Cave of Silence

by Kostas Krommydas

  Time stood still. Eleni looked at the man unable to believe what her eyes were telling her. She opened her mouth to speak but her words caught in her throat. Her mind was a blur. She felt dizzy and, losing her balance, she fell from the horse’s back straight into his arms. Laughing and crying at the same time, she clung to him, her hands grasping his chest, his beard, his face, his hair as if she wanted to make sure that the man before her was real, made of flesh.

  Manolis hugged her tightly and kissed her, filled with yearning. Five long years had passed since he’d last held her in his arms. His long hair, his beard—he looked like a different man. His eyes, however, remained unchanged, familiar. They were the same eyes Eleni saw every time she dreamed of their reunion.

  The other men watched for a while the touching scene unfolding before them smiling in sympathy before moving away, one of them leading Karme by the reins. They busied themselves unpacking the sack Eleni had filled.

  Not a word had passed between the two lovers in all this time, as if they had both lost their voice. They just looked at each other trying to fill the days and years that had passed in each other’s absence.

  As soon as they were alone, Eleni took a deep breath and said in a feverish whisper, “I missed you so much, Manolis. My God, I thought I would die if I didn’t see you again. I still can’t believe you are here. I did not know you were coming. I must be dreaming.”

  He stroked her cheek tenderly. “No, you are not dreaming, my love. I’m here. I’m never leaving you again, come what may.”

  “Promise?” she asked sitting on the sand and pulling him down beside her.

  “I promise. Till death do us part.”

  Eleni snuggled in his arms and shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body.

  In the distance, Nikos watched them, smiling broadly. He had been so happy when his uncle had returned. The previous evening he’d stayed up listening to stories late into the night; stories of the battlefront, of Manolis’ escape just before he was due to be transported to Poland, of the Resistance, and of his Odyssey to reach the island, finally arriving on the fishing boat that brought the two Englishmen along.

  »»»»»»»»»»»

  Manolis and Eleni stayed on the beach for a long time, waiting for the others to leave, waiting to finally be alone, truly together. After all this time, their bodies hungered for each other and waiting for that moment felt like an eternity.

  Eleni had pictured this moment countless nights in her lonely bed; Manolis sneaking into her bedroom unexpectedly in the middle of the night, coming into her bed and making her his in a burst of love and longing. Often, she would wake up feeling that it had really happened.

  He, too, had been impatient for that moment to come. He remembered her passionate letters from Italy and that day they had come so close to making love on the shore at Galazia Petra. Their separation had not dampened their ardor for each other, but made the flames burn stronger, like a wild forest fire ready to consume everything in its way.

  Manolis stood up, gave her his hand, and asked her to follow him. She did so without hesitation.

  At the mouth of a cave, two shotguns were leaning against the rock. They crept through the narrow opening and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dark. The reflection of the water on the walls and the shapes it cast made the cave seem alive, pulsating.

  They moved further into the cave and Manolis stopped, letting go of Eleni’s hand to remove a large stone. The ground beneath the cave had been dug out to make a small basin, from which he removed something covered in a sheet and placed it on a dry spot on the ground before them. He kneeled down and motioned to her to come join him. He removed the sheet to reveal a machine that looked like a radio. He noticed her questioning look and immediately began explaining. “It belongs to the English, but we can keep it for a while. Find out what is going on in the world.”

  “The Germans have a similar one, at their headquarters,” she replied. “I hear everything I can and pass it on to Yiannis…”

  Manolis carefully wrapped up the radio with the sheet. “It must not stay here, the humidity will ruin it. Reception is really bad here, anyway. You will have to carry it back with you, when you return with the horse. Hide it in the mill. We’ll go there tonight and turn it on. We’ll come through the mountains, so we can’t carry it. No one must see us. You must be careful. If the Germans catch you with a radio they’ll execute you on the spot. Okay, my love?”

  “I’ll do anything you ask, so long as you never have to leave again.”

  “I won’t have to leave again. The war is ending and we’ll be able to live our lives, new lives. Great events are in the making. That’s why we must be informed, prepared for what’s coming.”

  Unable to resist any longer, he leaned toward her and kissed her passionately. Eyes shut, they abandoned themselves to the magic of the moment before slowly, reluctantly, rising and stepping outside.

  The others were sitting on the sand eating the food Eleni had brought. The two of them approached and sat down to join them, the spring sun warming their faces, pale after the long winter.

  Eleni tore a chunk of bread from one of the loaves and passed it to Manolis. He held her hand, looked at the ring which had never left her finger, stroked the carved rose bud, and smiled. Then, with a look full of meaning, he took out his pocket watch and angled the lid toward Eleni so she could read it. Forever. Together. She nodded. That was what they both wished, never to be parted again.

  She filled him in on everything that had happened during his absence. She told him about her father’s death, the christening of the young Maria on that same beach, the incident at the school and Captain Achermann’s timely intervention, how much he had subsequently helped her. Manolis listened with a worried frown. He once again asked her to be very careful because German rule was sure to become harsher in the face of the impending developments. Elsewhere, they were burning down houses and executing anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path.

  It was nearly noon by the time they finished talking. Eleni stood up to leave. She had been missing for quite a few hours and knew that Alexander was capable of hunting high and low for her if she did not reappear soon. Taking another path home, Yiannis and Nikos followed suit. They, too, had to return. Anna had been alone with Maria and would need help.

  She gave Manolis a tight hug and they walked toward the waiting horse. They placed the radio in one of the sacks and tied it to the saddle, then stood looking at each other as if unable to believe they were there, on the beach, face to face.

  He kissed her softly and helped her mount Karme, who had recognized her master and was waiting for his command to spur her on. Nikos and Yiannis approached. They would follow Eleni until a certain point, then split up so as not to raise any suspicions. Father and son had supposedly spent the morning working in their fields.

  Manolis walked beside Eleni to the end of the beach, where the narrow path up the mountain began. She moved ahead followed by the others, turning back all the time to see her beloved, who did not move until he saw her disappear between the rocks and the sparse trees. Only then did he set off to rejoin his comrades, heart filled with hope that everything would be better from then on.

  »»»»»»»»»»»

  Having waved goodbye to Yiannis and Nikos, Eleni moved toward the mill. It was nearly abandoned now, only used by Yiannis whenever he managed to find a little bit of corn or wheat.

  She dismounted near the mill and, looking around her to make sure no one was watching, loosened the sack from the saddle and lifting it in her arms. She pushed the door open with her foot and entered the building, which was still in good condition despite the absence of human activity.

  A soothing silence reigned, interrupted by the buzzing of some bees tirelessly working on the wild flowers outside and the breath of the soft breeze. She hid the radio in the narrow opening under a discarded millstone and sat down, her head spinning. She still could not believe that Manolis had returned, for
good. It seemed like it was only yesterday when she was in this very room, crying her tearful farewell as he set off for the war.

  Suddenly, Karme neighed and stamped her feet uneasily on the ground outside. Eleni jumped up and ran to the door. She stood on the doorstep and saw Alexander holding Karme by the reins and trying to soothe the nervous animal by patting its neck. She tried to hide her surprise with a nervous smile and stuttered out a greeting.

  He was not in uniform, but wore black riding trousers tucked into tall leather boots. A leather jacket, gray shirt, and white scarf completed his outfit. A strap hung from his shoulder carrying a tripod on which his camera was mounted. He looked like an innocent traveler, an incoherent picture from an alternate time.

  “I thought I’d take a long walk and film some of the landscapes, then saw your horse from afar and decided to come here. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  Eleni quickly gathered her wits about her and said calmly, “No, you did not frighten me. I was just surprised to see someone else here. I wanted to paint the mill and was just about to start…”

  “But it’s already late, will you have time?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “I’ll make a quick sketch, then finish it at home. You’ve walked far today, haven’t you?” she readily replied.

  “Not that far. I’ve left my car nearby. So, this is where you mill your flour, eh?” He’d approached her as he spoke, glancing into the mill over her shoulder.

  Eleni’s heart was about to burst. What if he discovered the radio? No, she told herself, she had hidden it well. “We rarely mill anything these days,” she said moving toward the low stone wall that circled the mill in an attempt to distract him.

  Alexander took one last look inside the mill and followed her unsuspectingly. “Yes, times are hard, but not for much longer,” he said, and then hesitated. “Eleni… when all this is over, would you like to come home with me?”

  “I think I have already explained…” Eleni shifted uncomfortably.

  “I don’t mean to upset you,” interrupted Alexander, “but as you haven’t heard from you fiancé in such a long time…well, he is probably dead. Don’t waste the best years of your life waiting for someone who may never return.”

  Under any other circumstances, she would have declared her undying love for Manolis vehemently, as if to ward off a bad spell. Now, knowing Manolis was alive, she spoke calmly. “I don’t know if you have ever felt like this, but I wish you do someday. I wish you meet a woman and feel that you were made for each other and are unable to imagine anyone else but her by your side.”

  “Is this how you feel about your fiancé? Even if he is dead?”

  “Even if he is dead,” she said, choking the truth inside her.

  She was simultaneously trying to hide both her joy and the real reason for her presence at the mill from Alexander. Who knew how he would react? She had gotten to know him better over time and he felt familiar, but it was obvious he saw her as more than someone to talk to, even though she had kept her distance, hiding behind an air of politeness and detachment.

  She sat on the stone wall and pulled out her pencils and paper from the woven bag that usually carried her supplies. She attached the paper on a square piece of wood and started to sketch. Alexander came to stand behind her and watched her draw the outline of the mill. His hand stroked her hair and Eleni almost snapped the tip of her pencil digging it hard into the paper.

  “You sketch beautifully,” he said, breathing into her neck.

  She pulled away showing her displeasure, but Alexander was not deterred. “You are beautiful, Eleni, and you know I like you. You could leave this place with me and make all your dreams come true. I don’t want to press you. I just want you to know you have that option. I can make arrangements.”

  “I like you, Alexander, you are different from the others,” she replied trying to keep her voice steady. “But my heart belongs to someone else and nothing can change that.”

  He backed off and turned to face the sea view. “The war is ending,” he said. “Yet here you are, waiting for a ghost to return. Ghosts do not come back to life. Don’t waste your life on an impossible dream. Even if we leave, others will come to take our place and they will not be any better.”

  She wished she could shout out the truth about Manolis; show him how wrong he was. She swallowed those words along with her outrage and firmly said, “This is my home. This is where I was born. This is where I will live. And I will wait for him to return every day for the rest of my life if I have to.”

  Her unshakeable faith made him admire her even more, even if it meant that it kept her from becoming his. He understood there was nothing more he could say to make her change her mind. He gazed at her silently for a while, then grabbed his camera and turned the lens toward Eleni. “Please do not refuse me this, too. Let me film you while you sketch. I will keep the film to myself, I promise. To remember the island…and you.”

  She was impressed by his politeness and flattered by his interest, but now that Manolis was back she didn’t care about anything else. She decided not to respond and went back to sketching while he turned the camera handle recording the moment. For a while, all that could be heard was the whir of the camera and the rustle of the wind in the bushes.

  Having captured as much of Eleni as he could, Alexander stopped and pulled the camera over his shoulder. He set off quickly in the direction of his car without uttering a word, then hesitated and turned around. “Soon, things will get violent, Eleni. If you change your mind…”

  He turned around and walked away. Eleni watched him move swiftly down the path and wondered whether the mill was still a safe place for Manolis and the others to meet that night. It no longer felt secure or secluded. She decided to leave them a note informing them of what just happened, so they could be on their guard.

  »»»»»»»»»»»

  At the village square, the party was at its peak. Everyone was on their feet, dancing. Anita seemed to be having a ball, this being her first panegyri. Not that I was holding back. I could not even remember how many glasses of wine I’d had. My head was spinning so badly I could barely follow the steps to the various folk dances. Most revelers were in the same condition as I was. They were just handling it better.

  Thomas, Sofia, Thanasis, they all kept us on the dance floor. A small pause to down a glass of wine someone would hand you, bottoms up, and then back to swirling on the dance floor.

  At some point, I realized that if I carried on like this I would soon be unable to stay upright. I left Anita on the dance floor and tried to walk back to the table in a straight line in a failed attempt to hide my drunkenness. The moment I sat down, everything started to move in slow motion before me. Any lingering anxiety about the locals had vanished. I liked them so much I no longer cared whether they found out who I was. It had been a long while since I had felt so relaxed, the alcohol washing away all my inhibitions. I’d been drunk once or twice before, but never quite like this.

  I sat looking at Anita, who smiled every time she passed before me. I loved to watch her move to the music, so harmonious, so erotic. I would never tire of looking at her. She was beautiful and I was deliriously happy she had come here to be with me. I could have sat there watching her till dawn. I wanted to hold her in my arms, but did not risk getting up, worried I would stumble and make a fool of myself. For a moment I thought I was so drunk I could no longer hear the music. Then I saw everyone slowly return to their places at the tables and realized the music had actually stopped.

  Anita sat in my lap again, giving me a kiss.

  Thomas stumbled over, a little the worse for wear, and said, “Now we pause for the blessing and then, we keep dancing!”

  Anita looked at me questioningly and then realized that I, too, had no idea what Thomas was talking about.

  A hushed, expectant silence fell over the square. We both turned toward the wooden stage and saw Thekla holding a little old lady by the hand and helping her up the
steps to the microphone. The woman’s black dress and the loose white hair falling down her back made her look like an elf. She must have been at least ninety years old. I remembered Thekla saying something about her mother and figured that’s who the old lady must be. A younger man joined the two women on the stage and spoke into the microphone.

  “Chronia Polla, welcome everyone. I hope you are all having a good time at the festival, organized by our Cultural Association. Like every year, it’s time for the blessing. Let me explain what this means, for those of you joining us for the first time tonight. Ever since the early 19th century, our ancestors have lived in this place holding onto their Greek traditions and cultures against all odds—first under the Turks, then the Italians and then, the Germans. However, what happened here just before the end of the war scarred this island, forever.”

  Despite the fog that was beginning to descend on my brain, I noticed that someone was translating what was being said to the German tourists. They all looked somber, listening with careful attention. Although I had been finding it hard to focus, the tension I felt made me feel more sober, alert. I pricked up my ears and listened intently too. Anita sensed my anxiety and gently stroked my back and neck.

  “We do not remember so as to perpetuate hatred, but to honor those who sacrificed their lives back then…justly or unjustly,” the young man continued. “Our island was deserted after the war. But life is stronger than pain, and here we all are tonight, together, with our families and you, our beloved friends and visitors who have come to join us this evening.

  “Agathe is the last of those who lived through that time and returned. Few returned after everything that happened; most stayed away, were too young to remember, or have since joined our ancestors in Heaven. So, she will give the blessing and then the feasting will continue, just as life carries on no matter what.”