YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (32 page)

‘Babbis.’ She knelt beside him. ‘What is it? Are you hurt?’

His body stiffened beneath her touch. ‘Go away, Maria.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. Please Babbis.’

She heard his swift intake of breath, but had no idea of the struggle that was taking place within him. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Maria? You’re not sick?’

‘Of course I’m all right.’ She knew she had lost a little weight, but she did not think she looked ill.

‘Truly?’

Realisation dawned on her. ‘You mean you think I might have leprosy?’

‘It’s possible. I keep seeing you horribly crippled,’ he buried his face in his hands and his shoulders began to heave. ‘I can’t bear it.’

Maria slipped her arms around him. ‘Babbis, do you honestly think I’d touch you if I thought it was possible I was infected? I’ve looked at myself all over and I haven’t a mark, not a single mark that could be the beginning of it.’

‘Why has Yannis got it?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m glad Yannis has gone to the hospital to be well looked after and not tried to hide.’ Tears ran down her face. It was the first time she had been able to cry ever since the news was first brought to them and now it seemed she was unable to stop. At first they sobbed together in each other’s arms, then Babbis began to kiss her, gently at first, then with an increasing urgency, finally pushing her down on the grass as he fumbled to undo his belt.

Maria pushed her damp hair out of her eyes and looked at Babbis in fear. ‘What have we done?’ she whispered. ‘What will Pappa say?’

Babbis looked at her, shame-faced. ‘It was my fault, Maria. Maybe it will be all right. We’ll get married anyway.’

Maria shook her head. ‘I can’t leave Mamma. I can’t get married.’ Her tears began to flow again.

Babbis took her in his arms. ‘There’ll be a way. I love you so much, Maria.’

Yiorgo Pavlakis returned from his honeymoon in a state of euphoria. He considered himself the luckiest man in the world to be married to such a beautiful and charming girl. To be greeted by Pavlos with a worried look in his eyes was a shock. His relating of their sea trip and sightseeing was cut short.

‘You can tell me later. I’ve something important to tell you. I had a visitor whilst you were away.’

‘Yannis?’ asked Yiorgo.

Pavlos shook his head. ‘It was Father Minos. He had Yannis’s cousin with him. He’d come up here looking for Yannis and met up with the priest.’

‘I don’t know where the boy is. I thought he’d returned home.’

‘He’s a leper. They’ve……’

A noise in the kitchen made both men jump to their feet. Louisa lay slumped on the floor unconscious. Between them the two men lifted her into a sitting position and Yiorgo began to rub her wrists, talking to her gently. Pavlos opened a bottle of vinegar and held it beneath her nose until her eyes flickered open. Yiorgo fussed over his wife, insisting that she went up and rested, assuring her that she was tired from their journey and should not appear in the taverna that evening. Louisa smiled at him weakly. She had been able to keep her pregnancy a secret from him during their honeymoon. Maybe she would now lose the unwanted child due to the shock she had just received and the fall she had sustained.

Pavlos was waiting impatiently for Yiorgo to return to the taverna, hoping no one would come in before he had the chance to tell the full story. He sipped a glass of wine morosely. As Pavlos feared a customer came in asking for a meal and he was forced to retire to the kitchen. Yiorgo returned and insisted on taking some soup up to Louisa.

‘I need to talk to you,’ growled Pavlos.

‘Later. I shan’t be long.’

This time he returned fairly quickly, bearing the empty bowl with pride. ‘She managed all of it and is going to sleep for a while.’

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 sharing 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.