A Place For Miss Snow

by Moore, Jennifer

  She tore another strip from her head scarf and tied it close to the road, where it would be seen, then hurried on. She’d glimpsed the horses ahead of her a few times when she’d rounded a bend too quickly, but so far, she had managed to avoid detection.

  Diana was not an expert on military practices, but she did not think the Turks were behaving as if they were afraid that anyone would threaten them. They had not noticed an untrained person following them, and there did not seem to be any scouts or lookouts. The fact that they didn’t appear to care whether or not they were seen made her grind her teeth in anger. The Greek people had tolerated the Turkish control and arrogance long enough. And the practice of collecting children had to end.

  She saw that farther ahead the road curved back around and decided climbing over the rocky hill would give her a better view. She would at least be able to see the children.

  Her weeks of gathering firewood and delivering luncheon to the goat tenders had hardened her hands and firmed her leg muscles, so she climbed, sure footed, over the rough rocks and dusty earth. She did not even wince as she pushed aside a prickly bush that would have scratched the soft hands of a finishing school instructor.

  She slipped once on loose rocks and banged her knee but quickly continued scrambling upward. When she reached the top of the hill, she stayed in a low crouch and crept forward, ducking behind a boulder where she could see the road.

  The men rode silently, leading the bound children behind. The only noise was an occasional whimper or cough from the dust the horses kicked up.

  Diana wished she could catch Elena’s attention and let her know she hadn’t been abandoned, but she knew the attempt wasn’t worth the risk of discovery. The curly-mustached man with the feather in his turban called a halt. He did not even glance back at the rest of his group as he drank from his water skin.

  Another man slid off his horse and held a water skin to each child’s mouth. Once they’d all drunk, he reached out his hand with the palm down and lowered it, indicating for them to sit. They would rest.

  Diana looked farther up the road, but it curved around the steep hills, and she could not see much.

  An idea came to her, and she scrambled through the hills in the direction of the road. When she came to it, she glanced back, but the company was still hidden. She did not know how long she would have before their rest ended and they came upon her, and so she ran down the road ahead of them, searching for a cactus plant.

  She finally spotted one and climbed the hill to reach it. Using Father Yianni’s blade, she sliced off a pad and carefully broke off the needles. With the point of the knife, she carved into the flat pad, each cut standing out darker and moist against the green background. When she finished, she held it at arm’s length and scrutinized her work, hoping the letters were large enough to be seen from a distance.

  She hurried back to the road, tore a strip from her head scarf, then tied it to a branch she hoped would be too low for a man on horseback to notice. She placed the cactus pad beneath it with the words facing the road.

  Μη ϕοβησου. Mi fovisou—do not fear.

  Diana glanced back at the message once more and hurried up the hill, finding a hiding spot where she could watch the group pass by undetected.

  She did not have to wait long before she saw the man with the yellow feather riding in the lead with his men following. The children were pulled behind.

  Her heart felt like it was breaking as she watched them march by. The children seemed so small in the wake of the large animals. Discouragement, fear, and hopelessness showed in the slump of their young shoulders and the emptiness of their eyes. Diana pressed her hand over her mouth, worried she would make a sound and reveal herself.

  Elena walked with the others, her head down. When she neared the spot with the message, her pace slowed, and she stared hard at the side of the road, and then she stopped completely.

  The man leading her jerked on the rope, pulling her forward, but the difference in Elena’s mood showed in her bearing. She walked quickly, her head up. Her eyes scanned the hillside as she looked all around. She’d known the message was for her.

  Diana was glad she’d given the girl hope. She knew Elena would pass the word to the other children that they were not given up on.

  She did not move from her hiding spot until the party was well ahead down the road. She moved now with a light heart. The Maniot men would follow her trail and arrive soon—they could not be more than an hour or so behind. She felt a bit frightened at what would transpire once they arrived, but the safety of Elena and the others was the priority, and she was certain the men coming to their rescue felt the same.

  As she continued onward, she wondered if Alex would be with the men. Of course he would. He cared about the children too. A feeling of worry squirmed in her middle as she imagined him fighting the man with the feather in his turban. The Turk carried a large sword. Did Alex know how to fight? Would he be injured?

  She paused where the road branched to tie another strip of fabric. Breathing calmly, she forced her worry away. There was no use in fretting about things she had no control over, especially those things that may not come to pass. For all she knew, Alex’s ship had arrived, and he was on his way to Corfu this moment. But she knew the thought was silly. He would not leave without telling her. She was certain of it, although she could not say how she knew. Even though they had hardly put words to their feelings, his heart was connected to hers. And if he left now, without a farewell, they would both feel as though they’d left business unfinished.

  Diana stopped short when she rounded a bend and saw the sea before her. She realized the road had brought her atop cliffs that surrounded a cove beneath. She hid behind a large rock and watched as the horses carefully made their way downward on a path.

  Lying on her stomach, she scooted forward and watched the company pass on a winding path beneath her that led down to the beach. She slid back away from the edge and searched for a location where she could observe the harbor below undetected.

  Staying far enough away to avoid being seen, she followed the curve of the shore around until she reached a cluster of bushes. She scooted closer and saw that the Turks seemed to be setting up a camp on the other side of the harbor, near where they had descended. They stayed back against the rocks, and she wondered if the sea rose during the night, covering more of the beach.

  Down below, the horses were led to a nook where two large rocks met. A fence of crooked branches that looked as though it was constructed hastily kept them penned.

  The children were taken to another recess, surrounded on three sides by rock face that was nearly fifteen feet high and far too steep to climb. Not that it was even an option with their hands still bound.

  One Turk sat on a rock near the opening to the children’s area, but he didn’t look overly concerned that they would attempt to escape.

  The other men rested on the beach in the shade of the rocks. A few gathered driftwood and branches that Diana thought they would use for a fire. She wondered how long they would stay in this harbor. The noon hour was long past, and surely they would remain at least for the night.

  She took a chance and moved closer to the lip of the overhang, looking for other paths down to the beach. She saw a few breaks in the rock where she thought a person could lower themselves if absolutely necessary, but she did not think it would be easy to climb back up. Possible, perhaps, but not for a group. The pathway the horsemen had taken seemed the surest escape.

  She returned to the place where the road ended and the path began to descend. As she neared, she spotted a structure a bit farther along the cliff. She crept over the rocky ground and discovered an old stone church. She glanced around then entered through the opening where a door must have been at one time.

  The sunlight hardly penetrated the interior. She studied the dim room. Soot stains covered the ceiling, and instead of windows, there were uneven spaces high up on the walls where it looked as though rocks we
re missing. In the center of the floor was a large rectangular column turned on its side. She wondered if it was a remnant from an ancient structure. Lying on the broken column was an old wooden ikon. Even though it was weatherworn, she still recognized the image of Jesus. Beside it were small bundles of dried flowers and a few burned candles. The church must still be used.

  At the base of the crude altar, she found a tinderbox among rocks and shoots of grass, and thinking of the dripping candles in the Tsímova church, she lit a candle and murmured a short prayer under her breath. She thought of Father Yianni’s blessing and knew he would pray for her and for the success of the rescue mission. Divine assistance would certainly be welcome.

  She stepped outside feeling lighter. The children were safe, and soon enough help would arrive. She’d done what she’d hoped to and now had only to wait for the men.

  When she turned toward the harbor, terror jolted through her, making her knees weak. She sank onto the cliff and tried to stop the tremors that shook her body.

  A ship was sailing into the harbor. A Turkish ship. And the Maniots had still not arrived. If the Turks boarded the ship, they could sail away with the children and any chance of rescuing them would be lost.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, and for a moment she lost herself to panic. She pressed her fists against her temples and bent forward until her forehead rested on the rocks. Father Yianni’s words came into her mind. You will be of no help to anyone if you act rashly. She shoved away her fear, breathing steadily, and waiting for her heart to calm. Once her mind was clear, she thought of a plan. Not a good plan, but a plan, nonetheless.

  Diana stood and let the sound of the waves calm her for a moment as she watched the ship drawing near. She hurried into the church ruin and took the tinderbox, praying for forgiveness as she ran back to the road and found a cactus plant. She sliced off a pad and broke off the needles while she climbed through the scraggy brush toward the rocky overhang above the children.

  With shaking hands, she carved a message for Elena: Οταν σηµα, τρεχετε προς εκκλησια. At the signal, run to the church.

  She prayed the children had seen the building on the cliff. Using the last shred of her head scarf, she wrapped the message and the knife, tying them together into a tight bundle. She scooted forward on her belly. A clump of foliage offered some concealment, but she knew it would draw attention if the bushes started moving. She carefully slid around the scratchy branches, stirring them the smallest bit as she scooted toward the edge. Her pulse thundered. So many things could go wrong: if she was seen, if Elena did not find the message, if someone else did find the message, if the children were taken into the ship . . . But Diana was the children’s only chance, and she had no other choice.

  She peeked over the edge. Elena and the others were directly beneath her.

  Spiros sat against a rocky wall, staring toward the sea with his sister sleeping against his shoulder. Elena and Stella huddled together, their bound hands clinging to each other, and three boys stretched out, sleeping on the sand. She looked toward the beach and saw the Turk at the entrance to the alcove. He glanced occasionally toward the children, but his attention was on the ship.

  Slowly, Diana slid to the side until she was directly above Elena. She did not dare to drop the bundle while the man was so close. Even if he wasn’t looking directly at them, he would surely see the movement from the side of his vision.

  Diana remained still and waited, but urgency took hold of her as the ship neared. She bowed down her head and offered a prayer, knowing that Father Yianni and the mothers of Tsímova were doing the same. When she looked back, the man stood, stretched his back, and walked a short distance away. He turned toward the cliff wall and—

  Diana pulled away her gaze, horrified that she’d seen him performing a task of a personal nature. Knowing she only had until he finished, she scooted forward, and dropped the bundle, praying that it would not hit Elena in the head.

  It bounced off the girl’s leg, and she let out a cry of surprise, then hurried to snatch it.

  Diana slid back, lying down her cheek against the rocks as her heartbeat slowed.

  The man completed his business and walked back toward the mouth of the alcove, resuming his seat on the rock.

  Diana did not stay any longer. She’d risked enough by getting so close, and if she was to set her plan into action, she needed to move quickly.

  Chapter 21

  Alex paced, footsteps clicking on the flagstone of the town square. His nervous energy made it impossible for him to remain still. He glanced to the closed doors of the church where Petrobey and Sebastianos Sássaris were meeting with Father Yianni. What was taking so long? Didn’t the men know precious time was slipping away?

  Every instinct screamed at him to run after Diana, to snatch her away and take her somewhere safe, but he knew she would not forgive him for such an action. He needed to wait and plan the rescue mission with the Maniots, or her brave undertaking would be for nothing.

  He snatched at a bush that hung over a wall of the churchyard and shredded the leaves as he marched back and forth.

  The men of the families stood in two distinct groups, muttering and glaring at each other. The air hung heavy between them, and the feuding Maniots were armed to the teeth with sabers and guns. Other men of the village kept to the edges of the square, glancing between the Mavromichalis and Sássaris families with nervous expressions.

  Finally the doors opened, and Father Yianni stepped out, followed by the patriarchs of the two families.

  “An agreement has been reached,” the priest said. “A treva. The vendetta between the Mavromichalis and Sássaris families is ended.”

  Petrobey stepped forward. “Our clans will band together now against the true enemy. With our combined strength, we will be more than a match for the child stealers.” He motioned to Argos for his rifle, and grabbing onto the stock, he hefted it above his head. “Let us show the Turks that the Maniots will not be trod upon.”

  “How do we proceed?” Sebastianos asked. The leader of the Sássaris clan was much older than Petrobey. He appeared wrinkled and thin, but his voice was strong. Alex noticed the intelligence in his eyes and saw cruel lines around his mouth. Instinct warned him that Sebastianos would make a deadly enemy. Luckily, the Mavromichaleis could now call the man and his clan allies, and neither family would betray their honor by striking against the other now that a treva was in place.

  Father Yianni stood tall, and Alex was again reminded that this was not only a man of the church but a son of the harsh Mani land. “The Turks will not attempt to pass through the mountains. Aside from the threat of the klephts, the journey would be too difficult for both horses and children.” He scowled. “They will leave the Mani by sea.”

  “They headed south,” Petrobey said. “Perhaps to Dyros or another uninhabited bay.”

  Father Yianni raised his chin in a southerly direction. “The woman, Missno, followed them to mark a path.”

  A few men raised their brows and muttered exclamations of surprise at this declaration. A surge of pride swelled in Alex’s chest, and he kept his gaze turned downward until he could school his expression.

  “We have only a few hours of daylight.” Petrobey shouldered his rifle and without another word started off. He walked with brisk steps.

  The men of Tsímova followed.

  Alex walked behind Dino and Themis, following Petrobey’s steady pace along the road from the village. He typically went about his business for the Filiki Eteria secretively, hiding in the shadows, passing messages, blending into a crowded room as he listened for information. The lifestyle was lonely, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the camaraderie of marching with a group of men, all dedicated to the same goal. He glanced back at the Maniots filling the road behind him and felt a satisfaction when he thought that if all went well, someday soon, these same men would march across his beloved country and drive out the invaders.

  Petrobey paused
at a crossroads, glancing in each direction.

  Dino pointed to a scrap of yellow fabric tied to a branch. “This way.”

  The swell Alex had felt earlier returned and an urgency joined it. Diana had been here. She was close, and they must reach her. He must reach her.

  Feeling Dino’s gaze on him, he glanced to the side, realizing his sentiments were all too apparent. Dino only lifted a brow and turned his gaze back to the road.

  The men continued their march, and anytime any question arose as to which direction they should take, a strip torn from Diana’s head scarf indicated their route. As they followed the road in a curve around a high hill, Petrobey halted. He stepped to the side of the road and lifted a low bush. A fabric scrap was tied to a branch, but that wasn’t what he was looking at. He crouched down and picked up an object from the ground. He studied it, then motioned Alex toward him.

  Alex took the object from Petrobey’s extended hand. It appeared to be a piece of a cactus plant with words carved onto it. Do not fear.

  Understanding dawned on him. Diana had left this message here, beneath the marked plant, where Elena would see it. She’d risked being discovered by the Turks to comfort her friend. His throat squeezed, and his chest swelled. He lifted his gaze to Petrobey and saw emotion in the man’s eyes.

  It disappeared immediately, and Petrobey nodded toward the message. “Clever,” he said, and the ends of his mustache moved as his lips quirked, “and cheeky.”

  Petrobey realized Diana had acted out of compassion but also out of defiance, directly under the noses of the Turks. He met Alex’s gaze once more, then continued onward.

  Themis and Dino both inspected the cactus pad. Dino’s expression looked as close to a smile as Alex had ever seen. Themis handed it back without comment. As much as the man tried to hide his emotions, Alex could see that Themis was extremely close to falling apart. Over the hours of the march, Alex saw Themis’s brows waver, then his eyes tighten and his fists clench. He vacillated between anger and fear and the sort of desperation that Alex thought could make him dangerous. He would need to keep an eye on Themis. The man’s reckless nature could be a liability on this mission.