Where the Gods Dwell

by Celia Scott

  'That's not fair!' She was beginning to feel irked by him. 'I'll bet there are lots of unhappy marriages in Crete, but because it's so much harder to get a divorce in this country… especially for the woman… people just don't try.'

  'It is unfortunate you do not yet read Greek well enough to understand the newspapers,' he said loftily, 'for then you would know that our divorce laws have recently changed. One can now obtain divorce by common consent after a separation of four years. Also the dowry has been eliminated.'

  'You mean wives are no longer rated in goats and olive trees,' she said acidly.

  His hand tightened on her arm. 'There are times when I would like to shake you, Lorna,' he said. 'Shake some sense into that beautiful blonde head of yours.'

  'I don't think I'm without sense.' She stood rigid.

  'Perhaps not. But you are most unfair. Not once do you ask me how I feel about these matters. It might surprise you to learn that I have always felt the dowry to be a cruel tradition. I also believe that in the past the lack of rights for the wife has been unjust. But because I live in a village in Crete you assume—without even asking my opinion—that I subscribe without thought to the old ways. You insult me kookla mou,' he finished quietly.

  'I don't mean to insult you. But you're very proud of being Cretan. That includes the old traditions surely,' she persisted.

  He nodded. 'Some of them certainly. And I do not like strident women.'

  'Who does?' She shrugged her shoulders.

  'You spoke of Carol last night.' He continued to gaze across the valley. 'One of her less agreeable characteristics was a certain stridency.'

  'Your mother thought you and Carol might marry.'

  'My mother is an imaginative woman.'

  She freed herself from his encircling arm. 'Come on, Jason, don't give me that! You're not going to deny that you were attracted to her, are you?' Please deny it, she prayed silently.

  'Of course I was attracted to her. She was beautiful and I am a normal man.' He looked down at Lorna through half-shut eyes. 'But I soon learned that marriage to such a one as Carol would have been a grave mistake. It would have led to unhappiness for both of us.'

  'Because she was a North American?' Like I am, she thought silently.

  'Because she was Carol!' His patience was fraying. 'And because she refused to accept me… or my background. She wanted to take everything except my heritage. It was an impossible situation.'

  'It must have hurt you though… at the time.' It was like rubbing salt into an open wound to even think of his feelings for Carol, but she seemed powerless to stop herself.

  He replied with a jauntiness she found disconcerting. 'Not particularly. In the long run it meant nothing more than the end of some pleasant summer madness.'

  'Pleasant summer madness,' she repeated, and the phrase struck chill in her heart.

  He put his arm round her shoulders again, and together they started walking slowly towards the house. Sunshine filtered through the leaves, causing discs of gold to dance on the path ahead. 'And what of your past, Lorna?' he said. 'How is it that someone as beautiful as you has not married?'

  'Oh! I've been asked a couple of times,' she tried to sound offhand. 'I nearly made it to the altar once but…'

  'But?' He looked down at her and now his eyes were serious.

  'I thought better of it,' she said lightly.

  'Because of your career?'

  'Something like that,' she agreed, and he gripped her elbow and started to walk faster.

  I wonder why I don't tell him the real reason, she thought. Why don't I tell him that Jon didn't want to look after me. Ever. And part of me wants to be taken care of even though I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. If I'd married Jon I would have had to be the strong one… the dominant partner… and I don't want that. But she seemed incapable of finding the right words, so she said nothing.

  They reached the patio and Jason glanced at the wafer-thin watch on his brown wrist. 'It is time for us to get ready.' Sadly Lorna sensed that he had distanced himself from her a little.

  'See you at the church!' she said with forced gaiety, and he smiled, but his eyes were sombre.

  She made her way upstairs to her room aware that a tiny personal cloud was now hovering over her. Being in love with Jason Peritakis wasn't easy, she reflected, but she knew that if he was cautious with her now it was her own fault. She had done nothing to dispel the image of a woman concerned solely with her own career. A woman who viewed marriage as a trap to be avoided. Little wonder he had retreated.

  When she had showered and dressed she stood for a moment holding her blue-glass charm against the bodice of her dress, then she slipped the chain over her silky head. Fortunately the 'evil eye' was hidden by her collar, for it clashed with the violet chiffon gown. She knew she was being childish by continuing to wear this gaudy talisman, but she didn't feel like tempting fate by discarding it. One day she knew she'd throw the stupid thing away. But not yet!

  The first glimpse she had of the bride was in the downstairs sitting room. Ariadne stood, still as a statue in white silk organza. A circlet of pearls was wound around her top-knot of glossy black hair, and from it a short veil floated like a drift of mist. She held a bunch of creamy honeysuckle blossoms mixed with some of the purple flowers that bloomed outside the dark-room. She was incandescent with joy.

  'How beautiful you look,' said Lorna, surprised to find that she had a lump in her throat at the sight of this radiant young bride.

  'The dress is most successful I think,' said Madam Peritakis, materialising from a corner. She spoke with deliberate casualness but this didn't fool Lorna, who could tell that beneath her calm exterior she was surging with emotion.

  'It's more than the dress.' Taking her camera from its case Lorna said to Ariadne, 'You're shining like a hundred candles,' and the girl smiled softly. She seemed to quiver with happiness. Again emotion washed over Lorna, and she had to swallow hard. 'Why don't I take a photo of you with your mother,' she said gruffly, and busied herself arranging them in a suitable pose. 'Your flowers are lovely, Ariadne,' she said when she'd got her voice under control, 'I recognise the honeysuckle, of course, but what are the other ones? I don't know them.'

  'They were Jason's idea,' Ariadne said. 'I wanted my wedding bouquet to be from our garden, and he suggested to use some of the flowers from the Chaste Tree… the one that grows near your dark-room. He said it would be appropriate.' She blushed.

  'I should hope so, indeed,' replied her mother, smoothing her grey silk. She smiled fondly at her child. 'It was a most… perceptive… thought of your brother.'

  Lorna knew of the store Cretan men set on their bride's chastity, and she refrained from asking if the bride had the same expectations with regards to her groom. She knew that such a question would be incomprehensible to Madam Peritakis and Ariadne, and that today of all days was not the time to discuss the matter, but the thought of such a blatant double standard rankled nevertheless. To take her mind off this inequality she took rather more pictures than she had originally intended.

  After a while there was a tap at the door and one of the maids, dressed in her best, came into the room. She exclaimed over her young mistress's appearance and then exchanged a few words with Madam Peritakis, who nodded and sent her on her way.

  'It is time for us to go,' Madam Peritakis told Lorna. 'The car is waiting for me, but perhaps you will wish to take photographs of Ariadne and Jason as they walk to the church.'

  'Mama… your flower!' Ariadne cried, picking a single crimson rose from a vase and breaking the stem short. With great ceremony she presented it to her mother, who solemnly kissed her on the forehead before pinning the flower on the traditional right side of her dress. Tactfully Lorna withdrew, leaving mother and daughter together.

  When she reached the road she could see knots of people, some of them servants from the villa, walking purposefully down towards the village. They were all dressed in their finery, and many of the old
er ones wore national costume, the women's dark dresses embroidered at the cuffs and collars. The old men, many of them riding donkeys, proudly showed off their high boots which were polished to the gloss of chestnuts for the occasion.

  Lorna walked down the hill too, greeting people as she went, then she perched herself on a rock to be in a good position for photographing the arrival of the bride.

  She could see the church from here. Everyone who could cram themselves inside had done so, and the rest were gathered outside the door like bees round a hive. She could see Susan and Harvey among them, also the figure of Kosti, elegant in a dark lounge suit, a flower in his buttonhole, waiting by the church door.

  Sitting alone under a vaulted blue sky she raised her camera and focused on the last curve of the road. But when the bride and her brother finally appeared she lowered it, for her hand had started to tremble.

  In the brilliant light Ariadne's dress, white as icing-sugar against the pavement, seemed to shimmer, making her look like a creature from another world. But it was not the sight of Ariadne that dazzled Lorna. It was Jason who took her breath away. He was dressed in full Cretan costume. Wide breeches of black silk, and round his lithe waist was wound a dark red cummerbund. His shirt of spotless white silk contrasted starkly with the sober black of his well-cut jacket. His black boots shone like polished jet. On his head he wore the traditional small black silk turban with a fringe of blackest beads that fell over his wide forehead. She could see the silver handle of a dagger glinting from his waistband. He had never looked more magnificent. The whole impression was one of elegant ferocity. He looked like a handsome eighteenth-century brigand. Dangerous and exciting.

  Hastily Lorna recovered herself and followed the couple with her camera. When they reached the place where Kosti stood waiting, Jason placed his sister's hand in her groom's. Smiling, Kosti kissed her on the mouth, and then led her into the church with Jason following them.

  Lorna put away her camera and edged through the crowd. The little church was jammed, but she managed to manoeuvre herself inside the door, so that she had a view of the bridal pair standing at the altar. Four little girls dressed in white, wreaths of flowers in their hair, held thick candles that glowed fitfully. The candles were set in holders manufactured out of yards and yards of frothing white gauze, like a ballet dancer's tutu. Perfume from the mass of flowers that decorated the church blended with the aromatic scent of incense. A Bearded priest, his gold brocade vestment gleaming richly in the flickering light, conducted the ceremony. There was no music, only the chanting of the priest and the intermittent tinkling of a bell. Fragile wreaths of lemon blossom were placed on the heads of the couple and changed over three times.

  Lorna's eyes grew misty. She thought she had never witnessed anything so beautiful. She watched through a blur of tears as the gold wedding-bands were placed on their fingers and then also passed between them three times. There was a stir in the congregation, a collective sigh as Kosti and his radiant bride became husband and wife.

  Lorna stumbled out into the sunshine blinking away her tears. What is the matter with me? she thought, I know it's the done thing to cry at weddings but this is ridiculous! She shied away from the knowledge that the reason she was so moved was because she envied Ariadne her open declaration of love. She longed, with every fibre of her being, to stand next to Jason, as Ariadne stood so proudly next to her new husband, bound to him forever by a sacred and solemn ritual.

  Susan came up to her. 'What a lovely wedding, eh, Lorna?' When Lorna didn't immediately reply she peered at her friend's wet eyes and said, 'Really got to you, eh?'

  'You could say that,' Lorna agreed, wiping her eyes on a tissue, 'Guess I'm getting sentimental in my old age.'

  'Nothing wrong with that,' smiled Susan, 'if I could have got into the church and seen the ceremony I would have wept buckets. Weddings just wipe me out.'

  'How are you around new babies?'

  'Mush,' she confessed smugly.

  'You are a kind, nice girl "Susie Q",' Lorna teased, unfastening her camera case, 'remind me to buy you a raincoat for your next wedding.'

  'I'd rather you helped me buy a wedding dress,' Susan said breathlessly.

  Lorna stopped fiddling with her camera. 'Susie! You mean you and Harvey?'

  Susan nodded vigorously. 'Mind you it's not official yet. But he asked me if I'd think about it, and I said I would. Not that I need to,' she babbled happily, 'there's no doubt in my mind. We're really crazy about each other and we have so much in common…'

  'Yes,' said Lorna wistfully, 'yes, you do.'

  Further talk was impossible for at that moment Ariadne and Kosti came out of the church. The crowd gave a roar and the four little girls rushed ahead of the bride and groom in order to pelt them with rice and flowers. The couple laughed and ducked under this barrage, then Kosti kissed his wife to the accompaniment of another loud cheer, and they set off on foot up to the villa, followed by the entire village.

  Jason, head and shoulders taller than the crowd around him, elbowed his way to Lorna's side. 'There you are kookla mou! Have you managed to get many pictures?' he asked.

  'Two rolls of film so far,' She slapped at her duffle bag.

  'Let me carry that for you.' He slung the bag over his own wide shoulder. 'And how do you enjoy our little country wedding so far?'

  'Little! I should think half of Crete is here,' she chuckled.

  'And a good part of Athens, too,' he smiled.

  'It's a beautiful wedding, Jason. I'd like one just like it.' Thinking that sounded shamefully like begging she amended it by adding, 'If I ever had to get married, I mean.'

  'You make it sound like a punishment,' he said.

  She could tell he wasn't joking but she attempted to keep the tone light. 'You mean like locking oneself in a padded cell and throwing away the key?'

  'Is that how you view the married state?' His mouth set grimly.

  'I've never given the married state much thought to tell the truth.' She ran a few paces ahead of him. 'Let me get a few shots of you in that costume,' she called, retreating behind her camera and clicking away like mad.

  He reached her in three strides. 'You will not always be able to hide behind that thing, Lorna,' he said tightly. 'One day life will catch up with you, and then you will find a camera poor company I think.'

  'It's been pretty good company so far.' She had to fight to keep her voice from wobbling, for the ignominious tears that had overwhelmed her in church threatened to return.

  'Then I will leave you with it.' Savagely he thrust her bag back on to her shoulders, 'I will not trespass on your… your professional time any more.'

  'Jason, for pity's sake!' she croaked feebly, but he had already gone.

  Two salty tears spilled out of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. She dashed them away with the back of her hand. 'Blast, blast, blast!' she muttered, deliberately goading herself into a temper in order to control her stupid emotions. He had totally misunderstood her. But she confessed it would have taken a mind-reader to comprehend what she had really meant. In attempting to salvage her own pride, she'd wounded his. It was her pride at work again. Her stubborn empty pride.

  Drained of all zest she raised her camera again and scanned the thinning crowd, and it was through her viewfinder that she glimpsed Jason's tall figure. He had turned back and was hurrying towards her. When he reached her side he said, 'Lorna, I cannot bear to quarrel with you.'

  She was so astounded that Jason… Jason of the proud Cretan heritage… had returned to apologise that she could only stare up at him through wide blue eyes, her lashes starred with tears.

  'Lorna… agapi mou… you have been crying.'

  Her habit of pride made her say involuntarily, 'No!' Then she gave a sigh and admitted, 'Yes. A bit.'

  'Oh! My darling,' he drew her to him and gently stroked her hair, ignoring the interested stares of the trailing villagers. Lorna felt like a child that had been lost and was at last safe at home. 'Forgiv
e me, Lorna,' he whispered. 'Forgive me. I cannot bear to hurt you.'

  'I was thoughtless,' she mumbled into his silk shirt-front, 'I'm the one who should be asking for forgiveness.'

  He cupped her face in his strong brown hand. 'Let us not argue about that as well,' he smiled wryly. 'Let us simply forgive each other and be friends again. Ne?'

  She nodded mistily. 'Friends.' Her smile came out like the sun from behind a cloud.

  'Etsi! And now we must hurry or they will start the feast without us.' Once more he took her duffle bag and firmly grasping her hand he asked, 'Your sandals? Are they strong enough for running?'

  'Well, they're not up to Olympic standards,' she waggled a foot at him, 'but they'll do I guess.'

  He grinned. 'Then hang on to me. Who knows, we may yet win a gold medal,' and they ran the rest of the way, laughing together like children.

  People were already sitting at the long tables under the plane trees when Jason led Lorna to a chair at the bride's table. He took his place beside his mother, who was seated as custom dictated next to her daughter. Madam Peritakis looked shrewdly at the flushed face of her Canadian house guest, and Lorna felt herself colour to an even brighter pink under the older woman's scrutiny. Then Madam Peritakis lifted her glass of wine. 'To Lorna,' she said warmly, 'to Lorna who is more to us than a guest. Ochi?' She smiled discerningly at her son, and Lorna felt a surge of happiness.

  Jason raised his glass and before drinking poured a little of his wine on to the ground. 'To give thanks to the gods for a good harvest,' he told Lorna. 'A Cretan farmer always gives a little back to the earth.'

  'I think that's only right and proper,' Lorna said, pouring a generous splash from her own glass, while Jason and her fellow diners laughed and applauded.

  Nikos, who had been glaring resentfully at Jason said, 'I do not waste my wine in such silly superstitions.'

  'It might be a good idea for you if you did,' Lorna snapped without thinking. There was a ripple of suppressed laughter round the table.