1 The Assassins' Village (8 page)

Diana looked a bit perturbed, the river was where Elaine had been working and she remembered her reaction to her painting. ‘I don’t know. It’s a fair way and all uphill at the end. Let’s just see, we can make that decision later.’

‘Okay then, so long as you don’t back out. By the way, Di, what was that racket coming from Leslie and Sonja’s earlier. It was a right row what with people shouting and doors slamming.’

Diana looked at Steve with a puzzled expression on her face and shook her head. ‘I didn’t hear anything, but then I was engrossed in my work.’

Steve looked amazed at Diana’s denial. ‘But, Di! You must have! I couldn’t concentrate; it sounded like someone was being murdered.’

Chapter 9.   Sunday afternoon

Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?

Come, let me clutch thee. I have ye not, and yet I see thee still.

Macbeth. Act 2 Scene 1

Without hurry, the walkers reached the top of the hill on the dusty track and paused for a welcome break. Panting from their exertion, the sweat glistened and ran down their faces.

‘Thank God it’s not a Sunday morning in December or the local hunters would be out in full force with their shotguns, and I wouldn’t like us to be their target. They’re particularly good at missing their birds and hitting each other you know.’

Steve mopped his face with the front of his white t-shirt while Diana grimaced at the thought of washing it. It was fast becoming a streaky-grey rag covered with yellow sweaty stains. Men!

Irritated, Di turned around to look at the view, which from here was staggeringly beautiful. Forgetting her earlier little flush of annoyance she relaxed letting out a sigh of pure pleasure. Almost the whole of their hill was covered with grapevines set in little terraced fields originating from the Roman occupation. Ancient white limestone walls framed each family plot, while below; the valley plunged away to a clear river that ran over strewn smooth boulders that glinted with flecks of granite. The far side of the valley struggled up yet another steep slope dotted with fir, spruce, and prickly bushes, while the odd poplar tree lined the valley bottom. The far hills were a mixture of wild vegetation, sparse scrub, citrus, carob and grapevines; an unending topography of rough hills and steep, dark valleys that eventually led all the way down to the lower more fertile plain before halting its orange-brown earth at the reach of the wide glittering sea. The late afternoon had brought its own beauty. A soft breeze from the southwest rustled through vines that would soon be turning into lustrous shades of autumn. Pale gold deepening to darker russets and reds, shot through with the sparkly thousands of spiders’ webs spun between the low bushes. Now, the shadows from the declining sun stretched long and low, brushing the tops of the cedar trees fringing the western hills, bringing deeper hues of purplish-blue along the valley floor.

Diana gasped and Steve turned to see what caught her attention as she stood looking out over the fields into the wide beyond.

‘Look there! Surely it can’t be? It looks just like a pair of eagles.’

Steve followed her keen gaze, matching her excitement. She was rarely wrong when it came to anything in the natural world. Sure enough, there were two huge birds soaring above the tops of the highest hills. With great efficiency they seemed to drift in tune with the thermals, their enormous expanse of wings outstretched as they danced together, almost touching wing tip to wing tip.

‘Wow! They are the first we’ve seen since we arrived here. How amazing. Aren’t they wonderful? Oh, I just love this beautiful country. Don’t you feel privileged to have seen them?’

Steve nodded in silence as he observed the birds. A small smile of pleasure touched his lips while he quietly took in the aerobatics many feet above their heads. Together they watched the perfect display, until the pair changed direction and took off, heading towards the higher crags of the Troodos Mountains.

Diana breathed a sigh of complete contentment, the rapture of her smile bringing a sudden beauty to her face. ‘How gorgeous. How lucky we are to have caught them before they flew away. I wonder if they’ll over winter here.’

Steve agreed they had been magnificent, and suggested that Elaine as a celebrated wildlife artist would be interested. She could use the background hills and reproduce on canvas what they’d just witnessed.

‘What a fabulous end to another perfect day in paradise,’ Di laughed using the well-used cliché.

Diana turned to walk on and stopped. ‘Oh look! Buttons! How curious. Three, no four of them. Who on earth could have lost four buttons at once? There’s no sign of a garment.’ She looked around her perplexed, and then gave a shrug. It was nothing really. ‘Let’s get on. I’m dying for a cuppa. I’ve finished all the water in my bottle.’ She gave it a rueful shake.

Once again she started along the level track that would eventually bring them back to their village house in Agios Mamas. The village was a wonderful collection of old creamy stone-houses perched precariously and higgledy-piggledy on a ridge, straddling the curve of the head-end of the valley that eventually led down to the sea. Cobbled donkey lanes connected the dwellings that had been abandoned in the sixties and seventys when the younger generation of their affluent grape-producing parents, decided to head for the more exciting modern attractions of the towns.

Cypriot owners were now rediscovering the ‘abandoned’ houses, and renovation work had begun to reclaim the run-down dwellings from their many years of neglect. Now, visitors to this village and others like it could not fail to notice the shady courtyards and spiral staircases half-hidden behind ornate gates and doorways. The colours from the potted flowers and palms joined together creating an amazing backdrop of cascading bougainvilleas, riotous blue plumbago, scented jasmines and musky smelling geraniums. The wonderful simplicity of the stone lodges, and the peace and tranquillity created a place that few could not fail to wish to return to. Steve and Diana had stumbled on it by pure chance, after searching much of the world looking for a suitable place in which to live. 

On a visit to Cyprus, they both agreed this country with its more relaxed rules might be just the place.  They found a large and comfortable house with a fabulous panorama laid before them. Here they realised, Steve could carry on with work for the company he held a major stake in, and Diana would find the inspiration and motivation to do what she liked best: write.

Now, as she half skipped back towards home she could feel the inspiration flowing inside her. She felt the beginnings of another chapter effervescing, waiting to bubble up into words…

‘Di.’

She didn’t hear him; she was wrapped up in what she was thinking.

Steve called more urgently. ‘DIANA.’

She paused, half-turned back to look at Steve. He was still standing on the edge of the track. He wasn’t looking in her direction at all, but over the side, down into the small vineyard below.

‘What?’

He finally turned to face her, a worried look on his normally calm features.

‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Something in his voice and tense manner made Diana retrace her footsteps to where he stood. She touched his arm in concern. ‘Darling?’

‘Look.’ He pointed with some agitation down at the ground, over the edge of the cliff.

Diana took another step closer, immediately sobered. She peered down, over the side of the steep slope to the flat ground below. Immediately she tightened her grip on his arm.

‘Oh no!’ she gasped. ‘Someone’s down there, they must have fallen!’

Steve gave her a slightly exasperated look as she stated the obvious.

‘The ‘someone’ is clearly unconscious or…, he left the sentence unfinished and Di flashed an alarmed look at him.

‘Hello? Hello? Are you all right?
Einai endaxi
?’ he cupped his hands around his mouth as he called down to the person below. There was no response.

‘We’d better take a closer look. It may be nothing, someone having a late siesta and sleeping off his lunch or perhaps suffering from too much of the local vino.’ Di dragged her eyes away to look at Steve. He didn’t sound very convincing.

Together they scouted around, looking for a safe way down into the field. It was not easy. The slope was very steep and the edges soft and friable sandstone. It would be all too easy to slip and fall. After a few minutes they found a parting in the vicious prickly bushes covering the slope and managed to scramble down a tiny track.

Making sure that Di was behind him, Steve slowly approached the person lying on the ground with some apprehension. They could be blind drunk after all.  By his clothing and footwear Steve quickly surmised it was a man. He was half hidden by the surrounding broken and bent branches. The loose earth around him clearly indicated he had indeed taken a tumble. His face was concealed by a straw hat that had slipped forward to cover it. As Steve neared the man he again tentatively called out to him, enquiring if he needed any help. When there was no answer he removed some of the debris and pushed back the broken branches. Shocked, he exclaimed.

‘Good God, it’s Leslie!’

‘Leslie?’ Diana moved up closer to Steve and tried to look over his shoulder. ‘Is he unconscious? Or is he… um?’

‘I don’t know. It’s gloomy under all these scratchy branches and rubble, and hard to see. Stay just where you are for a moment.’ There was a pause.  ‘He’s certainly broken his left leg, judging by the odd angle it’s bent at. Just a minute, I’ll have to move some more of these branches and rocks aside. It’s not easy; they’re damned prickly. Ouch! I can’t get to him easily.’

‘Can I help?’ she said.

‘No. Stay right there.’

Heaving branches and rocks out of the way, Steve was eventually able to get close enough to bend down and squat at Leslie’s side. Gently he reached towards him; pushing aside Leslie’s shirt collar and red neckerchief to feel for a pulse. As he made contact with Leslie’s skin, Steve jerked his hand away as if he’d been stung.

He yelped in disbelief and his whole body recoiled away from the recumbent Leslie. Straightening, he turned towards Diana. His face had turned completely white and he looked stunned with shock.

‘Don’t look! Stay away!’

‘Why? What’s the mat…?’ her voice died as she peered behind Steve taking in the scene before her. A tremor ran through her as she realised just what she was seeing. She turned her look of horror back to her husband, her mouth round. Bile rose in her throat and she fought to keep it down.

‘Steve!’ she gasped, fighting hard to stop the panic scream threatening to take hold of her.

‘Okay hon just breathe deeply. Don’t look again. It’s not very nice.’

‘But Steve!’

‘I know. Easy, easy,’ he drew her to him, circling her in the safety of his arms. They both shuddered. Diana buried her face in Steve’s shoulder. Steve nerved himself to take another look at Leslie. The side of Leslie’s head turned away from them was covered with blood. Leslie had obviously hit his head violently during his fall. His wounds were terrible. But unfortunately that wasn’t all.

Eventually Diana’s shudders and breathing calmed down.

‘Poor man. How awful! Oh Steve it’s so terrible,’ she whispered, her face a pale blur beside him. ‘How could he have fallen and then this happen?  Or was he pushed? And who could possibly have done…?’

‘I don’t know, but the road edges are soft in parts. I wonder how long he’s lain here. And oh God, when and who did this?’ Looking ghastly himself, he indicated the deep gash around Leslie’s neck. Taking his arm away from Diana he bent down towards Leslie. He hesitated as he reached once more towards him, as if he didn’t really want to touch the body.

‘He doesn’t feel cold but it’s been an extremely hot day. His body isn’t stiff. I think that means he hasn’t been dead for long.’

Steve removed the battered and stained straw hat from Leslie’s face. Leslie’s head was slumped forward onto his chest. At first glance, Leslie appeared to be wearing a neckerchief a bright shade of red. But it wasn’t a neckerchief. It was Leslie’s blood congealed into a viscous red slick around his neck. Already it was attracting a hum of bluebottles. Steve waved his hands in front of Leslie’s face. The sight of the flies and what they meant was revolting.

‘I’ve never seen anyone killed before, let alone someone with wounds like this. Who could have done it? And what knife did they use?’ Scared, Diana took a quick look around her as if she would suddenly light upon a bloodied dagger half buried in the dirt.

Steve paused, swallowing hard before answering her. He looked like he was concentrating very hard on not throwing up. ‘There’s a hell of a lot of blood.’

‘Yes. Poor, poor man. We’d better do something. You know alert the authorities and Sonja. Oh! What about Sonja?’ Di whispered the question as she realised the enormity of the situation in front of them. Pushing her own distaste aside, she knelt down on the ground and took Leslie’s limp hand in hers.

‘It must have been terrible falling over the cliff and not being able to get up,’ she mumbled in tears as she looked at Leslie.

Steve squatted back down beside her and followed her gaze.  ‘He broke his leg and couldn’t move. But was he attacked before or after he’d fallen?’ Steve’s own breathing was now more normal.

They looked at each other in horror. It wasn’t every day you found a badly mutilated person, and someone that you knew.

Moreover, it wasn’t every day you found someone with their head almost
detached
from their body.

To stop herself from either passing out or screaming with panic, Diana was struggling to act sensibly and with detachment. She stood up and turned to face Steve.  ‘Okay. What are we going to do next then? Call the authorities and get an ambulance down here before it gets dark?’

‘I can telephone from here with my mobile. Let’s hope I can get a signal. I expect the police will want us to stay with the body. Doesn’t that sound horrible? ‘
The body’
. Not Leslie anymore.’