by Anne Hampson
‘Unfortunately I am not in a similar position.’ He hesitated and Liz gained the impression that he could very well have fallen in with her suggestion but did not want to do so. ‘If I marry I must take my wife back to Greece with me.’
‘For appearance? But need you tell your friends you’re married?’
He glanced away, avoiding the intense scrutiny with which she regarded him.
‘I cannot see myself living a lie for the rest of my life. No, my dear, if we marry then you must accompany me back to Greece.’
Liz spread her hands. She did not mention her concern for the old ones as she said, disgusted at the uncontrollable tremor in her voice. ‘What will I gain? It’s my home I want. I love it - and the money? - I want to spend it and enjoy life. No—’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘I won’t marry you unless we can part immediately after the wedding.’
‘You’ll allow two fortunes to pass into the hands of strangers?’ he asked softly and, when she did not answer, ‘You say you love your home and that’s what you want. But if you don’t marry me you’ll lose it anyway. If you do marry me at least it will be there and you can visit it periodically. I understand the house itself comes to you when anything happens to your relatives?’
‘Yes, it’s part of my share. Great-Grandfather knew how much I loved it.’
‘Well then, think before making your decision. Do you really want to see this house sold to strangers, and the money go to the Fellowship?’
At the mention of the Fellowship her fury rose. If only her great-grandfather had not become mixed up with those lunatics!
‘It seems to me,’ she said after a long and thoughtful silence, ‘that whatever I do I’m going to be the loser.’
‘Thanks,’ he returned sardonically, and leant back in his chair.
‘You know very well I don’t want to marry you,’ she retorted, ‘so the exception you take to my words is misplaced.’
‘We had better keep the discussion amicable,’ he recommended, ‘otherwise we’re not going to get very far.’
She looked oddly at him.
‘You sound as if you want to marry me,’ she said at length.
‘Then I must inadvertently have misled you,’ was the smooth rejoinder, and a flush leapt to her cheeks. ‘I’ve no more desire to acquire a wife than you have to acquire a husband, but like you, I hate the thought of all that money slipping through my fingers.’ He paused a moment and she again experienced that tingle in the region of her spine. He had at first stated emphatically that he did not have all his eggs in one basket, and in fact he appeared unperturbed about his own personal loss. Yet now he was really trying to sway her, to persuade her into marriage because - so he said - he hated the idea of all that money slipping through his fingers. Could he have some other motive for wanting her to marry him? she wondered, suddenly wary. He was half Greek, and the Greeks were notoriously the most amorous race in the world ... That kiss ... desire there, primitive and savage desire ... But she could stick up for herself. He could not force her into something without her co-operation — or could he? That embrace was surely proof enough that his strength was not to be scorned. ‘Neither of us would trouble the other,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts as if he were actually reading them. ‘We’ll live in the same house, and be amicable when my friends are around, but otherwise we shall go our separate ways.’ He stopped, waiting for some comment, but did not meet her gaze. She was still puzzled by something she could not name. He appeared genuine enough, and yet ... ‘It seems a reasonable course to take,’ he was saying. ‘The only course, if we’re not to lose both of these fortunes.’ He did look at her now, straight in the eye, and Liz was reassured. He had no more desire for her than she had for him, and as he said, this was the reasonable course to take.
‘I always swore I’d never give up my freedom,’ she said with a deep sigh.
He laughed softly, and she stared at him in wonderment. What a transformation in his features!
‘Strangely, so did I. But there you are - the best laid plans ... None of us can foresee the future and the problems it casts in our way.’ He paused. ‘Are we engaged?’ he inquired with a humorous lift of his brows.
Liz refused to give him an immediate answer; she must consider the matter carefully, she said.
But as she gazed up into those green eyes she had the disquieting conviction that this dark pagan from the wild country of Parnassus was going to play a major role in shaping her destiny.
CHAPTER TWO
They had left Athens behind travelling along a road bordering that incredible ‘wine-dark’ sea of Greece, while in the hazy distance rose the small mass of polychromic splendour that was the island of Aegina, and, closer to, the island of Salamis.
‘You’ve been to Greece before?’ Nigel spoke with that lazy drawl which had already begun to grate on his wife’s nerves, for it seemed to emphasize the indifference with which he intended to regard her.
‘I had a holiday in Athens once.’ Her tone was cold and uninviting and a long silence fell between them again, with Nigel concentrating on his driving and Liz dwelling with a sort of savage frustration on her great-grandfather and the cranks with whom he had latterly associated.
All her life she had to stay with this man by her side! Her freedom curtailed - and through no fault of her own!
She tried to calm the fury within her, telling herself that the monotony would be periodically relieved by her visits to her home in England. A sideways glance at her husband’s carved profile made her think again. She would be bored ... Oh, so immeasurably bored with this creature always around! Her hands were clenched in her lap; she was not aware of this until Nigel said, as they were taking a sharp, magnificent climb on the road which would eventually bring them into the Parnassus country,
‘What the devil’s wrong with you? Relax, for the lord’s sake. I’m not used to riding with a block of ice beside me.’ Still the slow lazy drawl, and the hint of an accent to emphasize it.
Liz glared at the dark profile and flashed,
‘There was nothing in our contract that said I must entertain you!’
‘Entertain?’ A sideways flick of the dark head revealed the amusement in his grey-green eyes. ‘Shouldn’t think you could be very entertaining ... in any way.’
Her eyes opened wide, anger rising again. But she coloured too, because of the subtle insinuation he had made.
‘I’m glad you realize it,’ she snapped, and looked out of the window. They were descending now, passing through the incredible scenery that only Greece can display. Valleys alternated with hills on which the exquisite greys and greens of olives and cypresses, vines and poplars blended to form a breathtakingly beautiful panorama of subdued colour which made a splendid backcloth for the walled castro standing out against the flawless sapphire of a Grecian sky.
‘I hope,’ said Nigel, changing gear rapidly as he took a hairpin bend, ‘that you’re not expecting a situation where we’ll remain coldly isolated from one another for the rest of our lives?’
She twisted sharply, her nerves becoming taut.
‘You gave me to understand that would be the position.’
Nigel changed up again, remaining in third gear before having to negotiate another acute bend a few hundred yards further along the road.
‘On the contrary, I believe I mentioned we’d be amicable when my friends were around.’ Something in the way he said that brought a sudden frown to her eyes. And yet what had she to fear? She was strong-willed, and in physique she was not exactly puny, her slenderness and delicate feminine curves being deceptive, for Liz had developed muscle by swimming, playing tennis and climbing.
Nigel was obviously awaiting some comment and she said, still in that icy tone which was now deliberately edged with hostility,
‘As long as you don’t expect me to be too amicable you won’t be disappointed.’ She saw his mouth compress, felt the car jerk forward as his foot went down on the accelerator.
; ‘I hope, Liz,’ he said in a very soft tone, ‘that we shall manage to understand one another from the start. I’m neither a patient man nor an easy-going one; on the contrary, I’ve a reputation for obduracy and so perhaps a timely warning would save us both a good deal of unpleasantness.’
She bristled. The pomposity of the man! Anyone would think he was really her husband! The urge to lash out with her tongue and put him in his place once and for all was strong, but she curbed it, saying instead, with quiet sarcasm,
‘I’m afraid I must be extraordinarily obtuse, for I fail to grasp your meaning.’
The ghost of a smile touched the stern outline of his mouth.
‘You fail to get the message,’ he corrected softly.
‘What’s the difference?’
‘There is a subtle one, Liz - and it behooves you to take care.’
She turned, her blue eyes flashing and a little hiss of anger escaping from between clenched teeth.
‘Don’t threaten me! I’ve no idea what you’re trying to convey, but you’ll be wise to leave me alone. You said we should go our separate ways, and that’s exactly what I intend doing. I’ve never had any desire to be married - men bore me to distraction with their inane conversation - if you could describe the one-sided egotistical prating as conversation. The years spent with you must be endured through the stupidity of a man!’ she went on furiously. ‘Endured, get that - for I shall find every single moment unbearable!’
Silence, with an atmosphere that could be cut with a knife. And then,
‘Let us hope that some moments won’t prove to be more unbearable than others,’ he murmured, pulling right over as a car approached from the opposite direction.
‘And what,’ she demanded in low vibrating tones, ‘do you mean by that?’ No answer, just an exasperated sigh as if the conversation had suddenly become irritating to him. He appeared absorbed in the scenery - the green-clothed foothills and higher naked peaks, the wide cultivated plains and deep ravines, with the stream in the distance, sparkling in the sunshine like a twisted silver ribbon.
‘So you’ve never had any desire to be married ...’ When at last Nigel spoke it was in the familiar softly-drawling tone but so low now that Liz scarcely caught the words. ‘Not normal—’ she did catch that and swiftly interrupted him.
‘I’m quite normal! But I suppose you, as a Greek - or half Greek,’ she amended as he shot her a glance, ‘I suppose you consider a woman’s lot to be nothing more nor less than that of a chattel. She was born to satisfy some man’s desire, to bear him numerous children and to remain always subservient to his wishes. Well, that might be your idea, but it doesn’t serve in the West. Women now have their own lives and they live them as they choose. It so happens that I choose to remain a spinster!’
‘A spinster?’ he repeated, his voice edged with laughter. ‘You appear to have forgotten something.’
Crimson colour flooded her face. She had forgotten - for a few brief seconds.
‘I still consider myself a spinster,’ she flashed, aware of the childishness of that, and his amused laugh was expected - though angrily resented.
‘You’re very much married, Liz.’ No more was said for a long while as they travelled the narrow road, taking bend after bend, with the landscape becoming more solitary and more spectacular with every mile covered. It was a vast primitive world of departed gods - gods like the handsome Dionysos, whose grandfather, Cadmus, had founded the citadel of Thebes. Dionysos himself had been rescued from his dying mother’s womb and sewn into the thigh of his father, the mighty Zeus, king of all the gods of Olympus.
His cult was one of orgiastic rites; he represented all that was irrational in man in contrast to his unsullied half-brother, Apollo, who stood for all that was honourable and dignified in the human race. It was a vast unreal world, a world where one found isolation at its most sublime, a world of colour contrasts, of wild spectacular heights, alternating with valleys and wide ochre-flooded plains.
They travelled on and now there would appear a shepherd on a lonely hillside, guiding his sheep and goats with his long crooked stick. And then an isolated khani appeared as they took another bend in the road and Nigel slowed the car down to a crawl as he approached it.
‘Do you want something to drink?’
‘No, thank you.’ She was being deliberately obstinate, knowing full well that Nigel wanted a drink. He could go without, she decided, and sat back in her seat. ‘It’ll waste time. I’d rather carry on; the sun’s already going down.’
Nigel drew to the side of the road and tucked the car right in.
‘We have all the time in the world,’ he commented, sliding one long leg from the car. He stood up and closed the car door and said, without much expression, ‘Excuse me, won’t you? Unlike you, I’m ready for some refreshment.’ And he left her sitting there, fuming with rage that her first attempt at demonstrating her will had failed.
A few minutes later she had to watch him comfortably seated outside the cafeneion, under the shade of a huge plane tree, drinking from a tall glass and conversing with another customer sitting at the next table. Her throat felt parched and she was swallowing when Nigel looked across, amusement on his face. He was no fool. He knew she was dying with thirst! Her fists clenched. If the look she threw at him had proved effective he’d instantly have slumped forward in his chair!
Nigel did not hurry himself and it was half an hour before they were on their way again, Liz seething inwardly and with a shrewd suspicion that Nigel was fully aware of this.
‘We haven’t too far to go now,’ he said as they reached Levadia. ‘Only about thirty miles. I expect you’re tired?’
She chose not to reply and once more they drove in silence, but in spite of herself Liz could not but be enthralled by the scenic beauty of the landscape. Ahead loomed the mighty Parnassus, that ‘compassionate’ mountain that had gathered in the fallen Sanctuary of Delphi when, by the edict of Theodosios the Great, the heathen cult was prohibited. The mountain summits glistened, for snow still veiled the highest points. After proceeding through a narrow pass they emerged into a widening valley and then climbed towards the watershed. After crossing the spur of Parnassus a gorge unfolded before them and the town of Arachova came colourfully into view, clinging to the mountain over three thousand feet above sea level. It was the ‘Windy Town’ of the ancient Greeks, the town of which was written, ‘They are all shepherds and shepherdesses, who feed their sheep upon the mountains.’
‘This is a pretty town, don’t you think?’ said Nigel conversationally as they drove through it. Liz glanced at him, wondering if he were bored with the long silence or if he genuinely wished to make the journey more pleasant for her. Liz’s first reaction was to ignore his comment, but on second thoughts she decided there was no sense in deliberately creating antagonism between them. Their feelings for one another on entering this mercenary contract had been those of complete indifference, and this was the way they must endeavour to continue. Civility was desirable, for life would probably prove difficult enough anyway, without the added intrusion of hostility that must inevitably lead to frayed tempers and heated arguments.
‘It is pretty,’ she agreed as they entered the main street. It splashed colour with its rugs - for which the town was famous - and with its embroidery and Greek urns and the whole assortment of tourist goods. ‘I like the cobbled streets and the little streams.’ On all levels the terraces blazed with colour, many of the flowers being grown in petrol cans or other tin containers.
After that they chatted in a more friendly fashion until they reached Kastri, built when the excavations of the sacred shrine of Apollo necessitated the removal of the village of Delphi, what at that time stood on the actual site of the sun god’s sanctuary.
Nigel’s house was above the town of Kastri, a spreading one-storeyed building of weathered limestone, and planned round a pillared courtyard bright with flowers and shaded by vines. On the air hung the heady fragrance of basil mingling w
ith the sweet scent of oleanders growing on a dry bank at the far side of the extensive grounds. Soaring above were the ‘Shining Ones’, the twin peaks of the mountain, pink-misted now in the strange reflected light from a lowering sun, and even as Liz stood there, her appreciative gaze fixed upon the towering heights, the pink changed to clouded pearl upon which in turn was superimposed a soft translucent mauve.
A strange peace fell upon Liz, despite the convulsed landscape and the ragged heights in which nested the birds of prey - buzzards and eagles. The courtyard was cool after the hot tiring journey, the quietness was profound, broken only by the play of the fountains and the hum of insects busy among the flowers.
‘It’s very lovely.’ Liz turned to Nigel and looked up. How tall he was! It gave her a feeling of inferiority, having to tilt her head like this.
‘You like it?’ He smiled in some amusement, looking her over for a space as if seeing her properly for the first time. ‘Not as palatial as your home - but when I had it renovated it was merely for myself - a bachelor establishment.’
She looked away and said,
‘But you have plenty of rooms? You must have guests sometimes?’
Nigel laughed then, and clapped his hands for his servant.
‘I did, naturally, have guests in mind. We’re not short of bedrooms.’
At that Liz would have put aside her good resolutions and paid him back with some sarcastic retort, but at that moment a manservant appeared and Nigel spoke to him.
‘My wife, Nikos—’
‘Your - wife, Mr. Nigel?’ The man started, evincing not mere surprise but amazement to a degree that brought a frown to Liz’s brow. Nigel might already have been married, so amazed and disbelieving was the man’s expression.
