by Beryl Darby
Yiorgo Pavlakis nodded. ‘May I propose that we take a vote on the idea?’
The men nodded their assent and raised their hands.
‘I should like it minuted,’ Yiorgo spoke to the clerk. ‘Mr Y. Pavlakis proposed etcetera and it was decided etcetera.’ The clerk began to write assiduously. ‘Now the next item I have on my agenda again concerns Spinalonga. It is a request by Father Minos that he may be given permission to live on the island, to give what little comfort he can to the sick and dying.’
‘Who would pay for that?’
A silence fell. Yiorgo cleared his throat and pushed back the lock of hair. ‘No doubt his friends would find accommodation for him and he would be able to have a share of the food that was sent out, apart from that, I suggest he has the same allowance as is finally decided upon for the other occupants of the island.’
‘Sounds fair! If he wishes to live with them he should be prepared to live like them.’ The elderly man spoke with a conviction that brooked no disagreement.
‘Wouldn’t we have to ask the Bishop over this one? He probably has the final say.’
‘Only a fool would want to go there!’
‘He must surely stand more chance of catching it if he’s there all the time.’
‘Maybe we should send him there anyway.’
‘Why?’
‘He could already have it and be passing it around the city.’
They nodded in agreement.
‘I propose that Father Minos be granted his request to live on the island of Spinalonga, subject to the approval of the Bishop.’
‘I’d like to amend that. He must stay on the island permanently, otherwise he risks contaminating others.’
Again the men nodded in agreement.
‘May I tell the priest of your decision?’
‘Better to avoid the man.’
‘We’ll send him a letter. Phrase it formally.’
The clerk nodded. He hoped there would be no reply that he would have to handle.
‘Now, the next item…’
Father Minos sat in the vestibule, nervously awaiting his audience with the Bishop. He had the treasured letter recommending that he took up residence on Spinalonga in his pocket. All he needed now was the permission of the Bishop. He rubbed his hands down his long black robe, hoping the sweat would not show. It seemed an age before the secretary opened the door and beckoned him into the presence of the eminent man. Father Minos made an obeisance before him and stood silently, waiting for permission to speak.
‘You requested an audience of me?’
‘Your Lordship, I crave your indulgence whilst I speak.’
The Bishop nodded permission.
Father Minos swallowed hard. ‘Some few years ago a young man came to me. He was in dire terror and distress. When I had calmed him he confessed that he thought he was an incurable. I persuaded him to visit the hospital for diagnosis. I did not hear from him again. I dismissed him from my mind as a forgetful youngster, whose fears, once allayed, had forgotten me. It was only later when his young cousin, also a church man, came searching for him, that I discovered he had been admitted to the hospital for treatment.’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Please, your Lordship, I have to tell you the whole story. I went to the sick young man’s parents and told them the sad news. On the very day that I had discovered that their son had been admitted to hospital he was being transferred to the hospital in Athens. I could not tell them the address or any other details. I felt I had failed my fellows in my calling.’ Father Minos bowed his head.
‘You require absolution?’
‘No, your Lordship. I atoned for my sin of negligence by visiting the hospital here and taking whatever succour and comfort I could to the unfortunate sufferers. I found out the name of the hospital in Athens where they were sent, but once again I was too late. The young man in question had been moved once again. This time to the island of Spinalonga. I visited the island and I cannot describe to a man of your sensibilities the conditions I found there. They defy description! To say it is Hell on earth falls far short of the truth.’
The Bishop shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This was beginning to sound suspiciously like a plea for the return of this young man to the mainland.
‘I have visited the island on a number of occasions, taking whatever comfort I can to the poor souls who have been condemned to live out their earthly life there and I have become determined upon a course of action. I have been called, called as clearly as I was when I first turned to the Holy Church for orders. I actually heard a voice,’ Father Minos’s eyes began to glow with enthusiasm. ‘I was praying for guidance when a voice spoke to me so clearly that for a moment I thought I was not alone.’
‘And what did this voice say, my son?’
‘He, it was Him, said, “You cannot heal the lepers, but you can help them”. He spoke the truth to me. I can help them, I beg of you to let me help them.’ Father Minos fell to his knees, prostrating himself before the Bishop. ‘I wish to go to the island; to live amongst them, as one of them, to help them with prayer and faith to overcome their misery and despair. This is my calling. I have permission from the medical authorities, I have permission from the government, but I need your permission, my Lord.’
The Bishop relaxed. If only all his priests were to make such simple requests. ‘My son, when did you first hear this voice call you?’
‘Some years back now. When the young man was first sent to Athens and I felt I had failed in my calling.’
‘And you did nothing?’
‘I went to the hospital. I spent long hours listening to the confessions of those who were too sick to be moved to Athens and trying to comfort those who did not wish to leave Crete.’
‘And this is not enough for you?’
‘It is no longer sufficient when I know there are others in greater need. Any priest could take comfort to those patients who are hospitalised, but I wish to share their privations and discomforts. To be truly one of them.’
‘Do you still bear a feeling of guilt for failing this young man when he needed you?’
‘Yes, your Lordship.’
‘Is this your way of setting yourself a penance? A penance that once undertaken can never be taken from you?’
‘I do not see it as a penance. My penance is to have to live here, in comfort, whilst they have so little materially and nothing spiritually.’
‘And have you given any thought to who would carry on your good work here if I allowed you to leave us?’
‘Your Lordship, I am sure that anyone could fulfil my duties.’
‘I am not so sure. You have a high standing in the town.’
‘You will consider my request?’
‘I will consider it, my son, and I shall expect you to abide by my decision.’
Father Minos bowed his head. He was under oath to obey his Bishop.
‘Call upon me again in a week, when I have had time to consider your request.’
Father Minos kissed the Bishop’s outstretched hand and bowed his way from the audience chamber. He had not expected an immediate decision. He tried to fill his mind with the problems of his parish, but found he continually lost his train of thought and was once again re-living his interview with the Bishop, cursing himself for the mistakes he had probably made. He felt more nervous than he had the previous week as he waited once again in the vestibule to be called for his audience. As he crossed the room he tried to read the answer in the face of the Bishop, but, as usual, the man was quite inscrutable.
‘My son, are you still of the same mind?’
‘I am, your Lordship.’
The Bishop sighed. ‘I have thought over carefully all you told me last week. I can find no fault with your motives, they are worthy of your calling, but I cannot give you my blessing.’
Father Minos felt his heart sink. His voice sounded strangled as he tried to ask the reason.
Father Minos struggled for words. ‘That is the only reason, my Lord?’
The Bishop nodded.
‘If I could find someone willing to take over my parish, someone acceptable to yourself and the parishioners, could that alter your decision?’
‘If you were able to find such a priest.’ The Bishop smiled kindly at the unhappy man before him. ‘I am sorry to have disappointed you, my son.’
‘Thank you, your Lordship.’ Again Father Minos kissed the outstretched hand and left the room. He felt frustrated and unreasonably annoyed with the Bishop. His steps led along familiar roads to his tiny church and he looked at it with distaste, immediately feeling guilty. He hurried inside and knelt on the hard stone before the altar, asking for forgiveness for the wicked thoughts that had entered his head and also for a peaceful heart. An hour later he rose, calmer and resigned to staying in Heraklion. He passed the afternoon composing a letter to the council members, explaining that much as he wished to comply with their recommendation to move to Spinalonga as soon as possible, his Bishop had refused permission. He permitted himself a wry smile. No doubt he had upset their plans in some way.
He resumed his duties, trying hard to put his disappointment firmly to the back of his mind and concentrate on the many problems that surrounded him. A visit to the hospital brought back poignant memories of the island, of Yannis, Andreas… Andreas! Of course! Cursing himself for a fool he hurried from the hospital. There was still time to make arrangements to visit Aghios Nikolaos that afternoon.
Andreas looked at Father Minos in disbelief. ‘You are serious, aren’t you?’
Father Minos nodded. ‘I was never more serious. You’re the answer to my prayer.’
‘What happens then if the Bishop does not agree?”
‘Then there’s nothing lost. You’ll have gained some valuable experience. You can still return here, taking your turn with the others to take a Mass or visit the sick, until such time as they feel you’re ready for a parish of your own. These things can take a long time. You can be ready, but there’s not always a vacancy for years.’
Andreas considered. ‘If the Bishop did accept me, what would I have? I don’t mean to sound mercenary, but I’ve no money of my own and I don’t want to ask my father for an allowance.’
‘I thought your father was reasonably affluent, for a fisherman?’
Andreas smiled. ‘He is. He’s lived frugally and worked hard.’
‘Is he still planning to visit your sister in Athens?’
Andreas shook his head. ‘I wrote to you. Annita visited us for a week and persuaded Manolis to take her over to Spinalonga. She said she didn’t go ashore. Yannis waved to her. She was very quiet for a few days, then just as she was leaving, she told Mamma and Pappa she was getting married and going to America.’
‘What!’ Father Minos could not believe his ears. ‘I haven’t received your letter.’
‘It’s true. I had a job to believe it myself. Two weeks ago we all went to Athens and she had a splendid wedding.’
‘Who did she marry?’
‘She’s been working with a microbiologist who is researching into leprosy. He’s been given a scholarship in America. That’s why I don’t want to ask Pappa for an allowance. He gave Annita a good dowry, paid for us all to go to her wedding and paid my keep whilst I was a novice. He and Mamma have also mentioned going to America.’
Again Father Minos raised his eyebrows. ‘For a holiday?’
‘No, to live, once Annita is settled. I think they hope she will have children and they don’t want to miss them.’
‘What about you? Would you plan to join them?’
Andreas shook his head. ‘I could never leave Crete. It’s my home. This is why I’d like to accept your offer. I’m sure my parents would be happier to know I was settled. They must be free to leave if they wish.’
‘I’m not offering you a fortune.’ Father Minos smiled. ‘There’s my small house, and a large, poor parish. You’ll suffer from lack of sleep, and always want more hours in the day and an extra day in every week. I live fairly simply and find the income sufficient.’
‘May I talk it over with my Bishop and my parents and let you know tomorrow?’
‘Talk it over by all means, but I can’t wait until tomorrow to hear your answer. I have to return by the bus that leaves this afternoon.’
‘Do you have anyone else in mind?’ Andreas could suddenly see the opportunity slipping away from him.
‘No. You were my only thought. Let me know what you decide.’
Andreas knocked vigorously on the door, a broad grin on his face. ‘Is Father Minos here, please?’ he asked of the housekeeper.
She shook her head. ‘You’ve missed him. He left for the hospital a while back.’
‘May I leave my things? He’s expecting me. I’ll go to the hospital and find him there.’ Andreas placed his bundles in the hall and raised his hand to her. ‘I know where it is. I’ll be back later.’
He found Father Minos sitting beside the bed of an elderly man, listening to the tirade that poured forth against the government who had finally found him hiding in a cave and removed him forcibly to hospital. Andreas waited until the man lay back against his pillow, worn out by the strength of his emotions.
‘You must not be bitter. In here you will be looked after. Imagine how you would have suffered had your wife fallen ill and been unable to bring you food. Relax, my friend. I’ll visit you again next week and I’m sure by then you’ll consider yourself fortunate.’
‘Father.’
The priest turned. ‘Andreas! It’s good to see you. Why didn’t you write?’
‘I decided it would be quicker to come in person. I’ve left my belongings at your house.’
‘You’re coming?’ Father Minos seized him in a fervent embrace. ‘I’m so happy, so very happy. What did your parents say?’
‘They were pleased, relieved almost. They feel they’re free now to make whatever plans they wish.’
‘And your Bishop?’
‘He was very kind. He gave me his blessing and said I’d be welcome to go back if I changed my mind.’
‘Come and meet the patients.’ Father Minos remembered his reason for being at the hospital. ‘We can talk later.’ He led the way from bed to bed, introducing Andreas and explaining that the young man would be visiting whilst he took a holiday. Andreas looked at him questioningly.
‘It’s better if I say that,’ he explained. ‘There’ll be no premature goodbyes and if the Bishop refuses me permission we neither of us lose face.’
Andreas tried to take in all the details of each person they spoke to. He sympathised with those who complained of pain, promised to take messages to families and joined Father Minos in the communal prayer. Once outside he took a deep breath.
‘I feel I’ve been more useful this afternoon than I have for the last six months. They’re all so lonely and worried.’
Father Minos nodded understandingly. ‘Have any of them asked you to take messages to their families?’
‘A couple.’
‘We’ll do that tomorrow. I always try very hard not to let others know who are in the hospital. If I visit a dozen parishioners tomorrow two or three of them will have relatives in here, but no one can point the finger.’
‘I have a lot to learn,’ Andreas admitted. ‘I would have gone rushing straight off. You’ll have to show me your way of doing things so I don’t offend people.’
Father Minos smiled indulgently. ‘I’m sure you won’t offend. I’ll show you my way, but I’m sure you’ll want to make changes.’
&nb
sp; Andreas followed the priest as he led the way around his parish, pointing out various landmarks that could be used as boundaries.
‘Never refuse a supplicant, wherever they may be from, but never knowingly encroach on another’s parish. Remember, the size of your congregation makes a difference to your life style. You wouldn’t want someone to entice half your parish away or you would end up starving.’
‘I’ll remember that. Will your housekeeper stay with me? You’ll have to tell me how much to pay her. I’ve never had anything like that to do before.’
‘Don’t worry. I doubt if I’ll be able to get another audience with the Bishop for months. By then you’ll know everything there is to know about living in this town.’
To Father Minos’s surprise his request for a further audience was granted more quickly than he had envisaged. Within a month he and Andreas stood waiting to be admitted. They approached the door together, but only Father Minos was allowed to enter.’
‘My son, I understand you have come to repeat your former request.’
‘Yes, your Lordship.’
‘The young man you propose is fully ordained?’
‘Yes, your Lordship.’
‘Why do you consider him suitable as your successor?’
‘He is young and has enthusiasm and energy. He is devoted to his calling, sympathetic to others and has a maturity beyond his years.’
The Bishop nodded. ‘Why doesn’t he want to go to Spinalonga? I understand he has visited the island with you.’
Father Minos realised that whatever information he gave about Andreas the Bishop would already know, having investigated him thoroughly.
‘His cousin is on the island. Although he is in sympathy with them he feels that such a relationship in the community could cause problems. He also feels that he does not have the experience for such an undertaking.’
‘Yet he feels capable in taking over from you?’
Father Minos thought rapidly. ‘He knows he has other priests around whom he could consult should a problem arise.’