Greek Wedding (38 page)

‘I don't know.' She thought it over. And then, ‘Is it really so dirty? What a fright I must look. What's so funny, Brett?'

He stopped laughing with an effort. ‘I make an improper suggestion to you and all that worries you is the dirtiness of your shirt! And, yes, since you ask, it's filthy, and I must ask Sophia if she can't find you another one. She's a miracle, that woman. They'd like to see us married, you know, she and Father Gennaios, but that's not all I'm thinking of. There's your aunt, too. Can you imagine how she'll feel when she learns we've been gallivanting about the countryside, without even Alex for chaperon?'

‘Oh dear, yes. She'll be appalled, poor Aunt Cass.'

‘And it's not entirely nonsense, though I can see you think so, little revolutionary that you are. Imagine the handle for gossip it will give the Cissie Biddocks of this world. And do you know, my darling, I find I no longer like the idea of a scandal—not when it's connected with you. So if the idea is not too unpleasant to you, shall we let Father Gennaios make an honest couple of us? We can always do it again, properly, with white lace, and orange blossom, and Jenny for bridesmaid, as soon as we get back to civilisation. Frankly, I don't mind how often I marry you.'

‘I love you.' She said it as if it answered everything, as indeed it did. ‘Only, please, darling Brett, if I'm to be married, get me a clean shirt?'

‘Asked like that, I'd get you the moon.' A long, shaking kiss, from which he pulled away. ‘I'd better see about that clean shirt, love. Quickly.'

He was gone longer than she expected, and returned with a grave face. ‘Bad news, I'm afraid. There's a messenger up from
the village. The Turks are out from Modon again. No one knows, yet, which way they're going, but I think we can expect the villagers back up here soon. At least we won't lack witnesses for our wedding, though I confess I had hoped that we might celebrate it in the chapel down in the village, even if it has got no roof.'

‘You mean we'll have to be married in here?' Her heart sank at the idea.

‘No, no. Not so bad as that. Though, mind, I'd marry you under water, instead of under ground, if it was the only way. But, you'll see, when you're strong enough. This is only one in a whole chain of caves. Father Gennaios has made himself a chapel in the largest of them. And not the first to do it either. I think we're going to be married by Greek Orthodox rites in a pagan temple. Do you mind?'

‘Not if you don't.'

‘That's my girl. Now try and rest a little.'

She woke to the sound of quiet commotion echoing strangely along the line of caves. Old Sophia was standing over her. ‘I thought they'd wake you,
kyria
. The Turks are at Kalamata again, God roast their souls in hell. But look what my grandson brought me, the clever boy. He could find water in the desert, that one, or roses on Taygetus, if he wanted them.' She laid a vine-leaf-wrapped bundle in Phyllida's lap. ‘They're for you, of course. Better than any medicine.'

‘Figs!'

‘And some grapes,' said the old woman proudly. ‘Eat all you can,
kyria
, they will do you good. And you must be strong for your wedding night. Oh! That reminds me.' She was enjoying this. ‘You're not to imagine I'll let you get married dressed as a man. I've sent my grandson down to the village again for my bridal outfit. I've kept it hidden all these years, for my daughter to wear, but never had anything but sons and grandsons.' Naturally, she was delighted about this. ‘You won't mind wearing it,
kyria
?'

‘I shall be proud to.'

‘Good. And I'll tell Yannis to bring a shirt for you, too, if he can find one. Your trousseau!' Once again, it was a Greek word Phyllida did not know. but the meaning was obvious. ‘He's fetching the crowns from their hiding place. He's a safe boy, my
Yannis. Father Gennaios doesn't mind telling him where they are.'

Crowns? Of course, a Greek wedding. ‘You're all so kind,' said Phyllida.

‘Nothing of the sort. You are our guests.'

Phyllida gained strength rapidly, but it was three days before Sophia pronounced her well enough to leave the cave. And even then, it was only possible to go out at night, since the Turks were still on the rampage in the valley below. ‘It's horrible, my Yannis says,' reported Sophia. ‘In the old days, they spared the olives and the fig trees, hoping they'd soon be harvesting them again. Now, thank God, they know they never will. So they're destroying whatever they can. It will take us a lifetime—Yannis's, not mine—to make good the damage they're doing.'

‘Yes, it's unspeakable,' Brett confirmed the grim story later. ‘But I still think, the moment you're strong enough, that we should try and get to Navarino. There's a rumour that Alex is back.'

‘Oh!'

‘Yes. In a way, we should be grateful for the Turkish atrocities, since it means these caves are full of refugees. And all of them blood enemies of Alex's. Even if he should learn we are here, I doubt if he would risk an attack. Of course, we must hope that Oenone will have made him see sense.'

‘My God, yes. For her sake…'

‘I know. It depends so much on what he has learned of the
Helena's
whereabouts, and the state of affairs in general. But no use looking so anxious, love. There's nothing we can do about it. Try and forget it, and get on with your studies.'

‘Yes.' Father Gennaios, though delighted that they wished to be married, had insisted that they made a serious attempt at understanding the Greek Orthodox service, before he would perform it. ‘How are you getting on. Brett?'

‘I like it. But I keep wondering if the priest will suddenly insist we promise to bring up our children as members of his church.' He was suddenly holding her hands in a grip that hurt. ‘There's one thing I must tell you, Phyllida.'

‘Yes?' When he used her full name she knew it was serious.

‘I know Sophia is going round smirking like the old earth-mother she is, and talking about blessing the bride-bed, and I don't know how many other pagan customs, but nothing is
going to happen between us, love, till we're safe out of this. Suppose everything should go wrong … it's not likely, but it could happen, and we must face it. Suppose I'm killed, and you're captured. It doesn't much matter whether it's by Alex or the Turks. It will be bad enough without the possibility that you're carrying my child.'

‘But if you should be killed, Brett, your child would be my only consolation.'

‘Bless you, love. But I still say, no. Be realistic, Phyl. Suppose it takes us several months to get out of here. And then we have to make the dangerous journey across to Navarino. And you have to keep stopping because of morning-sickness? I remember my mother before Jenny was born. It won't do, you know; we can't risk it. Besides, I want my son to be born, where he should be, in England.'

‘Or my daughter?'

He laughed, and kissed her. ‘Just like you, I hope.'

The days dragged by, with food increasingly short among the refugees in the caves. The men went down to the valley every night to see what they could salvage from the shambles the Turks were making. Father Gennaios invariably greeted them when they returned and saw to it that everything they brought was shared equally. Sometimes there would be a whole sheep, or even a pig, superstitiously butchered by the Turks, and then there would be merry-making as it roasted in the early hours of the dawn, and a quiet day as everyone slept off the unwonted meal. But equally often they came home empty-handed, or with only a few pot herbs and, with luck, a little dirty flour from one of the village hiding places.

As soon as she was well enough to move about a little and realised that the others were often getting nothing all day but thin soup made, sometimes literally out of grass, Phyllida refused to be treated differently from the rest, and Brett could only respect her for it, though, inevitably, it slowed her recovery. She got used to being almost always hungry and ignored an occasional dizzy spell as Brett took her at first and last light every day for a slighly longer walk down the narrow track that led from the caves. ‘It's a risk,' he admitted, ‘but it's one we've got to take. You must be able to keep up with the guide when the time comes.'

The walks did her good, but made her hungrier still, and the
dizzy fits came more often. A week had passed without the raiding parties bringing back so much as a quail. Supplies of flour were running low too. Brett watched Phyllida finish her inadequate meal and went off to find Father Gennaios.

That night he went out with the raiding party. They returned at dawn, triumphant, laden down with sides of home-cured bacon and sacks of flour.

‘Enough for several weeks.' Father Gennaios summed it up. ‘God bless you, my son. It was a lucky day for us when we took you in.'

‘But you won't forget your promise, Father, nor the men theirs?'

‘Fear not. We have sworn it by bread. If we break it, we are men accursed.'

‘What promise, Brett?' Phyllida waited to ask the question until they were alone.

‘That whatever the temptation, they will never go back. In fact, I doubt if any of them could find the entrance, without me to show them, and I hope to God we took little enough out of all that plenty so it won't be noticed.'

‘What plenty? Where did you go, Brett?'

‘To the secret way up to Alex's fortress. Do you remember how I hung back the night Oenone brought us down, and how angry she got?'

‘Yes?'

‘I was feeling in the dark. It seemed so odd that she should not use a light, there in the heart of the rock. She didn't want us to see that the sides of the causeway were stacked with pirates' loot. You never saw anything like it. We had lights last night, of course. It was like Ali Baba's cave. Bales of silk, arms, bundles of hides and sheepskins, and, best of all, food … We took nothing else. That was the understanding on which I showed them the way; that and their solemn promise never to go back.'

‘But will they keep it?'

‘I think so. They swore “by bread”. It's a solemn oath. Besides, I led them about the plateau so many times, I don't think they'd ever find the entrance again. Father Gennaios chose them, at my request, for courage and stupidity. It will be a nine-days' wonder to them, that treasure cave.' He laughed. ‘And I told them it was guarded by an evil spirit only I could tame.
After that, there was no more talk of helping themselves to anything but the food I allowed.'

‘But, Brett, Oenone—'

‘I know, love, but I promise you I was deadly careful. We took only a little here and there. There is so much, it will never be noticed. I understand now why those wretched villagers at Kitries looked so much worse than our friends here. Gennaios tells me that Alex levies a tenth or more of all they grow.'

‘Wicked!'

‘Yes. And as for Oenone: don't forget that you have paid and overpaid her for all we took.'

‘Why, so I have. I'd quite forgotten!'

He laughed. ‘Money doesn't seem real up here, does it?'

It was October now. The nights were getting colder, but the Turks were still out on the plain, and the villagers remained in the caves, where life was pleasanter on a steady diet of bread, bacon and soup. Phyllida walked for an hour each morning and evening and felt better every day. The cold mountain air, and Brett's constant company acted as a tonic; happiness bubbled up in her. ‘Now,' said old Sophia. ‘Now you begin to look like a bride.'

‘Just as well,' said Brett. ‘Since tomorrow's the day.'

‘Tomorrow?' Phyllida caught her breath. ‘So soon?'

‘Yes. Father Gennaios has asked me to get a message through to Lord Codrington: to try and make him understand the full dreadfulness of what the Turks are doing, here in the Morea. The sooner the better, and, of course, it means we will be helped by the underground chain. You must see how much safer we will be if we are actually working for them.' And then. ‘You haven't changed your mind, love? About marrying me?'

‘What do you think?' She leaned up, to give him a butterfly kiss. ‘It's just—I've been so happy here. I was beginning to hope we could stay…'

‘You must see we can't. It's not only a question of Alex. Have you noticed how much colder the nights are growing? Soon, life will be impossible in these caves. If the Turks still hold the valley, God help our friends here. There's snow on Taygetus already. How long do you think it will be before it falls here? No, Phyl, this is our chance, and we must pray God, and take it. So, sleep well, love. No walk tomorrow morning. Rest all you can. Father Gennaios insists on marrying us exactly at mid-day.
At dusk, we leave. The moon's just right—enough light to follow a guide, but not enough to betray us. The word has gone out, tonight, ahead of us. We will be expected all the way. Who knows, a week from today we may be being entertained by Lord Codrington.'

*          *          *

Strange to be wearing women's clothes again. Strange, too, to think of plump old Sophia as a young girl in this heavily embroidered robe and flowing veil. ‘There.' The old woman leaned forward to kiss her. ‘May it be as lucky to you as it has been to me,
kyria
. Now, come with me. You must not see milord until you meet before the altar.'

Strange? It was beyond strangeness that she should be threading her way through this maze of twilit passages to meet Brett before a Greek priest and a pagan altar. Now the old woman paused, crossed herself, curtseyed, and Phyllida, following into the light, did the same.

An astonishing place, all adazzle with light. Where did it come from? She looked up, way up to the centre of a naturally domed roof, and, amazingly, to a patch of vivid blue sky. ‘Our church is lit by God himself.' Sophia had been watching her. ‘Come,
kyria
.'