Andreas nodded. ‘You heard him last night. All arrogance and ignorance. I pity you, Peter, if there are many like him back in Germany. I’ve heard that National Socialism has become like a religion to your people.’
Peter could not deny it. Even before he had left to join his father he had seen the changes in his country. The removal of certain teachers at the gymnasium he had attended. The disappearance of selected books, music and even newspapers. And everywhere the relentless optimism of the converted. It did indeed have the appearance of religious fervour and he was half in awe of it, and half afraid. But there had still been plenty of relatives and friends of the family who had regarded the new regime with bemusement and quietly mocked their pompous salutes and fancy dress. It could not endure, they said. Yet Adolf Hitler and his followers seemed to be the darlings of fate. Success after success had fallen into their laps and nearly all Germany loved them for it. Maybe Heinrich Steiner was no different. Had it not been for his father’s devotion to his academic discipline, and insistence on sharing that with Peter, then perhaps he too would have been seduced by the promise of the thousand-year Reich.
‘Heinrich’s not so bad, when you get to know him,’ said Peter. ‘He works hard.’
‘So does our servant’s mule, but that alone is not enough in the company of others. He is a dullard. I can just see him pulling on one of those brown shirts and shining his boots the moment he returns to Germany.’
‘But you are the one who wants to put on a uniform and join the navy,’ Peter replied pointedly.
‘Ha!’ Eleni laughed. ‘He has you there, Andreas!’ Her laughter died away and she stared at him seriously. ‘Did you really mean it?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I thought you were teasing your father. I was certain of it.’
‘Then you were wrong.’
‘But why? Why do it?’
‘For the reasons I gave.’
‘But there are other ways to travel and see the world, Andreas.’
He shrugged. ‘But I love my country. We live in uncertain times, Eleni. I want to protect my country. My family . . . My friends. You.’
She gazed back at him for a moment, and then struck him lightly on the chest. ‘You’re teasing me!’
‘No.’
She shook her head in wonder and turned abruptly to Peter. ‘He’s mad. Tell him so.’
He wanted to agree, to spare him from any dangers that might befall Greece. It was a small country, on the fringes of diplomacy. Peter knew that well enough from the news he read from home. Yet if Andreas was to attend the academy of the Royal Hellenic Navy then he would be far removed from Eleni. Far enough and for long enough for Peter not to have to share her attentions should he one day return to Lefkas.
‘Andreas is right. It is the duty of everyone to protect their country. I would do the same if I were him.’
‘See?’ Andreas nudged her. ‘Peter understands.’
‘You’re both boys. What is there to understand? You all like uniforms and weapons and the idea of being brave. That’s all you think about . . . No. Not quite all.’ she concluded with a shy expression, then shot her hand out. ‘Look!’
Fifty metres ahead the sea churned and turned white and flashes of silver darted above the surface as a school of sardines was forced to the surface as they were hunted by larger, stronger fish. The three watched transfixed as the prey tried to escape amid the spray of violently disturbed water. Athena passed close by and Stavakis spared the spectacle a cursory glance as he steered with the tiller between his knees and opened his tobacco tin to roll another cigarette. Ahead, the long silhouette of Meganisi opened up before them. The sun had risen well above the mountains on the mainland and spread its warmth over the Ionian Sea. Stavakis eased the tiller to starboard a fraction as he altered course towards the channel between Meganisi and Lefkas. As he had anticipated, from the clearness of the sky, the air remained still and the water flat. The poet and his guests would have a fine day of it, the fisherman thought contentedly.
In front of the pilot house the three men had taken off their jackets to be more comfortable, and were sitting on the hold cover. They had finished their small talk and were enjoying the pleasure of being out at sea on such a fine day. At length Thesskoudis stirred and nodded towards their children.
‘It does a man’s heart good to see the youngsters so happy. It is truly a golden age to be. With everything to look forward to for the first time. Before experience begins to spoil the pleasure of it all.’
Katarides looked at him with a surprised expression. ‘My dear Inspector, I had no idea you had the melancholic soul of a poet.’
The other man shrugged. ‘We are no different, my friend. We feel the same about life, joy, sadness, beauty. Like all Greeks. The difference is you possess the skill to set it down in words. That is a gift I shall never have. While you write poetry, I write reports. I suppose both serve their purpose. Besides that, I have all that I could wish for in life. And I pray to God that my Eleni has the same.’
‘She’s a fine girl,’ said Katarides. ‘No. A fine young woman. I am sure you are proud of her.’
The policeman smiled self-indulgently and then, as Greeks do, he returned the compliment. ‘As you must be, about Andreas. A handsome lad. I know Eleni likes him, though she does not say so. But then, I am sure she is not the only girl in Lefkada who feels the same about him.’
Katarides stared at his son. The broad shoulders were hunched forward slightly as he sat wedged up against the girl, the fringe of his hair stirring in the air. ‘He reminds me of his mother. I see her in his face. Now he is all that is left of her, besides memories. If I lose him, I lose everything.’
‘Come now! There is no danger of that. He is strong and healthy.’
‘He is that. Just the kind of young man required by governments for their wars. And that makes me fearful.’
‘That is the kind of fear shared by all parents, in every age. That is life, my friend.’
‘But this age worries me.’
‘Why this more than any other?’
‘Dr Muller knows why.’
The German had been only half listening and now started and turned towards his companions. ‘What’s that? What do I know?’
Katarides smiled sadly. ‘I follow wider events as best I can. After all, I am invested in mankind. And what I see in your country concerns me, Herr Doktor. Your assistant is not untypical of those who support the new regime, is he?’
Muller thought briefly before he admitted. ‘No, he is not.’
‘As I thought. And it disturbs you. That is why you bury yourself down here in these islands. To escape what is happening in Germany.’
‘I am here because this is my work.’
‘That’s part of the reason.’
‘It is the only reason, I assure you.’
‘I am not convinced. Why else would you bring your son with you to live here? Are you trying to protect him, I wonder?’
Muller remained silent and eventually he looked down at his clasped hands. ‘It is true that I would rather not be party to what is happening at home. I do not want to be involved. Here, at least, I can do something useful and worthwhile. And remove Peter from the influence of those I disagree with.’
‘Like Heinrich?’
The German nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And yet you allow a Nazi sympathiser to work alongside you?’
Muller pulled a face. ‘I did not know about his politics when I chose him.’
‘I see.’ Katarides nodded. ‘Where does this all lead, my friend? Tell me, what do you really think of your country’s leader, and his followers?’
Muller breathed deeply and emptied his lungs in a sigh of resignation. ‘I fear they will lead Germany to a calamity which will destroy our nation, and more besides. I am convinced Hitler wants war. Everything points to it. Every mark spent on weapons, our children raised to behave like soldiers, every dissenting voice drowned out, or silenced. And everywhere, absol
ute insistence on blind obedience to the will of one man.’ He closed his eyes. ‘It is a nightmare that my people have embraced and made flesh in the light of day. There will be war . . . Again. There is an appetite for it amongst those who determine the fate of nations.’ He stopped, opened his eyes and looked up with a forced smile. ‘I am sorry, my friends. I did not mean to be so morose.’
‘There is no need to apologise.’ Katarides patted his hand. ‘I thank you for your honesty.’
‘Well, I hope you are wrong,’ said Thesskoudis. ‘I have more faith in our leaders. They will not let there be another war. I can’t believe that they would allow that. Besides, what can we do about it, eh? Let it not cloud our minds. Let us enjoy the day, and enjoy being with our children. They are too young to be troubled by the world they will inherit. So banish all thought of it, at least for today.’
The poet glanced at the German and arched an eyebrow.
‘For today then,’ Muller agreed and looked at the three young people sitting on the foredeck. ‘That much we can do for them.’
‘There.’ Stavakis pointed towards the limestone cliffs running along the south of Meganisi. His passengers turned to follow the direction the fisherman indicated and a moment later Peter glimpsed the dark opening in the grey rocks and grinned.
‘I see it!’
As the boat neared the cave they saw the wide limestone arch and the turquoise water stretching into the shadowed interior. Stavakis eased back on the throttle and chose a spot twenty metres from the mouth of the cave. Throwing the engine into neutral he came forward and ushered the youngsters off the foredeck so that he could open the lazarette and take out the anchor. Stavakis eased the anchor over the side and let the chain run through the steel guard posts. Then he released his grip and there was a splash and a roaring clatter as the anchor plunged down through the clear water into the depths. The fisherman let the chain run out and then a length of rope before cleating it tightly and stretching up and rubbing the small of his back. He returned to the rear of the boat and a moment later the engine died away and then the only sounds were the gentle lap of the sea against the base of the cliffs and the coarse cries of a pair of seagulls wheeling through the hot air above the island.
‘Is this as close as we can get?’ asked Muller. ‘Could we anchor inside the cave?’
Stavakis shook his head. ‘Too risky. There are some big rocks just below the surface. This is close enough. You can swim into the cave, if you like.’
‘Swim? I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’ asked Katarides, running a finger under his collar. ‘I need to cool off. Who else is coming? Thesskoudis?’
The policeman laughed and shook his head. ‘Not me. I can barely swim a stroke.’
Katarides looked forward. ‘And you three?’
‘I’ll go!’ said Eleni.
Thesskoudis turned to her. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, my girl. Hardly appropriate. Besides, you have no costume.’
‘I have brought costumes for us all,’ Katarides announced. ‘Eleni can wear one of those.’
‘I’m not sure I can allow her—’
‘Tshh! Nonsense. Why deprive the girl of the chance?’
‘What about the others?’ Thesskoudis asked, hoping that they would demur and discourage Eleni from entering the water.
‘I’ll go,’ Andreas announced and then Peter took up the challenge as well.
Katarides smiled. ‘It’s settled then.’
He stripped off his shirt, picked up the bag containing the costumes and towels and moved round behind the pilot house to strip and change. The boys joined him and then moved forward to allow Eleni the necessary privacy for her to put on her borrowed costume. She emerged in a blue and white striped bathing suit that Andreas had last worn a few years earlier, her hair tightly tied back with a thin ribbon. She stood before the others self-consciously as they looked at her.
‘It’s a bit big,’ she said, plucking at the loose cloth over her breasts. Peter glanced aside with embarrassment before he removed his glasses and carefully placed them on top of his small bundle of clothes.
Andreas cocked his head to one side. ‘You look good in that. Really.’
Katarides clapped his hands together. ‘So what are we waiting for? Let’s have a race. First one to that rock there, just inside the cave. Come.’
He clambered over the side and dropped clumsily into the sea with a big splash. He emerged an instant later flicking the water from his face as he reached up and clasped the side of the boat. Andreas climbed on to the foredeck and dived in, creating a neat circle of spray. Eleni and Peter followed the example of the poet and then all four were lined up against the hull, holding on.
‘Ready?’ Katarides asked, leaning out to look along the line. ‘Go!’
The four swimmers surged forward in a flurry of limbs and spray as they struck out for the wide opening of the cave. Both Katarides and his son swam regularly in the sea off Lefkada and soon took the lead. Peter did his best to keep up, kicking out furiously as his arms stroked through the water. As was to be expected in a culture that looked on the idea of women swimming with disdain, Eleni’s lack of experience caused her to lag behind, but she made a characteristically determined effort to do her best as she attempted to chase the others. On the boat the other men looked on with bemused expressions until Stavakis cleared his throat loudly and spat over the side.
Halfway to the rock Peter saw that he was closing on Andreas and his father and he drove himself on, desperate to prove himself in front of the others, and Eleni in particular. Ahead, Katarides was starting to fall behind his son and as they came within the last ten metres of the rock, Peter overtook the poet, with Andreas only a length in front. His Greek friend slowed and looked back, and then kicked hard, cutting across Peter in a final rush to the rock. He slapped the hard surface and gave an incoherent shout of triumph.
Peter reached out to the rock beside him, gasping for breath. Andreas’s father joined them.
‘You swim like fish, both of you.’
Andreas shook his head with a rueful expression. ‘You let me win . . . Like you always do.’
‘No, my son. Not any more . . . And where is Eleni?’
All three turned to see her splashing steadily towards them. Katarides spoke quietly over their laboured breathing. ‘She’s got great heart, that one. She has the making of a fine woman.’
With a final few strokes she joined them and clung to the rock as she caught her breath. ‘Who . . . won?’
‘Andreas,’ Peter replied. ‘Of course.’
He gestured beyond the rock. ‘Why, this cave is huge!’
The roof of the cave curved high above them and beyond the opening to the sea it stretched to the right, in a dog-leg. There was a small strip of sand at the far end, where the roof was at its lowest. Due to the gloom it was hard to judge the distance to the tiny beach.
‘Let’s swim over there.’ Peter suggested, then turned to Eleni who was still breathing heavily. ‘If you can manage it.’
She splashed some water in his face and immediately began to swim into the dim recess of the cave. Peter set off after her. The others watched them briefly before Andreas turned to his father.
‘Are you coming?’
‘No . . .’
There was something pained in his manner that caused Andreas to pause. ‘What’s the matter, Father?’
‘It’s nothing, really. I came here once before, with your mother. When I was only a few years older than you are.’
‘Oh.’
Katarides reached out and squeezed his son’s shoulder affectionately. ‘You go. I’ll wait here a moment and return to the boat.’
His son nodded and then eased himself away from the rock and swam after his friends. Katarides’s gaze followed him for a while and he felt the warm glow of paternal pride in his heart. There was an ache too. The very presence of Andreas always reminded him of the wife he had lost. He should not have agreed to retur
n here, he decided. The memory was too painful. He took a deep breath and headed back towards the boat, rocking very gently on the calm sea. Behind him the echoes of the splashes made by the youngsters echoed off the rock face.
As Peter neared the thin crescent of the beach he lowered his feet and found that he could easily touch the sandy bottom. He waded in until his chest rose from the surface and waited for Eleni to find her footing. Andreas was still some distance off.
‘I wonder how long this cave has been here,’ Peter mused. His thoughts flitted to the tales of ancient mythology he had been raised on. If the cave had existed in the age of Odysseus then maybe the king himself had known of it, or even come inside and stood in the same place where Peter was now. The thought thrilled him.
Eleni cupped a hand to her mouth and called out, ‘Cooieee!’
The cry came back to her, shrill and distorted, before it quickly died away. She grinned with pleasure. Peter smiled back and then attempted a yodel, laughing at the cacophony returned to him from the rocks. They experimented with some more noises while waiting for Andreas to join them and then all three waded through the shallows and slumped down on to the cool sand and gazed back down the length of the cave to where the sun shone in at a steep angle, turning the surface of the water into a glittering, shimmering spectacle whose reflections danced across the cave’s interior.
‘Quite beautiful,’ said Eleni.
‘Yes,’ Peter repeated, looking at her sidelong. ‘Very.’
She was aware that she was being watched and turned to him, a slight frown on her brow. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. Just thinking about this place. The people who have been here before us, all the way back to antiquity. I don’t know, it’s almost like there’s something of them still in the air.’
Andreas shrugged. ‘That’s the sort of thing my father would say. I like it well enough, but . . .’
‘But?’ Eleni nudged him.
‘It is just a cave.’
‘Just a cave. Have you no soul, Andreas Katarides?’ Eleni scolded him. ‘There is a magic here, if you would let yourself feel it. As Peter does.’
‘If I were younger, then maybe I would feel it. But I can’t afford to think like that when I enter the naval academy. I will have little time for sentiment.’
Hearts of Stone Page 8
