YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (18 page)

The taverna was deserted when he arrived and he was deliberately noisy as he climbed the stairs to his room. Louisa’s door was closed, but he had an idea she was not alone behind it and he wished it were he who was with her. Mentally shaking himself, he set about the task of reproducing the map, determined to put all thoughts of Louisa from his mind. He was surprised to find that after drawing three maps the fourth one was considerably easier and he attempted a copy from memory. He compared each one and re-drew them to his satisfaction before starting a letter to Annita.

Usually he found writing to Annita a pleasurable task, the words flowing smoothly onto the paper, but having told her he had been to the doctor and had his stitches removed he could think of nothing else to say. He wanted to tell her he loved her and missed her, but the words seemed false when they were written down. The vision of a slim, supple body, perfect in its proportions, three little moles and a cloud of black hair that smelt faintly of almonds, continually invaded his mind. He decided he would put the letter aside until the following day. Maybe he would have something more to tell her after his evening out.

Yiorgo was engrossed in his newspaper when Yannis went down to the taverna for a meal before his friends arrived, continuing to read whilst he ate the liver and tomatoes that Louisa put before them. Pavlos flung open the door and marched into the kitchen where a low, but obviously heated exchange, took place between brother and sister. He emerged, a pleased smile on his face and raised his hand to Yannis.

‘Had a good day?’

Yannis, his mouth full, could only nod.

‘Ah, Pavlos, I’ve just read something so interesting. Have a seat…’

‘Can’t stop at the moment, Yiorgo. Tell me tomorrow.’

Yiorgo looked bemusedly at the closed door and shook his head. He folded his newspaper and placed it on his chair before taking his empty plate into the kitchen.

‘Louisa, I want to talk to you. Have you come to a decision yet?’

‘A decision?’ Louisa was deliberately evasive.

‘I asked you a question before I returned to Heraklion. I’m waiting for your answer,’ replied Yiorgo patiently.

‘Look at that!’ Louisa slammed a tomato down on the table. ‘How can I possibly put tomatoes like that in a salad? I’m taking them back.’

Yiorgo Pavlakis put out a restraining hand. ‘Louisa.’

‘Not now, Yiorgo,’ she brushed him aside. ‘I must take these back and get some fresh ones. I haven’t time to stop and talk now.’

The restraining hand dropped to his side and he moved to let her pass through the doorway. Disconsolately he made his way up to his room.

Stavros and Vassilis arrived within minutes of each other and Yannis asked Louisa for a bottle of wine. ‘We may as well make a start whilst we wait for the others.’

‘Who else is coming?’

‘Dimitris, Nicolas and Costas. You’ve probably seen me around with them.’

‘Isn’t Costas the rich boy?’ asked Stavros.

Yannis nodded. ‘His father had a big win on the lottery apparently.’

‘A useful friend to have,’ remarked Vassilis.

‘I think his father gives him an allowance, so he’s really no better off than us.’

‘Maybe not, but no doubt he can always ask for a little more if he overspends.’

‘Here he comes. You can ask him.’ Yannis grinned at Vassilis and called for another bottle of wine to be brought to the table as Costas slid into the seat next to him.

Louisa frowned when she saw who was with Yannis. She hoped he would say nothing out of place to her. ‘I thought you were going out,’ she said to Yannis.

‘We are, but we thought it only right to start here. Where’s Yiorgo? You must meet him. I’ll give him a shout.’

From the bottom of the stairs Yannis called to Yiorgo to join them. When he arrived he was obviously preoccupied, gazing around as though someone or something was missing.

‘What have you lost, Yiorgo?’

‘My newspaper; I thought I’d taken it up with me. I must have left it down here, but I can’t see it.’

Yannis raised himself from his chair and pulled the newspaper out from beneath him. ‘I’m sorry. I just sat down. Is there something important in there?’

Yiorgo nodded. ‘There’s an article on Bulgaria that I wanted to read more thoroughly. When I’ve finished with it I’ll pass it on to you. You’ll find it interesting also.’

Yannis raised his eyebrows at his friends. He doubted very much if he would find the politics of Bulgaria interesting. ‘Here’s Dimitris,’ he announced, distracting Yiorgo from the subject. ‘I wonder what kept him.’

‘Sorry. Am I late? I just had to finish my homework and then my father arrived and was asking me how I was getting on. I thought I’d never get away.’

‘Well you’re here now. Where shall we go? You all know the town far better than I do.’

‘You only know your way to school and the museum,’ laughed Dimitris. ‘How did you find your way to the doctor?’

‘I asked Louisa.’

‘Let’s do the rounds,’ suggested Nicolas.

‘Be careful where you go boys,’ warned Yiorgo Pavlakis. ‘There are some unsavoury areas here, worse than Aghios Nikolaos, Yannis.’

‘Would you like to come with us?’

Yiorgo Pavlakis pushed back his hair and appeared quite startled at the idea. ‘No, I couldn’t. I’m expecting some acquaintances here later. That’s why I needed the paper.’

The boys called out goodbye to Louisa and left the taverna. Once outside Dimitris turned to Yannis. ‘Is he always like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, concerned for your safety.’

‘Not usually; I think it’s just where I fell down the stairs. He promised my parents he’d look after me whilst I was here and I don’t know Heraklion very well, particularly at night.’

‘You’re safe enough with us. The waterfront is the place to steer clear of. You get so many different nationalities at the harbour and they get drunk and brawls start. If you’re not careful you can get involved.’ Vassilis was leading the way to the centre of the town.

‘Another place is behind the market,’ added Nicolas. ‘It’s the prostitutes’ area,’ he explained to Yannis. ‘If you want to take a short cut it becomes embarrassing with them all calling out to you, and sometimes their pimps will push you into a doorway and take your money. If you complain to the police they say you shouldn’t have been in the area in the first place.’

Dimitris dived down a side street and opened the door of a taverna. ‘Let’s start here.’ Two elderly men who were playing dominoes looked at the boys and sighed. Their peaceful game was about to be interrupted.

It was past midnight when they finally bade each other farewell and Yannis stumbled back to the taverna. He was surprised to find the oil lamps still lit and a number of men sitting at a table with Mr Pavlakis. He hardly glanced at Yannis as he entered, so intent was he on the speech he was making. Louisa was leaning on the counter, obviously tired; yet knowing she would be called upon for further bottles of wine.

‘What’s going on?’ asked Yannis.

‘Yiorgo is talking to them about the article he read on Bulgaria. I don’t understand what he’s on about, but they appear to think he’s right. I just wish they’d all go to bed,’ she yawned openly.

‘I’ll call out goodnight to you and say how late it is. It might encourage them to move.’ He went to the bottom of the stairs and called loudly. ‘Goodnight, Louisa. It’s after midnight so I’m off to bed.’

‘Goodnight,’ called back Louisa. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’

Yannis stood and watched. The group of men did not appear to have heard, but continued listening to Yiorgo as intently as before. He glanced at Louisa who shrugged her shoulders in resignation.

Before going to sleep Yannis looked at the map he had to learn. He hoped he would remember it the following day, although at the moment he really felt too tired to care. He remembered his last evening in Heraklion and hoped he would not feel ill in the morning.

The day dragged for Yannis. He disliked having to draw the map again and again, each time inserting different information at Mr Angelakis’s direction. The list of places that had sent ships to aid in the Trojan War was more interesting, but when Mr Angelakis explained they were now to make graphs from the information they had compiled that day Yannis groaned. He hated graphs. However hard he tried they never seemed to end up accurate. Making a tentative start he was pleased when the bell rang and he could hurry off to the museum.

If he worked really hard he should finish listing the pottery in the room within a few more days. When he had done that he planned to ask Mr Kouvakis if he could move it so the pieces could be grouped together. As he peered through the grubby glass he could hardly believe his eyes. Lying, half hidden between the broken pieces of pottery and the black edges of the display case was a tiny gold axe. Excitement surged through him. Did anyone else know it was there? He doubted it. Closing his notebook he went in search of Mr Kouvakis and met him as he was coming down the passage.

‘Perfect timing, Yannis. I was just coming to tell you we were closing.’

‘Can you spare me a moment? There’s something I want to show you.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Inwardly Mr Kouvakis felt impatient. He was hungry and his room had been chilly, as he had forgotten to light the stove until mid-day.

‘Look at that.’ Yannis indicated the tiny axe.

‘Yes?’ Mr Kouvakis looked at the pottery. ‘What is so remarkable about that?’

‘Not the pottery; look, in the corner. A tiny gold axe.’ Yannis’s voice was trembling with excitement.

Mr Kouvakis leaned forward. ‘You’re right.’ The incredulity sounded in his voice. He drew a large bunch of keys from his pocket and began to try them in the lock, finally having success as the mechanism creaked and the key turned. He lifted the heavy glass lid. ‘Take it out, then.’

With baited breath Yannis stretched his hand into the case and picked up the tiny, precious object between his finger and thumb. He laid it on the palm of his hand and gazed at it in delight. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I’d better put it in the strong room with the others.’

‘The others?’

‘We have a number of them, all weights and sizes. I’ll show you.’ Mr Kouvakis led the way back along the passage and unlocked a door at the far end. The door swung open to reveal another behind it, made of very stout wood with cross braces. Two more keys were produced and the inner door was opened to reveal a long, narrow room. One side was shelved, on each shelf a collection of boxes sat in confusion. Mr Kouvakis selected one and lifted the lid.

‘Look.’ Inside was a glittering array of small, gold axes, identical to the one Yannis had discovered inside the display case. Mr Kouvakis ran his hand through them. ‘Put it in, Yannis.’

Yannis looked at the tiny object once more, then placed it gently in the box. He looked curiously around the room. On the far side were large, flat, packing cases, stacked almost from floor to ceiling.

‘What are they?’ he asked.

‘The frescoes Mr Evans has examined. When they build the new museum they’ll be put on show.’

‘Will the axes go on show also?’

‘I expect so.’ Mr Kouvakis turned to go and Yannis followed him.

‘Thank you for showing me. They’re far too beautiful to be locked away. I hope they build the new museum quickly so everyone can see them.’

Mr Kouvakis shrugged. ‘Who knows? They may have found better specimens by then and have no use for these.’

‘I’m sure they won’t. I wonder, excuse me; I must go to the library before it closes. There’s something I want to look up.’

Suddenly Yannis could not wait to be out of the museum. He was sure he had seen pictures of a funeral ritual where a person was shown holding a large axe. Maybe the gold axe he had seen and held was a talisman, carried around as a charm against death. By the time he reached the library he was convinced his idea was correct and it took him only a few minutes to find the book with the illustration he wanted. With a sigh of satisfaction he closed the book and began to walk back to the taverna.

To his surprise he found Stavros and Vassilis waiting for him. ‘We felt a bit guilty running out of here last night, so we decided we would come for a meal with you,’ explained Vassilis.

Yannis nodded, hardly hearing him. ‘I must tell you my news. I found a little gold axe at the museum today.’ Stavros and Vassilis looked at him with interest. ‘I could hardly believe it. It was just lying there. Mr Kouvakis unlocked the case and let me take it out.’

‘Where is it now? Have you brought it with you?’

‘Of course not. Mr Kouvakis took me into the strong room and we put it in the box with the others. They have hundreds there.’

‘Why aren’t they put on display?’

‘They will be when the new museum is built. Yiorgo, come and hear this.’

Yiorgo came obediently to their table and Yannis told his story again, he then went on to tell them his theory of the axe being a lucky charm.

‘You could well be right, Yannis. If you look in the jewellers you will see replicas made up as earrings or on a chain. People probably regard them just as decorative jewellery now, but they may have been very precious to them in the past.’

Although Yiorgo was speaking to Yannis he was watching the man who was talking to Louisa at the counter. He appeared to be getting impatient. Louisa glanced at the four at the table and shook her head again.

‘Do you have a problem, Louisa?’ Yiorgo was at her side.

She smiled sweetly at both men. ‘Mr Manyakis has some goods for Pavlos and was hoping he would be here.’ She nodded her head imperceptibly. ‘I’m sure he’ll be available tomorrow if you’d care to come back.’

‘I shall certainly be here.’ He nodded determinedly and strode out of the taverna, slamming the door behind him.

Louisa returned to the kitchen and Yiorgo followed her. ‘Louisa, I don’t like to see you having to deal with people like that. Have you thought any more about my proposal?’

‘What proposal?’

‘I asked if you would marry me.’

‘Oh, that,’ she answered nonchalantly, not taking her eyes from the lettuce she was chopping.

Yiorgo slipped an arm round her slim waist. ‘Please, Louisa, you’re driving me crazy.’