YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (70 page)

‘What kind of man?’

‘Just a man.’ Pavlos was beginning to feel exasperated. ‘Get a move on. I don’t want to be away too long or I might miss him.’

Pavlos hurried his sister along to the taverna he had so recently left. He drew the photograph of the man from his pocket and passed it to her. ‘He went off with Alkis in his taxi a short while ago. When he returns I want you to get talking to him.’

Louisa gave the snapshot a cursory glance. ‘I saw him earlier today.’

Pavlos raised his eyebrows. ‘Did he tell you what he was doing here?’

‘Not really. He said he hoped he wouldn’t be here much longer, that he didn’t like Crete.’

‘Why did he come here, then?’

‘I had the impression he’d been sent here by his company.’

‘How much did you charge him?’

‘Ten drachmas.’

Pavlos smiled. ‘Did he complain about paying you double?’

‘He just said I was expensive.’

‘Did he arrange to come again?’

Louisa shook her head. Pavlos lit a cigarette and they sat in silence until the waiter hovered into view and Pavlos ordered baklava for them both.

‘How long do I have to wait here?’

‘Until he returns.’

With a sigh Louisa settled herself back into the chair. What a waste of time. She would just close her eyes for a short while and think about the fair skinned man she had entertained that morning. She felt a little shiver go through her and wished he had arranged to visit her again.

‘There he is.’

Louisa opened her eyes and alighting from the taxi she saw her acquaintance of the morning. ‘What now?’ she asked her brother.

‘Come with me. Speak to him, introduce me, invite him for a meal.’ He took her arm and propelled her to where the man was paying Alkis.

‘Why, hello, what a surprise.’ Louisa smiled widely. ‘I certainly didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I am pleased, now I can introduce you to my brother.’

For a moment the man looked at her blankly, then realising it would be of no use denying their earlier association he smiled also. ‘How do you do?’ He held out his hand.

Pavlos grasped it. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr…?’

‘Dubois.’

‘Mr Dubois. My name is Pavlos. Louisa has told me that you spent some time chatting together this morning and how very interesting you were.’

‘Really?’ Mr Dubois raised his eyebrows in surprise.

‘Louisa tells me you are a surveyor. Are you working for an historical society, looking for a new site?’

‘Yes, exactly that.’ Mr Dubois answered quickly.

‘Have you had any luck?’

‘Who knows? I only look and photograph. It is up to the specialist to decide whether the features shown are worth investigating.’

‘I would enjoy talking to you. I worked for a while on the excavations at Knossos,’

‘I am not interested in the known sites.’

‘Maybe you’d care to tour the town with me, I could show you anything you wished to see, then we could go to my taverna and Louisa would have a delicious meal prepared.’

Mr Dubois hesitated. It could be advantageous to be shown around by a local and he would very likely be able to extract some useful information from him at the same time.

‘That is very kind of you. I would not dream of taking up your time.’

‘It would be my pleasure. Louisa, you return to the taverna and make us a delicious surprise whilst I show Mr Dubois our fine city.’ Pavlos took Mr Dubois by the elbow and steered him towards the taverna they had recently left. ‘First, let us have a glass of wine together.’

Louisa watched as the two men walked off. She had not been needed at all once the first introduction had been made. It had been a completely wasted afternoon for her and now she would have to busy herself preparing a meal that would impress the Frenchman.

Pavlos drained his glass. ‘Now, my friend, where would you like to go first? Are you interested in churches? We have a number of very fine buildings.’

‘I am in your hands.’

‘Very well, we will first of all go down to the waterfront. You will see our fine fortress and the remains of the Venetian arsenals, from there we can walk through and view the Morosini Fountain and the Venetian Loggia, we will then turn back to the main road and you will see the Fondaco. I know a number of short cuts so we can view other fountains and buildings on our route.’

Mr Dubois nodded. He was not interested in fountains and churches. He accompanied Pavlos, listening carefully as he pointed out various places that he thought might interest the stranger.

‘Now we will make our way back up the hill and you will see the Venetian Loggia and all our new public buildings. Here we have our post office and the banks.’ He stopped outside the Venetian building for Mr Dubois to admire it. ‘Now we take a short cut through here and you will see the Morosini fountain.’

‘Where is your police station?’

Pavlos grinned. ‘All in good time. The police station, the army barracks, the Town Hall, you see, you did need someone to show you the town.’

Mr Dubois smiled politely. ‘You are quite invaluable as a guide. I only wish I had met you earlier. I am sure that rascally taxi driver took me the longest way to everything.’

Pavlos shrugged. ‘Where did you ask him to take you?’

‘The plain of Lassithi, Rethymnon, Chania.’

‘I doubt that you’d find much in those areas. Tomorrow I could take you to more likely places.’

Mr Dubois shook his head. ‘I have to leave tomorrow. There is a boat to Athens that I must not miss.’

‘There’ll be another.’

‘There will, but by then I will have missed my connection. I wish to get home.’

‘Where is home?’

‘Paris.’

‘I’ve heard that it’s been ravaged, that much of France has suffered.’

Mr Dubois shrugged. ‘That is war.’

‘Poor Greece is suffering also. We are fortunate to be an unimportant island.’

‘Fortunate indeed.’ A smile played across his lips. ‘What is that building?’

‘The back of the Court House; we will walk up the side road so you can see the front.’

Mr Dubois followed his guide up the narrow road, stepping carefully over the holes and loose stones. ‘I wish you people would repair your roads.’

‘Why? We have little traffic. The main roads are well surfaced, but the side roads are only used by pedestrians.’

‘Many of the roads I travelled on were like ploughed fields!’

‘You reached your destination and returned again, so there was no problem.’

Mr Dubois shook his head. How could people accept such things without protest? The Cretans were barbarians, their plumbing was almost non-existent, their roads were appalling and their standard of living was totally abhorrent to him. They would certainly benefit once they had settled down under their new rulers. He followed Pavlos around the centre of the town, dutifully admiring the churches and monuments of which his guide was so proud, mentally mapping where the most important of the public buildings were situated and often stopping to take a photograph.

‘These are my own souvenirs,’ he explained.

Pavlos nodded. Photography did not interest him. ‘When we reach the end of this road we shall be close to the old Venetian walls of the city. I’ll take you back through some of the older streets until we reach the taverna. How did you find it this morning?’

‘I was recommended and directed there by a sailor from the waterfront.’

Pavlos nodded. ‘Our humble taverna has a good reputation.’

Mr Dubois did not deign to reply. He just hoped the delicious surprise that Louisa was preparing for them would not be too oily. His stomach was beginning to protest. They walked together through the mean streets, which had nothing to attract Mr Dubois. ‘I see that all your public buildings are concentrated in one area. Most old towns have them dotted around everywhere.’

‘There was a considerable amount of rebuilding in the late eighteen hundreds and the planners of the time decided it would be wisest to group buildings together, hence most of our public buildings are in one street.’

‘Very sensible and convenient.’ Mr Dubois eyed Pavlos speculatively. A strange young man, not one that he would trust. They reached the taverna and once again Mr Dubois took out his camera. ‘I would like a photograph of you and your sister, to remember your hospitality.’

Smiling broadly Pavlos called to Louisa. ‘A family group,’ announced Pavlos, as though it had been his own idea. ‘Fetch Yiorgo and Anna, Louisa.’

Louisa obeyed, returning after a few moments with Yiorgo, who had replaced his stiff collar and donned his mayoral chain of office, and Anna, whose hair she had hurriedly brushed. They stood against the wall, smiling vacantly into the camera and feeling foolish. Mr Dubois made no comment, returned his camera to the leather carrying case and hung it over his shoulder. Yiorgo eyed him enviously. He wished he had possessed a camera when he had visited Athens and Rome. He would not have bothered with photographs of taverna keepers and their families. He sighed; the days when he had time for ancient history were gone. He poured a glass of wine for their visitor and tried to open up the conversation.

‘Do tell me about Paris. I’ve often longed to visit such a beautiful city.’

Mr Dubois looked bored. ‘I can tell you nothing about Paris that you cannot read in a book. I live on the outskirts and visit the centre rarely.’

‘But the buildings, those that were spared by the French Revolution, surely they must be worth visiting?’

‘So they tell me. I prefer open spaces myself. I am not interested in looking at brocade and marble, topped with silver and gold plate. I found your countryside far more attractive than your towns.’

‘We have a very beautiful country, such difference in scenery within a few miles. We have the coastal strip, some natural harbours, and then a fertile area before the mountains begin to rise. Did you venture into the mountains?’

‘I did not feel that my transport could be relied upon for such a journey.’

Yiorgo smiled. ‘The best form of transport in the mountains is a donkey, unless you enjoy walking. You were wise, even with a guide it’s easy to lose your way and it wouldn’t be pleasant to spend the night in one of the caves.’

‘Caves?’

‘The mountains are riddled with them. Some are supposed to be the homes of Greek Gods and many of the villagers would not dream of going near them once it was dark. During the daylight hours many are visited and treated as healing shrines. Even now people will take an offering and pray for the cure of a loved one.’

‘Superstitious nonsense.’

Yiorgo spread his hands. ‘Who can say? Some people have more faith in the mountain spirits than in modern medicine.’

‘They must be illiterate peasants.’

‘I would call them people who have a simple faith in the stories that have been handed down to them over the generations.’

Mr Dubois sipped at his wine. It was better than the girl had given him in the morning. ‘Tell me about the other side of the island. My travels have been very limited.’

‘I don’t know the other side of Crete at all,’ admitted Yiorgo. ‘I imagine it’s very similar to this coast. There are no large towns on that side, one or two archaeological sites and some Venetian forts. For some reason this side of the island always appears to have been more popular.’

Mr Dubois tried to hide his impatience. A government official who had no idea what the other side of his home country looked like! ‘Do you not have to travel there in the course of your duties?’

‘Oh, no, I’m only a local government official. The Prefecture of Heraklion is my domain. That includes the town, the suburbs and the country area which surrounds it.’

‘I am surprised. By the way your wife spoke I imagined you controlled all of Crete.’

‘I apologise for her. She has no great understanding of politics.’

‘You are still an important man, though?’

‘No more so than my colleagues, despite being the mayor.’ Louisa laid plates in front of them and her husband turned to her. ‘What have you prepared for us this evening, my dear?’

‘There’s roast lamb with garlic and cheese, stuffed courgettes or moussaka. You can have whichever you please.’

‘It will be lamb for me, which would you prefer Mr Dubois?’

‘The lamb sounds very acceptable.’ His heart sank at the thought of the inevitable salad that would accompany it.

‘I’ll have the same,’ said Pavlos and smiled complacently as his sister waited on them.

To Mr Dubois’s surprise the lamb was surprisingly succulent and certainly the meal was one of the best he had eaten since arriving on the island. Having complimented Louisa he turned to Pavlos.

‘Your sister told me you had ambitions to be the manager of a hotel?’

Pavlos laughed harshly. ‘It was a dream I had when I was younger.’

‘I do have various influential friends who might be able to help, if you were still interested.

I would obviously need some more information about you, some of it might be quite personal, but it would be treated confidentially, I can assure you.’

‘What would you need to know?’

‘Just the usual data. I will give it some thought this evening and send a letter to you before I leave. When you have answered it to your satisfaction you can send it on to me at an address in Athens.’

‘I thought you were returning to France?’

‘I am, but only for a short while before I return to Athens for some negotiations with the government. Rather than have your letter chasing me around it would be easier to have it sent there. Now, I have to ask you to excuse me. I have to be up early tomorrow and I have just promised to do some work before I leave.’

‘Where is your hotel?’ asked Pavlos. ‘I’ll walk there with you.’

‘You are very kind. I am staying at the ‘Xenia’.’

Pavlos hoped the surprise did not show on his face. The ‘Xenia’ was the best hotel in the whole of Heraklion, probably the whole of Crete. Politicians or visiting dignitaries stayed there, not ordinary people. ‘It’s just along the road from here.’

He took Mr Dubois’s arm and steered him along the side roads, across the Square and into a narrow road, through a passage way and to the entrance. Bidding the Frenchman farewell he hurried off into the meaner district of the town to report to his gambling partner that he had repaid his debt. The gold teeth flashed as Pavlos related all he had been told by Mr Dubois and slowly a slip of paper was withdrawn from the wallet and torn in two.