by Celia Scott
'We should perhaps copy the ancients and dilute our wine with water,' Jason broke in diplomatically, topping up his glass from the water jug. Lorna did the same. 'Pan metro arasto… Nothing to excess.' He smiled at his glowering cousin. 'To your good health Nikos!' But Nikos refused to acknowledge the toast.
The meal was lengthy, and noisy, and fun. They ate roast lamb, and kid flavoured with herbs and garlic. There were platters of stuffed tomatoes, and purple-skinned aubergines, crisp mountains of fried potatoes and bowls of tossed salad tangy with feta cheese and olives. There were runner beans, and onions and carrots. There were red, green and yellow peppers all bathed in oil and lemon juice, and cucumbers in yoghurt. And when all that had been cleared away there were the sweet dishes. First a gigantic wedding cake that the bridal pair cut with Jason's dagger. Athenian walnut cake in honour of the bridegroom, and chocolate cake, and marbled slabs of halvah, brittle and tooth-curlingly sweet. And tray after tray of pastries wrapped in gold and silver and scarlet paper, tempting and luscious. And then, when the last dish had been pushed aside, and the wedding cake was reduced to a scattering of crumbs, large silver dishes heaped with pink and white sugared almonds were offered to the guests.
Lorna shook her head. 'Oh! I couldn't,' she said, 'I couldn't eat another mouthful.'
'You must take at least one, Lorna,' Ariadne called from across the table. 'Not to eat. To put under your pillow tonight. For then you will dream of the man you will marry.'
'We do the same with wedding cake. Sugared almonds aren't nearly as messy, I must say.' She helped herself to a pink one and put it in her pocket. 'I'll probably dream of somebody quite unsuitable. I always do.'
Now people pushed their chairs back and sipped their wine and toyed with the wilting flowers that decorated the tables. Then Professor Spanakis took out a guitar and started to play. The local baker produced a violin and backed by their own accompaniment they started to sing in rhyming couplets.
Jason quietly came round and pulled a chair up beside her. 'They are singing mantinades,' he said. 'Have you heard of them? They are handed down from generation to generation and adapted for special occasions. Listen carefully and you will recognise some of the names.' He took her hand and absently played with her slender fingers, and Lorna thought that she had never been so happy in her life. The late afternoon sun backed the scene in soft gold, and the antiphonal chanting of the two men wove a thin pattern of sound that seemed to bind her and Jason and the wedding guests in a tapestry that was as old as time. She recognised Ariadne's name, and Kosti's, and Jason's was sung out.
He loosed her hand then and took up the song himself. He had a pleasant light baritone, untrained but true. Then she heard him sing her own name, incorporated into the verse, and a chill of pleasure ran through her. At the other side of the table she saw Ariadne smile and raise her glass to her brother.
The music died and for a few seconds there was a hush. Then four musicians from the village started to play waltzes. The bride and groom started the dance, and soon the grass was crowded with whirling couples. Jason put his arm round her waist and they joined in.
They danced well together, even on this rough terrain, and Lorna revelled in the feel of his strong arm around her, and his hard lithe body pressed against hers. The dance grew faster, and laughing she finally begged off. 'I've had too much wine, Jason… if I go any faster I'll fall over.'
They left the dancing area and stood under the trees. He brought her a glass of fresh lemonade which she gratefully sipped, enjoying its astringent bite on her palate.
He smoothed a strand of flaxen hair from her warm face. 'It is hard for me to leave your side but I must dance with some of our guests kookla mou,' he said. He leaned over her and his wine-scented breath fanned her cheek. 'But if you dance with any of those Athenian louts,' he indicated the group of young men who had partnered her the night of the engagement party, 'I will kill you.' He smiled, but there was menace in his voice.
'Then you will go to prison, won't you Jason?' she said calmly, tilting her chin and staring up at him.
He paused for the length of a heartbeat. 'It would make me very angry to see you dance with one of them,' he said.
'Even if, while I danced, I was telling him about us?'
'About us? I do not see…'
'Think about it, Jason.' She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. 'Remember that I love you,' she said, 'but that doesn't give you the right to tell me who I may or may not dance with.'
He put his hands on her shoulders and his palms felt warm through the thin chiffon. 'That is technically correct,' he agreed, 'you do have a perfect right to choose your own dance partners. Just remember that I would prefer it if you refused your Athenian admirers.' He lightly brushed her forehead with his lips and walked away.
Lorna gave a small sigh and let herself relax. At least that particular skirmish hadn't developed into a quarrel. And while she hadn't exactly won the war, she thought she had given him food for thought. Maybe she would learn to handle Jason after all. To fit into his world. She knew she loved him enough to make compromises… if he would just learn to do the same…
'Wow! I think I must have lost twenty pounds!' Susan staggered up, Harvey at her side, panting from their enthusiastic waltzing. 'What's that you're drinking?'
'Lemonade. Jason got it for me.'
'Honey, would you get some for us?' Susan begged the breathless Harvey.
'Sure thing,' he puffed, 'your wish is my command Princess,' he winked at the two girls. 'What about you, Lorna? Would you like another?'
Lorna shook her head and her satiny hair swung. 'No thanks.'
'Why don't we sit down,' Susan said. She spied a group of garden chairs. 'We'll be over there, honey. Okay?'
The two girls settled themselves and gazed lazily at the dancers. Lorna noticed the figure of Nikos slouching away through the orange groves. Probably not enough booze for him here, she thought, and then dismissed him from her mind.
'What a great party,' Susan sighed, 'I've never had such a good time!'
'Terrific,' Lorna agreed.
'And how about old Spanakis? Singing those songs an' all? Who would have believed he could be like that?'
This reminded Lorna that Jason had included her name in the mantinades, and her full mouth curved in secret pleasure. 'Mmmm! Professor Spanakis does seem to be in a good mood,' she said.
'Good? He's positively angelic! He even danced with me,' Susan informed her.
'Wonders will never cease!' grinned Lorna. 'It must be the effect of the wedding.'
'That and the little head,' Susan answered, fanning herself with a plump hand.
Lorna looked at her blankly. 'The little head?'
The fanning stopped. 'Of course! You don't know about the new find. Thank you, honey,' she said to Harvey, who joined them at this moment with two glasses of lemonade. 'Lorna doesn't know about the little head,' she told him as she started to sip.
'Harvey, what is she talking about?' Lorna appealed to him. 'You tell me. I can't get any sense out of her.'
'Well, yesterday afternoon, while you two were gallivanting about in Iraklion, we made the best find yet.' Seating himself next to his lady-love he started to drink his lemonade.
'Well? Go on!' Lorna said impatiently. This leisurely couple would soon drive her mad.
After a great gulp, he continued, 'A small terracotta head of a woman. Most of the paint worn off, but still in remarkable condition. Hardly chipped at all. At a guess I'd say dating from the middle Minoan period. Once fixed to some kind of pedestal, it must have stood about three inches high. Does that answer your question?'
'But that's wonderful,' Lorna cried, 'I can't wait to see it.'
'Well, you'll get to photograph it on Monday,' Susan reminded her.
'Yeah! Then it's going straight to the museum,' Harvey volunteered. 'Spanakis even played with the idea of sending it there Friday night, but I think he wanted to gloat over it this weekend. But it's all very hush
-hush. We're not to tell anybody who's not connected with the dig. For security reasons.' He took another swallow.
'I wonder if Jason knows,' Lorna asked.
'I guess Spanakis will tell him sometime,' Harvey said, 'seeing it's on his land and all.'
The three of them stayed chatting for a few more minutes, then Lorna excused herself and went in search of Jason. She wanted to share this piece of news with him. Because of his financial backing, and his special interest in the history of the island, she knew this particular discovery would give him pleasure.
She found him standing on the patio talking to a group of people. He smiled and called, 'Come and meet some of my relatives, Lorna!' When she came closer he put a possessive arm around her and drew her into the circle. Lorna noticed the looks that passed between some of them, particularly the women, and she knew that before long the news that Jason was involved with a Canadian girl would rush like a brush fire through the Peritakis clan.
After a while the group dispersed and Lorna and Jason were left alone. 'My family likes you,' he said with satisfaction, 'I could tell.'
'Well, I like them too,' Lorna said, 'except that there seem to be so many of them. I don't think I'll ever be able to sort them out.'
'Then you had better stay in Crete for a long, long time,' Jason replied softly, slipping his arm from her shoulder to her narrow waist and pulling her closer.
She flushed with pleasure, but did not pursue this delightful prospect. 'Jason, there's something I want to tell you while we're by ourselves,' she said.
'Is it such a secret kookla mou?' he teased.
'As a matter of fact it is. No!… be serious a minute,' she giggled as he started to nibble at her ear-lobe, 'it's about the dig.' She told him of yesterday's find, and to her surprise his reaction was not one of pleasure. His face grew sombre, and his dark brows drew together in a frown.
'Spanakis did not send this find to the museum last night?' he asked sharply.
'No. I'm to photograph it on Monday, and then it goes to Iraklion. Harvey says he wanted to gloat over it,' she chuckled, 'I guess he can't bear to part with it yet.'
'Hristo! Such madness!' Taken aback by his vehemence Lorna stood back and gazed at him through wide blue eyes. 'I must find Spanakis,' he said, moving down the steps. 'It must be put in the safe in my office immediately.' He was so distracted that he nearly knocked down one of the young Athenian men who was coming to ask Lorna for a dance. Jason uttered a stifled oath, and apprehension clutched at Lorna's heart. Were they in for one of his jealous scenes? But her fears were groundless. After a few hurried words in Greek Jason said, 'Do you remember George kookla mou?' She nodded. 'He wants to know if you will dance with him.'
'I… I don't know Jason… is it safe?' she asked with studied meekness.
For a moment Jason's dark mood lifted and he grinned at her boyishly. 'Of course it is, my darling,' he said, 'I am sure George is not in the least dangerous.'
She raised herself on her tip-toes and kissed his lean cheek. 'Bless you, Jason,' she whispered.
He patted her shoulder, then said, 'You must excuse me now, I go to find Professor Spanakis,' and with an absent smile he left them.
Lorna danced with George, and as she had said she would, she told him how things stood between her and Jason, and George wished her happiness, and gallantly told her that he thought Jason was a very lucky man.
Nikos reappeared and claimed her for the next dance. To her surprise he was reasonably sober. He wasn't very talkative, but at least he didn't complain to her about Jason, which was a welcome change.
And then it was time for Ariadne and Kosti to leave for Iraklion. The guests milled around the driveway for a glimpse of the bride in her blue silk suit. And those that had cars piled into them, followed by hopeful would-be passengers.
Lorna saw Jason in earnest conversation with Professor Spanakis. The portly little man nodded several times in agreement, and then he trotted away.
Jason let his gaze wander over the crowd until he saw Lorna. Then he waved and came over to her. 'We will drive to the harbour with my mother,' he said.
She looked at the crush of people pushing themselves into cars and mikanos, screaming with laughter and stepping on each other's feet. 'Is everyone going to Iraklion?' she asked. Thinking that if mother and daughter wanted a private farewell they were in for a disappointment.
'Everyone who can get a lift. It is the custom to walk with the newly married pair to see them off. But Iraklion is too far I think.' He guided her towards the chauffered Daimler. Madam Peritakis was already on the back seat, surrounded by various female relatives.
Lorna hung back, suddenly shy. 'I don't want to intrude, Jason,' she said, 'if you're short of room…'
Jason's mother rolled down the window another inch and called, 'Jason! You will ride in the front with Manolis, and for Lorna I have saved the jumping seat.'
Suppressing a smile Lorna thanked her hostess and climbed into the car. She caught a glimpse of Maria and Irene. The child was wearing the new white dress Lorna had given her, and had pink ribbons in her hair. Jason went over to them and after a few words he took the little girl's hand and brought her to the car. Settling on to the front seat he put Irene on his lap. 'We have an extra passenger,' he informed the others. 'This young lady expressed a desire to see the bride off on her honeymoon. I thought she should not be disappointed.' Irene smiled at them shyly, then gave her full attention to pretending to drive, making 'engine noises' under her breath all the way to Iraklion.
The adults did not say much during the journey. It had been a long, full day, and Lorna sensed that now that the moment for Ariadne to leave her childhood home had arrived her mother was feeling particularly emotional.
The honeymooners were to cruise the Aegean Islands before starting married life in Athens, and to greet them the yacht was again ablaze with light, and the crew, in pristine white uniforms, stood on deck.
Ariadne, her green eyes suspiciously bright, embraced her mother and her brother. Then she came to Lorna who was standing discreetly apart from the family. She flung her arms around the Canadian girl. 'I do not say "goodbye" to you Lorna,' she said, 'for we are friends, and true friends never really part.'
Lorna smiled. She said, 'Be happy Ariadne… I know you will be.'
'And you Lorna… you be happy too,' Ariadne whispered, kissing Lorna's smooth oval cheek. She went to her husband's side and together they walked up the gangplank. It was drawn in and the yacht pulled away.
There was a cry of farewell from the shore and someone threw a shower of rose petals which floated on the trembling moonlit water for a few moments before disappearing in the wash.
Jason put one arm around his mother, the other round Lorna. He murmured something in Greek and Madam Peritakis smiled wanly and dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. 'You are right, my son,' she replied in English, 'we must look to the future. I will not be sad.' And once they were back in the car she made a conscious effort at gaiety, and the return trip was lightened by a steady chirrup of conversation. Only Irene was silent. The moment the car drove off she fell into a deep sleep, cuddled on Lorna's lap this time, her little body as relaxed as a rag doll.
A haze of content floated over Lorna. The little grey cloud that had hovered over her that morning had long since disappeared. Jason had been loving towards her in the presence of his family. And if the cousins looked at her a trifle warily, at least there was no animosity in their eyes.
She wondered how her own relations would view the Peritakis family in general, and Jason in particular, and she had the feeling they would all get along pretty well. But even while she thought this she realised that whether they liked him or not it would not make an iota of difference to the way she felt. She was committed one hundred per cent, and while it would be nice to have their approval, nothing they could say or do could come between her and the man she loved. Could the same be said for Ariadne? If Madam Peritakis and Jason had been violentl
y opposed to her marriage, would she have stood up to them and married her Kosti no matter what they thought? Perhaps. But it would not have been typical behaviour for a girl brought up in Crete. And what about Jason? If his mother and sister hadn't taken to Lorna so warmly, would he have shown his affection so openly? Or would he have hidden his true feelings and merely indulged in a little surreptitious lovemaking when no one was around?
It's when the cultural differences start to hurt you that things become impossible, Lorna thought, her newfound contentment fading a little. And you never know when that's going to happen. You have to be constantly on your guard.
Suddenly the sound of the Greek conversation going on softly around her made her feel unbearably alien, and for a moment the magic of Crete turned to black magic. She felt alone, and a little frightened. The moment passed as swiftly as it had materialised, like a pattern in a kaleidoscope. But the dim memory of that pattern stayed at the edge of her consciousness like a dull toothache that refused to go away.
So immersed was she in this troubled reverie that she hardly noticed when the car drew up at the front of the villa. And when Jason opened the door and said, 'Let me take Irene. She will be too heavy for you,' she was startled. He chuckled softly. 'Perhaps I should carry both of you,' he said as he gently took the sleeping child in his arms, 'you seem as tired as she is.' And she realised then that she was indeed bone-weary.
She walked with Jason to where Maria sat with a group of village women. Jason said something in rapid Greek, then waved away a protest of Maria's. Lorna was too sleepy to make out the words, but when they all returned to the waiting Daimler she understood that Maria and her daughter were to be driven home.
Maria kissed Lorna good night and sat in the back of the big car while Jason carefully laid Irene on her lap. He was just closing the door when they heard a strangled shout, and Professor Spanakis ran up from the direction of the orange groves. He had obviously been running for some time, for when he reached them he had to struggle to catch his breath. He finally gasped out something in Greek.
The blood seemed to drain out of Jason's face, and his hands clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
