YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  This time Anna needed no further urging and stretched her hand through the grill to take the roll. ‘You’ve got a nice wife,’ she remarked.

  ‘I’m a lucky man. She’s only got one fault, thinks I need feeding up.’ He rubbed his paunch and grinned. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

  The afternoon passed slowly for both of them and after eating another roll and managing to swallow her third cup of bitter coffee, her gaoler announced that he would go in search of his friend. He scanned the water anxiously, a number of boats could be seen returning to the port and he hoped one of them would contain the doctor and Manolis so he could discharge his burden. Half an hour later he was about to give up when Manolis arrived alone.

  ‘Where’s the doctor?’

  ‘Had to stop off at Elounda. Some emergency.’ Manolis jumped ashore.

  ‘I’ve got a problem for you. The baker’s wife caught a child stealing. Hauled her along to me. I was going to give her a lecture and let her go, then the woman pulls back the child’s hair and says she’s a leper.’

  Manolis whistled through his teeth. ‘Poor little devil! What have you done with her?’

  ‘She’s in one of the cells.’

  ‘I can’t do anything without the doctor’s diagnosis.’

  ‘Doctor Kandakis has confirmed it.’

  ‘Is she bad?’

  ‘Not that you’d notice, it’s mostly hidden by her hair.’

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘Says it’s a birthmark. She’s a stranger round here. Says her Mamma brought her down here to get away from the Germans; then went back to Heraklion to get some more money. It’s my guess that the mother knew and abandoned her.’

  ‘You want me to take her over?’

  The policeman nodded. ‘I’ve told her you’ll take her over tonight and the doctor will examine her when he visits. If he’s happy that it’s a birthmark you bring her back and the wife and I will look after her.’

  ‘Better get on with it, then.’

  Most of the journey across the water was conducted in silence until the island was no more than a few yards away. Manolis cut the engine and looked at the pathetic little girl who sat in the stern of the boat.

  ‘Cheer up. I’m going to ask a very nice lady to look after you. We’ll ask the doctor to have a look at you the next time he’s over and within a few days I expect I’ll be taking you back.’

  ‘Take me back now, please.’

  Manolis shook his head. ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘My Mamma won’t know where to find me,’ she turned large, frightened eyes on Manolis who smiled cheerfully at her.

  ‘That’s no problem. As soon as your Mamma can’t find you she’ll go to the police. He’ll tell her where you are. Look, there’s Flora. Give her a wave.’ He cupped his hands to his mouth and called. ‘Find Yannis. I want to talk to him.’

  Flora scampered away and Manolis took his time tying up until both Flora and Yannis appeared. He jumped from the boat and helped Anna out.

  ‘I’ve brought a visitor for you. She probably won’t be staying long, just a day or two; then I’ll take her back to Aghios Nikolaos. I thought you’d look after her, Flora.’

  Dumbly Flora nodded. She had no experience of looking after young girls. This was an entirely new situation to her – a girl come to stay for a few days! She opened her mouth to ask Manolis more, but he forestalled her. ‘Take her up to your house, Flora, and make her feel at home.’

  ‘What’s all this about, Manolis?’ Yannis was curious. ‘Where did you find her?’

  ‘Just a minute.’ Manolis waited until Flora and Anna were out of hearing. ‘I don’t know much about it myself. I had to drop the doctor off at Elounda, and when I arrived back I found Nikos, the policeman in Aghios Nikolaos, waiting for me. He said he had a girl in one of his cells. Apparently she’s been abandoned by her mother and was caught stealing from the baker. She thinks it’s a birthmark, but Doctor Kandakis has diagnosed her as a leper.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but where’s she going to stay?’

  ‘I thought Flora could look after her.’

  ‘Flora spends all her time with you, besides, her house is hardly suitable. There’s three of them sleeping in one room at the moment.’

  ‘It may only be for a few days.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll talk to Phaedra.’

  Manolis’s face lit up with a grin. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’

  Yannis looked at him in amazement. ‘You had it all worked out, you crafty devil. Suppose I hadn’t taken the bait?’

  ‘Then I would have suggested it.’ Manolis assured him.

  Yiorgo was uneasy. For the last three days the town of Heraklion had been too quiet and appeared too normal, considering it had been invaded and wherever you turned there was a German with a rifle pointed in your direction. Louisa had reopened the taverna and each evening it was packed with off-duty soldiers, but shunned by the locals who preferred to drink in their own homes rather than fraternise. He had called for a council meeting and there had been no message from their new masters to say it was banned. For two days he had laboured over his speech, wondering if he should urge his members to stand firm and resist all German ideas, or whether they should acquiesce and allow themselves to be ruled. He had finally decided the line of least resistance would be safest. Now he knotted his tie, picked up his briefcase and with a final look in the mirror strode confidently down the street.

  Yiorgo looked around the assembly room; the number of council members who had turned up was disappointingly small. He pushed his hair back and cleared his throat.

  ‘Shall we give our friends another five minutes?’ he suggested. They sat in silence until Yiorgo could hold the meeting up no longer. He shuffled his papers.

  ‘My friends, I have called a meeting here today, not to discuss the unhappy events of the past week, but to plan our future. The Germans will not stay on Crete forever, but whilst they are here we have to live with them and obey them unless we want further bloodshed. We have to think of our families, wives and children, not how we would like to act if we had no responsibilities.’

  A stony silence greeted his proposal. The older members agreeing with his policy, yet fearing they would be branded cowards by the others.

  ‘What I am proposing is a policy of non-resistance. If we are told to do something we obey, unquestioningly, but we do not offer any help at all.’

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ Orestis was on his feet, shouting angrily. ‘You say we shouldn’t offer help, yet every night your taverna is open for their pleasure.’

  ‘I have to live,’ Yiorgo defended himself. ‘I do not choose to have them in my taverna, but if they weren’t there they would be somewhere else spending their money.’

  ‘I say you should refuse to serve them.’

  ‘Agreed! Agreed!’

  Yiorgo looked at the angry faces before him. He had not expected this. He held up his hand for silence. ‘Very well, if allowing Germans to spend their drachmas in my taverna offends you I shall see they no longer frequent it. Are we going to insist that no greengrocer supplies them with vegetables, no baker with bread, and no grocer with flour? How are you…’

  He was interrupted by the opening of the door behind him and turned, expecting to find a late council member entering. It was with amazement that he greeted Mr Dubois.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Dubois. We are in the middle of a council meeting.’

  ‘You were in the middle of a council meeting, Mr Pavlakis. You are now at the end of a council meeting.’ Mr Dubois beckoned and a dozen soldiers moved into the room, their rifles at the ready.

  ‘What do you want? What does this mean?’

  ‘You and the council are under arrest.’

  Mr Pavlakis looked at his council members. ‘May I know why we have been arrested?’

  Mr Dubois ignored the question. ‘Are all your members pres
ent?’

  ‘Some are missing.’

  From his pocket Mr Dubois drew a list. ‘When I call your name, please stand.’ He reeled off the names, ticking each one as they stood. He looked at the list again. ‘You have more than some members missing, Mr Pavlakis, most of your members seem to be missing. I think a little visiting is in order.’

  Mr Dubois spoke rapidly to the soldiers in a language Yiorgo could not understand, but recognised as German.

  ‘You may sit, gentlemen, whilst we wait for your companions to join us.’

  Uneasily the men resumed their seats, glancing at one another. Yiorgo Pavlakis cleared his throat. ‘Mr Dubois…’

  ‘You will not talk.’

  ‘I only…’

  A stinging blow across the mouth stopped Yiorgo from uttering anything further. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at the trickle of blood that came from the side of his mouth. The men looked at each other. This was alarming.

  At intervals a soldier would return and push a council member roughly through the door, shouting the name to Mr Dubois who would tick him off the list. They slid into their seats, their eyes fearful and their hands twitching nervously. By mid-afternoon the entire council except one were assembled and Mr Dubois looked at them with satisfaction. He turned to Yiorgo and gave a little bow.

  ‘It is comforting to know that your wife and brother-in-law have such good memories, is it not? One person missing is of no consequence. Now we will take a little walk. Stand!’

  The men shuffled to their feet, rasping their chairs against the wooden floor. The soldiers jostled them into a double line and Mr Dubois gave the order to move. He led the way resolutely down the main street, passers-by looking curiously at the strange procession. The enforced march went on and on, the soldiers showing no sign of strain, the politicians flagging visibly. Yiorgo wished his heart would stop beating so hard. He must not panic. He was still the mayor and as such must show himself to be their leader. They passed through the Chanion Gate and continued out of the town. Still there was no relief; they were made to continue at the pace set by the army without a break.

  The straggle of buildings finally gave way to open countryside, flat and scrubby. Ahead a range of low hills, their rugged summits running inland from the shore without a break. The little party were marched on towards them and Yiorgo could only think they were being taken to a hidden headquarters in one of the many caves that riddled the hills. They turned abruptly inland as they reached the foothills and after a few yards were herded into a valley. The path was the floor of an old river, littered with boulders and sharp stones which cut into the men’s shoes, making them slip and slide until eventually they were told to halt.

  They huddled together, uncertain what was expected of them; then the rifles sent a hail of bullets whipping through the air. Instinctively each man ducked, a dozen or more fell to the ground, writhing in their agony, whilst three or four fell immobile. The rifles took aim again and more men lay on the ground, their blood mingling with that of their companions. Yiorgo opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came as the bullet reached him.

  It had taken no more than ten minutes for the soldiers to complete their task. With their rifles still cocked they inspected each body and an occasional solitary shot was heard before they formed a small, tight-knit column and began their march back to Heraklion.

  Louisa had prepared the taverna for the usual evening visitors. The meeting had obviously gone on far longer than Yiorgo had anticipated. As the taverna door opened she looked out from the kitchen, expecting to see him, but instead Mr Dubois stood there.

  ‘Wine,’ he called and she hastened over to the table where she placed a bottle and glasses on the table, hoping she would be asked to join him.

  ‘Thanks to you and your brother I have been saved a good deal of time and trouble. I’m very grateful to you both.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The list of names you so kindly provided for me. It made it easier for my men to find them.’

  Still Louisa stared at him uncomprehending. ‘I don’t understand you.’

  Mr Dubois poured his wine. ‘The entire council of Heraklion have been annihilated. Without leaders people are prepared to do as they are told, and we shall make sure they do just that.’ He drained his glass and poured another.

  Louisa felt a buzzing in her ears and the room was darkening around her. Mr Dubois’s voice seemed to be coming from far away. ‘What have you done?’ she heard herself say.

  ‘We shot them.’

  The buzzing in her ears grew louder, she could vaguely see Mr Dubois’s mouth working before she keeled over to lay unconscious on the floor.

  When she regained consciousness it was dark. The taverna was deserted, the door standing open. Her memory flooded back. The council members had been shot? There must be some mistake. She would go to the Town Hall and find Yiorgo. He would tell her the truth. Staggering to her feet she began to lurch like a drunkard along the road. A shout reached her ears and she turned as a stone whistled through the air to fall at her feet.

  ‘There she is.’

  ‘German lover.’

  ‘Whore!’

  ‘Death to traitors.’

  Through the darkness she could hear their voices, but hardly distinguish their shapes. They must have been waiting for her to leave the taverna. She began to run, but they followed, hurling missiles at her, some reaching their mark causing her to stumble and gasp in pain. A stone caught her a glancing blow on the head and she put up her hand only to bring it away sticky with blood. Sobbing for breath she continued on whilst the stones hailed around her.

  She darted into a shop doorway, hoping she had not been seen, but she was unlucky. Taking up a stance a short distance away from her hiding place the small crowd stoned her unmercifully until she finally sank to the ground unconscious, bleeding profusely from the wound on her temple. Satisfied, the mob slowly melted away into the dark streets.

  Father Andreas rose from his knees and crossed himself. He had first prayed for the salvation of the town; those prayers had been followed by the more personal ones to help the bereaved. He had gone from house to house as messages had been brought to him, taking what little comfort he could to the occupants. Maybe now that the worst was over he could get some sleep. Wearily he opened the door of the church.

  ‘Father, Father Andreas, are you there?’ an anxious voice came from out of the darkness.

  ‘I’m here. Who wants me?’

  ‘It’s me, Doctor Lenakis, from the hospital.’

  ‘Am I needed there?’

  Doctor Lenakis rubbed his hand over his forehead. ‘No, I’ve come for myself.’

  ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I want to make a confession.’

  Father Andreas opened the door of the church. ‘Feel free, my son.’

  The doctor knelt before the altar. ‘Father, I have sinned. I am guilty of abject cowardice. I am not worthy to live now my companions have died.’

  ‘How are you guilty of cowardice? Did you stay at home when the sick and injured needed you?’

  Doctor Lenakis shook his head. ‘When the Germans came for me I hid.’

  ‘That was a very natural reaction.’

  ‘I hid in bed with a leper who is near to death.’

  ‘It was wicked of you to take advantage of his affliction.’

  ‘I’ve done worse than that.’ The voice was a hoarse whisper.

  Father Andreas waited patiently whilst the doctor tried to compose himself. His voice broken with sobs he tried to explain. ‘When they entered the hospital they brought money with them, to pay for their treatment and their keep. I made false entries in the books.’ The doctor sank his head in his hands and began to sob openly. ‘I deserved to be caught and shot along with the others.’

  Father Andreas laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You have confessed, that is in your favour.’

  �
�What can I do?’ He turned an anguished gaze on the priest. ‘All my friends, my colleagues, all dead.’

  ‘Your punishment is the pain of being left behind.’

  ‘Come with me, come back to the hospital with me so I can give the money to you,’ he pleaded. ‘I don’t want it. It’s no good to me any more.’

  ‘What had you planned to use it for?’

  ‘Just to live on, repair my house, buy my clothes, a bottle of wine occasionally.’

  ‘You had your salary from the hospital. Why should you need to steal from those less fortunate than yourself?’

  ‘I wanted to be sure of enough in my old age.’

  Father Andreas frowned. ‘What do you want me to do with this money?’

  ‘Whatever you wish; use it for the church or return it to them. I don’t want it.’ His voice was rising hysterically.

  ‘I’ll come back with you. First let me give you a blessing so you may sleep easily in your bed tonight.’

  The doctor bowed his head. He was not at all sure that a blessing would enable him to sleep well. Never would he forget lying in the bed with the leper, touching his suppurating skin, breathing his fetid smell and petrified that the Germans would discover him. Shakily he rose to his feet and allowed the priest to take his arm to help him along the road. Once inside his office in the hospital he could hardly unlock the safe, his fingers were trembling so badly. He removed a number of small bags, thrusting them into Father Andreas’s hands along with a small notebook.

  ‘They’re yours,’ he kept repeating.

  Father Andreas hesitated at the door of the hospital. ‘What are you planning to do now, doctor?’

  ‘I am going home to sleep, blessed sleep.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Father Andreas had wanted to do the same thing some hours earlier. He felt weary through to his bones. He was relieved by the man’s answer. The doctor’s conscience was obviously salved by handing over the money and making the confession. He had no further need of him.

  Whilst she ate Anna watched Phaedra bustling around. These people were not as frightening as she had expected, in fact they seemed quite ordinary and nice. Phaedra was taking pains to set the child at ease, remembering how she had felt when sent to the island at about the same age. Yannis entered and smiled at Anna. ‘Did you enjoy your supper?’