YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  Pavlos nodded. ‘I’ll just take this out. Stay in the kitchen. We have to talk – privately.’

  Yiorgo waited until he returned. ‘Well?’

  ‘You heard what I said just before Louisa fainted? About Yannis.’

  ‘I heard. Where is he?’

  ‘According to the priest they shipped him off to Athens. That’s not the point, no one must know he stayed here or I shall be ruined, and there’s the money.’

  Yiorgo Pavlakis held up his hand. ‘You’re going to fast for me. Who knows he stayed here?’

  ‘The school, the museum, his friends, lots of people.’

  ‘But do they know where he has gone?’

  Pavlos shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think everyone believes he returned to his village at Christmas and never came back.’

  ‘Then there’s no problem. Leave it at that.’

  Pavlos eyed his brother-in-law doubtfully. ‘What about the money? His father paid a complete year’s board and lodging for him.’

  ‘Well, send it back to him.’

  ‘I can’t. I haven’t got it.’

  ‘You haven’t got it?’ Yiorgo could hardly believe his ears.

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to lend it to me,’ mumbled Pavlos. ‘I used it to pay for Louisa’s wedding, most of it, anyway.’

  ‘What else did you use it for?’

  ‘A few card games, just occasionally, when I felt lucky.’

  ‘And were you lucky?’

  Pavlos shook his head miserably. ‘No. Can you lend it to me? I’ll pay you back, I promise.’

  ‘I haven’t got it to lend you. I spent money on my political campaign, and I used the remainder of my savings to take Louisa to Athens.’

  Pavlos pressed his hands to his head. ‘What can I do? Suppose he asks for it?’

  Yiorgo shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think you’ll just have to wait a while and see. In the meantime I suggest you start saving.’

  ‘Saving! Trade has dropped off. It’s almost as though people knew and were avoiding the place.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish. It’s probably because you’ve only been open in the evenings whilst Louisa hasn’t been here.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Pavlos sighed deeply. ‘I can’t sleep, worrying over this,’ he lied. ‘I’ll have to talk to Louisa. She’ll know how to bring the customers in.’

  Yannis’s eyes flickered open, then closed. His head hurt intolerably. He raised his hand and touched his temple gingerly, there seemed to be a large bump. He tried to think. The pain in his head made thinking difficult and the stench in his nostrils made him want to vomit. He opened his eyes and tried to focus.

  ‘You’ve decided to wake up, then?’

  Yannis swivelled his eyes to one side. A young man of about his own age stood there. Full consciousness was returning. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘In hospital.’

  ‘Hospital?’

  ‘You arrived a few hours ago with the others. Don’t you remember?’

  Yannis closed his eyes again. Did he remember or was it a nightmare? He had been told to pack his belongings, he was going to Athens, walking down the corridor and out through some massive doors to a cart, waiting to climb in, seeing Andreas. He was sure he had seen Andreas, but that was the last thing he remembered. He flexed his arms and legs, they seemed sound; it was just his head.

  ‘Am I in Athens?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Was there an accident?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Then why am I in hospital?’

  ‘The same reason as the rest of us.’ There was bitterness in the reply.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  For a moment the young man was taken aback by Yannis’s ignorance. ‘Leprosy, of course.’

  Yannis sat bolt upright, his face ashen. ‘There must be a mistake…’ His voice tailed away. There was no mistake. He remembered now. He had been in hospital before. They had sent him here for further treatment.

  ‘You’ll soon get used to it. Don’t upset yourself. You’ve a hell of a bump on the side of your head.’

  Yannis struggled for self-control. ‘Is there something I could drink?’

  ‘I’ll get you one.’

  The young man shuffled away and Yannis dared to shoot a swift glance at his immediate surroundings. On an iron bed next to his lay something that was making a noise like a kettle on the fire, hissing, wheezing and bubbling. The “thing” moved just a little and an aroma of fetid decay wafted up. Yannis turned his head away, fighting the nausea that was rising in him.

  A bandaged hand passed him an enamel mug of water. Yannis took a mouthful and shuddered. He had difficulty in swallowing the brackish liquid.

  ‘When does the doctor come?’

  ‘Tomorrow, maybe, the day after, next week, who knows!’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘About a year, I think.’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘You tend to lose track of time.’ He yawned and took the cup away from Yannis, placing it on the floor by the bed. ‘Feeling better now?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Well enough to go visiting?’

  Yannis shifted his position on the bed. His head still throbbed. ‘I’m not sure I want to.’ He allowed himself to look round the ward. The iron bedsteads were placed no more than two feet apart down the length of the wall on each side. Down the centre, placed head to head, ran two more rows. On most beds a body sat or lay, small groups of men were passing the time by playing cards, dice or backgammon. ‘What’s the smell?’

  ‘Smell? Oh, you get used to that. It’s the toilets,’ he lowered his voice, ‘and some of the people.’

  Yannis’s eyes went involuntarily to the bed at the side of him. Cautiously he placed his feet on the ground and let them take his weight. The room swam for a moment or two and Yannis sank back.

  ‘Lean on me. I’m Spiro, by the way.’

  ‘Yannis.’

  He took the arm gratefully. Gently and slowly Spiro propelled him across the ward. ‘Meet Manolis.’

  Dutifully Yannis held out his hand, averting his gaze from the torso and looking into the friendly brown eyes.

  ‘Excuse me for not shaking hands.’ He held up a clawed appendage and a stump.

  ‘My mistake.’ Yannis felt embarrassed.

  ‘Yannis has come to stay with us for a while.’

  ‘You don’t look that bad to me.’ Manolis eyed the boy up and down. ‘You’re in better shape than most of us,’ he grinned at his joke. ‘Sit down and tell us about yourself.’

  Yannis perched on the end of the bed.

  ‘Plenty of room; don’t mind the feet.’ Manolis grinned again. ‘Spiro always finds the new comers and brings them over to meet me. I don’t get about much myself. Lack of transport.’ The claw flicked an olive into the grinning mouth, chewed the stone clean, and then spat it on the floor. He sniffed the air. ‘Food on the way.’

  ‘Come on.’ Spiro was making his way to the door.

  Yannis hesitated, then realised that most of the occupants had left their beds and were pushing their way to the end of the ward. The door swung open and a man in a dirty white overall, facemask and gloves stood there. From his wrist swung a wooden truncheon.

  ‘Back, back,’ he shouted, waving his weapon threateningly. Cowed, the foremost patients shuffled back, giving room for a trolley to be wheeled in. Immediately the orderlies left the ward the lepers swarmed towards it, grabbing, screaming and pushing. Yannis hung back until most had taken all they wanted. He was disheartened by the remnants that appeared to be his meal. Two slices of bread, a handful of olives and a squashed tomato. As he looked at it a hand with one finger and a partial thumb scooped up the scraps from the other side. Yannis stepped back, returning miserably to Manolis’s bed.

  ‘Did you get some?’ Spiro had taken a stand beside the bed and was shari
ng out the food with Manolis.

  Yannis shook his head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘There’ll be nothing more until tomorrow,’ warned Spiro and pressed a piece of bread into Yannis’s hands.

  Yannis lifted the crust to his mouth and began to chew slowly. It was hard and stale. ‘Is the food always like this?’

  ‘It varies. Tonight we had meat and it didn’t walk in on its own.’

  ‘Why do they carry truncheons?’

  ‘To keep us away from them. They’re frightened to death that they’ll end up in one of the beds.’

  ‘Not next to me, I hope.’ Manolis rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘It would be a fate worse than death.’

  Yannis stared at him curiously. ‘How can you joke like that?’

  Manolis looked hard at the young man. ‘I had my illness diagnosed five years ago – look how quickly it’s overtaken and crippled me. Death would be a blessing. If I didn’t joke, I’d cry. Even if the disease does halt, what kind of life do I have? Without my friend Spiro I’d soon be dead from starvation and neglect. My family wouldn’t want me; they’d prefer me to die. My wife would certainly like me to die. She’d be able to marry again, this time to a man who has two legs and two hands that he’s likely to keep. Are you married?’

  Yannis shook his head. He felt humbled before the badly crippled man. ‘I’m betrothed to my cousin. I’d planned to marry her when I’d finished University.’

  ‘We have a scholar in our midst.’ Spiro whistled through his teeth. ‘You must meet Aristo. What was your subject?’

  ‘History and Classics.’ Yannis felt close to tears.

  ‘Then you must certainly meet Aristo. He used to lecture in Theology. Does your cousin know you’re here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more.’ Yannis sobbed unashamedly. His new friends did not try to cheer him, but let his grief take its course.

  Maria gripped Babbis’s hand tightly. ‘Pappa, Babbis wants to speak to you.’

  Yannis smiled. He had been expecting Babbis to come to him for some time now. When the news of his son’s illness had first been brought to him he had felt uncertain of the young man. For weeks Babbis had been nowhere near the family, then he had become a familiar sight in their living room each evening. He sat back in his chair, his glass in his hand.

  ‘Talk to me, then, Babbis. I’m listening.’

  Babbis swallowed nervously. ‘I should like to marry Maria.’

  Yannis smiled more widely and nodded. ‘Good. I couldn’t wish for a better son-in-law.’ He frowned. ‘You could have a betrothal party in a week or two and be married next year.’

  ‘No, Pappa.’ Maria’s voice was harsh and strained. ‘We want to get married now.’

  ‘Now? That’s impossible. Who would look after your mother and the house? No, you’ll have to wait until Anna can take over your tasks.’

  ‘Pappa, we have to get married now.’ Involuntarily Maria laid her hand on her stomach.

  Her father gazed at her in disbelief. ‘You have to get married? Now?’

  ‘Yes, Pappa.’ She lowered her eyes.

  ‘You slut! You harlot! Was there ever such an unfortunate man as me! Out! Get out! You’re no daughter of mine. Get your belongings and go.’ He ignored the strangled pleading that was coming from his half-paralysed wife, rose from his chair and walked through to the yard.

  Maria held her mother in her arms. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I didn’t mean to. It just happened and then…’ a fit of sobbing tore at her, stopping the words.

  Her mother struggled to speak, wanting to comfort her daughter.

  ‘I have to go, Mamma.’ Maria pulled herself away. ‘Pappa means it. I’ll get my clothes and go with Babbis. He’ll look after me. I’ll come to see you when Pappa’s in the fields.’ Choking back her sobs she ran up the stairs and hurriedly gathered her few possessions, stuffing them into a sack and returning to kiss her mother. ‘I’ll come every day. I promise, Mamma.’

  ‘I’ll look after her well,’ vowed Babbis. ‘She’ll want for nothing, nor will,’ he hesitated, embarrassed, ‘the baby when it comes.’

  Without a backward glance Maria hurried out, pulling Babbis with her. The moment she had been dreading was over. When she had first discovered she was pregnant she had cried and suggested that she went to the Widow Segouri, but Babbis would not hear of it. ‘We’ll ask your Pappa if we can get married.’

  Maria had agreed, but she had known what her father’s reaction would be. It had been two weeks before it had been possible to speak to him without her brothers or sister being present, now the ordeal was over. Babbis took the sack from her and together they walked up over the hill, away from the small farmhouse she had called home for the last sixteen years, towards a new house and a new life. The nearer they got the slower her steps became. Babbis squeezed her hand gently.

  ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of. I’ve talked to my mother.’

  Maria shot a glance at him. ‘I doubt that she was very pleased.’

  Babbis shrugged. ‘She has enough sense to know that she’s gaining a daughter.’

  ‘Oh, Babbis.’ Maria began to cry, the tears trickling down her face and making her sniff.

  Babbis stopped and swung her round to face him. ‘We’ll have none of that. What’s done is done. I love you and I don’t want to start our life together with you snivelling and wishing you were back home with your parents.’

  ‘I won’t, Babbis. I’m just frightened of meeting your mother.’

  ‘You don’t have to be,’ his voice had become gentle again. ‘Remember when you were little and used to come to our house? She always had a biscuit for you.’

  Maria nodded. ‘But I’m not a little girl coming visiting any more. I’m walking into her house for ever.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Babbis’s voice was gruff with emotion and he held Maria tightly to him. ‘I love you very much, Maria. Do you love me?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing to worry over. Come on,’ he released his grip on her and picked up the sack again. ‘Mother’s been waiting to welcome you for more than a week now.’

  With a wan smile Maria allowed herself to be led along the dusty road to the farmhouse. Arriving at the door Babbis gave her hand a final squeeze.

  ‘We’re here,’ he called out cheerfully as he pushed his way through to the room that served as both kitchen and living room for them. Rising from her seat at the table Babbis’s mother came forward, a smile of welcome on her face, and Maria felt her fears dissipating.

  ‘Maria! I’ve missed your visits, but we can make up for lost time now. How’s your poor mother? Is there any sign of improvement? Sit down, now, dear, you must be tired after your walk over the hills.’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Maria assured her, sinking gratefully into the chair that was pushed towards her. ‘Mother’s much the same. She has some days when she’s better than others.’

  ‘Babbis, you take Maria’s belongings upstairs for her,’ commanded his mother. ‘Then you’d better get along outside to see that everything’s ready for the night.’

  Babbis winked at Maria. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  Once her son had left the house Mrs Andronicatis leaned forward to Maria. ‘How far are you?’

  ‘Almost three months, I think.’

  ‘Have you seen the Widow?’

  Maria shook her head. ‘There’s plenty of time before that.’

  Mrs Andronicatis pursed her lips. ‘Best go along and let her have a look at you soon. Prepare her as well as yourself. How are you keeping?’

  ‘I feel a bit sick in the mornings.’

  ‘That’s natural. It will pass. Now, we have to come to some arrangements.’

  ‘Yes?’ Maria looked up timidly.

  ‘Whilst you’re able I’ll expect you to help me with the vegetables and fruit. You’ll also do your share of the cooking and
cleaning. You’ll do the washing for yourself and Babbis, and your own mending,’ she added. ‘I also expect you to nurse me if I’m ill and look after me when I’m too old to work.’

  Maria nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘You can stop calling me ma’am straight away. My name is Kassianai; I suggest you shorten it to Kassy as most people have done all my life. There’s just one very important thing for you to remember,’ Kassy leaned even closer to Maria. ‘I’ll not interfere between you and my son, but it’ll be no good you running to me for sympathy the first time you have a cross word. You’re each other’s responsibility now.’

  Maria nodded again. ‘Thank you,’ she began, ‘I appreciate your kindness.’

  ‘You’re not a bad girl,’ Kassy smiled. ‘You were just a bit unfortunate. There are others who do much worse in their lives and get away with it.’

  ‘I promised my mother I’d visit her every day. I don’t see how I can if I have to help you all the time. I can’t go in the evening as my Pappa will be there then.’ Maria’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of the recent painful scene she had endured.

  ‘You can go off and see your mother each day. You’re young and strong and at the moment you should be able to work fairly fast, besides there’ll be two of us doing the job I managed to do alone for a number of years. Don’t stay over there for too long, though. Your place is here now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Maria said again. ‘I expect Pappa will come round in time.’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’ Kassy smiled grimly. She knew a few things about Yannis Christoforakis that he would rather keep secret from the villagers. It would not be very difficult to ensure a change of heart towards his erring daughter.

  Louisa carried her baby along the road towards the town, finally stopping at the house of the woman who had agreed to look after the child during part of the day. Louisa laid the baby on a bed the woman had prepared for her and gazed at the sleeping form. She bore no resemblance to anyone except her mother, for which Louisa was greatly relieved. She had been lucky so far. Yiorgo had accepted his daughter’s premature birth and considered the child to be his own. Her only blemish was the red birthmark, which ran from just above her left ear to the top of her shoulder blade.