YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (29 page)

‘I wish to speak to one of the men. He was a parishioner of mine.’

The crowd had grown and it seemed to Andreas that the whole population of Heraklion must be at the harbour. Father Minos pushed his way through to where Yannis had been placed on the ground and knelt beside him.

‘Yannis, can you hear me? It’s Father Minos. I didn’t get your message. Yannis, can you hear?’

The inert figure made no response. Andreas bit back his sobs. ‘He’s dead. They’ve killed him.’

Father Minos shook his head. ‘He’s not dead, just stunned.’ He turned to the guard. ‘May I take this man? I’ll look after him and be responsible for him. I believe there may have been a mistake.’

The guard shook his head. ‘There’s no mistake. He’s to go to Athens with the others.’

Andreas tried to lift Yannis’s head. A hail of stones surprised him and he lay across Yannis’s face to try to prevent further injury. Father Minos pulled him back.

‘I told you there was nothing I could do. You must look to yourself. They’ll send you as well if you’re not careful.’

Andreas realised the truth of the priest’s words as those nearest to him began to draw back and whisper “leper”. The priest pulled the boy into a kneeling position and began to pray, Andreas joining him fervently.

As the boat drew away the people began to disperse and Andreas looked around furtively. He waited until Father Minos rose and followed suit. The priest looked at him anxiously.

‘I think you should come back to my house for a while. We can get to know each other and I’d like to hear more about Yannis.’ Not waiting for a reply he led the way up the hill and away from the port. Andreas followed him obediently. Once inside the priest’s house he sank down gratefully in a chair whilst Father Minos opened a cupboard and returned with two glasses of brandy.

‘Drink this,’ he ordered. ‘It will make you feel better. It was most unfortunate that you had to witness that ugly scene.’

Andreas sipped at his glass and screwed up his face. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘It’s brandy – for medicinal purposes,’ smiled Father Minos as he emptied his glass. ‘Sip it slowly. It will calm your nerves. Tell me, is that young man really your cousin?’

Andreas nodded. ‘I came here to look for him. He wrote to my sister to say he had returned safely and we’ve not heard a word since.’

Father Minos looked at the boy speculatively. ‘Do your parents know you are in Heraklion?’

Andreas flushed. ‘No one knows I’m here except Annita. She’s betrothed to Yannis. I promised her I’d come if we hadn’t heard from Yannis by Easter. He always stayed with us before going on to Plaka. What’s happened to him?’

Father Minos spread his hands. ‘I don’t know all the facts. I met him when he’d just returned to Heraklion and was rather worried about a letter he’d received from the hospital. We spent a day together. I feel I know you all so well.’ Father Minos poured himself another brandy. ‘I failed him. I shall never forgive myself.’

‘You failed him?’ There was curiosity in Andreas’s tone.

Father Minos nodded. ‘He agreed to come to tell me what had happened at the hospital. I wasn’t in when he arrived and my housekeeper muddled his message and gave it to me a week later. I should have enquired at the hospital.’ He drained his glass a second time.

‘What will happen to him now?’

‘He’ll go to Athens for specialised treatment.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘I’ve no idea. I’m not a doctor. Had you no idea he was sick?’

Andreas shook his head. ‘We just thought he was busy catching up on his studies. I was going to the taverna this evening to see if I could find him. There was no one in earlier.’

‘Strange that they should not have contacted his family,’ observed the priest. ‘His schoolteacher lived there also, I believe. He must have known why Yannis left.’

‘I don’t know. I may have been at the wrong taverna anyway.’ Once again Andreas pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Father Minos.

‘We’ll go along together.’

‘I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go for information.’

‘Why didn’t you go to the museum? Yannis said he spent most of his spare time there.’

‘I did, but it’s closed today.’

‘Monday, of course it’s closed. Do you feel sufficiently recovered to go to the taverna now?’

Andreas nodded; then looked round the room. ‘My bundle? Where is it? I dropped it when they were stoning Yannis.’

‘I expect they loaded it with the boxes. What was in there?’

‘My clothes. I’ll have to tell Mamma where I’ve been and what has happened. Once I’ve done that I doubt she’ll be very worried about a few shirts.’

‘You’re probably right. Have you eaten since breakfast?’

Andreas shook his head. ‘I’ve had a coffee.’

‘We’ll see what they’re serving at that taverna.’

They left together, Andreas wishing he could linger in the church for a while. ‘When do you take a service?’

‘Later this evening. This is really my day off. I only take two services then, one in the early morning and the other in the late evening.’

Andreas nodded, determining to return for the evening service. They walked through mean, narrow streets until they arrived at the taverna Andreas had seen earlier in the day. Pavlos greeted them impersonally and brought the bottle of wine that Father Minos requested.

‘I should like to talk to you for a short while. Please, have a drink with us.’

Pavlos accepted and perched on the edge of a chair.

‘I’d like to talk to you about Yannis. He lived here I believe.’

Pavlos nodded. ‘Until Christmas, then he went home.’

‘Didn’t he return?’

‘Arrived on the Friday and left on the Monday. He left a note saying we could let his room. He went back home.’

‘I understand his teacher lived here with him. Didn’t he say goodbye to him?’

Pavlos wrinkled his forehead. ‘Not that I know of. Yiorgo seemed as puzzled by his sudden departure as I was. He didn’t even ask for his father’s money back.’

‘Do you still have the money?’

Pavlos shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He wished he had not mentioned the money. ‘Not all of it. My sister was married last week.’

‘It’s not important.’ Father Minos looked at Pavlos. ‘I have to tell you that we saw Yannis this afternoon. He was being sent to Athens on the hospital ship.’

The glass Pavlos had been holding slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. His face became ashen and although his mouth worked no words came. There was only one reason why people were sent to Athens on the hospital ship.

‘I had no idea.’ Pavlos looked at them with terror in his eyes.

‘Did your sister know?’

‘I’m sure she didn’t. She would have told me. We would never have let him a room.’

Father Minos sighed. ‘Yet before you knew of his affliction you were quite happy to take his money?’

‘Please, understand,’ Pavlos defended himself, ‘a leper living in a taverna! No customer would ever go there again.’ His eyes swivelled round the empty tables. ‘We would be ruined. Just as we were getting back on our feet! Please, I beg you, tell no one that he stayed here.’

‘Your sister must be told, and his teacher.’

‘Yes, of course,’ agreed Pavlos. ‘But no one else; please tell no one else. I’ll return his father’s money. I had to give my sister a dowry, you understand. We’ll work hard when my sister returns.’ Suddenly craft took the place of fear in Pavlos’s eyes. ‘If word should get around we would be quite unable to pay anything. We’d have to keep it as compensation for our ruined business.’

Father Minos looked at the young man with contempt. ‘You don’t think Yannis’s father might need compensation for the loss of a son! Come, Andreas.’

They left the taverna, Pavlos still pleading with them for secrecy, walking in silence until they turned the corner. Father Minos placed a hand under Andreas’s elbow to steady his swaying gait.

‘You need some food, but I thought it better not to eat there after all.’

They threaded their way through the dark streets until they reached a taverna by the harbour. ‘They serve a reasonable meal here,’ he remarked. ‘Not a great selection, but wholesome.’ He held up two fingers to the waiter who nodded and began to prepare a salad.

Having eaten moussaka with salad and three hunks of bread Andreas felt considerably better. Father Minos regarded the boy’s healthy appetite with something approaching amusement. He leaned across the table towards him.

‘Now you’re feeling better I think we should have a talk. Where do your parents think you are?’ Father Minos did not want a runaway on his hands.

‘At Ierapetra.’

‘What should you be doing there?’

‘I asked if I could stay at the monastery for a week.’

Father Minos raised his eyebrows. ‘A strange request.’

Andreas shook his head. ‘I want to enter the church,’ he felt the colour flooding his face. ‘I’ve wanted to do so for some years now. I have instruction from my local priest, but I wanted to spend some time living in seclusion before I decided.’

‘Decided on what?’

‘Which I should finally become, a priest or a monk.’

Father Minos nodded understandingly. ‘So your parents will not be worrying about you?’

‘No, but I think I should go back tomorrow, not wait until the end of the week.’

‘Of course; do you feel capable of telling them?’

Andreas looked at the priest in surprise. ‘Capable? I hadn’t thought about it. They have to be told, so do Yannis’s parents. Someone has to do it and I’m the only one who knows.’

‘It’s a great responsibility for one as young as you. Would you care for me to come with you?’ As soon as the words were out Father Minos regretted them. His responsibilities lay here in his parish, not miles away with a family he did not know. The look of relief, which flooded Andreas’s face, was thanks enough for him.

‘Would you be able to come? What about your duties here?’

‘I can ask a colleague to take over for a few days. I feel that I failed your cousin in his hour of need, I don’t wish to fail you in yours.’

Andreas felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. He had accepted the fact that he had to be the bearer of bad news to his own family and his cousin’s, but he had been dreading the moment. ‘I shall be forever in your debt. They will probably,’ he searched for the right word, ‘Understand better if it comes from you.’

Father Minos knew exactly what the boy was thinking. Priests were trusted and whatever they said the people believed. He rose and paid their bill, hoping as he did so that he would have enough money in his box at home for the journey to Aghios Nikolaos and back. He shrugged, the Lord would provide, he always had in some miraculous way.

Andreas studied the congregation whilst his friend took the service. Everyone looked poor, far poorer than a farmer or fisherman at home and he wondered why that should be. He had always thought that people who lived in the town would be wealthy. He wondered how Father Minos managed to live if the poverty of the people was reflected in the amount of money they gave to the church. It was well known that the pittance allowed them by the government would have left them to starve and ‘borrowing’ from the collection frequently paid outstanding bills.

Father Minos explained to the people that he had an urgent errand out of town and would be unable to be with them for the Easter services. An audible sigh went round, making Andreas feel guilty. As they left he saw them each say a personal farewell, pressing small gifts into the priest’s hands and wishing him well. Andreas rose to leave last, intending to thank Father Minos and arrange to meet the following day, but the priest would have none of it.

‘You’ll stay here. I have a spare mattress.’

Once again Andreas felt deeply indebted to the priest, but accepted gratefully. His experience during the day had unnerved him more than he realised. Before finally retiring Father Minos insisted he had another glass of brandy to help him sleep. He woke whilst it was still dark and wondered where he was. Stretching out his hand he groped for the familiar feel of a wall beside him and nearly rolled off the mattress. Memory flooded back to him and he laid still, the fingers of fear clutching at his body.

Ironically he remembered that he had lost his bundle and that in all probability it was with the lepers. He hoped Yannis would have it, if Yannis were still alive. The thought came unbidden to his mind and he drew in his breath sharply, biting his lip to stop himself from sobbing aloud, whilst he felt the tears running down his cheeks. Unable to check himself any longer he turned his face down towards the mattress and allowed full rein to his grief.

At last he slipped from the mattress, pulled on his clothes and crept to the door. As he had hoped the church was unlocked and he made his way to the picture of the Virgin. Kneeling on the cold, hard stone before her, he sent up fervent prayers. How long he had been there before Father Minos found him he had no idea, but his self-control had returned. There was no need to explain his actions to his priest, who knelt beside him for a while, then announced it was time for them to eat. Automatically Andreas followed him from the church and was surprised to see an old woman seated at the table with them.

‘My housekeeper,’ explained Father Minos and began to extol her virtues.

Father Minos ate heartily, but Andreas was only able to toy with the roll in front of him. ‘I must have eaten too much last night,’ he excused himself.

The bus journey was uneventful, although over too soon for Andreas. He swallowed nervously as they alighted in the town and stood beside the bus as though uncertain of his bearings. Father Minos’s hand on his shoulder gave him a degree of comfort and he was extremely grateful for his support.

‘Pappa may not be at home.’

‘We will see. You live in a remarkably pretty town.’

Andreas nodded. He led the way silently, unable to speak now the dreaded moment was so near. The door yielded to his touch and he stood aside to allow the priest to enter.

‘Andreas! I wasn’t expecting you.’ She bobbed a curtsey to the priest. As she straightened up her son flung himself into her arms and began to sob. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ She looked at the priest for enlightenment.