YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (49 page)

Yannis shook his head. ‘There’s no point in her writing to me. Tell her that I release her from our betrothal agreement and that I wish her well.’

Andreas shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘I do,’ confirmed Yannis.

Father Minos rose to his feet. ‘Should we tell the people we’re leaving?’

‘Of course, they’ll all want to wave you off. Before you leave I’d like to say thank you. It’s meant more to me than I can say to see you and Andreas.’

‘Now we know you’re here we’ll do something about it. There are a lot of improvements that could be made. We won’t rest until you have all you need over here to live a decent life.’

Yannis smiled, the words were comforting, but he saw no way that either Father Minos or Andreas could put them into effect. It was more convenient for the authorities to forget them.

Crowded together on the quay they waved farewell as the tiny boat edged gently away from the island into deeper water where it could turn and navigate the treacherous channel that led to the open sea. Once out of sight Yannis found his legs gave way beneath him and he sank to the ground.

‘I can’t believe it. They did come, didn’t they, Spiro. I didn’t dream today, did I?’

‘They came. What a wonderful man Father Minos is. He never flinched whatever he saw, he never once shuddered and looked away.’

‘Nor did Andreas,’ Yannis defended his cousin. ‘Do you think they will be able to help us?’

‘I know they’ll try. I’m going along to Antionis now. Coming?’

‘No, I just want to sit and think.’

Spiro nodded. ‘I understand.’

He walked away, leaving Yannis to shed bitter tears as he remembered all the details of his life with his cousin and family, details he had fought so hard to obliterate from his mind.

No word was spoken between Father Minos and Andreas on the journey back to Aghios Nikolaos; each was immersed in their own memories of the day. Once ashore Father Minos thanked the boatman and took Andreas to one side.

‘I have to see Doctor Kandakis. When I’ve finished with him can I meet you somewhere? I think we should talk.’

Andreas nodded. ‘I’ll be at the taverna where we ate last night. I’ll have to get permission, but that should be easy.’ Andreas watched as the priest walked swiftly away to the doctor’s house and wished he could be present at the impending meeting.

Father Minos hammered on the doctor’s door and without waiting for an answer he swung it open and entered. No one was waiting in the small room, but the doctor opened the door of the surgery to investigate the noise. A look of annoyance crossed his face when he saw his visitor.

‘Was it you making all that noise?’

‘I’m afraid it was. I was taking out some of my anger and frustration on your door.’ Father Minos strode over to the doctor, standing almost a head taller. ‘What kind of man are you? What sort of doctor do you call yourself? No wonder you didn’t want me to go over to that island. I’ve seen sights there today that would make men weep. Have you any idea how they survive? When did you, you who are supposed to be looking after them, ever do a single thing for them?’ Father Minos paused for breath and the doctor backed away from him.

‘I think you should sit down and explain yourself a little more calmly. Come, take a seat and share a glass of wine with me.’

Father Minos hesitated. It was no good antagonising this man too far. ‘Very well, but I’ll say what I wish and then leave.’

Doctor Kandakis poured two glasses of wine and sat heavily in the chair behind his desk. ‘Now, what is it you wish to consult me about?’

‘Don’t you think that as a doctor you should know about the conditions that exist over there?’

‘It is hardly my business. The Government send the people there.’

‘I see, so if I told you they are dying through neglect, lack of decent housing and sanitation, poor food and no medicine, you would just shrug and say it was none of your affair?’

‘I find what you say rather difficult to believe. Many of them have lived there for years without complaint.’

‘Without complaint! Who can they complain to? No one is allowed to land except the boatmen to offload supplies. They would not take a letter back to post for them, even if they had writing materials. They have little water, ruined houses to live in and you feel there is no need for you to do anything because they have not complained.’ Father Minos banged his fist down on the desk. ‘I insist you do something.’

‘You insist! How dare you insist! You have no idea how debased those people on the island really are. No doubt they behaved themselves for you today, but I’m sure the boatmen could tell a different story.’

Father Minos took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. ‘I spent seven hours on that island. I sat and talked with educated men. Men who calmly bandage an arm that is gangrenous and realise that amputation will eventually be the only way to save a life. I talked with men who are trying hard to repair the buildings to give them some reasonable shelter during the winter because they realise that to be exposed to all weathers is harmful and to be crowded together is a way of spreading disease. I gave absolution to an old man who knew he was dying and wanted to confess his sins before his soul departs and his rotten carcass is thrown into the tower to finally disintegrate. The sights I’ve seen over there today defy description.’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘I shall never forget, never, and you,’ he looked venomously at the doctor, ‘you would just wash your hands of them and say they’re not your responsibility.’ The priest leaned back against the upright chair and took a deep shuddering breath. The face of the doctor had at first purpled with rage under the onslaught, but now he had paled, a greenish tinge about his mouth.

‘It is God’s will that they are outcasts and therefore suffering,’ he tried to defend himself.

Father Minos rose and drew himself up to his full height. ‘It is God’s will, but I am God’s messenger on earth and God has told me that the time has come to help them.’

Doctor Kandakis’s mouth opened without any words coming from him as the priest stalked across the room, his glass untouched, and slammed the door behind him. Once outside he cursed himself for a fool. Losing his temper with the doctor was no way to get the help he so much needed. He leaned against the wall of the house, the cool night air a balm to his over heated brow as he fought to regain his composure.

Andreas was waiting for him at the taverna and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question as the priest approached. Father Minos shook his head.

‘I made a terrible mess of that. I lost my temper.’

Andreas said nothing, but poured a glass of wine and pushed it towards his friend who drained the glass and pushed it back to be refilled.

‘Would you believe that he says being a leper is God’s will and therefore not his responsibility? How can you talk to a man like that?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t got your experience of life and people,’ Andreas leaned forward. ‘I know what I want to do, but that’s probably impossible.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I’d like to buy the materials and medicines they need and send them over with the boatmen. I told you it was impossible.’

Father Minos smiled. ‘I’ve thought the same, but it’s a question of money. I’m sure if we spoke to the villagers they would send whatever they could, but medicines and building materials,’ he pursed his lips, ‘that’s a different matter.’

‘We could try, though, couldn’t we?’ Andreas spoke eagerly. ‘If I spoke to my father and uncle they could ask the other villagers. They don’t have to know Yannis is over there. They can say a priest visited and he is appealing on their behalf.’

Father Minos shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. Yannis’s father would beggar himself trying to help his son. The Government should take the responsibility.’

‘They do pay the farmers for sending their quota over. We could do something about that. I remember helping to pack crates when I stayed on the farm. They always send the worst of the crop, the grapes that would have been trodden into the ground as fertiliser, or the olives, which haven’t ripened properly, vegetables that have been blighted. You put a few decent ones on top so they look all right.’ Andreas’s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. ‘I know uncle Yannis will always send the best in future and he could try and persuade the others to do the same. They wouldn’t make so much money, of course.’

Father Minos nodded. ‘That’s certainly something that would help. I’ll visit Yannis’s father tomorrow. I hope the shock won’t be too much for his mother. Do you think I should tell her or ask her husband to break the news?’

Andreas considered the question carefully. ‘I think you’ll have to tell her. The moment she sees you she’ll know you’ve brought some news.’

‘You’re right.’ Father Minos sighed. He was not looking forward to his mission the following day. ‘Are you able to come with me?’

‘Not tomorrow, if only I were still a novice it would be easy for me to have time to myself.’

‘Have you any plans for when you are finally ordained?’

‘Not really, I expect there’ll be an opening for me somewhere.’

Father Minos, sitting in the boat that was taking him back to Aghios Nikolaos, ruminated on the reaction he had received from the family he had visited.

Yannis’s mother had cried, the tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks, Anna joining her. His father had hidden his emotion by rummaging in a cupboard for a bottle of brandy, Yiorgo had shaken his hand and thanked him gruffly before returning rapidly to the fields, but Stelios had stared at him blankly, turned on his heel and left the room without a word. They had wanted to know every detail of his visit and how their son had looked, did he have a decent bed to sleep in, were his clothes in good repair, was he eating properly, what did the doctors say about his chances of recovery?

Father Minos had sipped his brandy slowly and thought carefully about his answers. He did not want to upset Maria more than necessary, yet he had to impress upon them the need for action.

‘It’s not easy for them over there. They are totally dependent upon the food and water that’s sent to them from the mainland. I’ve heard that the produce sent is not always the best, maybe you could persuade those who send it to improve the quality?’

Yannis shifted uncomfortably. ‘What else do they need?’

‘Everything; cooking utensils, bedding, clothes, building materials, the list is endless. They’re trying to rebuild the houses to make them fit to live in. They need sand, cement, lime, nails, screws, timber, and tools. Their clothes are in tatters, just rags hanging from their backs. There’s no medicine for them, no disinfectant or bandages. Nothing.’

Yannis refilled the priest’s glass. ‘We thought the Government looked after them.’

‘The Government wants to forget them.’ Father Minos leaned forward and spoke softly to Yannis’s father. ‘I’m not sure what happened at the hospital. Yannis didn’t say very much, but from what I gathered from his friends he caused some trouble over there, him and a group of others. They were sent to the island as a punishment. It’s hardly likely the Government would do anything for them. They consider themselves better off on the island than they were in Athens.’

Yannis shook his head in despair. ‘What can I do?’

‘You could send them some old clothes, pots and pans, maybe a blanket or two. Anything would help.’

Yannis rose and rummaged once again in the cupboard, bringing out a small cloth bag, tied securely at the neck. He handed it to Father Minos. ‘Buy what they need.’

‘Yannis wouldn’t want me to take your savings.’ Father Minos tried to push the bag back to the farmer.

Yannis regarded him sternly. ‘My son is suffering on that island. I can’t go out and buy goods to send over there. People would wonder and question and before long they’d guess. I’ve a sick wife. I can’t afford to be thrown out of the village.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’m not a poor man. I paid for Yannis to go to Heraklion to study. I’ll do the same for Stelios and the others won’t want. Take it, just don’t mention who gave it to you.’

Father Minos tested the weight of the bag gingerly. It was not very heavy. ‘Was this the money returned to you by the taverna owner where Yannis was staying?’

‘I’d forgotten about that. I expect Yannis took it back from him.’

Father Minos shook his head. ‘When I visited the taverna with Andreas he hadn’t returned it. I’ll speak to him again. Where do you suggest I go for my purchases?’

Yannis considered. ‘We have the local store, but you’d probably do better in town.’

‘There’s just one other thing, would you have a goat you could spare?’

Yannis looked at the priest in amazement. ‘One goat wouldn’t go very far between them.’

Father Minos smiled. ‘I’m not planning that they should eat it. One of them has tuberculosis. Fresh milk could help him.’

‘Yannis?’

‘No, one of his friends. It was just an idea.’

Yannis nodded. ‘I have one in kid. I’ll see that it’s sent.’

‘It’s for Panicos,’ explained Father Minos.

‘Remember that, Anna. You can write a label for its neck.’

‘May I write a letter to Yannis also?’

‘Certainly not!’ her father snapped. ‘Do you want to tell everyone where your brother is?’

Anna tilted her head defiantly. ‘I’m not ashamed of him.’

‘He’s a young man to be proud of,’ agreed Father Minos, ‘but your father is right. It could mean problems for your family.’

‘Then I’ll wave to the island every day. Only Yannis will know I’m waving to him.’ Tears filled her eyes again. ‘I wish I could see him.’

Father Minos laid a hand on her head. ‘Be thankful he’s so close. Many of them are miles away from their families and will never see a sister wave to them.’

The priest took his leave of the family, promising to send them any news he had. Anna stood on the shore and Father Minos could see her waving a red scarf and knew it was not meant for him. Maybe a boatman could let Yannis know. He gazed at the young man as the boat sailed far closer to the island than was necessary and watched as the fisherman raised his hand in salutation and blew a kiss to the girl standing on the jetty. He grinned at the priest and Father Minos realised he had an ally.