YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  ‘To work, now, all of you, to make up for the time we’ve spent.’

  Yannis spent the evening out in the yard washing the mud from his pottery. By the morning it would be dry and he would be able to look at it properly. He could already see there were a number of pieces that looked the same.

  Annita came out to him. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Washing the pottery I found.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You can see the differences between the pieces more easily,’ explained Yannis.

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘It would be better in the morning when they’re dry.’

  Annita looked at Yannis speculatively. Was he trying to avoid showing her?

  Yannis guessed her thoughts. ‘It’s quite simple, really.’ He held up a thick, buff coloured shard and a thin, dark red piece. ‘Those two could hardly come from the same pot.’ Annita was forced to agree with him. ‘It’s more difficult when they’re all the same colour.’

  Annita fingered a few. ‘I don’t see how you can tell if they’re old or not.’

  ‘It’s something to do with the way they’re made. I’m going to ask Mr Pavlakis if there is a book I can read that will tell me.’

  Annita shook her head – Yannis and his books! She changed the subject. ‘Wasn’t Andreas odd today?’

  ‘Odd? When?’

  ‘When he said a prayer for Aga. He made me feel, well, all goose-pimply and embarrassed, like the priest does when you know you’ve done something wrong and then he talks about the same thing in his sermon.’

  Yannis smiled. ‘I thought it was rather nice. He sounded so grown up. I couldn’t have done it. Can you put those pieces on the wall for me, please?’

  Annita placed the pieces haphazardly along the low wall.

  ‘Can’t you put them straight and in some sort of order,’ admonished her cousin, pushing buff ones away from the red.

  Annita sighed. Her brother was acting strangely and Yannis had become obsessed with pieces of broken pottery. Thank goodness for Maria. Having finished laying out the pieces to his satisfaction, she sat on the wall and watched as he rubbed the mud off the remaining shards he had found. There was a tiny “ping” in the bucket.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘A stone I expect.’

  ‘It didn’t sound like a stone.’

  Yannis began to grope amongst the mud at the bottom of the bucket, letting it run slowly through his fingers. He felt something hard settle in his hand and closed his fingers around it. When he withdrew his arm and opened his clenched fist there was a small, flat, circular piece of metal resting in his palm.

  ‘Annita!’ His voice was a hushed whisper. ‘It’s a coin.’

  ‘Let me see.’ Annita was suddenly excited.

  Yannis sat down beside her; his heart was racing. Annita scratched at the coin with her fingernail.

  ‘It’s so black you can’t see it properly.’ She turned the coin this way and that. ‘I think I can see a figure.’

  Yannis held out his hand and she returned it to him. He gazed at the round, black object with reverence and awe. ‘I know what I want to do,’ he said, somewhat shakily. ‘I want to go to University and then work with someone like Mr Evans and discover pottery and coins. That way I can find out about the past properly, not just by reading.’

  ‘What do you think your parents will say?’

  Yannis gave a grin. ‘Goodness knows, but it will stop Mamma keep trying to persuade me to be a doctor.’

  ‘A doctor?’ Annita’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why does she want you to be a doctor?’

  ‘So she can boast to all the villagers. Come on, it’s getting late. I’m going to ask Maria if I can put my coin in her needle-work box to keep it safe.’

  Mr Pavlakis arrived in Heraklion after his fortnight in Italy. He had been greatly impressed by the sights he had seen in Rome, vowing to return as soon as he had saved enough money. He decided to find some cheap lodgings for a few nights whilst he looked around for suitable rooms for Yannis and himself.

  He walked past the school where he was to teach. It looked small and dark, situated between high buildings at the back of the Venetian palace. He began to wonder if he had made the right decision. On reaching Eleftherias Square he entered a taverna and ordered an omelette, eating it slowly as he watched the people bustling by. He ordered a carafe of wine and invited the owner to join him, as he was their only customer.

  ‘You’re a stranger here?’

  ‘I’m coming to live here in September. I’m a teacher. Can you recommend anywhere I might find some lodgings?’ He flicked the offending lock of hair from his eyes.

  The taverna owner eyed him speculatively. ‘I might.’

  ‘I’d be very grateful.’ Mr Pavlakis watched as the man took a bill from his pad, licked the end of his stumpy pencil and wrote laboriously. ‘How do I get there?’

  The man waved his hand. ‘Follow the main road until you reach Vassileos Konstantinou and on to Kalokerinou. About half way down Kalokerinou there’s a turning, which takes you to the church of Ayios Minas. Go past the church until you reach Ferou Square. It’s a couple of streets down from there.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’ Mr Pavlakis offered him a cigarette for his trouble and paid his bill. As Mr Pavlakis crossed the road he spotted the museum. It was still early. He had time to visit the building before finding any lodgings. He gazed at the large glass cases, pottery on every shelf. Half assembled vessels had pride of place in the forefront, whilst behind them odd shards of pottery lay in untidy heaps. Each case was labelled in faded Greek characters, the information utterly useless. After the displays he had seen in Rome he was bitterly disappointed.

  He seemed to walk for a long while before the church of Ayios Minas came into view. From there it was only a short walk to Ferou Square, but then he became hopelessly lost in a maze of side streets and alleys. He looked around him in dismay.

  ‘Looking for company, dear?’ A woman emerged from a doorway and Mr Pavlakis recoiled from the touch of her hand on his arm.

  ‘No, no,’ he stuttered. ‘I’m looking for lodgings.’

  The woman’s eyes gleamed. ‘I could help you.’

  Mr Pavlakis shrank back from her in disgust. He turned and retraced his steps towards the church, her shrill abuse following him up the narrow road.

  He rounded the corner and almost bumped into a priest. ‘Excuse me, Father. Can you direct me, please? I’m looking for lodgings.’

  The priest looked perplexed. The man was decently dressed and well spoken. He would have to be desperate for a roof over his head and have very little money to be looking in such an area.

  “I could not recommend anything around here. I suggest you return to the main road and ask at the tavernas. One of them may have a room for the night.’

  ‘Thank you for your help.’ Mr Pavlakis retraced his steps up the cobbled road.

  On reaching the main road he looked right and left. If he went right he would return to Eleftherias Square, if he went left he would gradually reach the outskirts of the town. He crossed the main road and took the first right turn that presented itself. Within a few minutes he found he was alone, away from the crowds of the main road and looking at the blank, impersonal facades of buildings he gauged to be offices. Each street and alley Mr Pavlakis came to appeared to be residential now, and he came to the conclusion that he would have to return to the Square. He had no clear idea of where he was at all as he twisted and turned through side streets and it was with a feeling of relief that he saw a dim light in the distance.

  Mr Pavlakis pushed open the door of the small taverna and took a seat. He looked at the menu written on a blackboard above the counter and decided he would have peppers, stuffed with a mixture of goat meat and herbs.

  ‘Yes?’ Before him stood a young girl, her dark, limpid gaze fixed on him.

  The words stuck in his throat and he swallowed hard as hi
s hand went to his forehead to smooth back the lock of hair. ‘Stuffed peppers, please, and wine.’

  Whilst he sipped his wine he watched her covertly. The brown hands, with long, slim fingers, worked deftly and she soon approached with a loaded tray, which she balanced expertly whilst transferring the dishes to the table. Mr Pavlakis smiled at her and she smiled back, showing a set of perfect white teeth. As she walked back to the counter he watched the sway of her hips and felt the blood quickening in his veins. He dragged his eyes from her and began to eat slowly. In between each mouthful he shot a glance in her direction. He hoped her father or mother would not come in and send her away. He tried to calculate her age, but found it useless. He gave himself a little shake and tried to concentrate on his meal. She passed close to him to clear away his dirty plates and her perfume lingered after her.

  ‘May I have some coffee, please?’ Any excuse for her to be close to him again.

  ‘Certainly.’ She deposited the tray on the counter and quickly returned with a cup of coffee and a glass of water.

  ‘Please, may I speak to you for a moment.’ He remembered the object of his visit.

  A flicker of amusement showed in her dark eyes. ‘For a moment. I am busy.’

  He nodded. ‘Quite. I understand. I have worked in a taverna myself.’ She looked surprised and he continued. ‘I’m a school teacher by profession, but I have worked in a taverna in the evenings.’

  Suspicion took the place of surprise. ‘We have no work here.’

  ‘No, please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not looking for work. I’m coming to Heraklion in September to teach at the school behind the Venetian palace. I wondered if you knew of any rooms to let?’

  She relaxed visibly. ‘I could ask for you.’

  ‘Would you?’ Mr Pavlakis was genuinely surprised and grateful. ‘I would prefer two rooms. I’m bringing a young student with me. He’s going to the High School.’

  The girl nodded. ‘I’ll ask.’

  ‘Would you know of a room I could rent for tonight?”

  ‘We have one.”

  Mr Pavlakis’s heart leapt, but before he had a chance to speak the door opened and a slight young man entered. The girl smiled a greeting to him and indicated with her head that she wanted him. He crossed to the counter and placed an arm about her waist. Their heads were close together and he guessed she was talking about him. The young man turned and inspected Mr Pavlakis, then they both approached his table. This time she pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. Mr Pavlakis caught his breath. She was incredibly beautiful.

  ‘This is my brother, Pavlos.’

  ‘Brother, brother, brother’ the word seemed to hammer into his brain as Pavlos shook the man’s hand.

  ‘My sister says you are looking for rooms. We have some to rent.’

  Yiorgo Pavlakis could hardly believe it. ‘You are too kind. What can I say?’

  ‘When would you want the rooms?’

  ‘One for tonight, maybe longer, and two in September. I shall be working in Heraklion and I’m bringing a young student with me. He’s going to the High School and I promised his parents I would find him some lodgings and keep an eye on him. I can pay a retaining fee, if the rooms are suitable, of course.’

  ‘Louisa, show our guest the rooms we have available.’

  Louisa led the way up the stairs. She pointed to the first two doors. ‘My brother’s room and mine.’ She opened the two opposite doors. ‘These would be yours.’

  Mr Pavlakis looked at the clean rooms. In an alcove stood a washstand with a mirror above and on the opposite wall was the bed. A rag rug covered most of the floor and beneath the window was a table and chair, there was also a chest for clothes and some open shelves.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ he declared. ‘How much do you charge?’

  Pavlos calculated rapidly. ‘Shall we say sixteen drachmas a week each? That would include your meals and laundry.’

  Mr Pavlakis was elated. ‘I’ll pay.’ He had a desire to shout for joy. He would be under the same roof as the girl he thought was the most beautiful he had ever seen and the rooms were ideal.

  On returning to the taverna Louisa brought wine for the men, but not a glass for herself. ‘I must go to bed,’ she explained. ‘I have to be up early tomorrow. Goodnight, sir.’

  Mr Pavlakis held her hand. ‘Please, call me Yiorgo.’

  Louisa inclined her head slightly. ‘Very well; goodnight, Yiorgo.’

  Yiorgo Pavlakis realised how very tired he was. ‘I must go to bed also. I’ve had a very tiring day, and I was travelling most of last night. I am most grateful to you. I had thought Heraklion a most unfriendly place until I met you and your sister.’

  Pavlos grinned. ‘When you come to stay here you’ll meet many more people and they’ll all be friendly.’

  ‘Thank you, my friend.’ Mr Pavlakis clasped Pavlos’ hand. ‘I shall never forget your kindness to me.’

  ‘It was nothing. Goodnight, Yiorgo.’ Pavlos watched as the man climbed the stairs, then bolted the door firmly, a pleased smile on his face. He ran up the stairs and knocked on Louisa’s door before entering.

  ‘That was a good evening’s work.’ He said quietly. ‘You might have to be a bit careful when you use your room, but they’ll be out most of the day.’ He took his sister’s chin between his hard fingers, turning her face towards him. ‘And you don’t approach him. He’s our bread and butter. We don’t want to lose him.’

  Louisa knocked his hand away. ‘I know how to be discreet.’

  When Mr Pavlakis rose he found only Pavlos down in the taverna. Mr Pavlakis looked around. He must not appear too eager. ‘Where is Louisa? I hoped I might get some coffee.’

  ‘She needed to go shopping. I’ll get it for you.’ Pavlos returned with alacrity and sat down opposite Mr Pavlakis. ‘Louisa has a hard life. My parents would be sad if they knew how hard she has to work.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Mr Pavlakis sipped his coffee. ‘I assume your parents to be dead?’

  Pavlos pointed to a photograph of a large, smiling man and a small, delicate looking woman. ‘That was taken only a few months before my father had a stroke. Five years ago he was fit and well, we were a happy family. I’d just left High School and I was to go to Athens to train as a hotel manager. Two weeks before I was due to leave my father had a stroke, his right side was useless. I didn’t go to Athens; I had to stay here, helping my mother to lift Pappa and also working in the taverna. When Louisa came home from school she would do the cleaning and the washing – and there was a lot of washing from Pappa. We tried to give our mother as much rest and time to spend with Pappa as possible. Then he had another stroke. Mamma had to do everything for him, wash him, and feed him, just like a baby. Louisa left school and took over the running of the house and the taverna and I found some work. Slowly Pappa became worse, he died just over a year ago.’ His forehead puckered. ‘It was as though our mother died with him and just her body stayed with us. She had no interest in anything and would sit by his bed, doing nothing. I think she was just exhausted.’

  ‘I am sorry.’

  Pavlos shrugged. ‘We’re getting back on our feet. Somehow we have managed to pay our bills, the doctor and the funeral were the largest. We persuaded them to wait a little while and they gave us three months. The bank agreed to lend us a little money and now that you’ll be staying here we’ll be able to repay that also. That is enough about us. Tell me about this student you are bringing with you.’

  Mr Pavlakis told Pavlos all he knew about Yannis. It occurred to him that he really knew very little about the boy’s background. Whilst they talked Louisa returned and soon the savoury smell from the kitchen reminded him that he had not eaten since the previous night. She placed a plate in front of him and he smiled appreciatively.

  ‘Could I ask a favour of you?’ he asked the beautiful vision before him.

  ‘You may ask. I may not grant it.’

  ‘I’m a
stranger in this town. Would you be able to spare the time to show me around? If I leave the main street I become hopelessly lost.’

  Louisa giggled. ‘It seems strange that anyone can get lost in Heraklion. May I, Pavlos?’

  Pavlos nodded. ‘I’ll wash the dishes and prepare a meal for this evening. You can have an afternoon off.’ He winked and his meaning was not lost on her.

  It seemed to Mr Pavlakis that whichever road they took there was always someone who knew Louisa and called out a greeting to her. She took him to the library and introduced him to a young man who worked there, arranging for him to borrow books immediately. She sat and talked to the young librarian whilst Mr Pavlakis browsed amongst the shelves. He settled for two large volumes of the history of Rome, explaining that he had recently returned and wished to read more about the wonders he had seen there.

  From Eleftherias Square she pointed out the direction of the bus station and two of the largest churches. ‘That road leads to Knossos and…’

  ‘Of course,’ interrupted Mr Pavlakis. ‘I’d almost forgotten that I’d planned to visit Knossos. I went there last year and I want to see how they’ve progressed. Would you care to come with me?’

  ‘Maybe. I’ve never been there.’

  Mr Pavlakis stopped and swung her round to face him. ‘You’ve never been! Then you must certainly come with me. Your education has been neglected.’

  Louisa laughed. ‘I’m not greatly interested.’

  ‘I’ll make you interested.’ He continued to hold her elbow, relishing the softness of her skin beneath his hand, and began to extol the virtues of Knossos. She allowed him to continue for a while, then held up her hand.’

  ‘That’s enough. My head’s whirling and I don’t understand a quarter of what you’re telling me. Let’s go for some wine.’ To Mr Pavlakis’s indescribable joy she slipped her hand into his and led the way into a taverna.

  ‘Hello, Louisa, who’s your friend?’

  ‘This is Mr Pavlakis. He’s taken a room in our taverna. I’m showing him the town as he’s a stranger here.’