YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (77 page)

‘Please,’ Father Minos implored. ‘We are not criminals. We can’t help being sick. Our government sent us here, but they didn’t condemn us to death. They sent us food and water and a doctor to tend to our ailments.’

‘Being contaminated with leprosy is a crime. Your government has been very lenient and forbearing. We are not inclined that way. I am leaving a battalion of Italian soldiers on the shore and they will obey my instructions. No one is to come to this island. You need not watch for boats to come out to you. Any boat that goes out to fish will have an armed escort so do not think your friends over there in the villages will be able to help you. You should be thankful that we are willing to leave you in peace on this island. If you were in my homeland at this time you would be taken off to a camp to be cleansed. We do not like illness and impurity. It is only by exterminating such things that we can rise to become a pure race of healthy people.’

‘We are human beings,’ protested Father Minos. ‘You cannot treat a fellow human with so little compassion.’

‘I see no humans. I see only lepers. Have I made myself clear? I have no more time to waste.’ The commander raised his arm and the men he had forced to row the boat out from the shore began to haul on their oars.

‘Please,’ called the priest, ‘listen to us, listen to our prayers.’

No one in the boat turned at the sound of his voice. Father Minos fell to his knees and began to pray loudly, asking for mercy and compassion. A gunshot sounded and he stopped abruptly, the silence following the report uncanny.

‘You can consider yourself fortunate that I ordered my man to shoot into the air. If there is any more of this hysteria I will order him to shoot you.’ He fixed the priest with a steely glare.

Father Minos stayed on his knees. ‘I shall pray that the good Lord will have mercy on your black soul.’

Another shot rang out, narrowly missing the priest and scarring the fortress wall. Yannis pulled at Father Minos.

‘Come away. You can’t reason with them. They have no feelings.’

Father Minos shook off his hand. ‘If I were not a priest…’

‘You are, so don’t even think it!’

Silently they watched as the boat pulled away. Still they stood huddled together, saying nothing, whilst the full impact of the German’s words penetrated into their numb brains. The silence was broken by Anna’s piping, childish voice.

‘I don’t like Mr Dubois. I didn’t like him when he came to the taverna.’

Yannis rounded on her. ‘What do you mean? Who’s Mr Dubois?’

‘That man in the boat that talked to us. He’s Mr Dubois. Pavlos brought him to the taverna and he took our photographs with his camera.’

‘You’re mistaken, Anna. That man was a German.’

Anna wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m sure he’s the same man. He has that funny white mark down his face.’

Yannis took her by the shoulders. ‘Are you quite, quite certain, Anna?’

‘Of course I am. I saw him talking to uncle Pavlos the day before Mamma and I came down to Aghios Nikolaos.’

Yannis released her. ‘Poor Yiorgo, poor, gullible, Yiorgo.’

Flora sat hunched up on the quay. For hours at a time she would sit, gazing across the expanse of grey water hoping to see Manolis, despite knowing that soldiers always escorted the fishing boats and were also stationed as look-outs on both the headlands. Yannis and Father Minos were more worried than they cared to admit. The food supplies were dwindling fast, despite the fact that occasionally a boat came over from Plaka with an Italian soldier accompanying it and a small amount of food would be thrown ashore.

‘There’s nothing for it, Father, we’ll have to ration ourselves. We’ll have communal cooking. That way the food can go further.’

‘I don’t see how.’

‘We all eat the same food, so there’s no waste. Phaedra cooks for Anna and I and we often leave some. It’s the same up at the hospital. There’s often enough left over to make a couple of extra meals. All the vegetable leftovers could go into a pot to make soup, along with any bones when we kill a chicken.’

‘I can’t see that being very popular,’ protested the priest.

‘They’ll have to get used to it. It will be easier than trying to give everyone an equal share. We’ll have to ask the women to cook. One group will have to bake bread most of the time; we can eat rolls or bread for breakfast and then a soup for lunch and something more substantial with rice or pulses for supper. Once the gardens start producing we’ll be able to use the vegetables.’

‘That won’t be for some months.’

‘We can only hope it will be over by then.’

‘Even with rationing the food won’t last for ever.’

‘I know, but we can supplement it.’

‘What with?’ Father Minos looked at Yannis for explanation. Where did he think more food could come from?

Yannis grinned. ‘There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Some of the men fish now to pass the time.’

‘I don’t like fish very much.’

‘If we’re unable to get supplies from the mainland you’ll very soon grow to like it,’ replied Yannis grimly. ‘The important thing is that there must be no hoarding. What we do have must be shared.’

‘I’ll ring the bell.’ Father Minos rose wearily to his feet.

‘Father, you don’t have to stay here, you know. You could always ask to be taken back to the mainland.’

‘Don’t be foolish, Yannis. I wouldn’t be much of a man, let alone a priest, if I left you all now. I chose to come and live with you and like you. What little we have over here we’ll share – and God preserve us all.’

Yannis clasped the priest’s hand. ‘I don’t know what we’d do if you did leave. God works in mysterious ways, but it was certainly a miracle the day I met you.’

Embarrassed, Father Minos returned the handclasp, then hurried away to ring the bell to summon the islanders to a meeting. He and Yannis stood together and outlined their plans for survival at all costs. Alarm, despair and fear showed on people’s faces. Spiro was particularly concerned.

‘What am I to do about the hospital patients? They don’t eat much, but what they do eat has to be nutritious. They can’t be expected to have bread for breakfast. Most of them wouldn’t be able to chew it!’

‘For them we’ll make one concession. Those who can’t eat bread can have milk with the bread crumbled in it. They can also have eggs whenever the chickens lay.’

With that Spiro had to be content. He wondered how long any of them would be able to stay alive as the rations were cut time and again until the day when they finally ran out altogether. He disbelieved the assurances that the economy measures were for the winter months only and that the gardens would have sufficient produce to feed them in the spring. Even if that were true the next winter would be looming on the horizon. Gloomily he returned to the hospital. Just as they were beginning to be able to live a reasonably normal life this had to happen.

The church bell tolled mournfully as Yannis struggled into his coat. It was threadbare at the elbows and showed signs of damp in the lining, but he considered it to be his best. It hung on him, two sizes too large now he had lost so much weight, but it was still the most respectable he had to wear to another funeral. Each day, with regular monotony, the bell would sound and those who were able would attend the service and carry the light, makeshift coffin to the tower to add another body to those already there. Father Minos would say a prayer and the undernourished gathering would slowly return to their houses, each wondering which of them would be next.

This time it was Yannis who led the shabby little procession of people along the path until they reached the church on the opposite side of the island. There the coffin was lowered to the ground and Father Minos began the service. Tears coursed their way down Yannis’s cheeks, whilst Anna sobbed on Flora’s breast. This was the final goodbye.

Phaedra had suffered, suffered as so many had. As Yannis had sat and watched her sinking slowly day by day he had managed to convince himself that her death would be merciful, now he felt that his last reason for staying alive had left him. He bowed his head, praying fervently that the next funeral held in the tiny church was his own. Spiro led him out and across the small graveyard, treading carefully to avoid the occupants.

‘She should have had a grave. Phaedra deserved a grave.’

Spiro said nothing. He thanked God once again that he had not succumbed to the lure of marriage, but taken his pleasure as he found it, and if he died no one would mourn him as deeply as Yannis was mourning for his wife. He averted his eyes as the coffin was opened and the light body slid down into the tower to join so many who had departed before her. Father Minos intoned a last prayer and then walked over to Yannis, taking his other arm and he and Spiro helped him along the path until they reached his house. The priest opened the door and followed him inside.

‘Sit down, Yannis. The experience is always distressing, but it has to be. Phaedra wouldn’t want you to grieve. She was ready to go. She’d been very brave. You helped her so much. Without you and the strength you gave her she would have succumbed far sooner. You still have responsibilities, you know. You can’t just give up now, Phaedra wouldn’t have wanted that.’

‘My life means nothing without Phaedra.’

‘Phaedra wouldn’t want you to give in. She loved you and it would break her heart to find out you were a coward.’

‘A coward?’ Yannis felt a hot flush creep over him as he looked at the priest in surprise.

‘Ever since you’ve been on this island you’ve thought of others, bullied them for their own good, badgered the government to better their conditions, been their leader. Was it all an act? Are you really a frightened coward at heart who did it all to boost his own ego in other people’s eyes?’

‘No, I believed in all I did,’ protested Yannis.

‘Then if you believed in it then; you should believe it now by carrying on.’

‘How can I? We’re cut off from the mainland, cut off from everything except death.’ Yannis spoke bitterly.

‘The war won’t last forever. Sooner or later the nations will come to an agreement. When that time comes we’ll want a leader who will fight for our rights as Greek citizens. Things change during a war. Medicine will have developed. They may even have found a cure.’

‘There’s no cure, Father, not now or ever.’

‘You don’t know that. The important thing is to have you around to fight for our rights, whether there’s a cure or not. It’s what Phaedra would have wanted. Besides, you have Anna to think of, you must look after your daughter.’

Yannis’s head shot up. ‘Daughter? Anna? I thought you said it was all in my imagination!’

‘Louisa told me years ago, but I saw no good reason for telling you. Anna is going to miss Phaedra a good deal. You can comfort each other.’

Yannis’s face lightened a little. ‘I’d like to think so, but she can’t stay with me now.’

‘Why ever not? Remember, she’s your adopted daughter in everyone’s eyes. It’s only natural she should stay with you. You ought to find her and talk to her. She needs her father.’

Yannis looked at Father Minos uncertainly. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘I do.’

‘Then I’d better take my coat off and go and find her. She should be with Flora.’

Yannis sat on the rock, his fishing line dangling into the water hopefully. A few yards away sat Father Minos. They looked like two old friends out for a day of pleasure and relaxation. Yannis wedged his rod into a cleft in the rocks and shaded his eyes to look across at the shore. There seemed to be a good deal of movement. He assumed the troops were about to harass the occupants of the tiny village and prayed silently that his family would be safe.

‘I wish I could see properly,’ he complained.

Father Minos left his rock and scrambled over to sit beside him. ‘There’s certainly a lot of activity. We might see more from higher up.’

Yannis shrugged. They might, but he did not have the energy to drag his body across the rocks and maybe lose the chance of catching a fish to flavour the water that would be their lunch. ‘You go if you want. I’ll stay here.’

They continued to sit together, each engrossed in their own thoughts and trying to ignore the hunger that gnawed away inside them. Yannis dozed; he had ceased trying to fight the lethargy that overtook him so often due to malnutrition. Father Minos shook him gently by the arm. ‘There’s a boat putting out.’

Yannis was not interested. At first whenever a boat had left the shore they had been excited, only to have their hopes dashed as it sailed past them, always with a soldier on board. Now Yannis did not bother to open his eyes.

‘They’re coming towards us.’ Still there was no response from Yannis. Boats had appeared to be making straight for the island before, only to swing to right or left. ‘They’re waving!’

This time Yannis did bother to open his eyes. The priest was right. He sat and watched as the boat drew closer and closer. They were shouting something, but he could not make out what it was.

‘There’s no soldier with them,’ called Elias weakly, from the wall above them.

Slowly Father Minos and Yannis trod cautiously back across the treacherous rocks, their bare feet slipping and sliding. By the time they reached the jetty their hearts were pounding. The boat was making for them. From nowhere people began to appear and gather below the archway, silently waiting.

The boatmen calling to them made Yannis’s head spin and the words buzzed in his ears, not making any sense. He had a sensation of floating, but he could see nothing, a thick, clammy darkness surrounded him, then he began to choke as a fiery liquid hit the back of his throat. Stars seemed to be exploding in his head as he fought to regain consciousness.

‘Feeling better now?’ Spiro was bending over him.

‘What…’

‘Don’t try to talk yet. You passed out, so we carried you up to the hospital.’

Yannis sank back. So it was his turn at last. He had helped Spiro carry so many up the hill. It had always been the same. They had lost consciousness, Spiro had nursed them as well as he was able, but they had never recovered fully and when they left the hospital it was to make the final journey to the far side of the island and the tower. He felt strangely at peace. He would not resist.