YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (22 page)

Yannis groaned and rolled over. Yiorgo and Stelios were already dressed. ‘Can we look for pottery again today, Yannis?’ asked Stelios eagerly.

Yannis shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Maybe if we work hard for Pappa we can look when we’ve finished.’

‘If I work hard for Pappa I’ll be too tired to look for pottery,’ grumbled Stelios, as he fought to get his head and arms through a pullover that was almost too small for him.

‘You need a bigger pullover,’ remarked Yannis, then a horrifying thought struck him and he rushed down to the kitchen. ‘Mamma, is Stelios going without new clothes so that I can go to High School?’

‘What a question! Of course not.’

‘Stelios’s jumper is far too small for him. He can hardly get into it.’ Yannis felt rather foolish.

‘He insists on wearing that one. I bought him two new ones when I went to Aghios Nikolaos last, but he says they’re too good to wear in the fields.’

‘Why didn’t you make them? You always used to make our jumpers.’ Yannis was surprised to hear that his mother had bought clothing.

‘I was too busy with my embroidery.’

‘I do wish you didn’t have to work so hard,’ sighed Yannis. ‘I feel guilty. I’m at school enjoying myself and you’re working hard to keep me.’

‘You’ve no need to feel guilty. I love embroidery, besides, what would I do with myself if I didn’t embroider in my spare time?’

Yannis had no answer, but the feeling of guilt remained. ‘Suppose Yiorgo wants to go to High School?’

‘He can go if he wants.’ Maria smiled at the concern her son was showing. ‘We’ve plenty of money now. Pappa sells to the island under government contract.’

‘To Spinalonga? To the lepers?’ Yannis was aghast.

‘They have to eat, and it’s cheaper for the government to buy from Plaka or Elounda and send it out to them than bring it from elsewhere.’

‘Pappa’s sending some food out to them this week,’ chimed in Stelios. He gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘We’ll see you later, Mamma.’

Together the brothers hurried up the hill towards the field where they could see their father was already loading boxes onto a low cart. He beckoned urgently as he sighted them.

‘Come on,’ urged Yannis. ‘Pappa looks pretty impatient.’

‘About time,’ observed their father as they reached him. ‘Help the girls whilst Yiorgo and I finish loading. Get a move on, they’re nearly here.’

Shading his eyes Yannis looked towards the sea. A small boat was making good headway, the wind filling the sail as it neared the land. Yannis began to place the beans carefully into one of the boxes.

‘Not like that, just throw them in,’ said Anna setting him an example.

‘You won’t get so many in like that.’

‘It doesn’t matter. They’re for the lepers.’ Skilfully she tacked a piece of cardboard over the top and Yiorgo hoisted it onto the cart with the others. Ten more minutes saw the load complete. Yiorgo ran to the donkey and backed her into the shafts and coaxed her down the path to the track leading to the village. Yannis hurried behind until he was able to walk beside his brother.

‘Shall I take her?’

With a grin Yiorgo handed Yannis the leading rein. The donkey stopped in her tracks. Yannis pulled at her. ‘Come on, walk.’ He pulled again. ‘Come on, I said, walk, you cussed beast.’

Yiorgo held out his hand and took the rein from Yannis and the donkey immediately continued on her way.

‘I don’t believe it!’ exclaimed Yannis. ‘Why wouldn’t she walk for me?’

‘She only ever walks for Pappa or myself. The girls and Mamma can’t budge her.’

The brothers arrived at the quay as the boat moored and the boys had to wait whilst the boatmen off-loaded a quantity of large, wooden barrels.

‘What are those for?’ asked Yannis.

‘Water,’ explained Yiorgo. ‘They fill them from the pump and take them across when there’s a space in the hold. There’s no water on the island.’

Two men returned to the boat and the boys began to hand the boxes up to them. The hold was only half full by the time they had finished.

‘Come on,’ said Yiorgo, as he turned the donkey and cart round. ‘Back for the next load.’

Yannis looked behind him as he plodded back up the hill and saw the men rolling some of the barrels back to the boat where they heaved them aboard. There were still a considerable number left beside the pump.

The family worked feverishly to fill boxes and load the cart and Yannis was surprised when his father called to him.

‘That’s enough on the cart, Yannis. You and I will go down this time. Yiorgo, you can take charge here.’ Yannis senior took the leading rein and father and son began to trek back down the hill. The boat could be seen still unloading at the island and Yannis was puzzled why his father should be leaving with only half a load when there was plenty of time. Instead of continuing down towards the quay they turned into their own yard. Yannis senior tethered the donkey to the gate.

‘Come and help me,’ he directed.

They crossed to the outhouses where, half hidden behind a pile of grass was a large crate. Straining their muscles they lifted a side each and staggered to the cart.

‘Gently. Gently with it,’ warned Yannis to his son.

‘What’s in there, Pappa?’

Yannis senior averted his eyes. ‘You don’t need to know.’

Yannis hung his head, feeling ashamed of his curiosity. He watched whilst his father turned the donkey and cart and followed them down the hill. As they arrived at the quay the small boat was nosing its way carefully amongst the other craft that were moored there. Yannis senior raised a hand to Spiriton who nodded and instructed three men to go ashore to help manhandle the crate aboard and into the hold.

‘How many more trips, Pappa?’ asked Yannis as they climbed back up the hill.

‘Eight, I should think.’

‘Eight! How many people are there on the island?’

Yannis senior shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

Yannis shuddered. ‘I wish we were nowhere near the island.’

Yannis senior clapped his son on the shoulder. ‘You should be grateful that we are. The government contract has made a great deal of difference to me. Your sisters will have good dowries when they marry.’

‘What about Yiorgo and Stelios?’

‘Yiorgo will have the farm eventually. Stelios seems to be taking after you, so I’ll send him to Aghios Nikolaos in a couple of years.’

Yannis thought it could be a good time to ask his father if he and Stelios might search for pottery later and he asked the question tentatively.

‘When the packing and loading’s finished you can do as you please.’

Three more trips were made to the quay before Yannis senior called a halt, and they sat down with the cart behind them for shelter from the stiff breeze whilst they ate their lunch.

‘No point in lingering. We may as well finish as soon as we can.’ Yannis senior seemed more relaxed than he had earlier in the day. ‘You boys load the cart and get down to the quay ready for Spiriton. He should have some empty boxes for you to bring back this time.’

Yiorgo and Yannis did as their father bade them, Yiorgo whistling tunelessly. Yannis felt mildly irritated by his brother’s obvious pleasure in the manual labour. By the time they had completed the last trip to the boat, returning the donkey to her stable and the cart to the yard on their way back to the field, he was thoroughly bored. The girls were sent home to help their mother with the evening meal, whilst Yiorgo and his father collected tools and stacked the remaining boxes. Yannis took the opportunity of going to the other end of the field with Stelios. Together they scraped and scrabbled, oblivious to the rest of the world.

‘Enough,’ announced Yannis finally, and rose to his feet, flexing his knees. ‘We’ll do some more tomorrow.’

‘I’m hungry,’ announced Stelios.

‘I shouldn’t have let you stay so late. It was thoughtless of me.’

‘I’m only hungry now we’ve stopped,’ insisted Stelios.

They sauntered down the road as the darkness began to close around them. The island becoming a dark, crouched shape out on the navy blue sea, faintly menacing to Yannis in his imagination. The smell of cooking wafted out to them making them quicken their steps. Their mother clucked at them impatiently as they entered.

‘Your supper will be ruined. Go and wash, both of you. Your hands are filthy.’

They looked at their begrimed hands and went outside obediently. The pump clattered and splashed in the silent yard. ‘Hurry up,’ Stelios urged his brother.

Having eaten Yannis yawned hugely and his mother looked at him in surprise. ‘Why so tired, Yannis?’

‘I’m not used to walking up and down the hill. Come and play backgammon, Maria. Beating you will keep me awake.’ To his surprise Maria beat him easily time and again. At last he threw up his hands in despair. ‘You’re far too good for me.’

‘I play with Pappa.’

‘That explains it!’ Yannis senior was the acknowledged backgammon master of the village. ‘I’ll read for a while,’ said Yannis, realising he had not picked up a book for a number of days. ‘Shall I read aloud to you?’

‘What is it?’

‘Plato.’

‘No thank you. I wouldn’t understand a word. No, Yannis,’ she stopped her brother as he was about to speak. ‘I don’t want you to explain it to me, I still wouldn’t understand.’

Yannis grinned and settled himself nearer the oil lamp. Despite his intention to read he began to yawn again and his eyelids continually dropped, making the words swim before his eyes. He tried drinking another cup of coffee, but it was no use. He had to admit defeat and go to bed.

It was about an hour later that his mother shook him. ‘Yannis, come down. Your Pappa’s had an accident.’

‘What? What do you mean?’ Yannis sat up on the mattress blinking rapidly in the light of the candle his mother held. ‘Let me put my trousers on.’

Maria led the way back downstairs, Yiorgo following them. The back door stood open, making the candle flame flicker in the draught.

‘Light the lamp, Mamma, and tell me what’s happened.’

‘Your Pappa went out to the yard and slipped over. He can’t get up.’

Yannis took the candle from his mother and walked over to where his father lay, his leg bent beneath him. ‘Pappa.’

A groan answered him.

‘Mamma, bring the lamp. Yiorgo, you light some more. I’ll go for the Widow.’

‘It’s the middle of the night, Yannis.’

‘No matter; I’ll go and wake her. Pappa’s hurt.’

Yannis walked carefully down the village street. It was rutted from the carts and in some places there were loose stones. It would not help anyone if he fell. He reached the Widow’s house and hammered on her door. Before he had gained her attention he had woken most of the neighbours. Clothes were hurriedly donned, oil lamps lit, and the villagers made their way up to the yard where Yannis’s father lay. The Widow, leaning heavily on Yannis’s arm, was one of the last to arrive. The small group opened a way for her and held their lamps so she could see her patient. Yannis senior opened his eyes. He tried to speak, but only a groan of pain passed his lips. The Widow forgot her age and knelt down beside him. Experienced hands ran over his legs.

‘It’s broken. I have to straighten it. Hold him tight.’

Firm hands pinioned his shoulders to the ground, then the world spun before him in a burning, searing flash of pain that ended in darkness and oblivion. When Yannis senior regained consciousness he was lying on his bed, his leg hurting intolerably. Maria was beside him, sponging his face to remove sweat and mud.

‘What happened?’

‘You fell over in the yard.’

Yannis senior struggled to sit up, the movement bringing a return of the excruciating pain.

‘Lie still.’ Maria placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘Your leg’s broken. The Widow has splinted and bandaged it, but you must lay still.’

Her husband sank back. ‘I have to work.’

‘Don’t be silly. You can’t work with a broken leg! Try to sleep now. We’ll talk about it in the morning.’ Maria settled herself beside him. She felt drained and exhausted, but sleep would not come. Thank goodness Yannis was home. He would have to stay until his father recovered, despite his schooling.

The morning saw them all heavy eyed and lethargic. Yannis senior lay in bed, his leg throbbing, whilst Maria hovered over him, trying to make him comfortable. Yannis waited for his father’s instructions.

‘You must take the rest of the boxes up to the fields. Spiriton will bring more back from the island when he returns from the first trip. Yiorgo can handle the donkey and the unloading. The rest of you stay in the fields and do the packing. Try to do ten trips or I’ll be losing money and so will Spiriton.’ He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ll try and get up tomorrow and help.’

‘Pappa, you have to be sensible. A broken leg takes weeks before you can stand on it again. You have to lay still. Yiorgo is sensible and knows how to run the farm. You tell us what you want done and we’ll manage.’

Yannis senior nodded wearily. ‘You’re good boys. Off you go. Yiorgo will need as much help as possible.’

Yiorgo was already on his way down the hill with the first load when Yannis arrived. Spiriton’s small boat was moored in the harbour, the men filling the water barrels whilst they waited. Yiorgo had to walk up and down with the donkey on every trip as she would walk with no one else. Whilst he was gone the others worked as hard and fast as they could to fill the boxes and be ready for his return. By mid-day they were exhausted by their efforts and glad of a break in the shelter of the trees. By the time the sun began its descent behind the hill Yannis realised they could do no more. Maria and Anna were stumbling, whilst Stelios was yawning and rubbing his eyes.

‘Home you go. See if you can help Mamma. Yiorgo and I will finish here.’

Gratefully they made their way down the hill towards their home. Yannis wished he could go with them and wondered how Yiorgo could continue for so long without a rest. It was completely dark by the time the two boys took the loaded cart down the hill for the last time that day. Maria was waiting for them.

‘Spiriton’s gone. He said it was too late to do any more. He’ll be back tomorrow.’