YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1) (48 page)

Spiro shouldered his way to Yannis’s side. ‘You didn’t tell me you knew the priest.’

Yannis grinned at him. ‘I didn’t know myself. This is my cousin, Andreas.’

Spiro looked down at his deformed hands. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, but I won’t shake hands.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you. How long have you been here?’

‘Yannis and I came together, not by choice. The hospital was bad enough, but here…’ His voice tailed off.

‘Tell me,’ Andreas encouraged him softly. ‘I talked to Yannis about his family. Tell me what it was like when you first arrived.’

‘Well, they took our strait jackets off after we had left the ship and ..’

‘What?’ Andreas was aghast.

‘Didn’t Yannis tell you? We were sent over here as prisoners for causing trouble in the wards.’ Spiro grinned to himself. ‘We must have given them a bit of a shock. Anyway, they dumped us here and left us to get on with it.’

‘So where do you live?’

‘We’re still up on the hill, but we’re gradually getting the houses repaired, then we’ll move down.’

Andreas was puzzled. ‘I’m not understanding this. You’ll have to explain.’

‘Well,’ Spiro took a breath, ‘Everywhere was in ruins. Certain people had laid claim to them over the years, but they were only fit to shelter from the sun, hardly a roof between them and crumbling walls. Yannis realised what it was going to be like in the winter and tried to persuade everyone to rebuild.’

‘And did they?’

Spiro spoke scornfully. ‘Of course not! They all thought he was out of his mind. They just didn’t believe it could be done. Yannis proved it, though. All on his own he rebuilt the little house where we are. It’s not marvellous, but it keeps the rain out. A couple decided to join us, and it’s just escalated since then. Now they realise they can do it they all want their own house rather than being crowded into the church for weeks on end.’

‘And the villagers bring you the materials, I suppose.’

‘No, they’ve given us some tools. Flora’s wonderful at wheedling things out of them, but it took us weeks to get a screwdriver.’

‘So where do the materials come from?’

‘From here, the island. Many of the buildings are past repair so we take whatever we can from those.’

Andreas gazed around. From where he was standing he could see little of the work that had been taking place prior to his arrival. On the far side of the road the church stood, silent and neglected, in front of him was a sea of heads and behind them a few houses could be seen, all looking as though they would tumble to the ground at any moment.

‘Where do you get your cement from?’

‘We don’t. We just balance the stones up, like farmyard walls, and block up the cracks.’

Andreas pursed his lips. ‘It doesn’t sound very safe.’

‘It’s safer than it was, and it’s all thanks to Yannis.’

Andreas looked over to where his cousin was standing next to the priest, listening quietly to the questions and answers that were passing between the islanders and Father Minos.

‘How is Yannis, in himself?’

Spiro shrugged. ‘Who knows? He’s had his bad times, but at the moment he seems pretty fit. He’s been less depressed since he’s managed to persuade people to rebuild. Let me introduce you to some of his friends.’

Pushing and shoving Spiro led the way to where Flora and Phaedra were standing, trying hard to listen to the interchange that was taking place. Flora smiled and nudged Phaedra.

‘This is Andreas. He’s Yannis’s cousin,’ explained Spiro.

Phaedra looked at him. ‘Did you know Yannis was here?’

‘No. I was with Father Minos when he spoke to all of you from the boat. I’ve lived near here all my life and I thought it about time I visited to find out the truth for myself.’

‘What truth? That this is the best place for lepers, abandoned on an island?’

‘No, no.’

‘Where would you put us, then?’

‘How about some food for our guests, Phaedra?’ Spiro came to Andreas’s rescue.

Phaedra turned away with Flora following her. It was almost as if their going was a signal for the rest of the company to disperse. Quietly they began to slip away, murmuring an excuse to the person next to them until Yannis and Father Minos stood alone on the path. Passing his hand over his brow Father Minos sat on a low wall. His whole frame seemed to sag from weariness.

‘I would never have believed, never,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Yannis, what can I do?’

Yannis looked at him in surprise. ‘What could you do?’

‘Maybe the authorities would listen to me.’

Yannis shook his head. ‘I doubt it very much. They were only too pleased to get rid of us, so they’re not likely to welcome us back.’

‘There must be something.’

‘Don’t worry about it. To be quite honest with you, Father, now we’re becoming a bit more organised I’m beginning to think we’re better off here.’

Father Minos shook his head. ‘But no medicine, no proper homes, little water; it’s not right, Yannis. Something must be done.’

‘We could do with some more packs of cards,’ grinned Spiro. ‘Some of ours are so worn we can hardly see the spots. Come and see if the girls have some food ready for us.’

Slowly they escorted Father Minos and Andreas to the patch of concrete where they sat with Kyriakos. He was already there, having been carried back from the port and propped against the wall and waved gaily to them.

‘Come and talk to me. I could hardly hear you down there.’

Father Minos sat beside the crippled man. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘For ever.’

‘You were one of the early arrivals?’

Kyriakos nodded. ‘I was a young man when they first sent me. I had my legs.’ He looked down ruefully. ‘We were most of us young then. I’ve seen some changes.’

Father Minos cleared his throat; he had a delicate question to ask. ‘When one of you passes on,’ he hesitated for a moment to see how his words were being received, ‘What happens to the body?’

‘It goes into the tower.’

‘The tower?’

Kyriakos nodded. ‘When we’ve eaten they can take you on a tour of the island. There isn’t much up this end, just the cliffs and the fort. Go down the other way and you’ll see the houses Yannis built, then round through the tunnel and you’ll see the other church and the tower.’

Father Minos was not sure he wanted to see the tower, but felt he would be a disgrace to his calling if he did not go and say a prayer for those poor souls whose bodies had been disposed of so casually.

‘Do you use the churches?’

‘Only for shelter in the winter.’

‘We’ll start to use them properly soon,’ interrupted Yannis. ‘Once everyone has a house there’ll be no need to use the church. Then we can clean it out thoroughly and use it for its proper purposes.’

‘Do you have a priest here?’ asked Andreas.

‘No. For a moment when you arrived I thought you were both sufferers who’d been sent here.’

‘Who’s the little girl with you?’

‘That’s Flora. She’s a plucky little thing. She was the first person who volunteered to help us. She can’t do much with her arm the way it is, but she’s quite invaluable in cadging. We wouldn’t have half our tools if she hadn’t spent time persuading the fishermen to give them to her.’

‘What’s wrong with her arm, apart from the obvious?’ asked Father Minos.

Spiro looked round to make sure the girl could not hear him. ‘It’s very badly ulcerated. It could easily go gangrenous. She ought to have it amputated.’

His words were received in a shocked silence.

‘I had no idea,’ murmured Yannis.

‘Don’t tell her,’ warned Spiro. ‘I make sure she doesn’t see it.’

‘Don’t you mind touching it?’

Spiro shrugged. ‘Someone has to do it for her. I’ve seen worse sights.’

Yannis remembered from the hospital how Spiro had nursed Manolis devotedly until the man had finally died.

‘What’s keeping those girls?’ Spiro was feeling hungry. ‘I’ll go and help them carry it down.’

‘I don’t know what they’re preparing for you. I doubt if it will be very elaborate, but they certainly do wonders with what we’re sent.’ Yannis was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable, the conversation had lapsed and the questions he wished to ask were private. It was with relief that he saw the little procession coming down the path and went to the side of the bank to take the plates and bowls from them.

Without any hesitation the two visitors ate with relish everything that was placed before them and declared it tasted as good as the meal they had eaten the night before in the taverna, lacking only the bottle of wine.

‘Now, that would be a luxury,’ smiled Yannis.

The four men walked back down to the port entrance and Yannis led the way onwards to where most of the repaired houses were situated. A barrage of questions regarding construction or shouts proclaiming the successful completion of a task greeted him.

‘You should have seen it six months ago,’ boasted Spiro. ‘They were just ruins, not only unfit to live in, but unsafe as well.’

To Father Minos and Andreas the buildings still had a somewhat dangerous aspect, some walls propped with timbers, no cement holding any of the stonework in place, one or two having sagging balconies which, as yet, had not been touched. Both men tried to hide their horror at the conditions in which so many of the sick men and women spent their time.

‘It’s much better now,’ Yannis assured them. ‘When it’s warm everyone stays outside. It was during the winter when there were so many of them crowded into the church that it was almost unbearable, even they realised that at last. Come and meet Panicos. He’s been very sick, but he’s on the mend now.’

Father Minos remembered the man from the crowd that had surrounded him. The sunken eyes, sallow skin and persistent cough all spelt out tuberculosis amongst his other problems and the priest thought it most unlikely that he was recovering. He sat beside the emaciated man and chatted whilst the others waited outside for him. When he finally emerged he looked at Yannis speculatively. The boy he had met in Heraklion had been petrified by his illness and the consequences. This young man seemed to have come to terms with every obstacle that was continually put in his way. First Spiro had given all the credit for rebuilding to Yannis and now Panicos had said the same. He wondered what had happened to bring out this hidden strength and leadership from a very ordinary person. From Panicos he was taken to visit Antionis.

‘He had such faith in me,’ explained Yannis. ‘He was convinced that the houses could be repaired. Whenever I was about to give up in despair I could hear his voice encouraging me.’

Father Minos bent over the frail old man as he lay on his mattress, his unseeing eyes staring at the broken roof of his house. A withered, wrinkled hand touched the cloth of the priest’s robes and a smile of contentment settled on his face.

‘Father, would you hear my confession?’

‘I would be honoured.’ Father Minos put his head down close to Antionis and listened to the weak voice as he told of misdeeds in his youth, taking an apple from a stall, forgetting to shut his father’s chickens in for the night, the lie he told his wife about leaving her for another woman when he first found out he was ill. For each small sin Father Minos gave him absolution and when the list finally ended Antionis smiled again.

‘I feel at peace now. Thank you, Father. I doubt we shall meet again. Look after Yannis, won’t you? He’s needed here. I’m tired, so very tired.’

Father Minos rose. He was more moved than he cared to admit by the old man’s confession and stood in the dark interior to regain his composure before joining his companions. He wondered how many more of these pitiful victims had died without gaining absolution for their sins. It was wicked that there was no one on the island who could comfort them in their last hours.

‘He asked me to confess him,’ said Father Minos by way of explanation for his long absence. ‘He hasn’t much longer and knows it.’

‘They always do,’ remarked Spiro. ‘He’s a strange old man. Refused to let us touch his house. Said he wanted us to leave it as it was, wanted to remember it that way. He’s been blind for years so he wouldn’t have been able to see the repairs anyway. The others won’t move back in with him now, they’re still in the church.’

Yannis led the way up the steep path and pointed out the tower where the bodies of those who died were flung and left to disintegrate. Almost opposite, but some distance away was another tiny church.

‘Is there anyone in there?’

‘There’s no roof.’

They moved on, the path narrowed and they had the high walls of the fort on their left side and a steep drop down to the rocks and sea below them on their right. Andreas shuddered and averted his eyes, relieved when the path widened out to show an old catwalk of the fort below them, the drop appearing less formidable. Rounding an outcrop of rock they arrived almost opposite an ammunition tower and walked on down the path to the patch of concrete where Kyriakos sat awaiting their return.

‘Well?’ he called. ‘What do you think of our island?’

Father Minos smiled sympathetically. ‘I couldn’t describe it as paradise.’ He looked at the sun. ‘We mustn’t stay much longer. I was told to report back to the doctor at seven. I don’t want to be late. He might not let me come again.’

Yannis looked up in delight. ‘Do you really plan to come again?’

‘I most certainly do. I have a number of plans for the immediate future and returning here is one of them. Would you like us to take any messages to your family?’

‘You won’t tell them I’m here!’ Yannis looked at his friend in horror.

‘I think your family would be far happier knowing you’re here, in reasonably good health, than not knowing whether you’re alive or dead. The news could work wonders for your mother.’

Yannis considered. ‘I suppose so. You’ll make sure they know I’m all right, won’t you?’

‘You’ve no need to worry on that score. I think you look remarkably fit and well, don’t you, Andreas?’

Andreas nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll write to Annita and let her know where you are. She could send a letter to me and I could get a boatman to bring it over.’