by Beryl Darby
If he worked really hard he should finish listing the pottery in the room within a few more days. When he had done that he planned to ask Mr Kouvakis if he could move it so the pieces could be grouped together. As he peered through the grubby glass he could hardly believe his eyes. Lying, half hidden between the broken pieces of pottery and the black edges of the display case was a tiny gold axe. Excitement surged through him. Did anyone else know it was there? He doubted it. Closing his notebook he went in search of Mr Kouvakis and met him as he was coming down the passage.
‘Perfect timing, Yannis. I was just coming to tell you we were closing.’
‘Can you spare me a moment? There’s something I want to show you.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Inwardly Mr Kouvakis felt impatient. He was hungry and his room had been chilly, as he had forgotten to light the stove until mid-day.
‘Look at that.’ Yannis indicated the tiny axe.
‘Yes?’ Mr Kouvakis looked at the pottery. ‘What is so remarkable about that?’
‘Not the pottery; look, in the corner. A tiny gold axe.’ Yannis’s voice was trembling with excitement.
Mr Kouvakis leaned forward. ‘You’re right.’ The incredulity sounded in his voice. He drew a large bunch of keys from his pocket and began to try them in the lock, finally having success as the mechanism creaked and the key turned. He lifted the heavy glass lid. ‘Take it out, then.’
With baited breath Yannis stretched his hand into the case and picked up the tiny, precious object between his finger and thumb. He laid it on the palm of his hand and gazed at it in delight. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘I’d better put it in the strong room with the others.’
‘The others?’
‘We have a number of them, all weights and sizes. I’ll show you.’ Mr Kouvakis led the way back along the passage and unlocked a door at the far end. The door swung open to reveal another behind it, made of very stout wood with cross braces. Two more keys were produced and the inner door was opened to reveal a long, narrow room. One side was shelved, on each shelf a collection of boxes sat in confusion. Mr Kouvakis selected one and lifted the lid.
‘Look.’ Inside was a glittering array of small, gold axes, identical to the one Yannis had discovered inside the display case. Mr Kouvakis ran his hand through them. ‘Put it in, Yannis.’
Yannis looked at the tiny object once more, then placed it gently in the box. He looked curiously around the room. On the far side were large, flat, packing cases, stacked almost from floor to ceiling.
‘What are they?’ he asked.
‘The frescoes Mr Evans has examined. When they build the new museum they’ll be put on show.’
‘Will the axes go on show also?’
‘I expect so.’ Mr Kouvakis turned to go and Yannis followed him.
‘Thank you for showing me. They’re far too beautiful to be locked away. I hope they build the new museum quickly so everyone can see them.’
Mr Kouvakis shrugged. ‘Who knows? They may have found better specimens by then and have no use for these.’
‘I’m sure they won’t. I wonder, excuse me; I must go to the library before it closes. There’s something I want to look up.’
Suddenly Yannis could not wait to be out of the museum. He was sure he had seen pictures of a funeral ritual where a person was shown holding a large axe. Maybe the gold axe he had seen and held was a talisman, carried around as a charm against death. By the time he reached the library he was convinced his idea was correct and it took him only a few minutes to find the book with the illustration he wanted. With a sigh of satisfaction he closed the book and began to walk back to the taverna.
To his surprise he found Stavros and Vassilis waiting for him. ‘We felt a bit guilty running out of here last night, so we decided we would come for a meal with you,’ explained Vassilis.
Yannis nodded, hardly hearing him. ‘I must tell you my news. I found a little gold axe at the museum today.’ Stavros and Vassilis looked at him with interest. ‘I could hardly believe it. It was just lying there. Mr Kouvakis unlocked the case and let me take it out.’
‘Where is it now? Have you brought it with you?’
‘Of course not. Mr Kouvakis took me into the strong room and we put it in the box with the others. They have hundreds there.’
‘Why aren’t they put on display?’
‘They will be when the new museum is built. Yiorgo, come and hear this.’
Yiorgo came obediently to their table and Yannis told his story again, he then went on to tell them his theory of the axe being a lucky charm.
‘You could well be right, Yannis. If you look in the jewellers you will see replicas made up as earrings or on a chain. People probably regard them just as decorative jewellery now, but they may have been very precious to them in the past.’
Although Yiorgo was speaking to Yannis he was watching the man who was talking to Louisa at the counter. He appeared to be getting impatient. Louisa glanced at the four at the table and shook her head again.
‘Do you have a problem, Louisa?’ Yiorgo was at her side.
She smiled sweetly at both men. ‘Mr Manyakis has some goods for Pavlos and was hoping he would be here.’ She nodded her head imperceptibly. ‘I’m sure he’ll be available tomorrow if you’d care to come back.’
‘I shall certainly be here.’ He nodded determinedly and strode out of the taverna, slamming the door behind him.
Louisa returned to the kitchen and Yiorgo followed her. ‘Louisa, I don’t like to see you having to deal with people like that. Have you thought any more about my proposal?’
‘What proposal?’
‘I asked if you would marry me.’
‘Oh, that,’ she answered nonchalantly, not taking her eyes from the lettuce she was chopping.
Yiorgo slipped an arm round her slim waist. ‘Please, Louisa, you’re driving me crazy.’
She wriggled away from him. ‘Be careful, or I’ll cut my finger.’
‘Louisa, please give me an answer.’
‘I’m too busy to think of things like that.’
‘Louisa!’ Yiorgo’s patience snapped. He grabbed the knife from her hand, flinging it to one side, pushed her against the wall and kissed her passionately. He felt the rigidity of her body but refused to release her as his body pressed urgently against her. ‘Louisa, Louisa,’ he murmured, beginning to kiss her neck. For a few minutes she permitted his kisses and caresses, then pushed him roughly away.
‘Don’t be so silly, Yiorgo. I have a meal to prepare.’
‘Louisa,’ his voice was hoarse with emotion.
‘Stop saying ‘Louisa’ in that silly way and move. I don’t want to get married yet, not to you or anyone else.’
Yiorgo dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have behaved like that. You drive me crazy. I see you talking and laughing with the customers and I feel so jealous.’
‘I have to be pleasant to them. Besides, most of the people who come here in the evening come to see you. I’m just the person who cooks and serves.’
Yiorgo pushed back his lock of hair. ‘I love you Louisa. I’d do anything for you.’
A mocking eyebrow was raised at him by way of reply. ‘Then move out of my way and let me get this meal ready.’ She pushed a bottle of wine into his hands. ‘Go and join the boys.’
Yiorgo resumed his seat and listened to the conversation of the young men, which he very quickly found boring. He brushed back his hair, wiped his hand down his trousers and cleared his throat. ‘Have you heard the latest news from Greece?’
The three looked at him in surprise. ‘What’s happened?’
Yiorgo leaned forward on the table. ‘I will tell you.’ He began to talk knowledgeably about the political unrest that was taking place on the mainland. He talked whilst they ate their food, and continued whilst they finished a second bottle of wine. At first they had listened with interest, whils
t they were eating they had allowed Yiorgo to talk, but now their attention was wandering. Vassilis even gave a surreptitious yawn, hoping the political tirade would soon end.
‘Yiorgo, with your knowledge of politics, why don’t you stand for election as Governor of one of the provinces?’
‘Are you serious?’
Vassilis nodded. ‘Perfectly serious.’
Yiorgo sat back in his chair and laughed. ‘I couldn’t possibly. I have my work. I would never be able to fit in all the duties of a Governor; besides, I’m trying to write a book on the political history of Greece. It’s fascinating. When I’ve finished I’ll let you read it. I have one great problem with it.’
‘What’s that?’ grinned Yannis. ‘When to stop?’
‘Exactly.’ Yiorgo was quite serious. ‘When do I stop? Do I say that at the end of a certain page it is finished, or after a particular event, or do I continue until the day I die and others say it is finished?’
‘If you plan to write it continually, won’t you get bored?’
‘Bored!’ Yiorgo was shocked at the idea. ‘How can one get bored with politics? They are forever changing. One day’s policy is the next day’s history. Politics are the basis of Greek history, even the mythological stories are based on the politics of the time, a power struggle between ruling factions, put into story form to explain the situation to the uneducated peasants. Think of your Homer, basic politics.’
Stavros had suddenly become interested. ‘Tell me more.’
Yiorgo was only too willing to talk, and the boys found his discussion and explanation of ancient political manoeuvrings far more interesting than their modern counterparts. During the evening Pavlos returned and after listening to the conversation for a few minutes suggested they had a game of cards. Yiorgo agreed, and Yannis was surprised to find the teacher was an astute gambler.
‘You have a lot to learn, Yannis,’ he smiled as he scooped the money from the table for the third time.
‘I’ll win it back next time,’ he smiled. ‘Don’t break up the game on my account, but I really must go and do my homework.’
‘I must go as well,’ Stavros was relieved to find an opportunity to excuse himself. ‘I also have my homework to do, and I can’t afford to play any more tonight.’
‘Come again tomorrow,’ suggested Pavlos.
‘Maybe.’ Stavros was not going to commit himself to regular gambling. ‘Are you coming, Vassilis?’
They left the taverna together and Pavlos smiled. Now he would see just how good the schoolteacher was at cards when pitting his wits against a professional.
The days passed swiftly for Yannis. He found his schoolwork easy to cope with and enjoyed the hours he was able to spend in the museum. He met up with his friends at the weekends and they would spend their time walking around the town or drinking in a taverna. He avoided playing cards with either Yiorgo or Pavlos as he found he always lost and the thought that Pavlos cheated had crossed his mind more than once. Three times, when he was supposed to be working in the library, he had sneaked back to the taverna to spend the morning with Louisa, feeling both guilty and elated afterwards.
The weather became colder and he suddenly realised that the end of term exams and Christmas were not far away. He must begin to think about presents for his family but could not think of a single item that would be suitable. There would be no point in asking Yiorgo for help, but maybe Costas or Dimitris would have some ideas. He approached Costas as they walked back from the taverna at lunchtime.
‘Have you thought about Christmas presents for your family yet?’
‘I shall probably buy my mother some perfume and a new pipe each year for my father keeps him happy.’
Yannis nodded. He could not imagine his mother wearing perfume. ‘Where do you usually go to buy them?’
Costas shrugged. ‘Depends how much money I want to spend. I buy most of them from the market, after I’ve looked in the shops. The goods are just the same.’
Yannis wondered if he dared ask Yiorgo how much Louisa’s bracelet had cost and whether he could afford something similar for Annita. He sighed deeply. He must not compare Annita with Louisa, but he was no longer sure he wanted to marry his cousin.
He approached Yiorgo that evening whilst they were eating their meal, but Yiorgo was evasive. ‘You cannot put a price on a gift that you give for love. The bracelet was expensive, but there are other smaller items you could give. After all, that was my betrothal gift to Louisa, so it had to be worthy of her.’
‘You’re sure she will marry you?’
‘She’s young yet. She needs time to get used to the idea of marriage. She has no mother to advise her about these things. I have to persuade her gently that there is nothing to fear.’
‘I don’t think Louisa would be frightened about getting married,’ remarked Yannis.
Yiorgo wagged his finger at the boy. ‘You don’t know her like I do. She needs to be looked after, to be protected from the world. What does she know of life? She left school to look after her ailing parents and has looked after the taverna and her brother since their death. She has had no experience of the world. When we’re married I plan to take her to Athens, Rome, Venice, all the most beautiful cities in the world for the most beautiful girl in the world.’
‘Have you told her this?’
‘Not yet.’ Yiorgo bent his head confidentially towards Yannis. ‘She has asked me to give her time. I’m intending to run for office in the elections, if I’m successful I shall ask her again. Being the wife of a government official is far superior to being the wife of a schoolteacher.’
‘Do you mean it?’ Yannis had heard Yiorgo speak to men in the taverna, starting quietly and rationally, but becoming noisier as he received encouragement from his audience, until they would end by saluting him as capable of solving all their problems.
Yiorgo nodded. ‘Don’t tell Louisa, I want it to be a surprise for her.’
‘How will you have time to write your political history?’
‘I shall make time,’ Yiorgo smiled confidently. ‘This time next year I expect to be a schoolteacher, a government official and a married man. What more could I ask for?’
Yannis walked around the centre of the town. He gazed in jeweller’s windows and was appalled at the prices that were displayed on the plainest ornament. From the main street he entered the market, the busy thoroughfare was full of people and he elbowed his way through until he came to a collection of small shops, which sold souvenirs. A boy behind the first stall gave him a cheeky grin.
‘What would you like? Ribbon for your sister, a scarf for your mother?’
Yannis smiled. ‘I’m just looking today.’
The boy nodded and picked up a penknife, flicking it open to show the number of blades. ‘Very good, very strong.’
Yannis shook his head. Penknives for his brothers were an excellent idea but they could be bought at any time. He stood on the corner debating whether to go along the street where the leather workers would be making boots and shoes or to continue along the main thoroughfare. He was still hesitating when he saw Costas sauntering along, a package in his hand. He fell into step beside him. ‘What have you bought?’
‘A little present for my mother. Her old ones have worn thin.’
‘Her old what?’
‘Slippers.’
‘Slippers?’ Yannis had no idea what his friend was referring to.
‘Yes, you know, to wear in the evenings, when she’s sitting by the stove.’
As he had hoped, Costas undid the package and withdrew one. It was grey coloured with orange and blue embroidered knots at the front for decoration. Yannis was disappointed. His mother had made similar shoes for them to wear in bed during the winter.
‘Very nice,’ he said and turned it over. To his surprise the sole was leather.
Costas held out his hand. ‘I’d better wrap it with the other one or she’ll see it when I walk in. Are you
going home or coming with me to buy something special for the most wonderful girl in the world, who just happens to have three little moles on her back?’
Yannis laughed. ‘You were right about those moles.’
‘She is delicious. I’d like to eat her.’
‘Yiorgo Pavlakis wants to marry her!’
‘Why? He can have everything he wants without marrying the girl.’
‘He says he loves her. He has no idea what she really does for a living.’
Costas whistled. ‘Do you think we should tell him?’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I doubt if he’d believe us, besides she’s told me she has no intention of getting married.’
Costas shrugged. ‘Oh, well, not our problem. I’m going down that way.’ He pointed back towards the centre of the town.
‘I’ve just come from there. I’m just looking for ideas today.’
Yannis wandered past the boot makers until he saw rows of slippers hanging up in a doorway. They were all made from goat hair, but each pair had a different colour combination of knots. Finally Yannis chose a pair with red and blue decoration, checked he had enough money with him, and went inside to make his purchase. Now his mother would be able to take off her working shoes in the evening and be more comfortable. Night shoes were impractical to wear anywhere but in bed as the soles would be worn through within a matter of days if used for walking, even inside the house.
For a further half an hour Yannis wandered through the market. He placed his letter in the sack for delivery to Aghios Nikolaos and was told there was one for him to collect. His heart missed a beat, would it be from the hospital? To his delight it was from Maria and he tore it open eagerly. She wrote in a stilted, hesitant hand, her information often disjointed, making it necessary to read the letter through a second time before the meaning became clear.
