YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (39 page)

Antionis did not reply and Yannis began to wonder if the old man was deaf as well as blind. He began to repeat himself. ‘We want to be friends…’

Antionis held up his mutilated hand. ‘I heard you the first time.’

Yannis fell silent and waited for the man to speak.

‘You will have food, when food is sent to us. There is usually sufficient, unless the weather is too bad for the boats to land. Shelter is different. There’s very little shelter. We are sick, very sick. You’re all much fitter than we are. If you want shelter you must make your own.’

‘Make our own!’ Yannis was horrified. ‘How can we?’

‘When I had my sight I saw many houses that just needed to be cleared of rubble and strengthened. They won’t have disappeared.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Who knows? When the world goes dark about you day and night become as one. Time no longer means anything any more.’ Antionis fell silent and Yannis wondered if he was asleep. Quietly he rose to go. As he did so Antionis’s hand reached out and clawed at his trousers. ‘You will rebuild. Promise me.’

‘I don’t know. I can’t…’

‘Promise me.’

‘How can I?’

‘Promise.’

‘I promise’ Yannis crossed himself as he said the words, hoping his vow would not be held against him at a later date.

Yannis looked for Phaedra, but she had disappeared. He walked slowly along the concrete path to the quay where he had left Panicos and Spiro. He would have to talk to them.

‘Well?’ Panicos looked at him eagerly.

Yannis shook his head. ‘Antionis said we would have to build our own shelters. He said there were plenty of places that just needed repairing and cleaning up.’

‘Can he take us to them?’ asked Spiro eagerly.

‘He’s blind,’ said Yannis simply.

‘How long has he been blind?’

‘I don’t know; he doesn’t seem to know.’

‘So these buildings that he says can be repaired may no longer be standing! Who else could we ask?’

‘Why don’t we go and look?’ suggested Spiro.

‘Phaedra was going to show us the island today.’ Yannis looked round, hoping to see her. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for her?’

‘Why? I doubt that we’ll get lost.’

‘Let’s walk up to Kyriakos; we need to take him the water. She may be with him,’ suggested Yannis hopefully.

There was no sign of Phaedra so the three men continued up the path until it petered out to become a dirt track. Yannis did not mention that he had already explored that far. A projection of cliff appeared to bar their way, but as they reached it they looked down a steep, rocky bank that led to a catwalk, littered with stones and rocks. Yannis shuddered. No wonder Phaedra had been concerned. Had he fallen down there in the darkness he could well have ended up with broken bones. The path continued, a narrow track with sheer rock rising above them and also falling down to the sea below. There was nowhere that would be suitable to build and no signs that anyone had ever attempted to do so. The path curved again and as they rounded it Spiro stopped in surprise.

‘Well, who would have thought there would be a church round here.’

Set back into the hill, the path once more concreted and widening considerably, the church looked sad and neglected.

‘I’d like to go in. Will you wait for me?’

Without waiting for their answer Yannis walked to the door, which yielded under his touch, and he found himself in the bare interior. Leaving the door open he walked to where the altar would have been placed and fell on his knees. His jumbled thoughts could hardly have been described as prayers, but as he left he felt vaguely comforted and at ease. He smiled at his companions.

‘Shall we continue?’

The path became steeper and they passed a house, the roof had gone and most of the walls. ‘Built for the view!’ observed Panicos, as they looked out across the open sea and back to the bay, clearly visible on the mainland were the villages of Elounda, Olous and Plaka.

Yannis looked away. He did not wish to be continually reminded how close his home was. ‘What’s up there?’ He pointed to some steps, broken and overgrown with weeds, which led up to the outer wall of the fortress.

Silently they climbed upwards, passing heaps of rubble, the way becoming steeper once the steps petered out until they were climbing over slabs of granite rock to reach the heart of the fortress. A final large, slippery block brought them to the foot of a wall, far too high for them to climb. Cautiously Yannis edged his way forward until he saw a small opening and they were able to file through and stand on level ground. Around them the walls rose, almost undamaged over the years, but no vestige of a roof. Passing through an arch they looked on to the catwalk, which could be reached by a short flight of steep, stone steps. Beneath the walk itself were the shallow archways that had originally held the canons.

‘May as well go back.’ Panicos felt disheartened. He had hoped that part of the old fortress would be habitable. ‘You wouldn’t get much shelter up here.’

Yannis looked around. ‘Is there no way out from here? The Turks and Venetians wouldn’t have scrambled up the way we came to man the guns.’

‘The only way out would have been over there.’ Spiro pointed to a fallen archway and a tangle of masonry that barred their way.

‘Back we go then.’ Yannis began to negotiate the slippery granite to regain the path and ended up by sliding down. He held out his hand. ‘I don’t recommend that! It was painful. Come down as far as you can, then hold on to me.’

They retraced their steps and regained the main path, following it down to a small beach, sheltered on both sides by the wall of the fortress. Turning right they entered a tunnel and immediately began to choke at the smell that rose to their nostrils. Their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and they were able to step over and around the worst of the debris. Once outside they drew deep breaths of fresh air.

‘I will never, ever, shelter in that place, however desperate I might be,’ vowed Spiro.

They had exited into the little square where the water fountain was situated and looked at each other with sinking hearts.

‘So!’ Panicos let out his breath. ‘That is the extent of the island. No other water, no buildings, no shelter of any kind. Now we know why they live huddled together in that collection of ruins.’

‘There must be some other houses. We just haven’t found them,’ said Yannis stubbornly.

Spiro took a long drink from the water fountain. ‘I’m exhausted,’ he admitted. ‘All the exercise I’ve had in the last few years has been walking around the hospital ward. I’m going back to Kyriakos to have a sleep.’

‘Maybe some food has arrived,’ suggested Yannis hopefully. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘We’ll call in on the way.’

They made their way back to the storeroom and helped themselves to a variety of foods, eating as they walked back towards Kyriakos. Yannis tried to ask him about the buildings Antionis had mentioned, but Kyriakos only grunted and said ‘Ask Alecos’ before closing his eyes more firmly against the mid-day sun. Resigned, Yannis settled himself down to sleep along with his friends, forced to admit that his legs ached from the unaccustomed exercise.

He was unable to settle, the rhythmical breathing of the others annoyed him, rather than soothed and he finally gave up the attempt. He looked for the water jug, and found it was empty. He would have to walk to the fountain for a drink. Silently he left them and walked between the sleeping men and women who lined the path to the square. He slaked his thirst and wondered what to do, maybe if he went for a swim from the small beach it would ease his aching legs and he would be able to sleep.

Taking a deep breath he picked his way carefully through the gloom of the tunnel until he stood again in bright sunlight looking at the sea. The idea of a swim no longer seemed so attractive and he turned to the left, taking the path that led to the deserted church and pushed open the rickety door.

How long he spent on his knees with his hands clasped he did not know. The word ‘rebuild’ was hammering in his head, becoming Antionis’s voice saying, ‘You can rebuild’ and getting louder and stronger each time it was said. Involuntarily Yannis put his hands over his ears and shouted. ‘No!’

The voice seemed to answer more strongly than ever. ‘You can rebuild.’

‘I can’t! I can’t!’ Yannis rose and stumbled back out into the sunshine. He almost ran up the slight incline, only stopping and drawing his breath when the path narrowed dangerously. He walked more leisurely to the promontory and as he rounded it the village of Plaka came into view. The sight made a lump come into his throat and he looked around desperately. His experience in the church had unnerved him completely and he had no wish to return in that direction. He looked upwards. Just above his head the rock shelved. Placing his foot in a niche he pulled himself up and looked in surprise. Stretching out before him was a path, very narrow, which twisted and turned out of his sight between the scrub and bushes that clung precariously to the rock.

Cautiously Yannis moved forwards, climbing steadily, until the path suddenly widened into a flat rock and he was on the summit of the island. Below him stretched the Venetian fortress and many ruined buildings. He turned to face the open sea and watched the sunlight dancing on the ripples, trying hard to empty his head of the thoughts that were plaguing him. His legs were trembling with the unaccustomed exertion and he lay down on the hot rock and folded his hands beneath his head.

A lizard running across his leg wakened him with a start. Sleepily he sat up and looked around. His mouth was dry and he licked his cracked lips. He made a conscious effort to avoid looking across to Plaka and gazed instead down onto the ruined buildings. There was something wrong. From his vantage point there seemed to be many more ruined structures than there were when you followed the path round the island. Yannis forgot his thirst as he began to concentrate on the layout displayed below him.

Maybe he should speak to Alecos as Kyriakos had suggested. Judging by the position of the sun in the sky most of the inhabitants should be awake by now and he might be able to find the man. As he rose to his feet he realised just how stiff his legs had become and clambered back down the narrow path carefully. He made his way first to the fountain and joined the queue of those waiting to refresh themselves after their siesta. Once satisfied he knocked on the door of the first house and asked where he could find Alecos.

‘Third house, over there.’

Yannis thanked him and walked to the house he indicated. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer, he asked a woman who sat outside and she shook her head.

‘He’s somewhere around.’

Yannis tried the next person and was told the same. Frustrated he stood in the middle of the square.

‘Alecos!’ he shouted and jumped violently when a voice at his elbow answered him.

‘You looking for me?’

‘Are you Alecos?’

The man nodded.

‘Is there somewhere we could sit and talk? Kyriakos said I should speak to you.’

Alecos walked over to a patch of shade offered by the fortress wall. ‘Well?’

‘I spoke to Antionis this morning. I wanted to know if there was anywhere we could shelter at night. He said we would have to build our own and there were places that just needed clearing up and repairing. We walked all round the island this morning and couldn’t find them. Kyriakos said I should speak to you.’

‘It’s been a dream of his since we first arrived. He was so sure it could be done, but no one would listen to him.’

‘Tell me about it,’ urged Yannis.

‘Antionis was one of the first to be sent here. There were only a handful of them and they moved into the most habitable houses. As more arrived the houses became overcrowded and more dilapidated. He continually urged them to do some repairs and rebuild, but they were apathetic. No one had any hope or incentive. They were all convinced they would die soon and there seemed no point in expending their energy. For a while they managed, enough died to make space for the living, then they seemed to live longer, but we were still able to manage. Now that you’ve arrived something has to be done. You’re all fitter than we are. Now’s the time to do it, before you become too old or ill to work.’

‘Is there anyone here who was a builder? Who could tell us if the walls were safe before we started or how to put a roof on?’

‘Two or three – if they’re willing.’

‘Why shouldn’t they be willing?’

Alecos shrugged. ‘They wouldn’t do it for themselves, why should they do it for you?’

Yannis considered the problem. ‘I’ll talk to my friends, then I’ll come back and speak to you again.’

Alecos nodded. ‘You know where I live.’

Panicos, Spiro and Kyriakos were playing cards when Yannis returned. He waited until the hand was finished and sat down beside Spiro.

‘I’ve just been talking to Alecos. He said Antionis has been telling them for years that they must do some repairs and there are some builders here amongst them. The snag is that they wouldn’t do it for themselves and he doesn’t think they’ll do it for us.’

‘We only need them to tell us how to do it. We can do the work.’

Panicos frowned. ‘Wouldn’t they expect to have their houses repaired?’

‘I expect so.’

‘Then we offer to do theirs first.’

‘That would probably leave us outside all winter.’

‘We’d have to bargain with them. If we repaired their house some of us would have to be allowed to live in it with them.’

‘Even so, how many helpers could we muster?’

‘Thirty of us came over.’

Panicos laughed shortly. ‘I’ll be interested to see if they all volunteer.’

Spiro tapped his teeth with a playing card. ‘All right, Yannis. Have it your way. Everyone is going to rebuild houses, but what with? We’ve no tools or materials.’

‘Whilst you were all sleeping the afternoon away, I climbed to the top of the island. There’s a narrow track and when you get to the summit you can see for miles. There are many more ruins than you can see from down here. There should be plenty of wood and stone laying around.’