With those words, he stepped away from the microphone and the old lady shuffled forward. There were a few, awkward claps that soon stopped when they realized the solemnity of this moment. A breeze ruffled Agathe’s hair. She tucked the loose strands behind one ear and spoke in a calm, clear voice. “Good evening. Chronia Polla.”
She paused before continuing, as if she wanted to gather her strength for what she was about to say. For some strange reason, she turned and looked at our table, giving me the impression that she was staring at me. But I could not be sure, I was having difficulty focusing.
“Many years have passed but I remember it all as if it were yesterday. I can still see everyone gathered here, on the square, that black day…” Her voice broke, but she managed to regain her composure and continue. “Now, we shall raise our glasses and wish that no such darkness ever descends on any other place in the world. Pour the last drop of your drink on the ground, in memory of those we lost so unjustly. For, as my beloved schoolteacher Yiannis Reniotis, who died here with everyone else, used to say, you must love everyone, even those who cast their stones on you…”
Everyone had raised their glasses in silent salutation. I could not breathe, not move, not swallow at the sound of my grandfather’s name. I took my glass and downed the wine in a single gulp, trying to get over my shock. Anita was looking at me worried. My insides felt alight from the drink and my thoughts were spinning out of control, a tangled web that was swaddling me in it. My mother’s voice warning me not to say a word was fighting against everything that had been happening since I had set foot on this island.
In the meantime, Thekla’s mother had finished giving the blessing and I had missed everything else she had said. She was now leaving the stage. Without even realizing how, I found myself gently lifting a stunned Anita from my lap and giving her my seat. I stood upright, swaying slightly, trying to ignore the spinning tables and chairs around me. With whatever clarity I had left, I spoke loudly. “Excuse me…I have something to add.”
Everyone turned to look at me, smiling, and waiting to hear the rest. What I said next was difficult to utter, my lips refusing to obey me and forming an obstacle course to the letters and syllables leaving my mouth.
“Mrs. Agathe just spoke of the teacher she had at school… My mother will kill me for telling you this, but… Yiannis Reniotis was her father. My grandfather.”
The last thing I remember before collapsing in Anita’s arms were the frozen faces of everyone around me, just like the faces in the nightmare I’d had on the ferry. I saw some people moved toward me… I felt terrified… Then someone turned the lights off in my brain and I sank into drunken oblivion.
The Island, April 1945
* * *
A month had passed since Manolis’ return. Nothing was the same anymore. The Germans had learned that some Resistance fighters were on the island. Informants were quick to notify them of anything they deemed suspicious, and raids on houses in search of weapons and men in hiding had become a daily occurrence.
Manolis and his comrades were in hiding, all the while organizing their group. On this day, they had arranged to gather at the mill for a meeting.
The radio was now working and the news coming through was positive. The German army was collapsing on all fronts and it was possibly a matter of days before the occupiers would be forced to leave the island.
Their instructions were to cause as much damage as they could, particularly to their equipment. The locals, thanks to German propaganda on the island, remained skeptical. They were not convinced that the war was nearing its end and that the time for an uprising against the occupiers had come.
Manolis’ band of fighters was still small in number. With time pressing them, he had decided to call on anyone he thought could be trusted, update them on the latest developments first, and then ask them to join them. It was a great gamble. As long as the number of men involved remained low, they were safe. Now that their presence and actions would become known to many, secrecy would be compromised. But they had no choice. Weapons and men were scarce and they had to be found somehow.
Night had fallen long ago. The soft breeze rustled the leaves and spread the smell of thyme and rosemary. In the fields surrounding the trees, furtive shadows moved cautiously toward the mill, guided by the dim light that shone at one of the windows. Manolis and Yiannis were waiting inside. The two Englishmen had departed on a fishing boat for the coast of Turkey. They would make their way to one of the larger islands to help the fight there. On a rocky outcrop further up the hill, a lone guard stood as a lookout in case of trouble.
Within a half-hour, around twenty men had filled the space, all surprised to see Manolis there. They had thought he was dead, and after hugs, handshakes, and hearty slaps on the back wanted to know how he had made his way back. His decision to join the army in the first place and go to the front had impressed many of them and, in their eyes, he was a hero.
When the last man expected had joined the group, Manolis stood in the center of the room and silently gestured for them to quieten down. Eleni had trimmed his hair but he still had his beard, which made him look older than his years.
Before explaining the reason for the meeting, of which few were aware, he removed the radio from its hiding place and placed it on the mill stones. They all curiously looked on as he removed the sheet that covered it and addressed them. “Welcome, my friends. I am very glad to see you after all these years. I invited you today to inform you about the latest developments which you may not have heard yet. But the main reason I called you here today is to decide how we will fight the Germans. I have good news—the war is almost over. All the radio broadcasts confirm this. Soon we will find ourselves on our own; or with another master ruling us. But now, we must fight against the enemy, all of us. If we band together, we will achieve our goals. Otherwise, the few will be sacrificed for nothing. Then we will see what we’ll do…”
A murmur broke out among the men, who were asking what exactly was expected of them. A few seemed displeased to be there.
Seeing the reaction, Manolis raised his voice. “Hear me out, and if you are with us say so. Everyone who is not is free to go back home. We have decided to fight, whether we are few or many. We’ll use whatever weapons we have. We have information that the Germans might be leaving as early as the day after tomorrow. And we must catch them by surprise; inflict as much damage as we can. It must all happen very quickly, before they can react.
“I fought in the corps of soldiers who came from these islands. I left my home one evening five years ago to join the army, to stop the Italians and the Germans from taking over my homeland. To give our children a chance to finally live as free men and women. Do you know how many of our fellow men died? More than half. Some of them died in my arms. If we do not fight now, their lives will have been lost for nothing. So, before you hear the rest of what I have to say, I ask you this: How many of you are willing to fight?”
For a while, no one spoke. Then someone took a step forward, stood to attention, and declared, “I’m with you, Reniotis.” More and more men came forward. Only three men stayed in their place. There were two distinct groups now in the mill. The men who had joined Manolis stood on one side and the three men who had declined on the other, the two groups staring at each other as if they had just turned into enemies.
Yiannis, who had silently been watching the scene unfold, spoke, keeping his gaze fixed on the men across the divide. “No one will force you to join us. All we ask is that you keep your mouths shut.”
The oldest of the three men tried to explain, saying, “It’s not that we don’t want to join you, but we don’t even know how to hold a gun. How are we even going to be able to fire one? Anyway, if the war is ending as you say, why provoke the Germans now and not be patient for a little longer, until they get up and go? If we fail, they will kill us all, our wives and children too. Do you forget how they shot Yiorgi in front of his house because he still had his father’s old gu
n? That thing couldn’t even fire a bullet…”
“I understand that you are scared,” Manolis interrupted, “but you must know that what they’ll do as they leave could be worse than what will happen if we fight back. If everyone had backed out like you, the Germans would have stayed in the countries they conquered forever. You must follow your own hearts. Just don’t betray us…”
Everyone fell silent once again. Moving slowly, two of the men opened the door and left with a hasty goodnight. Only the man who had spoken stayed behind. He walked up to Manolis and hugged him. “Count me in,” he said.
Yiannis then spoke again reminding everyone that time was running out. Manolis looked at the band of men around him, took a deep breath, and started explaining the plan.
»»»»»»»»»»»
Two hours later, the men left the mill one at a time and dispersed into the darkness. Everyone looked pensive and troubled. The following day would be hard.
Yiannis loaded the weapons on Karme to carry them to a hideout close to the village. From there, he would equip the men when the time came. It was settled; they would strike the Germans at noon, to prevent whatever the enemy was planning to do before they left.
For a while, the two brothers lingered behind discussing the details. Then Yiannis led Karme by the reins into the night. Manolis hid the radio and locked up the mill before setting off for Kryfó. It was a moonless night and only the stars shone in the sky. Luckily, he knew his way around the island like the palm of his hand and could avoid the steep edges and cliffs.
The voice of the Scops Owl was the only sound in the dark wilderness. Its hooting kept him company in the dark, making him feel melancholic at the same time. He remembered the story his father had told him when he was young, of the two brothers who once loved each other. One day they had a fearsome fight. The elder boy drove his younger brother away from the home they had once shared. He got lost and never returned. When he realized what he had done he turned into a Scops Owl, forever searching for his lost sibling, calling out for him in the dark. The Scops Owl calls spring forth in the hope of finding his brother, who is wandering alone, forever lost in winter.
Spring was what Manolis waited patiently for. The spring to cast away the German winter, to avenge his sorrows and the friends he’d lost in the war. More than anything, however, he wanted the end to come so he could live with Eleni, marry her, and have lots of children who would grow up free, not live under the occupiers’ boot like their parents had.
It had been a month of secret, snatched meetings and every time they felt their bodies eagerly yearn for the moment of their union. Their passion grew stronger with every passing day.
»»»»»»»»»»»
Manolis carefully snuck onto the beach at Kryfó a couple of hours later, where he would be spending the night in the cave. He paused, all senses on the alert, when he caught a glimmer of light trembling close to the cave’s mouth. No one else was supposed to be there.
He carefully crept toward the cave and stopped two feet away, listening for any sounds coming from the interior. The waves crashing on the shore drowned out every other sound.
The soft snorting of a horse made him turn around; Karme, tied to some driftwood, not far from the cave. The horse had recognized him and made no other sound. He felt relief flood through him. Yiannis. But why was he here? He was supposed to be hiding the arms somewhere near the village.
Glancing around him, he tiptoed to the cave’s mouth and peeked inside. The spectacle that awaited him took his breath away. Candles filled every crack on the cave’s walls and lit the cave with a soft glow, casting flickering shadows on the walls and the roof. Wildflowers were scattered here and there across the cave, as if spring had suddenly arrived in the barren cavern, their mild scent mixing with the smell of the burning candles.
In the midst of this dreamy landscape sat Eleni on a sheet spread on the soft, sandy ground. She smiled sweetly at Manolis, who could not take his eyes off her glowing face.
Without speaking she pointed to the empty spot beside her. That’s when he noticed the bottle of wine and the two glasses on the sheet, two slices of bread and some cheese on a plate next to them.
“When did you do all this, Eleni? When did you find the time?” he asked her as soon as he sat down.
Ignoring the question, she poured the wine and handed him the glass, looking deeply into his eyes. “We don’t have much time, but it’s enough to have a drink and make a toast.”
Manolis brought her hand to his lips. He gently kissed her fingertips, then raised his glass. “Forever. Together.”
“Forever. Together,” she echoed.
They were silent for a moment, sipping their wine. They both knew what would happen next. They had waited years for this moment, yet they now sat awkwardly next to each other.
Eleni, taking the initiative, picked up the glasses and the dish that separated them and set them aside. Kneeling down beside him she slowly, almost ritually, removed her jacket. She wore a low-cut dress, with a row of small buttons down the front. Mesmerized by the porcelain whiteness of her skin, Manolis began to kiss her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Impatiently, she unbuttoned his shirt and stroked his naked chest. His muscles quivered at her touch. He enveloped her in his arms, full of yearning, and she leaned back, pulling him down with her. She unfastened his belt while he slowly undid the buttons at the front of her dress, bending down to kiss her naked breasts.
Their momentary awkwardness had now evaporated, to be replaced by their swelling desire for each other. When the last of their clothes was discarded, they looked at each other and lost any sense of space or time. All that remained was the sensation of their bodies carrying them down the primal path of love.
A small cry of pain escaped Eleni’s lips when Manolis entered her. He paused and made to pull back, but Eleni, determined to live this moment fully, held his arms and pulled him down, showing she wanted him to continue. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the sensations flooding her body as her beloved started to move slowly, carefully, whispering tenderly in her ear.
Although both were inexperienced, instinct showed them the way to give one another the joy and pleasure of that first time.
A strong gale had risen outside, crashing the waves against the exterior of the cave, covering the sound of their breath coming short and fast, their moans of ecstasy as they reached a crescendo of pleasure and then subsided. Their still, entwined bodies looked like they had been born of the cave, another rocky outcrop sculpted on the land. They stayed in each other’s arms trying to catch their breath and prolong the precious moment.
The chill in the air made them shiver. Manolis picked up the edges of the sheet and wrapped it around them, keeping Eleni snug against his chest. She leaned against his heart and heard it beat as loudly as hers. She glanced up at the roof of the cave and the shadows cast by the candles suddenly seemed like wandering ghosts, coming to haunt them. Frightened by that thought, she tightly gripped Manolis, who seemed unaware of her sudden distress.
They rose after a while and began to dress up. A small red bloodstain marked the white sheet. Embarrassed, Eleni bent down to pick it up, but he took it from her hands and carelessly flung it over a stone. “Come, I want to show you something,” he said. He picked up one of the candles and led her further into the cave, lifting it above his head to cast its light high on the cave wall. Something had been scratched on the stone. Eleni peered more closely and read, ELENI+MANOLIS. FOREVER. TOGETHER.
»»»»»»»»»»»
Opening my eyes, I felt a vice-like grip on my temples and the taste of stale alcohol in my mouth. My stomach churned like the spin cycle of a crazy washing machine. I remained still, trying to focus my blurry eyes and remember what had happened the previous night, and then glanced around the room searching for Anita.
I spotted her standing beside the balcony door, her body blocking the strong sunlight, which cast a golden halo around her and sank her figu
re in shadow. So her coming over had not been a dream, I thought and that joyous realization made me raise myself on my elbows and try to get up.
She heard the rustling sheets and turned around to face me. Her expression told that all was not well. “Good morning. How do you feel?” she asked, leaning down to give me a kiss.
“Still dizzy…” I looked at her, puzzled. “What’s the matter, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but ever since you told the entire village who you are…”
“I did what?” I exclaimed, jumping up. “When did I say that? What did I say? I can’t remember a thing. Please, tell me!”
She took me by the hand and led me to the balcony doors. “See for yourself.”
I focused with difficulty on the spot she was pointing at, in the courtyard. Twenty men and women, seated at the tables. Thomas was among them, talking to some of the men I had met since coming here. A little old lady sat on a chair in the middle of the roughly formed circle. Her face rang a bell. “What are they all doing here?” I whispered, surprised.
“I think they are waiting…”
“For what?”
She paused and gave me a searching look, then sighed. “You.”
I instinctively pulled away from the window, frightened. I moved back into the room and sat on the bed, desperately trying to recollect the events of the previous night. All that came were fragments, snapshots that made no sense. I looked up toward Anita. “Tell me what happened at the panegyri,” I demanded. “When did I say who I was?”
Anita moved to the bathroom and returned with a tall glass of water in her hand. “Drink,” she said, as she sat on the bed beside me. I quenched my thirst in a great gulp. “What do you remember, Dimitri?”
“I remember enough… I just don’t remember telling them who I really am.”
Cave of Silence Page 15
