Dark Avenger

by Anne Hampson

  Maroula was offering fish to Julie, who again accepted.

  "I don't know when I have eaten so much," she laughed.

  "Maroula, this is certainly a feast fit for a king!"

  Maroula's face took on a blank expression, clearing only when Doneus translated Julie's words. Maroula beamed, and waved a hand towards the plates still piled high with squid and octopus and fish and meat. Sticky confections were later handed round, and later still, during the dancing to the bouzouhi band, the women kept on appearing with trays filled with glasses of ouzo and small wedges of christening cake.

  Doneus insisted that Julie get up and try some of the Greek dances; she was an apt pupil and after the first few blundering moments she thoroughly enjoyed herself. When at last they went out to the car which Doneus had borrowed from the castle the whole assembly came to see them off.

  "How much longer will it continue?" murmured Julie with a yawn. "It doesn't appear to be anywhere near breaking up."

  "It will go on into the early hours." Doneus turned his head, noticing that she had leant right back against the upholstery.

  "Tired?"

  "Yes, but happy. I did enjoy it, Doneus."

  "Did you?" He fell silent and they drove the whole way to their cottage without speaking. But it was a pleasant silence and when they reached the house and got out of the car they stood at the bottom of the patio steps, as if by common consent reluctant to leave the soft and silent outdoors and enter the

  tiny cottage with its drab furnishings and dismal whitewashed walls.

  The night was balmy and filled with the sort of vibrancies and exotic perfumes found only in the East. A million stars shone down from a deep purple sky; an enormous moon shed its lustre over the fretted mountain peaks and the olive-clothed hillsides, spreading its lambency on to the still, unmurmuring sea, so that its surface sparkled and glittered like frost on a field. On the tiny island opposite a light here and there shone from the window of some cubic house nestling by the shore, while the graceful campanile of the church rose, clear-cut and dazzlingly white against the volcanic massif rising in naked fluted crests behind it.

  Not a breath of wind stirred the carob trees at the bot-tom of Doneus's garden; the palms and cypresses in the castle gardens towered, dark against the moonlit walls, and the graceful white yacht lay still, a mere toy from this angle and distance. It was a. magical night, a night for lovers, and instinctively Julie took a step which brought her closer to her husband. Was he aware of this magic? she wondered, and lifted her face, her lips parted and quivering slightly. He looked at her in the moonlight. Caught in the shadows, his face seemed in this moment to suit his name. He appeared hard and ruthless - cruel even, but his magnetism remained and Julie was profoundly affected by it. Such a wonderful afternoon and evening it had been. Her husband's embrace would make the perfect ending, his embrace, and his kiss. .. and more....

  He moved and Julie slid into his inviting arms, responding to his kiss, flirting with him, tempting, beseeching.

  He sighed as he held her away, his warm fingers sliding down her arms and enclosing her hands. A sudden flatness took possession of her; at home in England she had been sought after, admired and pursued. Had she no allure for this man who was her husband? Once she had, just for that one blissful night.

  She pressed against him, lifting her face to tempt again, to invite a kiss. Smiling faintly, yet with bitterness in his eyes, he bent his head and his lips sought hers. But there was only gentleness in his kiss, nothing more. Neither possessiveness nor desire; the kiss neither demanded nor enticed.

  And on releasing her he said in cool indifferent tones, "Come, Julie, it's very late. Poor Jason will wonder why he's been left alone so long."

  CHAPTER TEN

  SPRING had come to the island and by the last week of Lent the harbour was filled with the newly-painted diving boats. On board men worked with feverish activity, preparing for the voyage, while their womenfolk baked bread and cooked the salted meat which the men would eat for the next five or six months. Julie stood on a high hill and watched the heavily-laden launches sailing to and fro between the quay and the ships which lay at anchor. Even from this distance smells from the outdoor ovens drifted up to her and she wondered how the whole town could fast when all this food was being prepared.

  But everyone did fast, and would continue to do so until every church bell on the island pealed forth in triumph and the great cry went up,

  "Christ is risen!"

  And then the feasting would begin.

  The town itself had taken on an entirely new aspect, with apparent prosperity everywhere, the result of the bankers'

  advances to the captains who always paid their divers so much money in advance in order that they could make provision for their families while they were away. But the tavernas were filled with men and Julie wondered just how much money would be left by the time the diving fleet sailed. It was a sort of reckless spending with, she supposed, a feeling on the part of the men that they might not return.

  For the past few months Julie had tried in every way she knew to repair the damage done by words which she now knew had not revealed her true feelings towards her husband. For gradually - and at first reluctantly - she had come to the self-admission that she loved Doneus, but owing to his own attitude of cool indifference she could not tell him of her love. He did not love her, that was plain, and her own innate pride prevented her from telling him what was in her heart.

  At first, she tried by all the wiles known to woman to create a situation where she could confess her love; but was prevented by her husband's coldness which eventually rubbed off on her.

  She too was possessed of an innate pride, a pride handed down from generations of aristocratic ancestors, and she became inwardly angry that a mere peasant could treat her in this cold dispassionate way.

  The result was that civility existed between them, and little else.

  On several occasions he had told her to go home, as he no longer wanted her to stay with him, and she knew he meant what he said. He did not want her with him, and she would almost flare up, on the point of asking him why he married her if he now wanted to be rid of her, but she refrained, anxious to smooth their path, not create obstacles. But with her own pride, and his, remaining in the ascendancy there was to be no smooth road for them to travel.

  Yet all the time Julie was being torn to pieces, and unhappiness turned to sheer agony as the days passed and Easter drew closer. She had seen many crippled men in Kalymnos, and always their features would change and she would see the drawn despairing face of her husband, would visualize his wonderful limbs deformed, see him unable to work. She would be with him always, of course, but she dreaded to think what this added injury would do to his pride. He would become embittered, would hate his dependence on her.

  At last she turned from her contemplation of the harbour and made her way across and down the hill towards the place where she could board the communal taxi.

  It was still early in the day and, restless and depressed, she did not enter the cottage but began walking along the dusty road, her unseeing eyes on the countryside, ablaze with all the glory of spring. Her footsteps were drawn to the pathway leading to the castle entrance, a pathway shaded by trees and running alongside a stream where pink oleanders blossomed all along its banks.

  She loved the island, and the people. She had even come to love the cottage and knew she could be happy there if only Doneus loved her, and would allow her to do the renovations she had in mind.

  The castle gates loomed before her. Doneus had spent three days at the harbour, but today he was working at the castle and, fearing he might see her, Julie turned. But Jason came bounding out from somewhere in the grounds, wagging his tail and barking furiously.

  She turned, and just had to go back and stroke him through the bars. He too would be sad in a couple of weeks' time, since he had to go and live with Doneus's mother. She would be kind to him, of course, but how he would miss
his master. They were so

  close that at times Julie found herself envying him. "I think I could turn and live with animals.. ." The line of Walt Whitman's poem came to Julie as she bent, fondling the Labrador. Doneus had friends on the island, yet Julie had the impression that his dog meant more to him than any of them ... and certainly he meant more to him than his wife.

  "Quiet, Jason! Hush. Your master mustn't know I'm here -" She stopped, colouring as Doneus, having been occupied in pruning roses, was now striding across a wide lawn towards the gate.

  "What is it, Julie?" His voice was tinged with the cool politeness she had come to know so well. "Is something wrong?"

  Her colour deepened, and she stepped back from the gate.

  "No, I merely came to take a look."

  He eyed her with an odd expression from the other side of the bars.

  "The castle interested you?"

  She nodded, angry with herself for coming here. "It does interest me, naturally," she admitted at length. "It's so beautiful, and so unusual, being on this cliff, away from everything."

  "Beautiful?" His tone was edged with bitterness. "More what you're used to than my home - is that what you're trying to say?"

  Her lip quivered. "Why do you deliberately misunderstand me, Doneus?" At the hint of reproof in her tone he glanced away.

  After a moment of hesitation he said, "Would you like to see over the castle, Julie?"

  She stared, his offer surprising her. His tones were a trifle softer, too, and she suddenly felt happy.

  "Won't the owner mind?" she asked as Doneus opened one of the gates to let her through.

  "Come on in," he invited, ignoring her question, and Julie readily obeyed, falling into step beside him as they proceeded in silence along a wide avenue of plane trees, massive and ancient, through which the turquoise sea shimmered in the noon sunshine.

  "The gardens are beautiful!" Julie became lost in the sheer beauty of her surroundings. "You must love working here, Doneus." She gazed over the colourful panorama and added, "How many gardeners have they?"

  "Three - besides me. The others are permanent."

  "Three?" Despite the size of the grounds, all of which were not visible, naturally, she did not think there would be work for four gardeners. "The owner must be very rich."

  "Is a man's wealth assessed by the number of gardeners he keeps?" inquired Doneus coldly, and Julie sagged. Once again she had said the wrong thing, it seemed, so she fell silent, refusing to answer him.

  One of the gardeners came into view as they strolled towards the castle entrance. He was very lame; another was working some distance away and Julie saw that he also was lame. The truth struck Julie at once. The owner employed these cripples in order to help them, and that was the reason why three were required. What a good man he must be, she thought, looking forward to the day when she would meet him and his wife. She knew he had a wife, but no family. That was as much as she had ever been able to obtain from her husband, who seemed to freeze inwardly whenever she mentioned the absent owner of Santa Elena.

  Additions had been made to the castle and it was now a three-winged edifice grouped round a grand courtyard. Doneus led her round to the side and they entered through the south door, above which were rich stone carvings and statues of white marble nymphs. The hall, arched and rich in beautiful carvings, swept towards a bold wide staircase, leading on to a gallery hung with exquisite paintings.

  Julie just stood and stared, wondering what her uncle, master of Belcliffe House, would think of all this splendour.

  "The paintings," she murmured when presently she was standing in the gallery. "They must have had collections from the Venetian School."

  "The owner thought Titian and Bellini and Tintoretto would be just right here." Doneus indicated the lovely Venetian glass standing on small tables along the gallery. "This too, fits in here."

  They moved on, to the drawing-room, a delightful apartment with massive window arches decorated with stucco-work and classical statuary. The furniture was antique, the walls hung with tapestries and colourful Chinese prints. The huge marble fireplace was flanked by slender columns, each decorated with fine stone tracery enclosed in a framework of intertwining stems and branches.

  Julie just stood in the doorway and gasped, "I've never seen anything so beautiful!"

  Doneus looked into her upturned face, his expression a mask.

  He had no interest in her enthusiasm, was not in any way moved by her delight in the castle, which seemed strangely unnatural, seeing that he had invited her to see over the place in which he worked.

  "Would you like something to drink, Julie?"

  She stared. "Will it be all right?"

  "Of course." He glanced at the clock. "In fact, it's almost lunch time. I always have my lunch here, as you know, so you might as well stay. I'll tell Polymnea to prepare it while we go over the rest of the castle."

  "Are you quite sure it will be all right for me to stay?" Julie looked doubtfully at him, at the same time thinking that such behaviour in using his employer's food was totally uncharacteristic of her husband.

  "It will be quite all right, Julie. We shall have it in the small dining-room - there is a large dining-hall," he added, "but we'd be lost in there. The owner uses it only when he has parties."

  "Tell me about him, Doneus?" she ventured, looking at him optimistically. "Has he lots of friends on the island?"

  Doneus nodded. "The rich sponge merchants. And we do have a couple of ship owners here. Then there are people like Tracy and Michalis. Also, visitors come from abroad - from England and France and other parts of Europe."

  She thought about this, vaguely aware of a strange tingling sensation running down her back.

  "And from America, of course?" she queried slowly. "From America also."

  "There is one thing that puzzles me," she said after a thoughtful glance round the elegant expensively-furnished room. "I'd have thought they'd have had dust sheets all over everything. People usually do when they go away for so long a period."

  "Here, the full staff was kept on, so there was no need to cover everything. It's better that the cleaning should go on as usual."

  He spoke with a sort of abrupt finality and in fact moved out of the room, saying he would go down to the kitchen to see Polymnea who, Julie surmised, was the housekeeper.

  She stood in the gallery, looking at the pictures until he returned, when she was then shown the bedrooms, all furnished with taste and an entire lack of flamboyancy. The original character of the castle had been retained whenever

  possible, but wherever drastic changes had had to be made they enhanced rather than detracted from the original beauty of the building.

  "There's a roof garden, as you know," Doneus was saying when at last the main bedrooms had been shown to her. "We'll go up."

  After ascending a stone staircase they came out into the sunshine. The view was superb, with the quiet sea and the mountains of Kalymnos curving round the coast, and the several islands dotted about the still aquamarine waters.

  "It's fantastic!" She was afraid to voice her full appreciation for fear of being misunderstood again, so she merely stood there, breathlessly taking in the superlative view as seen from this delightful vantage point on the roof of the castle.

  The table was laid when they entered the diningroom; it would not have surprised Julie had Doneus rung the bell for service, so at home did he seem here. However, he told her to sit down while he went to bring the food from the kitchen. She felt so very strange sitting here, preparing to use the owner's lovely silver and china, and to eat his food. But Julie supposed food had to be bought by the servants for their own use, and one meal more or less would not make any difference.

  They ate barbouni followed by sticky pastries, dripping with honey, and they drank kokkinelli, which was the island's own rendering of retsina, and far more delicious than the white wine which they usually drank when they dined with Tracy and Michalis. It was more rare than
the ordinary retsina, Doneus told her when she remarked on its different flavour. She looked at him, wondering how he could dare to use his employer's rare wine.

  But in spite of her feeling of strangeness, and the vague sensation which was still making itself felt, Julie thoroughly enjoyed the meal. It was intimate and they chatted all the while, Doneus having dropped his cold manner, resuming the gentleness she had known on first coming to Kalymnos as his wife.

  "Would you like to see the gardens now?" he asked when their meal was finished. "Or do you want to go home?"

  "I'd love to see the gardens." She hesitated. "But if I'm keeping you from your work ... ?"

  "I have work to do, but I can spare another few minutes." He

  smiled at her and Julie readily responded.

  "Do you have to go to sea?" she was asking a short while later as they strolled in the grounds. "I mean - couldn't you have a permanent job here?"

  He cast her a sidelong glance and said, an odd inflection in his tone,

  "You'd rather I didn't go to sea?"

  "It's so dangerous -" She stopped, an almost irrepressible urge to tell him the truth sweeping through her. But she could not humble herself to that extent when she knew she would see only surprise on his face, and perhaps regret that he could not return her love.

  In any case, nothing she could do or say would prevent him from going to sea. It was his main source of livelihood, because the men were well paid; their poverty merely resulted from the seven months during which they were unemployed.

  "You are wondering if I might come back maimed?" Still that curious gaze, and Julie lowered her eyes, unwilling that he should read their expression.

  "It's possible, you know that. All the divers know it."

  "And if I am?" he queried sardonically, "are you afraid I might become an encumbrance to you? Have no fear," he went on, a harsh note creeping into his voice, "my mother cared for my father for many years, and she would do the same for me."

  Tears dragged at the backs of her eyes. Why did he have to speak to her like this? If only they could return to the relationship existing before, in her anger, she had uttered words so wounding to his pride that he could never bring himself to forgive her.