YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (36 page)

Spiro and Yannis left. When melancholy overtook Manolis he was best avoided for a while. Andreas appeared to be asleep as they approached him, but as they stood beside him his eyes opened and he smiled.

‘I thought you were marvellous,’ said Yannis. ‘You managed to say everything in so few words. If I’d had to do it I’d still be asking for a decent meal.’

Andreas leaned back closing his eyes again. ‘I’m so tired now, but it was worth it.’

Spiro gazed at the old man anxiously. ‘Are you all right, Andreas?’

‘Very tired,’ he murmured, hardly audible, ‘But worth it.’ His head rolled to one side, his mouth falling open.

‘Get Elias,’ Spiro ordered Yannis as he looked around the ward for Yiorgo.

The monk hurried over and after one look began to pray. Yiorgo felt Andreas’s heart and took his pulse. He dropped the limp arm and shook his head.

‘He’s dead. The exertion was too much for him.’

The ambulant lepers crowded round, asking for information. One of them turned on Yannis. ‘This is your fault. It was your idea to take him to the administrator. You should have left the old man alone.’

Spiro came to Yannis’s defence. ‘He knew he was dying. He wanted to do it. With his dying breath he said it was worth it.’

Elias laid a hand on Yannis’s shoulder. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself. He’d been longing for death, always said it couldn’t come too quickly for him once he was bed-ridden.’

Yannis shook off the monk’s hand. ‘It was my fault,’ he said sadly and walked to his bed, Spiro following him.

‘Don’t be a fool, Yannis. He knew what he was doing and the risk he was taking by exciting himself.’

Yannis lay on his bed, his head throbbing. He blamed himself, despite the comforting words from Spiro and Elias. The afternoon dragged on and his head ached more with each passing hour. When the supper trolley was finally wheeled in he could not move; the pain in his head was so intolerable. Spiro brought him over some bread, cheese and a little meat, but Yannis pushed it away.

‘I couldn’t – my head – it feels as if it will burst.’

Yannis spent the night racked with pain and tortured by nightmares. Visions of his parents, brothers and sisters appeared before him, each one horribly mutilated by disease. Intermittently he felt someone lift him, mop his brow and press some water to his lips, then he would lapse back into a fevered frenzy from which there was no escape.

It was three days before Yannis had any semblance of consciousness. He opened his eyes and groaned. Spiro was beside him, urging him to try to sit up a little and drink. Gratefully he clutched the mug and swallowed some water, sighed and fell back on his mattress to sleep dreamlessly. When he awoke he felt decidedly better. He looked around. Most of the occupants were clustered round a trolley. Cautiously he swung his legs over the side of his bed and took his weight on his feet. The ward swayed violently before his eyes and he dropped back into a sitting position to save himself from falling.

‘I’ve got some for you.’ Spiro’s voice came from far away. ‘Lay down for a while, then sit up slowly when your head clears.’

Yannis did as he was instructed, then opened his eyes. Concern was written all over Spiro’s face. ‘Feeling better? You’ve had a bad few days. It happens to us all at times.’

‘My head; I thought it was bursting.’

‘You’d over done it. You’d been all tensed up and excited; then you collapsed like a pricked balloon. Take it easy for a few days and you’ll be all right again.’

Memory came back to Yannis. ‘Has anything happened? Have things improved?’

Spiro scratched his head. ‘Nothing’s changed, but things are happening.’

‘Tell me.’ Yannis began to devour the meat and bread hungrily.

‘Not too fast,’ Spiro cautioned him. ‘They send in guards when the orderlies and cleaners come in. They just stand there by the doors and look at us, truncheons at the ready. They’re all great big, ugly brutes. We’d never stand a chance against them.’

‘Andreas said we’d only get one chance.’

‘They came in yesterday and measured the ward. When we asked what they were doing they didn’t answer. Maybe they agree we’re overcrowded, or are going to put in some more basins or toilets.’

‘That would be an improvement.’ Yannis was beginning to feel distinctly better. ‘It’s a start. I wonder how long it will be before we know. I need some more to drink, Spiro. My throat feels parched.’ Yannis put his hand up to his neck; then withdrew it, damp and sticky. Eyes wide with fear he looked at Spiro. ‘What’s happened to my neck?’ he whispered.

Spiro looked carefully. ‘It’s spread a bit. I expect you scratched at it when you were delirious. You certainly said some things then! Who’s Louisa?’

‘Louisa?’ Yannis frowned. ‘She owned the taverna with her brother, the one where I lived in Heraklion. She must be married by now.’

‘Should have been a long while back if what you were saying was true. What was she like, Yannis?’ Spiro leaned forward eagerly.

‘Very beautiful.’

‘No, you know what I mean.’

‘No I don’t.’ Yannis could feel himself redden as he lied. ‘Goodness knows what nonsense I talked.’

Spiro grinned. ‘Have it your way. I’ll get you some more water, then I’ll tell Manolis you’re with us again.’

Despite having slept naturally for most of the day, Yannis had no difficulty in sleeping that night, born up by the hope that improvements were about to be made to their ward.

The matron in charge of the trainee nurses was concerned about Annita. She worked harder than most of the other girls but rarely smiled and would only answer when spoken to, which did not make her popular. She became as near a recluse as possible in the busy hospital, gaining a reputation for being weird and totally friendless. She passed her examinations with ease and finally approached the matron.

‘I should like to request a transfer to another hospital, please, ma’am.’

The matron regarded the slim, white-faced girl. ‘Aren’t you happy with us?’

Annita gave an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders; the movement was not lost on the matron. ‘I wish to move to Athens.’

The matron shook her head. ‘It’s not possible for me to authorise a transfer for you. The most I could do would be to write a letter of recommendation.’

‘I would be grateful if you would do so. I’d like to move as soon as possible.’

Annita sighed. It should have been so easy. Now she had to face her parents.

It was more than a month since Yannis’s recovery when change did come to the ward, and in a way no one had visualised. As soon as the cleaners had left the guards ordered each man to move his bed closer to his neighbour, leaving just enough room to walk between them. The work took all day and was exhausting for those who had four reasonably healthy limbs. By the time they had finished they crawled onto their beds, too tired to bother to eat. Manolis, unable to help at all, lay and pondered over this latest whim of the authorities. He shuddered. It was bad enough normally to have so little privacy, but now he could touch the man next to him if he stretched out his arm.

They were left to speculate for a further week, when once again the guards arrived, pushing bed after bed into the ward and ordering the inmates to place them in position. Manolis lay and counted. They were obviously not intended to have new beds or the old ones would have been removed, it could only mean they were having a number of new patients. The ward had previously held forty-six beds, now it held sixty-seven.

Although exhausted again that evening the men did not go to their beds, but gathered in little groups and speculated. They all came to the same conclusion, more patients were being sent into their ward. Sideways glances were directed at Yannis. This was his fault. In his misguided attempt to help them he had made things worse. Their ward was going to be overcrowded so that the air would be more fetid, there would be even less privacy and their inadequate toilet facilities would be unable to cope.

Yannis sat miserably on his bed and Spiro decided he would try to convince him that he was not responsible after they had eaten, but his intention was thwarted by the arrival of the new patients. Bales of bedding were thrown into the ward and the patients were instructed to make up the beds. Resentfully they did so, each wishing they could have a new mattress or extra blanket. By the end of the morning the beds were occupied and Spiro approached the one nearest to him.

‘Which ward have you come from?’ he asked an elderly man.

The man looked puzzled. ‘We arrived this morning from Thessaly.’

‘Thessaly!’ Spiro was amazed. ‘That’s miles away.’

‘I know. They suddenly shipped us all out. Now there’s no hope at all.’ The man spoke sadly. ‘I always dreamed that one day I’d be cured and able to go home. Now I know I shan’t.’

‘That’s the wrong way to think,’ said Spiro firmly. ‘You didn’t ask to come here, so when you’re cured you ask to be sent back where you belong. Do you all come from Thessaly?’

‘I think so. There were about a hundred of us, but we were split up and sent to different wards.’

Spiro’s brain was spinning. ‘Come with me and tell someone else about those in other wards. It could really put his mind at rest.’ Obediently the new arrival followed Spiro to Yannis’s bed. ‘Meet a new friend. He’s come all the way from Thessaly to bring us some news.’

‘What do you mean, Spiro?’

‘What I said. They’ve sent a load of patients from Thessaly. There are more of them in the other wards.’

‘Is it true?’ Yannis propped himself up on one elbow and looked from one to the other of the two men. ‘I’m Yannis, by the way.’

‘Panicos. There were over a hundred of us in the hospital and they suddenly decided we were to be moved here. They left about six behind, those they didn’t think would make the journey.’

‘What does it mean?’ Yannis was as puzzled as Spiro. ‘Why should they send lepers from one end of the country to the other?’

‘Maybe the treatment is better here?’ suggested Panicos.

Yannis and Spiro snorted with laughter. ‘There’s one thing for certain,’ gasped Spiro. ‘It couldn’t be worse. Come and introduce some of the others to us, then we’ll take you to meet Manolis.’

The day passed more quickly for Yannis than any other for a long time. It was good to have some fresh faces around and new voices, to be able to talk about different topics. The supper was scanty with barely enough for everyone; Panicos had gazed at his meagre portion with dismay.

‘Obviously they weren’t expecting so many of us at once and their catering’s gone haywire. I hope there’ll be a little more to eat tomorrow.’

‘You know,’ Yannis was speaking almost to himself. ‘We live on hope in here. We hope there’ll be more food, more water, clean clothes, a cure. They’re lucky we’re able to dish ourselves up liberal helpings of hope each day or they’d have a ward full of dead men.’

Yannis spent a good deal of time with the new arrivals, asking about conditions in their previous hospital. He came to the conclusion that life was much the same wherever you were and suggested to Panicos that they should once again try to take the guards and orderlies prisoner and force the administrator to make improvements.

Yannis sat on his bed trying to calculate how many ambulant lepers would be willing to join them and risk the consequences. Spiro calling urgently for Elias and Yiorgo caught his attention. In a moment he was beside his friend.

‘Manolis. He’s dying.’ There was a break in Spiro’s voice and Yannis put an arm across the man’s shoulders to comfort him.

‘You know it’s for the best. He’s suffered so much.’

Spiro was sobbing openly. ‘I know, but now it’s happening.’

Elias was kneeling beside the bed, saying a prayer. A silence had fallen on the ward. The laboured breathing stopped and Yiorgo shook his head. He could no longer feel a pulse. Spiro buried his head in Yannis’s shirt and allowed himself to be led back to his own bed where he lay, face down, grieving. Elias pulled the soiled sheet over Manolis’s remains and made his way to Spiro in the hope of comforting him. Yannis felt superfluous and wandered back to his bed. What did it matter if they improved their conditions? They were all bound to die ignominiously in the end. Manolis had always been there to cheer him when he had felt like this before. There could be no one to take his place. The lunch trolley came in, but Yannis did not bother to move; maybe he could starve himself to death.

‘Move over. I’ve brought you some food.’

‘I don’t want it,’ he muttered sulkily.

‘Suit yourself.’ Panicos rose to go.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just rather upset. Manolis was such a good friend.’

‘He must have been. Most of the ward appears to be mourning him.’

Yannis raised himself on his elbow. It was true. Usually at meal times there were little gatherings and a certain amount of laughter mixed with the general conversation, but today the men ate silently.

‘What was so special about him?’ asked Panicos.

‘He was always so cheerful and had ways to make us laugh. He was often in a lot of pain, but he never complained.’ Tears filled Yannis’s eyes again. ‘I wish it had been me who died.’

‘A lot of us feel like that.’ Panicos’s words were heartfelt.

Yannis nodded. Spiro was sitting motionless on his bed as though in a trance. His mind was blank with misery and despair. All Elias’s comforting words and his own common sense could not take away his feeling of loss and loneliness. He showed no sign of acknowledging Yannis and Panicos as they sat on his bed.

‘We want to talk to you, Spiro,’ began Yannis gently. ‘We know how much Manolis meant to you. He meant a lot to all of us, but he wouldn’t have wanted any of us to grieve for him.’

‘They’ll put him in a sack! They’ll put him in a sack!’ Spiro’s voice began to rise.

Yannis looked at Panicos in despair. ‘I’ll stay with him until he’s feeling better.’

The afternoon dragged. The patients sat around listlessly, yet there was an air of tension about them that Yannis could not understand. The silence was broken by a key grating in the lock, as two orderlies and a guard entered. They carried the familiar black sack with them, which they threw at the nearest bed.