Dark Avenger

by Anne Hampson

  Maroula had been weeping; she looked up and, seeing the guilt and disappointment on her face, Julie said angrily, "What does it matter so long as the baby's perfect?"

  "I say this thing to Davos, but he so angry he not speak to me, nor look at my baby."

  Julie's blood boiled and as Davos happened to come in she just had to say,

  "It's the man who determines the sex of a child. If Maroula has girls it is all your fault."

  Davos stared, his dark eyes blazing, his diver's cap pushed to the back of his head.

  "It is no such thing!" he shouted, and for some quite incomprehensible reason both Maroula and her mother looked horrified.

  "You not speak to Mrs. Doneus like this," snapped his mother-in-law. "You treat her with respect or Mr. Doneus want to know why."

  Davos's anger subsided, miraculously. He looked apologetically at their guest.

  "I am sorry, Mrs. Doneus. I not think right -" He spread his hands towards his wife, who had the baby at her breast, and he seemed speechless for a while. Julie cast a puzzled glance from him to his mother-in-law, who had told Davos to treat Julie with respect or her husband would want to know why. She had called him Mr.Doneus. Always he was referred to as Mr. Doneus. Why the distinction? Other men were referred to by their Christian names only. Doneus himself had never once added the title when mentioning any of the menservants up at the castle, or in fact to the name of any man of whom he spoke. "She all the time make girls - girls!" Davos was saying, his voice quiet but filled with disgust. "I have no money for one prika, so how do I get money for three!" He glared at his wife, who burst into tears. "How many more girls you make, I want to know!" He went off into Greek and Maroula's tears flowed even more freely. "I think you make ten - twelve girls!"

  Julie could scarcely control herself. She felt like venturing a suggestion, but naturally refrained. The Greek peasant was not yet ready to be educated in the matter of family planning; Maroula would go on and on until she was too old for childbearing.

  "I think she is very sweet." Julie took the child from Maroula, who had finished feeding her. "She's chubby and absolutely delightful. You should be extremely proud of your daughters, Davos." But Julie's thoughts were on her own disappointment.

  For she had believed that if she were having a child Doneus would surely relent and their marriage would become normal.

  He would not mind a girl, she felt sure. He would be delighted with his child, no matter what its sex might be. But Julie was not having his child, and as she held this tiny scrap in her arms she felt the tears prick the backs of her eyes. Perhaps she never would have a child now, would never know the exquisite feeling of pride and fulfilment that only motherhood can bring.

  Julie mentioned the incident of Davos's anger to her husband that evening over their meal of stewed goat's meat and vegetables.

  "You told him the man determines the sex?" Doneus seemed considerably amused by that. "No wonder he was indignant! We always blame the woman here." His amusement increased as Julie looked ready to explode. But she merely said in the end, "He's ridiculous! Why can't he be glad that his child is perfect?"

  "I expect he is, really, but the birth of a daughter invariably brings disappointment for all concerned."

  "It would be an odd situation if only boys were born - as seems to be the fervent desire of all concerned!"

  Doneus laughed one of his rare laughs and said, "It would be more than odd, it would be drastic."

  "It isn't funny, Doneus. And this thing about a woman being unclean' for forty days! I've never heard such nonsense! Maroula is barred from the church until she's cleansed. If they did that to me then I'd never enter the church again.!."

  "It's custom, Julie. Laws can be changed, but custom dies hard.

  And don't forget that we're on an island, cut off from mainland Greece and places like Athens where the woman's lot is improving all the time, due to Western influence."

  "Maroula was telling me that after forty days she can go to church but is not allowed to enter -"

  "She is allowed to enter," he corrected, "after the priest has sprinkled her with holy water."

  "That was what I was going to say. And Maroula told me that had her child been a boy he would have been taken by the priest to the altar, but because it's a girl she's just left on the steps - dumped, I shouldn't wonder! I think the whole procedure's disgusting!"

  "You do feel strongly about it, don't you?" Again he looked amused, and Julie was so angry she could have quarrelled with him, which was absurd, since he was not to blame for what Julie regarded as quite heartless behaviour. "I've seen Kyria's husband today and he asked me to be one of the godfathers."

  Julie looked up. "He did? And have you agreed?"

  "Of course. One does not refuse such a request."

  "Shall I be going to the christening?"

  "I hope you'll come with me, Julie."

  She nodded, then could not resist saying, a sarcastic edge to her voice, "I expect they even have a different christening for the sexes!"

  Again Doneus laughed. "No, they don't, you'll be happy to hear."

  The baby was christened on the Sunday, and when Doneus and Julie arrived at the little cubic villa a host of relatives and friends were already gathered - far too many for the room available, it seemed, but they all managed to squeeze in somewhere. Many divers were present, in their dark jerseys and black peaked caps. Doneus seemed oddly out of place among them, as he was wearing his brown suit and a white collar and shirt. From outside came the laughter and screams of dozens of children and from the kitchen drifted smells of meat and garlic and pastry. Numerous women were hurrying about with trays of food which they took into another room. The massive brass font was in the middle of the sittingroom, the two godfathers and two priests standing by it.

  Kyria spoke shyly to Doneus, clearly honoured by his presence.

  Watching them, Julie noticed that alongside her husband's free and charming manner towards the little Greek girl, there was an unmistakable superiority about him too. With exceeding interest Julie made the most of this opportunity of observing Doneus's relationship with the villagers, and she soon noticed that one and all treated him with inordinate respect, which was also extended to Julie.

  She was given a chair right at the front, and the chair next to her, presumably for her husband, remained unoccupied even though many people were standing. Julie's thoughts automatically went to the occasion when, a sudden doubt entering into her, she had inquired of Doneus if he really were a spongediver. He had said yes. And what else could he be? she reasoned, her eyes on the elder of the two priests who was opening a battered and ancient book.

  The job at the castle was merely a fill-in for the period during which Doneus was at home. He had been more fortunate than his fellow divers; Julie surmised it was sheer chance and good luck that Doneus was in work while they were idle, the fact of his living closer to the castle than any of the men of the village giving him an advantage over them. It was quite reasonable to suppose that the owner, requiring extra help, would automatically contact Doneus, offering him the job. Julie breathed an audible sigh.

  The mystery deepened all the while, for if Doneus were one of them why did the other sponge-dress and their wives and parents - and even the priests themselves - treat him with such marked esteem? Had he been one of the fabulous Greek shipowners, or a great landowner, this esteem could not have been more pronounced.

  One small matter was clear, though it could scarcely afford Julie even the smallest degree of satisfaction: whatever the reason for Doneus's position of superiority among the community, he most certainly had, prior to her coming to the island, confided some secret to them all. This was outstandingly apparent on this particular occasion, since the amused glances cast at Julie - more marked among the men than the women - were very much in evidence.

  "Mrs. Doneus, you are comfortable?" Asti, Kyria's mother-in-law, had threaded her way through the crush of people in order to ask the question.
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  "Yes, thank you, Asti."

  "Everybody so happy this day. Kyria's first - and a boy! But we light candles all the while she carry, you know. We light candles in church, and in home we have lights by the ikons." She threw up her hands towards the ceiling. "And blessed be the saints, for they send us a boy!'

  Blessed be the saints indeed! Yet how illustrative of the primitive culture here, on this tiny island. It seemed quite impossible that such customs and beliefs could still survive.

  A sudden hush fell on the room as all chatter ceased; only the children's voices outside could be heard, and even these were silenced after a moment or two as the children came in and stood by the font. Kyria held her baby in her arms; she was revelling in the benign smiles bestowed upon her and Julie's thoughts went out to poor Maroula, whose baby was to be christened the following week, when the font would be carried into her house, just as it had been carried into the home of Kyria and Adonys. Julie had learned that Maroula had wanted Doneus to be godfather to little Helena, but Davos would not hear of it, saying they would invite Doneus to be godfather only to a boy. Nevertheless, Julie and Doneus were invited to the christening, and Julie had bought identical shawls for both babies, while Doneus had bought identical gold crosses attached to fine gold chains.

  Julie watched the proceedings from her seat right at the front.

  Hot water was poured into the font by two black-robed women who had entered carrying large earthenware jars. Another woman added cold water. A smile broke over Julie's face as the priest plunged an elbow into the font. He spoke in Greek to one of the women, who tipped her jar, then another word and more water was added until at last the black-bearded priest was satisfied that the temperature was just right. He began chanting words which had remained unchanged for centuries.

  All others were silent; Julie looked at the people around her, noting the unmistakable reverence and awe written into their expressions. So many christenings, yet all were regarded with this solemnity, because of course a Greek Orthodox Church baptism was a mystic rite going back to the dark edge of obscurity.

  In addition to its religious significance it actually gave the child existence as a human being. Without it he would have no status whatsoever, would later be denied the vote and could not even procure any form of employment.

  Doneus was taking the baby from Kyria; he stood looking down at it for a moment, a half-smile on his face. His eyes lifted at length and sought those of his wife. She saw the smile fade from his lips, sensed a deep emotion within him - a mixture of loss and resignation and hurt. Julie lowered her lashes, raising them again only when the baby let out a scream of protest.

  Doneus had handed him to the priest who was now plunging the child into the water, all the time making the sign of the Cross with his other hand, while the younger priest chanted from the book and the children stood around, holding their lighted candles, awe and wonderment on their solemn brown faces. It was a moving scene, yet somehow primitive because of the crowd and the seriousness attending the entire proceedings.

  Poor little mite! He was being plunged into the water again and again. But at last he was put into a linen cloth and Kyria was holding out the new clothes to the priest, who proceeded to bless them. Meanwhile, the other godfather, a spongediver, was holding the baby while Doneus fixed the gold chain and brought the cross to lie on its chubby brown chest. It stopped crying instantly and Julie did wonder if it were the soothing touch of her husband's fingers that had reassured the child that all was well, that he had not got himself into the hands of barbarians bent on drowning him.

  Still quite fascinated, Julie watched the chief actors in the drama move rhythmically round and round the font, led by the priests and godfathers. Doneus towered above them all. How distinguished he looked, still seeming to be totally out of place in this ceremony with its remnants of paganism despite the very real presence of two smiling black-bearded Orthodox priests.

  The procession stopped; a sudden call rose to the rafters and bedlam seemed, to be let loose. Everyone laughed and chattered; Kyria's mother was dressing the baby while Kyria herself kissed the hands of the godfathers in turn, Doneus's first, then those of Stephanos.

  "You like to hold my baby?" Kyria came over to Julie a few minutes later. "My mother, and my aunt, and my mother-in-law - They all fight to hold little Yannis, who wants to be quiet, so I bring him to you and they can argue about something else."

  Julie smiled and took the bundle into her arms and Kyria moved away, as, following custom, she and her husband prepared to wait upon the guests.

  "What's this for?" Julie indicated the blue bead fastened to the baby's shawl.

  Her husband smiled faintly, and a trifle deprecatingly, just as if he were expecting his explanation to be received with a mingling of ridicule and contempt.

  "To frighten off the evil eye," he informed her, looking down into the placid face of Yannis.

  "What strange beliefs you have, Doneus. I've seen these beads on donkeys' heads and often wondered what they were for. I concluded that they were just there for decoration, because of some whim of the owner."

  Doneus shook his head. "Indeed no. This warding off of the evil eye is a most serious business here."

  "Do you believe in it?" she asked, conscious of the warmth of the child and deriving a strange pleasure from it.

  "No, Julie, I'm not at all superstitious. Most educated Greeks adopt a tolerant attitude to these things while at the same time feeling slightly contemptuous of them."

  Julie took Yannis's hand in her own and looked down at it, so brown and small, with tiny nails, pink and very short. By his words Doneus had made an opening for a subject she had wanted to broach since the day she had married him and she said,

  "Where were you educated, Doneus?"

  A small pause and then, "Athens and England."

  "England!" Twisting her head, she stared at Doneus unbelievingly. "You went to a university in England?"

  He nodded, his scrutiny searching and faintly arrogant. "Yes, Julie, I attended an English university."

  "But how -? I mean, if your work is so poorly paid -"

  "An uncle of mine died and most amazingly had no relatives other than my mother and me. Mother would not use one drachma of the money and so I decided to buy myself an education."

  Julie became thoughtful. How very odd it was that, having taken the trouble to acquire an education, Doneus had then returned to his old occupation of spongediver. Just another baffling circumstance to add to the mystery. Julie felt she must soon reach the stage when one small clue would suddenly emerge and from then on every single piece of the jigsaw would fall neatly into place.

  The following Sunday they attended the christening of Helena.

  She was laughing all through the ceremony, the movement of her legs in the water illustrating her pleasure at the warmth of it. The priest's beard tickled her chin as he lifted her out for the last time and the baby's crow of laughter became infectious and everyone joined in ... everyone except Davos and his grim-faced parents. Although Doneus was not the godfather he fixed the cross and chain on Helena's neck and then said, in his firm and aristocratic tones, "What a charming little daughter, Davos, as are Maria and Elli also. You must be a very proud man today."

  A profound silence followed. Maroula's lovely brown eyes were moist as she said, huskily and almost inaudibly, "Mr. Doneus, thank you. You are very kind to say this." And she would not look in the direction of her husband or his parents, but she did glance at Julie, who had a smile ready, a smile to which Maroula quickly responded.

  "Come, Davos, and hold your little girl." Doneus continued in Greek and, watching the faces around her Julie knew that whatever Doneus had said to Davos had been in the nature of a criticism. Davos was plainly feeling uncomfortable and so were his parents. But after a few moments of tension the three broke into smiles and Davos took his little daughter into his arms.

  "Aren't you grateful that your child is so beautiful in form, Davo
s?" The younger man nodded, seeming to be too full for words as he gazed into the baby's laughing face.

  "Yes, Mr. Doneus," managed Davos at last. "Yes -" he broke off and continued in Greek. He and Doneus were still talking when Davos's mother came and took Helena, insisting that she, and no one else, must dress her.

  "Doneus, thank you," breathed Julie when she and he were seated at the table being waited on by Maroula and Davos. "It was wonderful of you to make Davos realize his mistake."

  "He's not a bad fellow really," submitted Doneus.

  "But his disappointment got the better of him. I don't think he'll treat Maroula like that again."

  "What did he say - when he was speaking Greek, I mean?"

  "He said he was sorry for being so unkind to Maroula -" Doneus broke off, laughing. "He asked me if it were true that the man determines the sex."

  "And you told him it was, of course."

  "Most certainly I did. He appeared then to consider himself quite inferior - until I quoted the old familiar saying that it takes a man to make a girl. At that he appeared to be exceedingly pleased with himself."

  Julie laughed, and helped herself to dolmades from the plate which a smiling Maroula was handing to her.

  "I feel so conspicuous," she said. "You know, it is the oddest thing that only men may sit at the table and eat."

  "Custom again, my dear. You are very privileged. It will be talked about for months that a woman sat at the table with the men."

  Casting him a sidelong glance from under her lashes, Julie said, without much expression,

  "You are certainly looked up to in this community, Doneus." At which he smiled faintly and beckoned to Davos.

  "Fill my glass up, Davos, please. Retsina."