My Brother Michael (26 page)

‘I don’t think so. No, they’re not.’

He said, sounding at once puzzled and relieved: ‘Then he meant to go anyway. Damn the boy, he might have told me, and saved me a couple of sleepless hours. Well, at least he isn’t sitting up on Parnassus somewhere with a sprained ankle, whatever else he’s got himself into. I’ll just make sure there’s nothing down here … ah, there’s the Greek’s knife. I thought I heard it fly under the bed. And that hellish clanging noise we made was Nigel’s apology for a waste-paper basket … Lord, what a mess! Orange peel and pencil shavings and all the dud drawings he’s thrown away. I really think we’ll have to bribe our way out of this, Camilla, my girl.’

‘For goodness’ sake let me help.’ I slipped from the bed to the floor and gathered up a handful of papers. I dropped them into the biscuit tin that served Nigel for a waste-basket. ‘I’ll clear this stuff up. You see if that
chair’ll mend, and straighten the table. There’s no damage except the broken glass, and we’d better leave that till morning and see if we can find a brush and –
Simon!
’

He was busy straightening the furniture. He swung round. ‘What is it?’

‘These papers … They’re not “dud drawings” at all. They’re – they’re the finished things, his Hellenic types!’ I shuffled them through my hands. ‘Yes, look, here they are! There’s that head that’s a bit like Stephanos, and the smiling one that looked like a statue, and that must be the Minoan girl he told us about – and here’s a shepherd boy. And more … look.’ I began to leaf through them rapidly. My hand wasn’t quite steady. I said: ‘I know he was doing them under protest, and he
was
feeling at odds with life, but surely, Simon, he can’t afford to throw them away? What in the world –?’ I stopped short.

Simon said sharply from above me: ‘What is it?’

I said shakily: ‘This one. This is the head, that lovely, lovely head. The young man with the strange face. And look, he’s torn it up. Not the others, but this. It’s torn right across.’ I looked down at the fragments on my lap and said sadly: ‘He needn’t have torn it up. It was beautiful.’

He stooped to take the pieces from me, and studied them for a few moments in silence.

At length he said: ‘What else is there? Not the flower-studies, surely?’

‘No. No. They’re all the “types”, except that lovely head.’

I heard him take a breath, as if of relief, and when he spoke I knew he had had the same fleeting stab of fear as I myself. ‘Then – whatever made him go – I don’t think we need worry overmuch. That fit of the blues hasn’t made him plan anything foolish after all; he’s taken the good stuff with him. Except this …’ He opened his fingers, and let the fragments drift down on to my lap. The action was like a shrug; a sigh. ‘Ah, well, we can’t guess what’s biting the boy. But I’ll be thankful when I know—’

I said abruptly: ‘
The cyclamen
.’

He said, suddenly sounding very weary: ‘Is that there as well, after all?’

‘No. It’s not here. That’s not what I meant. But I’ve remembered something, Simon, and I think it’s important. Yesterday, when we were up in the corrie – Michael’s corrie – I saw a plant of cyclamen growing in the rock. I didn’t realise it at the time – at least I think I must have done subconsciously, because I know I was thinking about Nigel as I looked at it – but it was the same plant that was in the drawing. I tell you, I didn’t connect it then; but now, when we were talking about his drawings, I somehow saw it again. And it was the same. I’m sure of it. And that means that Nigel’s been up in that corrie, too!’ I drew a deep breath. ‘And perhaps, if
Nigel
had found Angelos’ cave, that would explain some of the things he said on Monday night! Simon, Nigel was in that corrie, and if you ask me, Nigel found the cave! And Angelos’ hoard was still there!’

Simon said, hard and sharp: ‘Then if Nigel found
anything in that corrie, he found it on Monday. He did that drawing on Monday.’

‘Yes, and he told you he’d done no work, till we found that he’d slipped up over the Phormis head and the cyclamen!’

He said slowly: ‘It could be. I went up some of the way over the track with him on Sunday. He might have gone back on his own and stumbled on the place. One of those weird freaks of chance, but they do happen. Oh, my God, suppose he did?’

We stared at each other. I said: ‘And yesterday morning I saw him setting off again … and looking secretive about it. Simon, perhaps it was
Nigel
who took the mule. Perhaps we’re wrong about Danielle. Perhaps Nigel’s trying to move the stuff, whatever it is, himself.’

Simon said, in a harsh voice that was anything but casual: ‘And if he is? If he’s got across that damned Greek in the process? Don’t forget he’s somewhere in this too.’

‘Perhaps he’s working with that damned Greek,’ I said.

‘Perhaps.’

I said: ‘Simon, don’t worry so. One thing’s obvious; he did mean to go. He’s cleared up here, and he’s scrapped the stuff he didn’t want. Whatever he’s up to, and even if his affairs
have
tangled with Dimitrios’, he’s gone deliberately. He may have got himself into something illegal, or at most immoral, but he meant to, and – well, you can’t really be his keeper to that extent, can you?’

He hesitated, then suddenly smiled. ‘I suppose not. At least, not till it’s daylight.’

I said, making a statement of it: ‘You’re going up there, of course.’

‘Of course. I intended to anyway, and now it seems I shall have to.’

‘When do we start?’

He looked down at me for a moment. That unreadable mask had shut down again over his face. I don’t know what I expected him to say. I know what nine men out of ten would have said – and Philip would have said it twice.

Simon didn’t say it at all. He said merely: ‘I’ll come and call you. And now you’d better go and sleep. We’ll have to make an early start.’

I got to my feet. ‘Will you take Stephanos and Niko?’

‘No. For one thing it would take too long, and for another, if there’s anything to be found that Nigel and/or Dimitrios haven’t already found and moved, I don’t want witnesses till I know where Nigel comes in, and whose property it is. If it is arms and gold, the ownership might be a rather delicate political question under present circumstances.’

‘Heavens, yes. I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘And now let me see you back to your room … By the way I haven’t thanked you yet for bashing friend Dimitrios over the head for me.’

‘I’d never have got near him,’ I said truthfully, ‘if he hadn’t thought I was Danielle. And I missed him anyway.’

‘All the same it was a stout effort.’

He opened the door, and I went past him into the chilly corridor.

‘They taught us a lot,’ I said sedately, ‘in the tough end of St Trinian’s.’

I
T
can’t have been much after six when Simon woke me. I had sleepily answered ‘Come in’ to his knock before I remembered that I was no longer in the hotel, and this was not likely to be a chambermaid with a cup of tea. As I turned my head, looking, still sleepy-eyed, towards the door, it opened, Simon didn’t come in, but I heard his voice.

‘Camilla.’

‘Mmm? Oh – Simon. Yes?’

‘Could you bear to get up now, d’you suppose? I think we ought to move. I’ve got coffee on a Primus if you like to come along and get it when you’re dressed.’

‘All right.’

‘Good.’ The door shut. I shot, fully awake now, out of bed, and began to dress quickly. From my window I
could see the morning sunlight sliding like apricot-bloom over the rounded top of Mount Cirphis.

In my room it was still cool, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t so grateful about the icy gush of water from the taps – both taps – but in any case washing at Delphi is a penance; the water is as hard as pumice-stone, and just about as good for the skin … but it woke me up fully and finally, and it was with a tingling sense of new adventure that at length I went quickly along to Simon’s door and tapped.

‘Come in.’

I noticed that he was making no attempt to keep his voice low this morning, and he must have seen a query in my face as I entered, because he looked up from the Primus he was tending and said briefly: ‘Danielle checked out an hour ago.’

‘Oh?’

‘I followed her down as far as the upper road. I didn’t see where she went in the village, but I did see a jeep drive off north.’

‘That means she’s either making for Itea or further along towards Amphissa?’

‘Yes. Coffee?’

‘Lovely. Simon, this smells like heaven. Rolls too? You’re very efficient.’

‘I went along to the baker’s after I’d seen Danielle off the premises. Here’s the sugar.’

‘Thank you. Where do you think she’s gone?’

‘God knows, and there’s not much point in guessing. Probably to pick Dimitrios up in Itea – though if the jeep was in Delphi it seems odd he didn’t take it last
night when he got out of the studio. How d’you feel today?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. And you? How’s the shoulder? You’re sure that was all the damage?’

‘Certain. And it’s really hardly stiff at all. I feel ready for anything.’

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, a cup of coffee in one hand and a roll in the other, looking, as ever, completely relaxed and at ease. ‘And you?’ he said. ‘Ready for your adventure?’

I laughed. ‘I can hardly believe that two days ago I was writing to my friend that nothing ever happened to me. Is it Goethe who says somewhere that we ought to beware what we ask the gods for, because they might grant it? I asked for adventure, and it seems I got it.’

He didn’t smile. He appeared to consider what I’d been saying for a minute or two, then he said, quite seriously: ‘I ought not to let you come, you know.’

I didn’t ask why. I drank coffee and watched the sunlight wheel a fraction to touch the edge of the window-frame. A butterfly hovered, then winnowed down to cling to the strip of sunlit stone. Its wings fanned gently, black velvet shot with gold.

Simon said: ‘Don’t mistake me. I don’t think we – you, are in any danger; but it’ll be a hard day, especially following after yesterday and last night. The only possible danger is running unexpectedly into Dimitrios, who’ll certainly be up there, but if we’re reasonably careful that can be avoided. I don’t think he’ll be expecting us. He probably thinks that now I’ve seen the place, that closes the account for me.’

‘In any case I told Danielle we were going to the fair at Levadia.’

‘
Did
you? Good for you. Was she showing interest, then?’

I smiled. ‘Yes, she showed interest. She asked me flat out where you were going today. I – well, I’m afraid I just mistrusted her on principle, and told her a lie.’ I set down my coffee cup. ‘It seems it’s just as well Dimitrios certainly won’t be looking out for us.’

‘Excellent,’ said Simon. ‘Of course, there’s no reason anyway why he should have expected me to go up there again, is there? He doesn’t know I know of the existence of any “treasure”. If Michael had sent any information home, Dimitrios might well imagine I’d have come long ago. Cigarette?’

‘Thank you.’

He leaned forward to hold his lighter for me. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I think Dimitrios will see it as a pilgrimage for me; and that’s over. All the better. But we’ll be very careful, just the same. With any luck we’ll see what’s going on, and where Nigel comes in – and then we can think about possible reinforcements.’ He sent me a grin as he got up off the bed and reached for his haversack. ‘In any case, not to worry. All things being equal, I can deal with friend Dimitrios. And I refuse to be afraid of Nigel. Even if he has got himself mixed up in anything for the sake of the cash, he’d never in a million years do violence for gain. Or so I think.’

‘I agree.’

‘Apart from those two there’s Danielle.’ That swift grin again. ‘Well, I wouldn’t like to swear that I could
precisely “deal with” Danielle, but let’s say I’m not afraid of her.’

‘We might be wrong about them,’ I said. ‘There may be nobody up there at all, except Nigel.’

‘It’s possible—’ he was packing the haversack as he talked: more of the fresh rolls, some fruit, chocolate, water; Spartan fare, but none the less appropriate for that – ‘it’s quite possible that we are wrong about Dimitrios and Danielle, but in any case I’m not concerned at the moment with Michael’s “find” except as it touches Nigel.’ A look. ‘You’re convinced about those flowers in the drawing, aren’t you?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Well, that’s one thing we’re sure of in a maze of guess-work. We don’t really know a damned thing about Dimitrios and Danielle, but we do know Nigel has been in that corrie, and we do know he was wildly excited about something that same night. And Dimitrios came here, for some purpose, to visit Nigel’s room. We’ll freeze on to those facts, and let the rest develop as it will … Are you ready to start?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then let’s go.’

Already the morning sun was warm overhead, but the rocks were still cool from the night. The path past the graveyard was wide enough for us to walk side by side.

Simon said: ‘All I’m hoping today is that – if you’re right – we run across Nigel and see what he’s up to, and knock some sense into his silly young head before he gets himself involved in something he can’t get out of.
And incidentally – this is the path off to the stadium – find the cave.’

He had stopped where the narrow path left our track, and waited for me to precede him. I paused, and looked at him straightly. ‘Tell me one thing. Why
are
you letting me come?’

For the second time since I had known him he seemed oddly at a loss. He hesitated, as if looking for the right words.

I said: ‘Granted that you don’t want Stephanos and Niko along. But you’d get along much faster and do much better alone,
Kyrie
Lester, and you know it. You also know quite well that if we
do
run into Dimitrios it might develop into quite a sticky party. Why don’t you leave me at home to get on with my knitting?’