The Eagle of Spinalonga

by Nike Azoros

  She reached over and patted Xanthus, ‘I am not sure but I think I love horses. I have never been on one but have always had a secret dream to ride one. But then I was sent here and all dreams have stopped.’ She spoke without sorrow, no self pity, just of things as they were.

  Lyras stepped right up to her, placed his hands on her waist and pulled her in close to him and she, in instinctive response, placed her hands on his shoulders. He lifted her easily and sat her on the horse. She steadied herself and marveled at how everything looked better when viewed up higher. The next thing he did would make Maria remember all those times she had stood on the upper walls of the old fort with the intent of jumping off. She had reckoned that if the fall wouldn’t kill her, the sea would. She did not know how to swim but she hoped that with the grace of God that would mean she would drown quickly. Now she knew why she was still alive.

  He swung himself up onto the horse to sit behind her. He leant forward to take the reins encircling her body with his arms to do so. He pressed his chest into her back causing a wave of sensation to course through her like warm honey.

  She could never understand why she hadn’t let herself fall from the walls. She had always thought it was because Nikos needed her help with all the changes he was fighting to make on Spinalonga but now she knew it was for this. God had remembered her. He must have heard all those prayers she had made. Now she could die knowing what is was like to feel a man’s arms around her. She leant back into the body of her man, for he was now her man, and used him as a comfortable armchair. She lifted her head up to let the sun kiss her face, the back of her head nestled perfectly into the curve of his neck and then he stroked her hair.

  They rode to the highest point on the island. Somehow she had willed her weak and tiny body to make the walk up there many times before but always alone. Each experience made her feel insignificant and caused her isolation to be magnified to such an extent it overwhelmed her and she would have to close her eyes and dream of a sweeter memory so as not to find herself looking over the fort walls again.

  It was different for her now on the back of this great horse with the arms of a man around her. Spinalonga was now her haven, their world. Less than hour ago she had been looking at the boat wondering how to get her legs entangled in the anchor’s rope to drag her to the depths so she could leave this island for ever but now it was her personal paradise.

  There were a few palms on the island, planted by the Ottomans to ensure their supply of dates. Lyras got down first and lay his jacket on the ground at the base of one large palm then lifted Maria down and placed her on it. He took a bag from the saddle and made a picnic for them. It was cheese pie and fresh figs. If she knew what ambrosia, the food of the gods, tasted like she was sure it would be like this.

  Lyras took his lyre and played a tune for her that was a lullaby. As she drifted off to sleep under the date palm she prayed another prayer that when she died it would be in this exact way with food in her belly and a man by her side playing sweet music. The wind carried the tones of Lyras across the island. It whistled through the cracked windows of the patients houses and slid under the doors of the infirmary. The sombre silence of the island was stirred. Nikos and Manoussos were having a discussion about doing more repairs to the church and the houses. Nikos was pleased with the progress that had been made but he wanted more. They all deserved more. It was possible now they had more income and power. But the truth was it was difficult to get workers to come to Spinalonga, ‘We could do so much on our own but we need some sort of pack animal to really get some work done.’

  ‘Yes, we could use a good donkey or a sturdy horse.’ Both men stopped talking and the hair on the back of Nikos’s neck stood on end.

  ‘Where is that music coming from?’

  ‘Have you already installed the piped music you were talking about?’

  ‘No.’

  They set out to try to find the source of the tune but were in no hurry. The lyre was a favorite instrument. Nikos had spent many happy hours in tavernas with friends listening and dancing to its strains. A skilled lyre player could make a good living anywhere in Greece, anywhere there were Greeks.

  The older patients hadn’t heard such music in over a decade. Three of them were slumped in their corner. They were weeping like babies for they thought Death had finally come for them and they were now in Heaven hearing angels. Angela was standing on the doorstep of the infirmary looking around too, her face appeared softer, lighter, and somehow prettier. The new doctor had come out of the lab to check if he really was hearing things.

  Even Pavlos stopped his terrorizing and stood still and turned his monstrous Cyclopean head towards the sound. Nikos and Manoussos left them all in their trance to track the source of the music. Then it suddenly stopped. Nikos and Manoussos looked at each other and shrugged. All went back to what they were doing and imagined they had been hearing things.

  Lyras stopped playing when Maria said she had to go. ‘I will meet you here later to share bread if you like?’ I have carrots too. I will bring some for Xanthus. Lyras went off to the old houses at the edge of the town where Maria had told him earlier there was also room to stable Xanthus. She skipped away giggling and chatting to herself all the way back to the infirmary for her scheduled blood tests. Later Maria hummed as she kneaded the bread. She was no longer a silent servant, dutifully hunched over. She almost looked like the Maria she once was. The aroma of the baked bread energized her like coal to a steam train as she ran back to the palm tree to find Lyras.

  He was there, already sitting. Laid out on a cloth in front of him were some olives, some cheese, tomatoes and some fruit, a feast. She ran to him and she pulled apart the steaming bread. They laughed over it together and made the most delicious sandwiches they had ever eaten by squishing together tomatoes and cheese between the still warm slices. They talked about everything as they ate and salted their food with the plump olives and sat and ate slowly to enjoy every bite.

  He spoke to Maria. She would be the only one he would speak too, only she deserved his words. Their first conversation had been to exchange their names. ‘Lyras!’ Maria shook her head, ‘That is not a real name. No priest would have baptised you with that name. My name is Maria. I have my grandmother’s name of course as is the custom. I would have loved to have had a daughter and given her my mother’s name of Theodora. It means ‘gift of God’ you know, Theodora. And in my case it really would be wouldn’t it? I mean I am a leper living on a rock, what chance do I have of things such as love and a child?’ Oh anyway I didn’t mean to talk such sadness.’ He laughed and tore into a chunk of bread.

  ‘I promise you Maria, if we ever have a daughter, we will name her Theodora.’ He expressed it so naturally, as if they had been betrothed for years. Maria’s soul quivered within her at the elation of being reunited with its mate.

  ‘Why did you come here? Do you not fear the leprosy?’ Lyras shook his head. He had never wanted to speak again, he didn’t think he would need to but this pure girl made him open his heart and mouth. They sat together and he told her his story and she hers. Then he opened his arms for her to lie in as he fed her grapes.

  ‘I spend a lot of time in the infirmary. I have a lot of tests because I am very sick they tell me but I also do a lot of helping out. I hear the doctors talking in the lab. They say ninety five percent of the population is immune to the disease. Wouldn’t you know my brother and I are in the five percent that are not?’

  ‘I don’t care Maria. I am here to stay, I might get the illness and I might not but I feel more alive here with you than I have ever felt in my life.’ He took her hand in his and kissed it. Maria wanted to cry but couldn’t, her tear ducts no longer worked. She took the hand of Lyras and held it against her cheek for a moment before she kissed it. The two of the sat in happy silence, holding hands until Lyras took his hand away. He guided Maria to sit next to him and lean on his shoulder while he played his music. After a while she got up, ‘I have to go.’
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  ‘No, stay with me.’ They were the four sweetest words she had ever heard. ‘I promised the women I would help them prepare their outfits for tomorrow. We are going to church for the first time, all of us. We are all going to see if Father Manoussos will drink the wine.’

  Lyras looked lost so Maria explained, ‘You see he was given a choice to make. None of the patients wanted to attend church, we felt it was hypocritical. The church disowned us, yet Manoussos asked us to attend. He was told if he drank all the wine out of the communion after the service then all those who can, will help him rebuild the church. The government has helped us a lot, thanks to Nikos, but the church still needs much work, that is the domain of the Archdiocese and as yet they haven’t sent any money to help out so we should get a start on it. There is much work to do. To be honest I would like to help but I am still a little weak and I don’t want to walk too much yet but I might drop by after the service to see how it all went.’

  Lyras kissed her hand again, ‘It sounds as if they need the sort of help only Xanthus can give.’

  ‘Yes they do. I know they do, Nikos and Manoussos were discussing it when they visited me. They need a strong pack animal.’ Lyras read into the pleading look in her eyes. ‘Xanthus and I will be at your door to escort you to church tomorrow at whatever time you wish to be there.’

  Chapter 17: Holy Communion

  Father Manoussos rang the bells of Saint Panteleimon himself for the first call to service at seven thirty am. He had yet to have any volunteers for bell ringer. He then went into the sanctuary and put on the celebratory robes of the Paschal service for he felt the occasion called for it. Today would see the resurrection of his church. He knew a priest in full robes was a commanding sight. He looked taller and carried all the glory of Byzantium. He had spent all the previous three days preparing for this day through fasting and praying for the will of God to be done. When he stepped out to stand before the Royal gate and begin the service he saw his church was full. They had come. He commenced with gusto and his voice was strong. Nikos, as promised, was chanter. He had no experience in Byzantine chanting but did the best he could. Nikos made a mental note to get Manoussos to ask for a book on the chants to be sent to them. He knew they depended on the correct intonation of eight tones and Nikos was struggling so much that people were snickering at his feeble warbling.

  The service had reached the time for the Nicene Creed to be taken, as customary, by the entire congregation. Only Nikos spoke, he had the text in front of him and read it out. A few of the women joined in towards the end but in general it was a solo performance by Nikos. Manoussos did not as much as blink in disappointment but entered the sanctuary to prepare the offering of the blood of Christ. He commenced the preparation of the sacrifice of Communion, the Anaphora, and went through all the rituals and prayers until he reached the Epiclesis, the invocation of the Holy Spirit to enter the sacramental wine and bread. He took the bread which he had baked himself and had placed the sacred seal on it to make the special patterns. With his knife he cut out the central pattern of the NIKA then the two triangular patterns on each side of it, one for the Panayia and the other for the saints and angels. He broke the lumps of bread up into crumbs and placed it onto the golden communion chalice into which he had poured sweet wine. This meant that with each spoonful of wine there would be a piece of the bread so everyone partaking of communion would get both the body and the blood of Christ. He said the complex set of prayers in the traditional low tone and when the time came to kiss the holy Gifts and say, ‘I love You, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer,’ he said them with a greater depth of meaning than ever before.

  When he stood in the Royal Gate and held the ornate gold cup up high and pronounced, ‘Take, eat, this is my Body which is broken for you for the forgiveness of sins.’ every single patient on Spinalonga had lined up to take communion and the first in line was Pavlos. Manoussos beckoned them forward and Pavlos took his communion with a sickening slurp. The others were more sedate.

  Naturally Manoussos was a man of faith who believed in prayer; but he also took some more mortal precautions. He had been well trained by his hierarchs in the ministering of the Eucharist. He knew the pure gold of the spoon and cup which were always used did not harbor microbes. He knew the correct technique for offering communion was to tip the spoon so its sacred contents would pour out into the recipient’s mouth rather than the using their lips to receive them. He also knew that the high alcohol content of the sweet wine destroyed most bacteria and he took extra care to add an extra shot of the almost pure alcohol of tsikoudia which had been given to him as a farewell gift. But none of the patients of Spinalonga knew this when they all leaned forward to look into the sanctuary after communion was over. They only saw Manoussos standing tall and proud and holding the cup high first in acknowledgment to God. He brought the cup to his lips to gulp down nothing which was what was actually left after the patients of Spinalonga, who now numbered over one hundred people, had taken communion.

  ‘He did it and he did it with a smile on his face,’ were the sorts of comments from the patients after church service was over. No one was in a hurry to leave. They were behaving as a regular congregation would after a church service. Chatting and catching up with people was going on and invitations for coffee were being given and accepted. They felt elated in the freedom to feel normal again which brought a sense of celebration into the air. Everybody was happy; especially Manoussos who had won the respect of the patients and now had himself a workforce. Immediately after the service Ikaros began to study the condition of the walls. The priest and Nikos walked around with him as he analysed what needed to be done first. ‘We are going to need to bring in extra stones from other buildings. It will be difficult for we have no donkey, no cart here. We could form a human chain but there are few of us strong enough to lift the larger stones.’

  ‘God will find a way my son but you need your strength go and rest. I will pray tonight for enlightenment on how we are going to find a way to bring the stones to the church without breaking our backs. If we had a pack animal it would be different but we do not have that luxury.’

  ‘Father anything can happen. Did you ever think we would have a hospital and a cinema? Besides, if Nikos Lambrakis can catch an eagle then we can find a way to carry stones. Back when I was in the living world I was a craftsman, a stonemason. Look at the village Nikos. The only true ruins in it are us. The people before us are long gone and when we go the stones will still be here. I didn’t get to make a family of my own but I made homes for families to enjoy and their families will after them. That makes me very happy Nikos. My life and what I did with it did matter. I can make it matter here on Spinalonga too.’

  Nikos had been looking straight into Ikaros’ eyes and noticed how they changed when he spoke of the joy his architectural creations brought people. The eyes of a leper have no light. There is an unwritten law somewhere that they must stop shining upon diagnosis, as hope is extinguished so is any sparkle. He looked at Ikaros and saw his light had been switched on again and he hadn’t been the one to do it. Serving others by doing what he loved was making Ikaros beam like a lighthouse.

  Nikos wanted to see that gleam in his own eyes again before he no longer could use them and he knew that time was coming soon. The doctor at the infirmary had told him the optic nerves were being destroyed at a faster rate than what they considered normal. ‘Ikaros you are a saint. I will pray for you to be canonized at the same time I pray for a way for us to move the stones we need for building.’ Nikos could not help but smile at Father Manoussos.

  ‘You are crazy you old priest.’ In response Manoussos embraced him and kissed him on each cheek. ‘I owe you that.’ Nikos got to thinking of how the lives of people can change in an instant. ‘Wasn’t it was wonderful to see Thanos. Thank you again Father for getting this boy into school. He has done so well.’

  ‘Again your first thoughts are for others Nikos. You
are the one who made this happen not me. You are the one who saw the potential in Thanos, not me. You are the one who gave up precious time to sit with the boy and teach him how to read and you are the one who told me to send him off to school. Then God took over and put Thanos in the right place at the right time.’

  Nikos mused over the words, ‘The right place at the right time. Yes, I guess that is how things work out sometimes.’ They heard Maria’s voice call out to them, ‘Kali mera.’ she was coming towards them with a ghostly looking man and she was on a horse, a big blonde horse.

  Angela had attended church too, as an observer. Angela was always watching Pavlos. The patients and staff at the infirmary believed she was in love with him. She sat by his side while he was recovering from losing his eye to Artemis and every time he was brought in for testing and medications she was right there by his side, checking on him, smiling at him even offering to do little chores for him and giving him sweet treats. Now here she was keeping an eye on him at church as well.

  She was the one to break the stunned silence. ‘You must be the one they call Lyras. The boatman told me he had delivered a healthy man and a horse. I thought he was joking.’ Nikos stammered, ‘Welcome and not well come.’ out of habit, for the man was not a patient. When he remembered it he added, ‘That is a fine animal you have there.’

  Lyras gently helped Maria dismount and all witnessed the tender glances between the two of them. Lyras and Maria also noticed the eager looks that Nikos and Ikaros were giving Xanthus. Maria snuggled into the crook of Lyras’ arm, ‘I have told Lyras all about the building program you would like to carry out here and Lyras has kindly agreed for you to have the use of Xanthus to help with the heavy work.’ Nikos shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm, ‘Our deepest thanks to you Lyras.’ He spotted the lyre slung over his shoulder, ‘That was you playing the music? I thought I was dreaming. It was magnificent.’ Lyras smiled at Nikos as thanks for his kind words. They all laughed when Ikaros stuck his head into the conversation, ‘I thought I was dead and was hearing heavenly music.’ He laughed with them, ‘I wish to thank you too, for the use of your fine animal. It will be such a big help to us.’