As he considered the years since all he’d loved had been taken from him, Alex realized he’d focused solely on the rebellion. Revenge and planning had been forefront in his thoughts. Few things had brought him pleasure as his interactions with Diana Snow had. He wondered why he hadn’t realized how lonely he’d become—or how single-minded.
That complicated woman with her gray eyes, tight hair, and straight posture had unlocked something inside him. It made perfect sense why a revolutionary remained unattached. Letting himself feel something distracted his mind, so with great effort, he pushed away the images of arched brows framing wide eyes and the curve of her full lips and focused on his duty as an emissary for the brotherhood.
Ahead, where the roads met, Dino and Themis lounged in the shade with another klepht, a man with thick brows and dark hair graying at his temples. As the pair approached, the men rose. Private Gerontis saluted.
“Thank you for waiting.” Alex held out a hand.
The klepht took it in a firm grip. “Lieutenant Markos,” he said. “Protopalikari to Kapetan Karahalios.”
The fact that the kapetan had sent his second-in-command was encouraging. Perhaps it was an indication that Kapetan Karahalios would be willing to hear Alex’s message.
Lieutenant Markos lifted his chin toward the road leading away from the sea. “The journey to Logastra camp will take two days. We must travel mostly by night, avoiding the main passes and roads. The route will keep us away from the Turks’ encampments, but do not expect it to be easy.” He glanced at Alex.
Alex blew out a breath, knowing the others did not consider him up to the rigors of the journey. He was quite obviously a man born and raised in a city, wearing peasant garb to fit in, not out of necessity.
In a crowded city, Alex could make snap decisions. Years of study had made him adept at languages and the art of military strategy, but when it came to trekking over rocky mountains, he was sadly ill prepared.
Disguising his educated speech and lack of actual battle experience was impossible, and Alex didn’t even try. No words would persuade them of his competency as well as his actions could. Adjusting the pack on his shoulder, he squinted up at the mountain range. He would just have to prove them wrong.
Lieutenant Markos nodded once, then started off.
Not another word was spoken for hours. Alex followed the lieutenant over goat paths, through thorny thickets, down deep gorges, and up steep hillsides. The pace was strenuous, and he could hear the men behind him breathing heavily. He knew he was being tested.
To distract his mind, he studied the man in front of him, specifically his uniform. He’d heard of the klepht’s thick woolen kilts, carefully pleated four hundred times to represent the years of Turkish rule. He noted the sturdy clogs with the toe curled to a point covered with a black, fluffy ball. The sleeves of the lieutenant’s shirt flowed as he walked, and his stockings were held up by braided, black-tassled knee garters. Beneath an embroidered vest, a wide black sash wrapped around his waist. A red headpiece with a tassel completed the uniform. Alex was certain the man would consider the comparison of his hat with a Turkish fez to be the greatest of insults.
Lieutenant Markos stepped sure-footed over the rocky landscape. The uniform was a source of great pride, even though Alex had heard other Europeans make jokes about warriors wearing skirts, pom-poms, and billowing sleeves. Those same people would eat their words if they witnessed the descendants of Sparta in battle. Even the sultan’s elite corps of Janissaries feared the klephts, regardless of their eccentric clothes.
Alex pulled a kerchief from his pack and wiped at the sweat on his face and neck, wishing one of the other men would complain. He would walk until his legs gave out before he asked to rest.
In spite of the breeze blowing from the canyons, sweat rolled from Alex’s forehead and dripped from his jaw. He let his gaze travel over the vista. Dark pines covered the mountains above, and below, olive groves and farmland spread over the valleys. Though he was exhausted and aching, he could not help but appreciate the beauty that surrounded him. Bright flowers bloomed from rockrose bushes, and cacti with their pink blossoms provided bursts of color on the drab landscape. He knew brown bears and gray wolves lived in the Taygetos Mountains, but birds, lizards, and the occasional tortoise were the only wildlife they encountered.
The group stopped at a stream, and the private filled a water skin, offering the others a drink before they continued. Alex’s relief at the respite was short lived when his sore legs discovered that beginning again after a rest was more painful than the nonstop climbing. After a few hours, darkness fell, but the lieutenant did not slow his pace.
Alex watched the moon rise higher in the sky. This time of month, it was shaped like a lemon. Not full enough to provide much light but waxing. The return journey would be brighter.
In the darkness, Alex’s senses heightened, as did his anxiety. The steep hills with their crevices and shadows seemed much more perilous without the benefit of sunlight. He listened for wild animals and enemies but could only hear the chirps and buzzing of insects, footsteps on gravel, and the grunts of his companions, indicating that he was not the only one to feel the strain of the exertion. His legs and lungs burned. He sensed the others waiting for him to complain that the journey was too difficult. He would not.
Though his throat was dry and his feet begged for relief, he pushed onward, distracting himself by reciting the Great Oath of the Filiki Eteria in his mind—the pledge to his fatherland, the sacred and suffering country of Greece, the same pledge he’d taught to Petrobey Mavromichalis only a few days earlier as he’d been initiated into the brotherhood. Alex had sworn to consecrate himself fully to the cause of liberty, and if the price was a few blisters and sore muscles, he would gratefully pay it.
They climbed higher into the mountains, and Alex occasionally caught the scent of wild thyme, lavender, or mint. The familiar smells somehow provided comfort in the darkness. A few times, he caught himself as his head bobbed forward; he’d had no idea a man could feel so tired or fall asleep while walking.
When the sky finally began to lighten, Lieutenant Markos called a halt.
Alex sank to the ground, leaning back against a tree trunk.
Private Gerontis distributed dry mutton and hard biscuits, and the men washed down the scant meal with a drink from the water skin.
By the time they’d finished, the sun had risen, and they could see clearly. Alex’s eyes shut on their own; he shook his head to stay awake. He thought every bone and muscle and fiber in his body must ache.
Lieutenant Markos lifted the firearm strap from his shoulder. “Private Gerontis will take first watch, and I the second.”
“I—” Dino began, but his words were cut off when the lieutenant shook his head.
“I will not trust my life to a man I do not know. No offense meant.” Lieutenant Markos lay on the ground and within seconds breathed deeply.
Dino and Themis exchanged a look. Without a word, Dino rose and joined the private on his sentry duty.
Themis glanced at Alex. “Sleep. We will keep you safe.” His words were at odds with his tone. He meant them as an insult.
Alex bristled at his patronizing manner. “I will take a turn.”
Themis blew out a puff of air. “Petrobey trusts you, but I do not. You have come to raise trouble where none exists.” His mouth was tight and eyes squinted as he spoke. “My people are happy. We are safe, but you seek to get men killed. I am loyal to my clan, not to a stranger from Constantinople.” Themis’s brows lifted in the center, the smallest movement that an untrained man would have missed, but the quick flash spoke volumes to Alex. The man was afraid.
“You will not always be safe.” Alex spoke calmly, not returning the man’s angry tone. He lifted his chin toward the sleeping man. “The klepht, he leads us over secret paths, avoiding the roads. He fears the Turks. Here. Not twenty miles from Limeni.” Alex rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. “You will not alwa
ys be safe,” he repeated. “The Mani will not always be free.”
Themis looked at Lieutenant Markos and then turned his eyes to the mountains above them. “It is easy for a man with no family to sentence other men to death.”
“I realize your sacrifice.”
“You realize nothing. You command others to fight but are not willing yourself.”
Themis’s words were spoken out of fear, but the knowledge did little to reassure Alex. The remark smacked of truth. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree as bands of guilt tightened around his conscience. He was not a warrior but a planner, a strategist, a leader. Although his training did include combat, his experience was not enough to survive a clash with the Janissaries. His skills were better employed as a gatherer of intelligence. If he were to be completely honest, Alex did not intend to lift a sword in the conflict. Was he also a coward?
“Do not sleep beneath the fig tree,” Themis said as he stretched out on the ground. “The shadow is heavy and will bring evil dreams.”
Alex glanced up at the tree and moved without question. The conversation had given him plenty to consider, but the moment he lay his head on the ground, he sank into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
He awoke in the early afternoon to the sound of men’s voices.
“At last you are awake,” Themis sneered.
Alex rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to work the stiffness from his muscles. Simply the action of rising to a sitting position made his legs feel as though they had been filled with burning coals.
Private Gerontis offered the water skin, and Alex washed the cottony taste of sleep from his mouth, then gnawed on dry mutton and biscuits as he wondered if his body would possibly obey him after the ordeal he’d put it through the day before.
He rose shakily to his feet and grasped onto a branch of the fig tree when his legs threatened to give out.
The lieutenant shouldered his pack and his weapon and started off. Alex followed behind, pushing the stiffness from his joints with each step.
They would reach Logastra Training Camp sometime that night. He thought over Themis’s words and considered how to approach Kapetan Karahalios.
During his time in the Mani, Alex had met with various clan leaders who had been convinced easily with the support of the bey. But what about the legendary kapetan? After the tragic death of Kapetan Zaharias Barbitsiotis, Kapetan Karahalios had become one of the most influential leaders of the klephts. Would he be convinced? Or would he only respect a true warrior?
The day was much the same as the one before. Alex walked until he could not remember a time when his legs hadn’t burned and he’d not been covered with sweat. When darkness fell, he hardly noticed.
Lieutenant Markos stopped suddenly, and Alex cast his eyes around, looking for danger. He’d heard nothing. Glancing back, he saw Dino and Themis cock their heads to the side, listening.
The lieutenant hooted loudly, the perfect imitation of an owl. Another hoot sounded from farther up the hill. Lieutenant Markos continued forward. Moments later, a group of klephts surrounded them, seeming to melt from the shadows. They were joined by a man with a torch who saluted when he saw the lieutenant.
They crested the top of a hill, and Lieutenant Markos stopped. “Logastra Training Camp.” He spread his hand, indicating a wide valley, high in the mountains. Hills surrounded all sides. The floor of the valley was dark, but Alex could make out the shapes of tents and wide-open spaces he assumed were for drilling.
Alex followed the lieutenant to the bottom of the hill and across the dark valley. When the circle of light reached the edge of the valley, it expanded and changed. Alex blinked, his groggy mind trying to understand what he was seeing, but a few more steps revealed that the torchbearer had entered a cave. The light shone off the walls, casting strange shadows.
Stepping into the cave, he immediately felt the drop in temperature, and the smell of stale water assaulted his nose. The air felt damp. He looked around, but the small bit of torchlight gave only the impression of a living area. A few men lay on sleeping mats, and he saw a table surrounded by mismatched chairs.
The lieutenant motioned him forward, and Alex strained his eyes, trying to see the walls of the cave, but ahead was only darkness. Somehow, he could feel that the cave was much larger than the area he was standing in—perhaps it was because the air did not feel compressed or the small noises did not echo back quickly. He wasn’t sure, and his mind was not alert enough to consider how one senses the size of underground dwellings. Following Lieutenant Markos’s instruction, he lay on a sleeping mat, and for the second night in a row, his thoughts dropped away as he slipped into a deep pool of blackness.
Chapter 10
“Missno. Wake up.”
Diana shook her head to clear away the mugginess of sleep. She glanced at the window. The night was full dark.
“Stella comes today,” Elena whispered.
Diana held in a groan. She could not be angry at the lost hours of sleep, not when Elena was so excited. She knew most of the young girl’s time was occupied by chores, as she bore the responsibility of her family’s household. Diana could not remember the last time she had anticipated anything the way Elena anticipated a day with her cousin.
She rose, and they dressed quietly, hurrying down the stairs to complete the morning chores. Each noise they made sounded even louder as they tried to keep silent. Elena bumped into the table, sending pears tumbling from their bowl, and the young ladies scurried to catch the rolling fruit before it fell to the ground and bruised.
Neither could hold back their giggles. Diana pressed her hands to her mouth and saw Elena doing the same.
Once they were able to keep their laughter in check, they began to prepare breakfast. Elena pounded down the rising dough and shaped it into a loaf while Diana started a fire in the lower part of the brick oven. They whispered as they prepared lunches for the boys. Diana felt like a coconspirator as she put the pears Elena handed her into a knapsack. This must be what it is like to have a sister. The thought burst into her mind, and she froze, realizing how much she loved her relationship with Elena and how much she would miss it. This arrangement would not last forever. And then what? Neither the orphanage, nor the finishing school had ever felt as much like a home as did this house in Tsímova. For the first time, Diana felt as though she belonged. She felt as though she were part of a family. And she felt the force of her longing wash over her so intensely that it overwhelmed her. She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. This was not her family. It was a fantasy. One that would only result in pain when it ended. The more she allowed Sophia’s family into her heart, the more it would hurt when she was forced to leave.
“Missno?”
Diana looked down at the pear in her outstretched hand. A moment passed before she remembered why she was holding it. She slipped it into the sack. “My mind wandered,” she said to Elena, trying to force herself to smile. “It must be tired.”
She took a deep breath and lifted a stack of thick stoneware plates from the shelf, setting them on the table. She placed a cup beside each plate with the handle facing outward, then a spoon beneath the cup, spacing each object precisely from the edge of the table and ensuring they were an equal distance from one another. Each motion calmed her until she was able to bring her emotions under control, make them small, lock them away, and then feel nothing.
She turned to Elena, folding her hands in front of her waist, as she should, waiting to be assigned a task.
Elena’s head tipped the slightest bit, and Diana could see her wondering what had changed. But after a pause, she smiled and pointed toward the door. “Do you think the goats will be more surprised to be awoken early? Or the chickens?”
An hour and a half later, the boys finished breakfast and left for their duties. Diana and Elena wiped off the wooden table, cleaned the dishes, then walked out into the garden.
Elena stood at the wall befo
re her house and looked down the road toward Limeni. “When will she be here?” she complained. “I wanted Stella to arrive early so we would have the entire day together.”
Diana crossed the garden and joined her, leaning forward to look up the road. With surprise, she found herself hoping to catch a glimpse of Alexandros Metaxas. She pulled herself back, feeling her face grow warm. She glanced at Elena, grateful the girl couldn’t read her thoughts.
Three days had passed since he had departed in the company of the klepht, and Diana had found herself wondering about his journey. He’d said he would be away for a few days, visiting with the klepht kapetan. He was no doubt offering firearms to the bandits as he had done for the Maniots. Knowing that his career involved selling weapons illegally made Diana’s insides feel heavy. Alexandros was not in the least honorable, and it was a good lesson to her. A wolf could wear sheep’s clothing and appear to all the world to be a handsome, polite, and even kindhearted gentleman, but appearances were deceptive. She mustn’t allow herself to be deceived.
This morning has been filled with unregulated insights, she thought. I shall attribute my wandering meditations to a lack of sleep.
“She is coming!” Elena’s cry jolted her from her thoughts.
Diana smiled as the girl ran to meet Stella and her brother Kyros.
When they reached the garden gate, Stella greeted Diana and hurried into the house with Elena. Kyros shook his head as he watched the girls enter the house. “I do not envy you today.” He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I predict that you and Sophia will suffer from enormous headaches before an hour has passed.”
Diana shook her head. “I was a teacher at a school for young ladies. It will take more than two chattering cousins to make my head ache.”
“You are a stronger person than I, Missno.” His heavy eyelids made his face look sullen.
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