by Nike Azoros
Alikhan was beaming as if the sun itself was resting in his mouth, ‘Yes Nikos, I have met the most beautiful woman in the world, right here in Athens and I want to be with her, will you stand by me?’ he sniffed as he said it, ‘I must be catching a cold, my beloved has not been feeling too well lately, I probably caught it from her,’ he winked. Nikos smiled at his friend’s happiness,
‘Alikhan of course I will stand by you but who is this girl? I am surprised you have not told me of her sooner.’
‘Forgive me Nikos but we have had to keep things very quiet for a while because she has a brother who is like a wild man. He does not believe women should be outside of the home and he wants to choose her husband.’
Alikhan stood up and pulled a letter out of his pocket, ‘There is something else I have not told you. I have made an application to be accepted into the diplomatic corps and have been accepted, by Turkey. That is where I met the girl, at the embassy. She is Turkish.’ He said the last sentence slowly. Nikos stayed silent. It was hard for any Greek to get excited about his best friend going to the Turks. He knew that both countries had to work hard to put their history behind them but still Nikos sighed, ‘You have made a difficult but brave decision my friend. Are you certain of how you feel and have you met her brother?’
‘I am certain of how I feel. I love her. And I have not met her brother as yet, but if he is too unreasonable and refuses to bless our marriage I could always elope with her and take her back to Kazakhstan with me.’
‘That is hardly a diplomatic thing to do.’
The brother of the beloved of Alikhan was not a diplomatic man and the lovers knew it. He would bring other equally fanatical family members with him to carry out a swift termination of the relationship. Alikhan didn’t care what they would do to him, as long as they did not hurt his beloved. She had told him they would show no mercy to her should she bring dishonor to the family by becoming involved with anyone other than someone they had chosen. Thank goodness her father was an understanding and diplomatic man.
She was fortunate to be born of a father who was one of the team that worked with the late former prime minister of Greece, Eleftherios Venizelos, and the President of Turkey, Kemal Ataturk, in forging the treaty of friendship between the two countries. Her father had been one of the original Young Turks, to further prove he was a progressive thinker he insisted his daughter have a place in the modern world. He trained her himself in diplomatic matters and believed he should set an example for the equality of women in his society. He sent her to help the poverty and disease stricken unfortunate ones, she assisted with bringing food supplies to a leper colony and helped set up a school in a remote village in the Trebizond. He was the one who then placed her as a cultural attaché in the Athens embassy.
But the old man should have given equal focus to his son who had become influenced by the radical old guard who considered the progressive thinkers like his father to be traitors, they were westernizing too much. They were too tolerant, the young radicals like his son showed their protest to change by being as anti-west and anti-Christian as possible. The liberal thinkers, like his father, were a danger to Islam.
Nikos and Alikhan sat together in the Zappeion gardens, the Greek sat on a bench in thinker pose and the Kazakh stood in philosopher stance as he related the entire background of his beloved and did a big sneeze at the end of it. ‘Alikhan, you have been sniffing and sneezing for days now, let’s go and get you a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, I know but also my beloved is still not feeling well she too has been ill for days.’ Nikos still had their earlier conversation ringing in his head and chilled at those words.
‘Alikhan, think for a moment will you. You said she worked in leper colonies.’
‘Relax, the uneducated believe you can catch it just by being close but only a small minority actually catches it.’
But Nikos did not relax,
‘What if you are in that minority? Anyway, apart from the fact her brother might kill you, how would your family feel? You are from a strong culture, your parents must be so proud to have a lawyer son they must have plans for you to marry a girl of your own people.’
‘My family will love her because I love her and I am hoping because I am a Sunni Muslim like most Turks her brother will not be too upset.’
‘I hope you are right my friend.’ Alikhan hoped he was right too even though in his heart he knew the over exaggerated sense of moral code of the extreme radicals. They believed women should never be seen and here was his beloved working in a Christian country and wearing Western dress, not even covering her hair. As long as her father was alive she was safe. He had to marry her and take her away before anything happened to the old man.
Nikos made his friend a cup of tea back in their tiny shared room. Alikhan was sneezing and coughing the entire time, spreading the leprous molecules into the air for his friend to breathe in, just as he had breathed them in from his beloved.
‘Thank you for the tea Nikos but I must go and see her now, we have much to plan and discuss. She was a little anxious yesterday because her brother said he was coming to Athens to see her.’ The eyes of Alikhan betrayed his concern even if he tried to make his voice sound light and carefree, ‘but I am sure everything went well. I will bring her back here to meet you. Be well my friend.’
‘Be well, and be careful.’
Alikhan walked quickly, he wanted to get to his love as soon as possible. She lived in a room in a lovely old villa in the Monastiraki section of old Athens not too far from their rooms. He entered the courtyard of the house and slowed down instead of rushing to the door as he normally did. The sign they had devised to indicate that the coast was clear wasn’t there. They had agreed on a lit lantern in the window as in the ancient legend of Io and Leander but the lantern was not in its place in the window, yet the door to her room was open. He pushed the door so it opened wider and saw the lantern lying broken on the floor. Her precious carpet, a gift from her father, was all bunched up against the wall. Then he saw the back of her, she was sitting on a chair but when he looked closer he saw she was tied to it, her hands were tied behind her back and her feet were bound. He tried to move fast but couldn’t. He slowly walked around to face her but her brother stopped him. He was as terrifying as she had said. He was a full head taller than the stocky Eurasian Alikhan and had the massive chest and broad shoulders of the famous Turkish strongmen and a vicious look on his face that made clear his violent intent. He looked just like how the ruthless Mehmet 11 must have looked when he declared he would bring down the walls of Constantinople, no matter what it would take.
‘Stop there you Kazakh dog.’
‘What have you done to her? Have you no respect for your father?’ He tried to step past him to see her but the brother grabbed his arm in a wrestlers hold that forced Alikhan to twist around in pain. Her brother rasped into his ear,
‘The old man is dead, now my word rules in this family. She has paid the price for dishonoring the family.’ As he spoke he turned Alikhan around until he was facing his beloved. Her beautiful almond shaped eyes were now frozen open wide in terror, her soft, luscious mouth that he had kissed so lovingly was stretched taut in a grimace of shock. The beautiful white linen shirt he had watched her painstakingly pin tuck during the evenings when they had sat together was now stained red with the blood that had poured out of her and lay in a viscous puddle in her lap and the gold chain with the heart shaped pendant he had bought her was wedged in the great gash across her throat.
Alikhan fell to his knees before his beloved. He barely felt his hair being grasped. He was in so much shock he did not even notice his head being pulled back and he barely had time to gasp in shock when the Turk drew the knife, still dripping with the blood of his beloved, across his throat to give him the same fate.
It was the knock on the door that woke Nikos. He was still dressed from trying to stay awake waiting up for Alikhan to bring his beloved to meet him. He became concerned as ni
ght fell and still no word, hopefully there had been no complications with her brother. When he opened the door and saw two solemn faced policemen standing there he understood that he was going to hear something bad but was not in any way prepared for how bad. The policemen delivered the terrible news with a merciful swiftness.
They were also ordered to pick up all of Alikhan’s belongings to send back to his family along with his body. It was all over so quickly it was like a cyclone had whisked through the place, within hours all traces of his dear friend were gone. Nikos found that the way to honor Alikhan and to try to soothe his own sense of loss and pain was to follow the traditions with which he was familiar. Nikos felt he had to mourn his friend correctly, Muslim or not, he would follow the Greek funeral traditions for him. He asked one of the women from the staff at the university to make the traditional offering of kolliva, he took the decorated dish of boiled wheat to the church to be blessed and to light a candle for the safe journey to the other world for Alikhan. There was nothing left now but to return home.
Nikos had to hurry to Piraeus to catch the boat back home, he wished he had something of Alikhan’s as a memento of their friendship but the police had taken everything. He threw his few belongings into his suitcase, his law degree went in first, and took a final look around. Something was poking out from beneath the divan Alikhan used as a bed. Nikos bent down to see what it was. In the dim dustiness beneath the bed he made out the joyful red embroidery of the eagle hunting equipment of Alikhan. He picked up the richly embroidered bag and clutched the bag close to him so he could feel he was embracing his friend. How did the police overlook it, should I get it to them so Alikhan’s family can have it? No! The contents were bequeathed to me by Alikhan personally. It was his wish that I have it. His thoughts consoled him, any initial guilt was gone. He put the bag into his suitcase and left for Crete.
Chapter 5: The Hand of God
When sunlight breaks through a mass of clouds to form rays of light fanning out, Nikos would call them the fingers of God, a giant divine hand was caressing the world. Nikos couldn’t help noticing with some irony that Manoussos was standing right in the centre of the fingers of God phenomena that was in the skies that day. It was almost as if God was personally hand delivering him to Spinalonga. It made his initial statement of, ‘Oh my God!’ have double meaning.
‘Well you did tell me that the only way God will come to Spinalonga is if I bring Him.’ But Nikos wasn’t feeling joyful. He was hungry and angry and before him was the priest for whom he had done so much work yet he had agreed to read the prayers of death over both him and his sister. ‘What else did you bring with you apart from God?’ Manoussos could hear the disdain in his voice which showed that Nikos did not share his feelings of joy at their reunion. ‘I bring the love of the bishop and the Holy Texts and other ecclesiastical items of course.’
‘The people here are not monks on a path of denial. These are sick people in need. Didn’t you even bring a loaf of bread or a roll of bandages?’ Manoussos looked bewildered, ‘No I did not. Naturally it was my first instinct to do so and began to organize such things but I was told that you had no need of anything because you all receive a good pension and ample food rations.’
‘Who told you that?’ It was the first time Manoussos had ever heard Nikos roar and it was terrifying. ‘The council clerk, Christos. He told me. I didn’t tell him I was coming here but I just asked him if he were going to Spinalonga what would he take. He said he would save the space for his own items and not load up the bags with too many other things because you all have more than enough here.’
‘Oh I am sure he did. You should have trusted your first instincts.’ Nikos kicked the stones in front of him so they sprayed up like a little wave breaking. ‘What pensions? What ample food rations? Now I know how that fat clerk got so fat.’ Nikos spat at the ground and kicked again. Two helpers had since arrived and they too were taken aback that the new arrival was a priest. Nikos went and stood with them.
‘Do we look like have money and food? Take a look around you!’ Manoussos finally noticed how thin Nikos had become and the two helpers looked repugnant and smelled foul. Manoussos suddenly felt like a total fool. He had been too obsessed with his own ego, his Call, to think logically about where he was headed and their needs. He had blindly trusted the greediest man he knew.
‘Please Nikos, God will provide.’
‘God came empty handed!’ again Nikos roared at him as he turned around to leave. The two helpers shrugged at each other and picked up the priests belongings. They moaned in haunted whispers, ‘We will take these to the church. Whenever you are ready, go there.’ They disappeared through Dante’s gate and Nikos was about to follow them. It was then that Manoussos remembered the bag he had tucked inside his rassos.
‘Nikos, wait.’ But Nikos did not even slow down. Manoussos knew he had to say something that would make him stop.
‘Nikos, your mother sent you something.’
Nikos stopped and stood still for quite a while before turning around to see what Manoussos had. By the time he had turned around the look of rage was gone and the anxious look of a young boy had taken over his face. As Manoussos pulled the package out from his rassos he had the privilege of watching that anxious look on the face of Nikos Lambrakis morph into a gaze of sheer rapture as if he had seen an angel. Theodora had wrapped the bag of Alikhan in a woolen cardigan she had knitted for Maria. The knit had stretched like a lacy veil around the bag allowing the red embroidery peep through. Nikos had to blink to check if he really was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Manoussos stepped forward and handed the bag over with both his hands as if it were a sacred ceremonial sword.
Nikos received it with equal ceremony and stood holding the parcel as if it were the Holy Grail itself. He stroked it with tenderness. His best friend and his adored mother had both touched this bag. Manoussos could see the effect it was having on Nikos and how tightly he was clutching onto it, he also noticed the volume of Plato he had under his arm, ‘Nikos, please remember that Good actions give strength to ourselves and inspire good actions in others.’
Nikos snapped out of his reverie of his mother and of Alikhan and faced the priest who came to a starving colony with almost nothing but books in his bags, ‘Just because you remember one quote by Plato don’t think that you can impress me Manoussos? Here is one of my favorite quotes, ‘Man will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest.’ No sooner had he gotten out the words of the French writer, Denis Diderot he stopped in regret. He believed in them but he had regretted saying them. Nikos then remembered his own arrival. He too had filled his bags with almost nothing but books. But Nikos was moved and Manoussos knew it. He knew the man well enough to read his body language. He might still be incensed by the injustice of his situation but he was undeniably moved by the priest’s presence. Nikos was looking at the ground, trying to reign in his emotions. To stay in the logical, he asked a logical question,
‘So Manoussos what are you here for?’
‘To rebuild the church so you and all the others can attend services and know that God did not abandon you, and neither did I.’
‘But you personally read the Trisagion prayers over me. We here are all dead and buried in the eyes of the church. To invite us to attend service and then offer us communion means you go against the canons of the church. A sacrament cannot be offered to a dead person. It means you defile the body of Christ.’
‘I have received sanction to do so from the Patriarch.’
‘Well from a legal point of view that means the Church has identified its error by the very fact that it sent you here.’
‘They didn’t send me here, I asked to come.’
‘Really! Nikos raised his guard again. He wanted to work on controlling his temper but he also needed his inner fury to spur on the actions he needed to take. The thought that Manoussos came out of curiosity so his own soul could feel eased further stoked that f
ury. ‘Come with me. Come and see something.’ He guided the priest down to a stretch of land along the high wall. It looked like a cemetery but there were no markers or crosses on the walls. A fresh grave had been dug and some men were carrying a body wrapped in rags. They threw it into the grave and started shoveling the dirt over it. Nikos watched as the priest instinctively went over and started reciting the Burial prayers over him. ‘Stop!’ said one of the men, ‘Don’t you understand Father? A man cannot be buried twice. We have already received our funerals, this is just a place to dump our bones.’
‘Every man deserves a prayer, especially now the illness has taken him.’
‘No the illness didn’t take him,’ said Nikos. ‘He drowned. We are so hungry and weak that we try to catch a few fish to eat but in our battle to fight off our hunger sometimes the sea wins. More of us die from hunger or from attacks from each other than from the disease.’
‘Holy Christ.’ Manoussos crossed himself and continued reciting the Burial prayer. The others all stood by and for the first time since they were stricken by their disease enjoyed taking part in a traditional ceremony again even it was for a funeral other than their own. ‘Come to church tomorrow my children, bring the others,’ he said hopefully but everyone walked away. Nikos, with his book under his arm, walked away too.
The books of Nikos had been responsible for a new ritual developing on Spinalonga. Every evening after the siesta Nikos would sit on his front step and read from one of his books on philosophy. Every night the other lepers would gather around as if they happened to be in the neighborhood. Nikos would look up from his reading as if surprised to see them and he would read a quotation or share a thought with them.
Sometimes he staged it in order to teach them something or to get their opinions on a matter. Once he asked the crowd, ‘How many types of happiness do you think there are? Or is happiness all the same’
‘There is more than one type of happiness I think,’ said a woman. ‘The first one is when we indulge in something that feels very good but does not last long, so we want more of it. It gives us a short lived burst of pleasure, like a piece of baklava or a good glass of wine, or a new garment.’
