Eleni (53 page)

Lukas was talking excitedly, interrupted only by the coughing fits which got worse when he was agitated. Eleni watched and listened to him with growing trepidation. Finally she said in a stern voice, “Remember, Lukas, this is just between our two families. You mustn’t tell anyone else—your brother, your parents, your sister-in-law. Just a careless word could destroy us.”

Lukas gave her a look of reproof. He was a man, wasn’t he, and the leader of this mission? Who understood the risks better than he did?

As she returned home from the Ziaras house, Eleni tried to calm the misgivings that were growing in her. She called the family together and told them what she was planning. She had no fears about Nikola and Fotini betraying the plot; Greek village children understood from an early age that life pitted the family against the rest of the world and they protected family secrets as zealously as their parents did.

No one objected to Eleni’s announcement, least of all Nikola. If the idea of trying to slip out of the village at night under the guns of the guerrillas frightened him, it was less terrifying than being abducted into Albania and separated forever from his mother and sisters. Even his grandmother Megali agreed that they had no other choice, although she began to weep at the thought of leaving her house. Nitsa moaned about the trauma of the escape bringing on a miscarriage, but she quickly rejected Eleni’s suggestion that she stay behind. Olga said nothing. Secretly she mourned the loss of her chances to become the wealthiest and most envied bride in Lia. Kanta had always longed to escape the lusterless life of the village, but her mother’s announcement brought back all the terrors of her weeks with the guerrillas. Now the men who had trained her to kill would be hunting her family.

During the days that followed, the pressure of waiting made everyone
irritable. It seemed pointless to plant and tend crops they would never harvest. Eleni went every morning to the bean field but there was no sign of Soula Ziaras. As she worked, she rehearsed the escape over and over in her mind, trying to anticipate the dangers. She knew that Nitsa and Megali would be so frightened that they’d create more of a risk than the children. She wished there was someone calm and reliable to share the burden with her. Inevitably, Eleni thought of her sister-in-law Alexo. Ever since Alexo’s husband, Foto, had fled to Filiates ahead of the guerrillas, she had been living in her house alone, except for her eleven-year-old daughter Niki. Two of Alexo’s married daughters, Athena and Arete, lived elsewhere in the village, and the other six grown children were living in areas of Greece not occupied by guerrillas.

Eleni made up her mind to invite Alexo along on the escape. Despite what she had said to Lukas, she knew that her sister-in-law could be trusted not to betray them and her presence in the group could help keep everyone calm. At the end of the long walk to her house, when Eleni saw Alexo’s smile of welcome and felt her strong arms embracing her, she knew she had made the right decision. But Alexo listened to her and then shook her head. “I can’t leave Athena alone here in the village, eight months pregnant,” she said, “and she could never survive the walk in her condition.”

Alexo lapsed into a depressed silence for a moment, then turned and seized both Eleni’s hands in hers. “Take Arete with you instead of me!” she whispered, naming her eldest daughter, who was barren. “They’re sure to conscript her as an
andartina
if she doesn’t get out, and if they do that, her husband will never take her back. Ever since he learned she can’t have children, he’s been looking for an excuse to divorce her, and if she was drafted, that’s all he’d need. I’ll stay to help Athena through her delivery—they won’t hurt an old woman like me—but you must save Arete!”

Arete was the daughter Alexo loved best. Eleni hesitated. Ever since Arete had been sent to Yannina for the operation that removed her womb, she had been excitable and nervous, and she was not the smartest of Alexo’s children, but, Eleni reflected, she was young and strong and could help Megali or one of the children on the walk. Besides, she couldn’t refuse Alexo a favor after the woman had helped her through so many crises, becoming dearer to her than any sister. Eleni nodded and told her to warn Arete; they would send word somehow on the day of the escape. “But what if the guerrillas punish you for her leaving?” Eleni worried.

“How can they blame me for what my married daughter does?” scoffed Alexo. “Ach, Eleni, I wish I could go with you!”

“You’ll come soon,” Eleni reassured her. “When this is over, we’ll meet in Filiates and take the bus to Igoumenitsa, where we can sit all afternoon at a restaurant by the pier, eating fish and watching the dolphins play in the harbor.”

“From your lips to the ears of God!” exclaimed Alexo.

The two friends sat and whispered together all morning, making plans
for after the war, but they both knew they were lying. Once Eleni set out from the village, whether the escape succeeded or failed, their lives were unlikely to cross again. Both women struggled to hide their tears as they embraced for what was probably the last time.

For several days it rained and the sound of the water dripping off the eaves eroded Eleni’s patience. On the first sunny day, Eleni, Olga and Nitsa carried three giant copper washing kettles of clothing down to the Haidis bean field below the house near a small ditch which collected water from the nearby spring for irrigating the crops. Under the clothes, Eleni had hidden some of the family’s valuables—pieces of Olga’s dowry, some of Christos’ best suits, the golden pitcher and the iridescent taffeta pillow from Constantinople.

Eleni removed the old clothes she had piled on top of the kettles and carried them to the irrigation ditch. Olga and Nitsa took a hoe and shovel and went into the bean rows nearby, pretending to turn over the soil but really digging holes big enough to conceal the kettles, while Eleni went through the motions of doing the laundry. When all was ready, the three women lifted the kettles into the cavities, put waterproof tarpaulins on top and quickly buried them, replanting the beans on top of the spot. As Eleni patted the earth firm, she wondered when she would look on her treasures again.

In the distant neighborhood of the Church of the Virgin, Soula Ziaras was also busy. She cut up a blanket to make a pouch that would hold the baby on her back, leaving her hands free. She made holes for the child’s legs and put a piece of board covered with padding inside for support. One evening at twilight she risked the ten-minute walk to the Haidis mill. There Soula hid some clothes in a nettle patch below the mill so the fugitives could collect them on their way down the mountain.

About a week after her original visit to the Ziaras house, Eleni was working in the bean field when she saw Soula coming up the path. Eleni’s mouth grew dry.

From a distance Soula called, “Did you cut all the beans, cousin? Are there any left? I haven’t a thing to feed the children.”

“There’s plenty here!” Eleni shouted back. “Come pick a potful.” As the women bent together over a row of beans, Soula whispered, “It’s tonight, as soon as it gets dark! Be sure no one sees you going down to the mill.”

After the agony of waiting, it suddenly seemed there wasn’t time to get ready. Eleni sent Glykeria to tell Arete, who lived halfway up the Perivoli. Although Eleni had warned the children to take nothing, Olga began to put on layers of clothes: two slips, her best dress, an embroidered apron, another dress on top of that and her long embroidered sleeveless tunic. She stuffed her good red kerchief into her bosom and filled her sleeves with lace-edged handkerchiefs and underwear. “You look like a stuffed doll,” Kanta jeered. “How do you expect to walk like that?” But Olga was pulling on a second pair of knitted stockings. Nitsa rummaged through the kitchen, eating
everything she could find. “No point in leaving good food behind,” she muttered now and then, with her mouth full. “After all, I have to eat for the baby too!” Fotini had all her plastic baubles spread out on the floor and examined them as she put them in a small sack, like a miser counting his gold. Megali huddled in a corner, moaning repeatedly that they should leave her behind; her old legs would never carry her. Nikola followed his mother around like a shadow, so close that he kept bumping into her.

Eleni watched her family’s growing hysteria with irritation. They were about to set out on a journey that would require all their cunning just to stay alive, and they were acting like half-wits! The waiting, the inactivity, made her want to scream or shake someone, but she knew she had to remain calm as an example to the rest. She put out a pot of bread soaked in milk. No one wanted to eat it, but Eleni insisted; how did they expect to walk all night on an empty stomach? She dipped a large metal spoon into the pot to dish up the first portion and then jumped as the bowl of the spoon broke off, falling with a plop. The room grew silent, all eyes focused on her holding the spoon’s handle. Megali’s voice was like the squawk of a bird: “It’s a bad sign! A warning!”

Megali and Nitsa both made spitting noises as Eleni glared. “Nonsense!” she snapped, reaching for another spoon. “Now eat!” She saw Kanta push back her plate untouched.

Before the last light left the west, Eleni sent Olga to feed tender branches to the animals in the cellar, so they’d stay quiet all night. A few minutes later a great outburst of bleating assailed her ears and Olga reappeared, her forehead gleaming with perspiration. “It’s the goats, Mana!” she exclaimed. “The sheep took the food but the goats are trying to climb the gate. They’re crying as if they know we’re going!”

Eleni rapidly discarded several desperate thoughts and decided they would just have to leave at once and hope that the goats would quiet down when they were out of sight. Hurriedly she sent Nitsa, Megali and Glykeria on ahead, to take the route through the bean field and down the ravine. As they disappeared into the chill, starlit night, Eleni could hear Megali’s soft moaning with every step. She silently counted to a hundred, then motioned for Kanta to start with Fotini. Eleni reached for Nikola’s hand and was surprised at how cold and small it felt. She glanced at him and he returned her look, calm but pale. Ignoring the braying animals, Eleni locked the door and set out toward the Petsis house, where they would follow the ravine from the opposite side.

Her eyes quickly became accustomed to the darkness. On her left was the impenetrable black-green of the ravine; in front of her were patches of wan silver between the shadows of the trees, large enough to hide a man. Eleni had never realized how full of noises the night was. The mournful sound of the goats pursued her, the crackling and rustling of Kanta and Fotini in front sounded like a huge animal crashing through the underbrush. All her energy was concentrated in her eyes and her ears.

When Eleni was nearly certain that they had lost their way, the huge square hulk of the Haidis mill loomed suddenly before them, rising out of the darkness. From the deepest part of the shadows Eleni heard a sound and gasped, then realized it was Arete, already there, waiting. The sound of Megali, Nitsa and Glykeria approaching from the other side was clearly audible. There was no way a guerrilla in the vicinity could help hearing them. Eleni sighed. It was in the hands of God.

She pulled a large rusty key from her pocket and opened the door to the cellar of her father’s mill, herding her family inside. They huddled together in the darkness until there was a knock at the door—two loud and two soft. Soula came in first, the baby’s carrying pouch on her back, followed by the rest of her family. Lukas arrived last, still wearing his towel, fairly vibrating with nervous excitement.

Eleni lighted a single kerosene lantern in the huge windowless space, revealing the frightened faces of the fugitives. The women and children gathered close together as Lukas lectured in a hoarse stage whisper about the importance of keeping silent once they went out the door. The first lap of the journey was the riskiest, he warned, because they were still in sight and hearing of the guerrilla lookout posts. Once down in the foothills, they had only the roving guerrilla patrols and the mines to worry about. At this Nitsa and Megali set up a duet of moans and Lukas glared at them. Running out of instructions, Lukas came to a halt and then glanced at Eleni, his uncertainty showing. She said nothing, only crossed herself, and the rest followed suit. They were ready.

Lukas told Kanta and Marianthe Ziaras to go first, as far as the fields of Foto Gatoyiannis below, and then wait for the others. Because the two teen-aged girls had been trained as
andartinas
, he was sending them on ahead as scouts.

The others waited a few minutes, then left the mill all together following in single file behind Lukas. The small sliver of moon had been wiped out by a cloud, and the night was dark and cold. As they descended the ravine from the mill, a gust of wind struck them, waking the baby Alexi. He let out a wail like a wounded cat.

Eleni hurried forward and lifted the baby from the pouch. She tried to muffle his cries against her shoulder, feeling the soft warmth of him as he struggled, but he only screwed up his face and cried louder, pummeling her with his small fists. Soula took him from Eleni and tore at the buttons on her dress, trying to quiet him by offering him her breast, but he refused to be distracted, screaming louder with each breath. As the women and children stood around helplessly, Lukas rushed up to them, wheezing, his face a caricature of terror. “Shut his damn mouth, woman!” he sputtered.

“I can’t!” Soula cried.

“Put your hand over his mouth,” Lukas hissed. Soula did as she was told and there was sudden silence. They all expelled their breath and looked around, expecting to see guerrillas crashing through the trees. Soula was
having trouble holding the baby; he writhed frantically. Gradually, his struggles became weaker as his face took on a blue tinge.

“I can’t do it, he’s dying!” Soula sobbed, letting go. There was a moment of suspense before the baby got his wind back and let out a scream twice as loud as before, fear now replaced by outrage.

“Back into the mill, quick!” gasped Lukas.