this airless hole, so that I can go off and watch the fighting? It’s going to be the making of my book! When Murray wrote and approved my plan for it, he made a special point of that. He says a good set piece of a battle scene should be worth a fortune to me in sales. I know that must sound heartless to you (he intended it to) but remember I’ve got my way to make in the world, and Jenny’s too. This book must be a success.’
‘So you’d want to go anyway, even if it wasn’t for Peter?’ This was a new idea to her.
‘Of course I would. So, if by any chance, I should get hurt, you are not to imagine it has anything to do with you. I’m just immensely grateful to you for making it possible.’
‘I see.’ She thought him disconcertingly mercenary, but Cassandra, understanding it all, gave him a warm, approving smile.
Alone in her tiny room in what had been the Turk’s harem, Phyllida sat for a long time savouring her solitude. She had much to think about. The day had been one long succession of unpleasant discoveries. Living in the comparative luxury of the Palazzo Baroti, on peaceful Zante, she had thought she was learning about life in Greece. Now, she began to understand that she knew nothing about it whatever. It brought her back, as everything did these days, to Alex. Watching the veiled Greek women huddled up in their shapeless garments, spinning as they walked meekly behind their husbands, hearing Brett’s description of the cloistered lives they led, she could not help wondering if Alex expected her to live like this. What would it be like down there in the primitive castle he spoke of in the Mani?
She shook herself and began to prepare for bed. Nonsensical to think like this. They would not be living in the Mani. Even if the Greeks did not recapture Constantinople (a dream, Brett had called that) surely they would soon retake Athens. That would be their capital. She and Alex would live there, working together for a new and happier Greece. She remembered how he had spoken of her help in civilising his country, and thought she began to understand how much there was to do. She went to bed, contented, or nearly so, planning the schools she would run—for mothers as well as their children? … And waked, a long time later, in the chill of the dawn, sweating, from her nightmare of flowers and blood.
* * *
Brett sailed back to Poros next day taking the smallest possible crew for the Helena. ‘But how in the world will you manage without Price?’ Jenny had asked and Brett had laughed and said, ‘Deplorably, I’m sure, but I’ll feel much safer to think he’s here with you.’
Jenny smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Brett, we’ll look after each other, and Price will look after us all. If you ask me, our worst enemy is going to be boredom.’
But in fact they soon found a small society of Philhellenes in Nauplia, and notably a young American doctor called Samuel Gridley Howe who had acted as surgeon on Hastings’ Karteria but was now convalescing from a fever caught when he had been compelled by Greek inhospitality to spend a stormy night in the open on an islet near Hydra. He and his friends became constant visitors at the house under the cliff, and in return for Phyllida’s lavish hospitality brought the most precious of all commodities, news.
‘Won’t Brett be surprised to come back and find us running a salon,’ said Jenny one bright May morning when even their dark little courtyard was full of sunshine.
‘I wish he’d come,’ said Phyllida. ‘Do you think they may call off the attempt to relieve the Acropolis now Karaiskakis has been killed?’ Yesterday’s piece of bad news had given her a sleepless night. ‘Dr. Howe and his friends are so young,’ she said now. ‘I do wish Brett was here to tell us what’s really happening.’
‘But you know he won’t come so long as he thinks there’s a chance of an attack on the Turks.’ Jenny was determinedly hopeful. ‘So really his not coming is the same as good news.’
* * *
Dr. Howe and his friend Townshend Washington called on them next evening bringing a bottle of raki to drink with the curious brew Price called coffee. Dr. Howe had just returned from a trip down the coast, and appalled them with his tales of conditions there. ‘The fighting’s gone on too long. The peasants have no seed to sow; if they don’t get help soon, there will be mass starvation this summer. And all the government thinks about is the Acropolis.’ He remembered. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Vannick.’
‘No need. I’m ashamed not to have thought of this sooner. They lack seed, you say?’
‘They lack everything! I’ve written to the Greek Committee in Boston urging that they send what they can—at once. But think of the time-lag.’
‘Surely one could buy supplies nearer?’
‘With money, of course. But, look at us! We were almost ashamed to come here tonight. And to see you ladies, so beautiful, so elegantly dressed.’
‘It’s we who should be ashamed
,’ said Phyllida. And then. ‘What’s that?’
A commotion in the outer rooms of the house. Price’s voice raised in remonstrance. Then the door of the room burst open and Alex appeared. ‘A party!’ His scornful glance swept the little circle then settled on Phyllida. ‘Greece bleeds from her death-wound, and you gather your jackals round you to make merry.’
‘That’s no way to speak to a lady.’ Howe was on his feet, looking absurdly young in contrast to the swarthy Greek.
‘Never mind.’ Phyllida took control, ‘Sit down, Dr. Howe, and you, too, Alex. Price, fetch some coffee for Mr. Mavromikhalis. And a glass.’
‘Coffee!’ But Alex dropped into the chair Price set for him. ‘A Judas feast. What do you think your brother is eating tonight, kyria? Dust and tears?’
‘Alex, what is it? Tell us!’ At first, she had thought him drunk; now she began to fear it was worse.
‘What do you care? Sitting there, entertaining your fine friends in your fine rooms. “Coffee for Mr. Mavromikhalis!”’ His voice was a cruel parody of hers. ‘And wine! A libation! A sacrifice, like those brave men in the Acropolis? Oh, yes.’ He emptied the glass Price had given him. ‘Their race is run. No doubt of that.’
‘What do you mean? What is it?’ Her voice shook.
‘Disaster. Defeat. Crushing; absolute; final. There is no Greek army any more.’ He drank again. ‘If Karaiskakis had lived, they might have listened to him. If Cochrane and Church had troubled to go ashore, they might have been obeyed. But—to order a mass attack, and then watch it from their ships through field glasses! Well, they saw.’
‘What happened? Try and tell us, Alex.’ Cassandra’s calm voice was meant to steady him.
‘Cochrane insisted on a direct attack on the Turkish positions. He’d been urging it all along. He said he wanted to eat his dinner in the Acropolis. Tonight!’ Savage irony in his tone. ‘He gibed and goaded at the capitani until they agreed to lead their men down from the heights and across the plain. He didn’t understand.’ He was trying to explain the disaster as much to himself as to them. ‘It’s not the way we Greeks fight. I think he must have deluded himself that he had an English army. “Fix bayonets! Charge!”’ The parody of a clipped British accent was cruelly accurate. ‘Of course, when our pallikars got down into the open plain, they wanted to stop, to build their tarn-bourias. You know.’ He picked Howe as the most intelligent listener. ‘The little earthworks they rest their guns on to fire. The capitani urged them on. They swore, they shouted. Some obeyed, some went on digging. And then, the Turks charged, with cavalry, with the bayonet. It was a massacre. I tell you. We’ve lost the flower of our soldiers today. It’s the end of organised resistance, the end of everything.’
Greek Wedding Page 17