YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (35 page)

‘You’ll make it worse for all of us,’ he sniffed dolefully.

Yannis tried to be patient. ‘You don’t have to touch the orderlies. We only want you to talk to the administrator for us. There’d be no trouble for you.’

Still Costas shook his head. ‘It won’t do any good. They won’t listen.’

‘No wonder you failed as a politician!’ Andreas almost spat the words at him. ‘I’m a dying man, but I’m willing to help. I’ll be your spokesman if this coward is too frightened.’

‘It won’t do any good,’ repeated Costas dully. ‘They won’t listen. Can I go back now?’

The three men nodded and he shuffled back to his own bed, sitting on the edge as he had before, his shrivelled hands hanging uselessly between his knees.

‘He’s losing his mind,’ remarked Spiro.

‘Did you mean it?’ asked Yannis of Andreas.

The old man nodded. ‘Arrange it as soon as you can and I’ll do my best to be around to help you. Organise it properly, each man to have his own job, and two standing by to carry me. You’ll only get one chance.’

Spiro looked around. ‘We’ll start now. Come on, Yannis. We’ll ask them to come to a meeting, then we’ll only have to say it once.’

‘Talk to Elias first,’ Andreas advised them. ‘He knows the men and he might be able to persuade any who are doubtful.’

It was from Elias that the suggested time of the meeting came. ‘I’ll hold the service on Sunday evening as usual and you can hold your meeting behind us.’

Over the next few days all the ambulant lepers were approached and their general health was inquired after and discussed. Finally Yannis and Spiro selected fifteen men who appeared to be fairly fit and strong. Yannis wished Andreas was stronger. Each time they talked his voice seemed thinner and weaker.

On Sunday Yannis was in a fever of impatience. The time between each meal dragged interminably. Finally supper arrived and Yannis and Spiro spoke to those they had selected and asked them to gather at the back of the ward when the service started. Each was somewhat surprised, but none refused.

The trolley with the dirty dishes was eventually collected. Yannis and Spiro sat and waited for half an hour, then they walked to the end of the ward. Elias took his cue and called out that he would be holding the usual Sunday service. With sideways glances at their fellows certain of the inmates slipped to the back of the little congregation and as a prayer was intoned Yannis spoke to them quietly.

The men exchanged doubtful glances, some shook their heads; two turned away and joined the service. Yannis looked at Spiro desperately.

‘Listen, friends,’ Spiro included them all in his outstretched arms. ‘Think about it, talk to each other, then come and tell me if you are with us. There has to be ten of us at least, more if possible. Remember we have nothing to lose and everything to gain.’

Hope shone in eyes that had been dull with despair and one man shouted “I’m with you,” and Spiro hushed him quickly.

‘Don’t shout about it. We chose you all because you’re the fittest. Others may want to help and they may not be well enough, then they’d be in the way.’

Yannis could not sleep that night. If he dozed off he awoke, startled by another’s noise. Each time he closed his eyes he saw a scene of massacre where the orderlies had fought and maimed each attacker. He wished he had never thought of the idea.

Sleep came eventually and he was jolted awake as the cleaner banged against his bed. He growled a complaint and shifted his position, scratching his head as the lice irritated his scalp. If only they could have their hair washed and cut it would help. The tangled, unkempt mass of hair that hung around him was disgusting. That could be another thing they could ask of the administrator.

For the rest of the day Yannis fretted. Two patients came over to speak to him, both refusing to participate. He had seen three go to Spiro. There were not going to be enough men to carry out his plan. In despair he lay on his bed, his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

‘We’re there,’ Spiro hissed in his ear. ‘With you and I there are nine willing.’

Yannis opened his eyes. ‘It’s not enough.’

‘It has to be. All we have to do now is arrange the day and the time. We have to go through with it, Yannis. Too many know and are depending on us. Even those who won’t join us are hoping it will make things better.’

‘What about Andreas? Is he still willing?’

‘I expect so. Come with me and tell him.’

Andreas appeared to be asleep as they approached his bed and Yannis was struck anew by his frailty. They sat each side of him as he listened carefully.

‘You can do it,’ he said at last. ‘The others will rally round once you start. Decide on your day quickly before they lose interest.’

Yannis and Spiro exchanged glances. ‘Tomorrow – lunch time.’

Andreas nodded. ‘It’s probably the best time. Go and tell them, Spiro, whilst Yannis and I talk. I want to be quite certain I remember all we want.’

Yannis ran through the list again, Andreas nodding as he did so. Finally he smiled at Yannis. ‘You’re a good boy, plenty of courage. Don’t expect miracles, will you?’

‘I can hope for them. Rest now. We want you fighting fit tomorrow.’

The time dragged and Yannis wished they had arranged to act that day. He sat with Manolis, hoping he would be in one of his humorous moods and distract his thoughts.

‘Pity I haven’t any nails,’ he remarked, regarding his claw like hand. ‘I could bite them to pass the time away. Dice or cards?’

‘Dice.’ Yannis chose instantly. He could still not beat Manolis. Somehow the deformed hand had a way of flicking the dice that gave him the numbers he required with unfailing regularity. They played until the oil lamps burnt down and it was too dark to see. That was another thing, they should ask for, more oil for the lamps. He must tell Andreas.

Unpredictably Yannis slept soundly, waking as usual when the cleaner swirled his mop under the bed and bumped the leg. He stayed where he was until the water arrived and as usual he pushed and elbowed his way to the barrel with his basin. Breakfast was the usual fare of stale bread, by arrangement the conspirators took as much as they were able. They would probably miss their lunch, and food, however unpalatable, was necessary.

The waiting became almost unbearable. The nine men circulated slowly around the ward, telling the other patients of their plans. Many pursed their lips and shook their heads in apprehension, yet wishing for their success. Others told them not to be foolish, whilst more had no real comprehension of the proposed incident and grinned inanely. Yannis took it upon himself to tell the dumb musician and was surprised by the reaction he received. Hope blazed in the man’s eyes, he shook Yannis’s hand firmly; then began to whirl his fists around. Yannis grinned. He should have thought of asking him.

‘You’re with us?’

An emphatic nod answered him.

As the lunch hour approached the ten men made their way towards the end of the ward, waiting for the doors to be opened and the trolley pushed in. They formed small groups and tried to behave normally. The orderly entered and looked around suspiciously before beckoning to those behind to bring the trolley in. As the patients moved forward slowly and uncertainly Yannis shouted. In vain the orderlies hit out with their truncheons, hampered by a man hanging on each arm.

‘Close the doors!’ Manolis roared at them from the other end of the ward, wishing he were closer and could see exactly how they were faring. A crippled man pushed each door closed, wincing with pain as the hard wooden cosh caught him a glancing blow on his kidneys.

It seemed an age to Yannis that he twisted and turned the man’s arm, trying to release his grip on the weapon and it was doubtful that he would have succeeded had Aristo not come to his aid. The orderlies were clearly petrified of the lepers touching them, continuing to fight with fists and feet until they were firmly pinned to the floor. Panting and sweating Yannis rose to his feet.

‘Listen to me! We don’t want to hurt you. We want you to take us to the administrator. We’ve a number of complaints we want to put before him. If you take us to him we won’t lay a finger on him.’ He poked at a man with his foot. ‘You, get up slowly, and lead us to him. We’ll keep your friends here for insurance.’ Sulkily the man scrambled to his feet. ‘Those two can sit in the corner until we get back. Watch them, though. At the first sign of trouble let them feel a cosh.’

The two captives shuffled into a sitting position into the corner, wrinkling their noses at the smell from the latrines that were near by, a semi-circle of lepers pinning them in.

‘Fetch Andreas,’ called Yannis.

The old man eased himself onto the mutilated hands that were to carry him and placed an arm around each neck. ‘Not too fast,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t feel very safe.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll walk behind you.’ It was a patient who had refused to join them until the fracas started.

Moving slowly for the sake of Andreas they were led down two long corridors until they came to a halt before a door marked “private”. Yannis placed a hand over the orderly’s mouth. ‘One sound out of you and I’ll hit you so hard you’ll never wake up,’ he threatened.

Stark fear showed in the man’s eyes, but Yannis did not consider it was due to his threat of violence. In a swift movement he swung the door wide and the administrator looked up from his meal, wondering who was invading his privacy so rudely. As he took in the little group his face purpled.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ he swallowed nervously.

The orderly was pushed to one side to make room for Andreas to be brought before the desk. ‘We want to speak to you,’ explained Yannis. ‘We believe we are within our rights and have asked Andreas as a trained lawyer to be our spokesman.’

‘Rights! You have no rights! You’re lepers!’

Yannis advanced towards him, seeing the fear flickering in his eyes as he tried to back away. Yannis stretched out his hand until it was no more than an inch from the man’s face.

‘I won’t touch you provided you listen to us.’

The administrator had started to sweat; he moved his head back a little and eased his collar. ‘I’ll listen, just move back.’

Yannis dropped his hand, but stayed standing where he was.

Andreas began in his frail voice. ‘I have been asked to speak on behalf of all the lepers in my ward. We would like our conditions improved. We are kept like animals, not sick people. We want proper medical treatment, examinations by the doctors and clean bandages. We want proper food, not stale scraps, enough for each man so there is no need for us to fight each other for a portion. We also want a decent burial for those who die. The way a body is removed and disposed of is disgusting. We deserve a proper burial like any other man. We also want newspapers, books, pens, paper, so we can pass the time and write to our relatives.’ Andreas paused, wondering if he had forgotten anything. ‘And water. We want more water. Often there is not enough for us to wash.’

The administrator had recovered from his shock and decided to appear conciliatory. ‘There was no need for this,’ he waved his hand towards the orderly. ‘You should have approached me properly, asked for an interview.’

Yannis bent forward. ‘How are we to approach you, sir? The orderlies won’t speak to us, so how do we get a message to you? If we try to speak to them they beat us back with truncheons.’

‘They have to have a means of controlling you. Look at the way you have behaved today! How will I find people willing to work here if you attack them?’

‘We don’t want to attack them,’ persisted Yannis. ‘We just want to live decently, with enough food and water and to be able to pass the time by reading or writing.’

‘You cannot have books or paper. You would contaminate them.’ The administrator skilfully evaded the main issue.

‘We could have books that we keep in the ward. It wouldn’t matter if they were contaminated.’

‘There is no money for luxuries.’

‘When I agreed to be admitted in Heraklion I was given a receipt for my money and told that my expenses would be deducted. There must be enough money in my name for us to have one newspaper a week.’

The administrator looked at Yannis coldly. ‘How long are you staying with us? You don’t know, I don’t know; so how can you say you have enough money for a newspaper? You are in a hospitable for the incurables and I expect that is where you will stay for the rest of your life. I doubt very much that you can afford anything.’

Yannis felt his legs buckling beneath him. He had refused to admit he was incurable.

‘Go back to your ward. I can promise you there will be changes.’

The lepers exchanged delighted looks. The two men who were carrying Andreas were flagging visibly beneath his weight and Spiro went to relieve one of them as they made their way back to the ward. They pushed the doors open and signalled to the other lepers to allow the hostages to leave. Andreas was deposited gently on his bed where he lay back with his eyes closed.

‘We saw the administrator,’ shouted Yannis, ‘and he has promised us changes.’ Delighted he clasped Spiro to him. ‘We’ve done it, we’ve really done it.’

As he spoke he heard the heavy doors swing to and a key turn in the lock. Disappointment showed in his face.

‘You must have expected that!’ Spiro saw the look. ‘They couldn’t let us just wander; we might interfere with other patients. Come and tell Manolis what happened.’

Yannis followed his friend to the bed in the centre of the ward. ‘We should have made the administrator come here and spend the afternoon. I don’t think he understands how bad it is. Did you see what he had for lunch?’

‘Spiro grinned. ‘I bet he hasn’t eaten it now.’

Manolis gave them the bread they had saved from their breakfast. ‘Sorry, dolmades were off, moussaka was off, roast lamb was off, bread was on. It was pretty stale to start with, it’s even worse now.’ He listened to them gravely as they related the details of the interview. ‘I bet they’re petrified they’ll be in here with us. They’d soon be pressing for better conditions if they were.’ He leaned back against his thin pillow. ‘If only there was someone who really understood. To know what it’s like just to lay around all day when you’ve been used to working. They have a garden here, you know. To me it would be bliss to sit out there and feel the sun.’ A tear crept down Manolis’s cheek, which he brushed away impatiently. ‘Leave me alone for a while. I’m obviously overtired, been over exerting myself again, no doubt. Go and talk to Andreas.’