YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  ‘I’m not likely to forget,’ Yiorgo assured him and Yannis knew that was true.

  The days merged into each other for Yannis. Every morning Yiorgo would shake him into consciousness as soon as it was light. He would trudge up the track to the fields, shivering in the early morning chill and toiled under Yiorgo’s instruction until the sun rose to give them a little warmth. Yiorgo hardly rested and Yannis struggled to keep pace with him. By the evening Yannis was exhausted and stumbled back home, longing for his comfortable mattress, hardly able to eat the food his mother placed before him.

  Added to his fatigue was the continual worry about the amount of schooling he was missing. He had written to Yiorgo Pavlakis explaining that his father had met with an accident and that he would have to stay at Plaka to help until his father had recovered. He had also asked him to visit the High School and museum on his behalf. The letter he wrote to Annita he was able to send by a fisherman and she had answered him promptly, full of sympathy for his father.

  1927-1930

  It was four weeks after Yannis senior had fallen that the Widow appeared at the house with a pair of crutches tucked under her arm. Yannis and Yiorgo lifted their father to a chair and watched as he tried to stand.

  ‘Only one foot,’ screeched the Widow. ‘You mustn’t put the other to the ground. It won’t be ready yet.’

  Yannis senior was obedient. He went in great awe of the Widow, whom he had known since he was a boy. He had faith in her as a healer, but was not entirely sure that she wouldn’t curse anyone who displeased her, and when she was in the house he watched her warily.

  ‘I’ll be able to get to the fields tomorrow,’ he was more cheerful than he had been for days. It was good to be able to move around again, albeit slowly.

  ‘Any more talk like that and I’ll take them back with me,’ the Widow warned. ‘It’s one thing walking across your living room; it’s another when you try to walk outside. If you tripped you’d be back in bed again, probably worse off than before.’

  Despite her threats, once she had gone, Yannis struggled out to the yard. He leaned against the wall, drawing deep breaths of air and looked longingly towards his fields. By the time he had reached the yard gate he realised there was no way he would be able to negotiate the rough ground without an accident. Reluctantly he dragged himself back into the house where Maria was baking bread. Wiping her hands on her apron she decided this was a good time to approach her husband.

  ‘What’s happening about Yannis?’ she asked.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘He should have been back in school three weeks ago. He’s worrying about it, that’s why he’s so tired.’

  Yannis senior snorted. ‘I think town life has softened him. He gets more tired than Anna out in the fields. A few more weeks would toughen him up.’

  ‘A few more weeks could ruin his chance of going to University,’ observed Maria shrewdly.

  Yannis was thoughtful. ‘Well, he can’t go yet,’ he decided. ‘Spiriton will be here in a few days for this month’s contract. Yiorgo couldn’t manage without him.’

  ‘I could help now you’re able to get about,’ suggested Maria.

  Yannis shook his head. ‘You’re not going back to the fields. You did enough up there when we first started. Besides, you have enough work to do here.’

  Secretly Maria was relieved. She had no wish to return to the fields during the winter months. She had a pang of guilt that her daughters were expected to help each day, but consoled herself that they would come to no more harm than she had as a child. Maria even seemed anxious to go each day, but her mother had an idea that Babbis was coming to visit her so they could snatch a few moments together. Now it was cold they were unable to stroll down the village street together and sit outside the taverna. Babbis had to spend the evening with them and he was obviously ill at ease when he visited.

  When their father told them Spiriton would be calling again Yannis’s heart sank. He had hoped he might be able to leave at the end of the week. Yiorgo was worried. It had been all they could do to complete the work before.

  The weather decided it had been kind to them for too long and changed dramatically. The sun stayed hidden behind the sullen black clouds that hung over the distant mountains, rumbles of thunder reaching their ears, which made them look up anxiously. The first drops of rain were felt when they were loading their third trip to the quay. They could see Spiriton waiting for them, impatiently scanning the hillside.

  ‘It seems pointless packing in this weather,’ remarked Yannis to his brother. ‘It will be spoilt by the time it gets there and they’ll have to throw most of it away.’

  ‘That’s their problem. Pappa said to pack as much as possible.’

  ‘What about the crate?’

  ‘This trip.’

  Yannis shivered. That meant he would have to stop packing to help lift the crate onto the cart. ‘Why don’t we stay down and do the vegetables next? It would be quicker than this and we should be able to catch up a bit. The girls can stay up here and we’ll come back to help as soon as we can.’

  Yiorgo turned the suggestion over in his mind. ‘We’ll try it.’

  Munching a roll each they negotiated the track with the donkey. The rain had made it slippery and Yannis had to pull on the cart to stop it from rolling too far forward. Once in the yard they were faced with a further problem. The crate was too heavy for them to lift between them.

  ‘There’s nothing for it. We’ll have to ask Spiriton to send a couple of his men to help.’ Even Yiorgo knew his limitations.

  ‘I don’t want to do that,’ Yannis said stubbornly. ‘There must be a way.’ He looked at the miscellany of objects strewn around the yard. ‘I know, help me unload.’

  Yiorgo stared at his brother crossly. ‘What for?’

  ‘We can tip the cart and push it on.’ Yannis had already set to work, stacking the boxes in a neat pile.

  ‘It would have been more sensible to take these down to Spiriton first,’ grumbled Yiorgo. ‘That way we’d only do the job once.’

  Yannis had to admit that Yiorgo was right and was about to start replacing the boxes when his brother began to help unload. Even with the cart tipped back it was a tremendous struggle for the two boys to push the crate on, the rain was falling faster now, numbing their hands and stinging their faces. The boxes replaced they slithered down to the quay where Spiriton was waiting.

  ‘We’ll be as quick as we can,’ promised Yiorgo as the boat drew away.

  ‘I’ll go on ahead. It doesn’t need both of us to walk with the donkey.’

  Yannis set off, slipping on the greasy mud, glad he had taken his father’s advice and worn the old pair of boots that stood by the back door. At least his feet were warm and dry, which was more than he could say for the rest of him. When Yiorgo joined him he was busily sorting potatoes and placing them in sacks.

  ‘Not like that,’ Yiorgo remonstrated immediately. ‘Use a spade.’ He began to shovel potatoes in at break neck speed.

  ‘A lot of those are rotten.’

  ‘Makes no difference; so are the lepers.’ Yiorgo continued without a break in his rhythm. ‘Don’t touch those over there. They’re for us.’

  Yannis obeyed. He had been right; filling sacks with produce, which could be shovelled in, was far quicker than packing boxes. By the time Spiriton returned they had the cart loaded and sacks standing by ready for the next trip. Yiorgo went down to the quay on his own, trying to guide the donkey and control the cart at the same time, praying that no mishap would befall them, whilst Yannis stayed shovelling. He was not sure whether the moisture that was trickling down his face, neck and back was rain or sweat. Another load was ready by the time Yiorgo returned, and so it went on for the next two hours, back breaking toil from which they dared not take a rest. The potatoes exhausted they retraced their steps up the hill.

  ‘You were right, Yannis,’ Yiorgo had to admit. ‘Making up the sacks
was quicker. The girls should have a load of boxes ready for us and then there are only three more trips and we’ve finished.’

  ‘There’s still tomorrow,’ groaned Yannis.

  ‘We’ll try it the same way. Clear as many boxes as we can, then when we’re running behind we’ll go down and sack up carrots. That way we can catch up again.’

  Yannis nodded. He really was past caring. All he wanted was to get home, rub his wet, cold, body with a towel, drink some of the hot soup he knew his mother would have prepared and sleep. Stelios arrived with a jug of hot soup and they took it in turns to stand under the dripping trees to drink. They worked frenziedly, Yiorgo taking a load down to Spiriton, whilst Yannis stayed to help his sisters.

  ‘We’re not going to manage it,’ remarked Yannis gloomily. ‘It will be dark soon.’

  ‘Yes we will.’ Maria spoke with determination and attacked the shrivelled cabbages viciously with her knife. ‘Just throw them into the boxes, and Stelios can cover them.’

  By the time Yiorgo returned the next load of boxes were ready. He grinned as four wet faces looked at him questioningly.

  ‘He says it’s too dark to take any more. We’ve got to take this load down and leave it on the quay ready for the morning.’

  Maria rose from the ground. Her knees were muddy, her skirt soaked and her hands chapped with the cold rain. ‘We’ve done it.’

  They all helped to load the cart and Yiorgo slapped the unwilling donkey. ‘Come on, old girl, then you can go home as well.’ She looked at him reproachfully with her dark, soft eyes and shuffled forwards.

  ‘Home you go, girls. Tell Mamma we’re on our way.’ Yannis collected their tools and began to follow them down. He felt elated, and the feeling shocked him. Was he becoming accustomed to working in the fields that he should be so pleased with the day’s accomplishment?

  He dumped the tools inside the yard and continued down to the quay. Yiorgo would need some help with the final unloading and then they could walk back together to finish off the jobs in the yard. He need hardly have bothered, by the time he arrived there were only a few boxes remaining on the cart and Yiorgo appeared to have as much energy as when he had started that morning. Unexpectedly Yannis sneezed.

  ‘Go home,’ advised Yiorgo. ‘Get some dry clothes on.’

  Yannis shook his head. ‘I’m all right.’ He would sink even lower in his father’s estimation if he returned home at the first sneeze and left Yiorgo to rub down the donkey and feed her. Wearily the two boys and donkey plodded home. The cart was unhitched and pushed into the shed, the donkey led to her stable where she was rubbed down and left with an armful of hay and a pail of water.

  ‘Now our turn; I’m so tired.’

  Yannis looked at his brother in surprise. ‘I’ve never heard you say that before. It’s always me who’s complaining of tiredness.’

  ‘You were marvellous today, Yannis. You had the strength of ten men.’

  Ruefully Yannis shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I still can’t keep up with you.’

  They stripped off their sodden clothes in the kitchen and took turns in stepping into the wooden tub that their mother had filled with hot water.

  ‘Oh, that feels so good!’ remarked Yannis, as he sluiced hot water over his shoulders. ‘There was a time when I thought I’d never be warm again.’

  Yiorgo nodded. ‘This is what keeps me going on a bad day. I know Mamma will always have a hot tub ready for me.’

  Yannis dipped his head under the water and pushed back his dripping hair. ‘I must get this cut as soon as I get back to Heraklion. It’s far too long.’

  They towelled their bodies dry and donned warm sweaters and trousers, finally ready to go into the living room where the rest of the family were sat round the table. Immediately Maria left her meal to get theirs.

  ‘Did you manage, boys?’ asked their father.

  Yannis nodded, leaving Yiorgo to explain to their father how they had worked and managed to complete the trips.

  ‘I’m coming up myself next week,’ Yannis senior announced to the surprise of his family. ‘I’m getting about quite well now. If I sit on the back of the cart there and back I should be able to manage.’

  Yannis swallowed hard. ‘Pappa, if you’re going up to the fields next week will you be needing me any longer?’

  His father looked at him sadly. ‘You can’t wait to go, can you?’

  Yannis flushed miserably. ‘I’m worried about missing school.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘I’ll stay as long as I’m needed,’ promised Yannis. ‘I’m not a lot of help, but I’m willing.’

  ‘You’ve been a good boy. I’m proud of all of you, especially you, Yannis. You could have insisted on returning to Heraklion at the start of the term and I wouldn’t have blamed you. Instead you stayed to help, and you did so uncomplaining. You go back when it suits you.’

  ‘Thank you, Pappa, but I’ll only go if you’re sure you can manage.’

  Yannis calculated rapidly. Today was Tuesday, and he must help Yiorgo tomorrow. If he returned to Aghios Nikolaos on Thursday he could catch the Friday bus to Heraklion. It was so important that he returned to school. He had missed four whole weeks!

  Thursday arrived with a thin drizzle. He trudged along the cart track that was called a road between the two villages, wishing Yiorgo would be at the canal to meet him. His bundle grew heavier as the rain soaked through. In Elounda he entered a taverna where it was warm to the point of stuffiness, and dropped his burden to the floor.

  He delayed his return to the cold drizzle as long as possible, lingering over his roll and coffee, before shouldering his bundle and leaving. As the wind began to blow the rain into his face he hunched himself down into his coat, pulling up his collar as far as he could and hoping his aunt would be able to dry it before morning in readiness for his bus journey. It was mid afternoon before the house he was seeking came into view and encouraged him to walk a little faster.

  ‘Yannis! Yannis! It is Yannis!’

  Yannis dropped his bundle and clasped his cousin to him. ‘I’m so pleased to see you. Everywhere looks deserted.’

  ‘Do you wonder in weather like this? Have you walked all the way? You must be frozen. Let’s get home.’

  Gratefully Yannis followed Andreas. ‘Look who I’ve found,’ he called as he opened the door.

  Elena rose from her chair with an exclamation of pleasure. ‘Yannis! We weren’t expecting you. Did you write?’

  Yannis shook his head. ‘I had no time. Pappa said I could leave, so I want to catch the bus to Heraklion tomorrow. May I stay the night?’

  ‘What a question! Of course you may. Take off that wet coat and come and get yourself dry and warm. Did you walk all the way?’

  Yannis stretched out his hands to the welcome fire. ‘I swear the road grew with the rain – it seemed to last for ever.’

  Elena went to heat some soup for her unexpected visitor. Andreas sat in her chair and looked at his cousin.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course, just a bit damp and tired.’

  ‘You look drained. Did you have to work terribly hard for your father?’

  Yannis nodded. ‘I’d never realised how hard he works. He has a contract to send food over to the island every month. Yiorgo and I slaved. Even the girls and Stelios were up in the fields in the pouring rain.’

  ‘How did your father break his leg?’

  ‘He slipped over in the yard. It was lucky I was home at the time, but goodness knows how much work I’ve missed. I’ll probably do awfully badly in the next exams.’ Yannis sighed deeply.

  ‘It’s a shame Annita isn’t here. She had her day off yesterday.’

  Yannis felt a pang of guilt that he had not asked after her, which was also tinged with relief.

  Elena returned with a bowl of hot, thick soup. ‘That will warm you. I wish Yiorgo would hurry up.’

  ‘He’s prob
ably taking it slowly. There’s a stiff breeze blowing and you can’t see further than your nose.’

  By the time Yiorgo arrived, soaked to the skin, even Yannis was beginning to be concerned about his safety. He was surprised to see Yannis at his fireside, but Elena insisted he changed his clothes before he talked.

  ‘Why were you so late? We were all worried about you,’ she asked him anxiously.

  ‘Wind was against us. There’s quite a sea running now. We tried to hug the arm for shelter, but didn’t dare get too close.’ Yannis and Andreas made room at the fire for him and he drank his soup noisily. ‘What brings you here, Yannis? Your father well enough to leave?’

  Yannis nodded. ‘He said he could manage once we’d finished the island contract.’

  Yiorgo nodded, a slight smile on his lips. ‘It’s a good thing, that contract.’

  ‘That’s what Pappa said. He’ll be able to give the girls good dowries.’

  ‘How long are you staying?’

  ‘Only tonight; I must be back at school on Monday, so I’ll catch the bus tomorrow.’

  They chatted over the supper Elena produced, and Yannis was about to excuse himself and go to bed when Andreas rose. ‘I have to go.’

  Yiorgo and Elena nodded, but Yannis looked up in surprise. ‘Go? Go where at this time on a night like this?’

  Andreas flushed, looked down at the floor, then at his parents.

  ‘Go on, or you’ll be late. I’ll explain to Yannis.’ Yiorgo nodded to his son. He leaned forward on his seat. ‘Andreas is contemplating entering the church. He goes along each evening for instruction.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell us?’ Yannis was puzzled and a little hurt.

  ‘He felt you might laugh at him. He made his mother and I promise to tell no one until he was quite certain.’

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ promised Yannis. ‘It explains his mysterious disappearances. I often saw him coming out of church and yet I never guessed, even when he said a prayer for Aga.’