YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  ‘Come here. I will do it.’

  He pulled himself up into a sitting position and she took her place beside him. He placed an arm firmly round her waist and began to pull the brush vigorously through her hair, tugging her head backwards with every stroke until she cried out for him to stop. By way of an answer he pulled her closer, moving his hand from her waist to her breast, his finger nails digging into the soft flesh, whilst he continued to wield the brush. From the position of the mirror Louisa could see her face contorted with pain and the satisfied smile on her assailant’s face, making the white scar on his face stand out prominently.

  ‘Stand up.’

  Bemused she did as she was told, only to receive a stinging blow on her buttocks from the brush. Almost before she had time to cry out another followed it, and another. Sobbing she tried to pull away, but he had a firm grip on her hair and she was unable to move. Finally he flung the brush to the floor and still holding her hair, began to explore her body with his free hand, all the time watching her reaction in the mirror.

  A final twist of her hair had her lying on her back on the bed, his weight pressing her down as he took his time satisfying himself. To her surprise she found herself responding to his body and enjoying what had become a mundane and boring experience for her. She abandoned her usual caution and gave herself up to the pleasure of the moment. The man’s appetite sated he pulled himself away from her and smiled.

  ‘I m forced to agree that you run the best taverna in town. Where else would one find such a delicacy?’ He ran his hands over her body gently. ‘A beautiful gem in such an ugly setting! You are worth so much more than this. Properly dressed every man would turn to look at you, to admire and desire you. To envy the man who held your arm and helped you along the road. Those eyes, one look and a man could be enslaved forever. Skin like alabaster; no wonder the Greeks have always been such great artists. With models like you how could they not be? Why don’t you answer me?’

  ‘How can I answer you?’

  ‘You could say that I am the most accomplished and handsome lover you have ever had.’

  ‘You are the cruellest.’

  ‘You are not used to being beaten? It’s good for a woman to be beaten. It shows her the man is the master at all times, and besides,’ he ran his hand the length of her body again, feeling the tremors he created in response, ‘it heightens the senses. What for you is an everyday occurrence suddenly becomes an experience you will never forget. Now, drink your wine and tell me about yourself.’

  With a wriggle Louisa settled herself beside him, explaining that the only reason she was willing to entertain was for the sake of her brother who gambled heavily and relied upon her to settle his debts. Her husband was the local Mayor and as such no breath of scandal should ever touch him. He was important. She boasted of his accomplishments, and his latest proposals for Crete to avoid being dragged into the conflict that was taking place in Greece and throughout the rest of Europe. The blue eyes narrowed as he listened intently, asking questions which she answered freely, although her knowledge was limited.

  ‘I should like to meet your husband. He sounds an interesting and intelligent man. Are there many more like him in the government?’

  ‘They are all like him, teachers, doctors, lawyers. They would not have been elected to the government otherwise, but Yiorgo is the leader.’

  ‘And your brother? He had no political ambitions?’

  Louisa laughed gently. ‘I don’t think my brother has any ambition at all now. He used to want to be a hotel manager.’

  ‘Really? It’s just possible I could help him.’

  ‘Are you in the hotel business?’

  ‘No, I have a very uninteresting occupation. I’m a surveyor.’

  ‘Is that why you’re over here?’

  ‘Not for much longer, thank goodness.’

  ‘Don’t you like Crete?’

  ‘There is nothing here that attracts me.’

  Louisa pouted. ‘Don’t I attract you?’

  ‘Not any more. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Twenty drachmas.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘You put a high price on yourself.’

  ‘It’s not every day I have to put up with a beating.’

  He shrugged, rose and commenced to dress, plunging his hand into his trouser pocket and pulling out a handful of coins, which he threw on the bed. Louisa gazed at the money, not sure if she was supposed to take it all or count out the amount she had asked for.

  ‘Will I see you again?’

  ‘Probably.’

  Louisa watched as he laced his shoes, then he straightened and took her hand, bending over to kiss it as he bade her farewell.

  Pavlos was gazing anxiously at the cards he held in his hand. The luck that had been running with him during the last two hours now seemed to have deserted him. His last few games had taken all his ready money and now he was playing on credit, hoping to recoup his earlier losses. The gold teeth opposite him flashed in a smile as their owner played his cards and Pavlos threw down his hand in disgust.

  ‘I’m going,’ he announced. ‘I’ll be back later with what I owe you.’

  ‘Play another hand. Your luck could change again.’

  Pavlos hesitated. If his luck returned it would be worth his while to stay and play off his debt, but should he lose again he would be forced to go to Louisa.

  ‘One more hand? Double stakes?’

  The temptation was too great. Pavlos nodded and sank back into his seat. He eyed the cards warily as he turned them over. They seemed better than before. He placed a pair of queens on the table for his opponent to immediately take with a pair of kings. They were replaced by a run of low cards, leaving only the aces he had wanted to save. Biting his lip he laid them and pulled the cards to his side of the table. A flicker of amusement showed in the other player’s eyes.

  ‘My lead,’ he said. A run of higher cards was placed on the table and the man smiled, showing his empty hands. ‘My game, I believe. Two hundred drachmas you owe me, unless you’d prefer to work off the debt?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We want some information on a man. He arrived here three days ago and we’d like to find out a bit more about him. He hired Alkis to take him into the countryside and took a number of photographs. According to Alkis they’re not the usual snaps a tourist would take and he didn’t go to any of the sites. He seemed more interested in the plains and coastal areas.’

  Pavlos studied the photograph that was handed to him. ‘Where’s he staying?’

  ‘Alkis isn’t sure. He picked him up and dropped him on the corner of Eleftherias Square. There are a number of hotels close by and he could be at any one of them. Alkis is collecting him again today at twelve. I suggest you hang around and see if you can spot him coming out of anywhere, or wait until they return and follow him back.’

  Pavlos nodded. ‘Can I keep this?’

  ‘For the time being, we shall want it back later. Any information about him will be welcome.’

  Pavlos pocketed the photograph and left to walk to the Square. He lounged where he had a good view of the main road and waited. It was just before twelve when he spotted the man he was looking for drinking coffee outside a taverna. Pavlos hurried over and sat at the table behind. He took out a cigarette.

  ‘Excuse me, would you have a light?’

  A box of matches was passed to him. ‘Keep them.’ The man rose and walked across the Square to the corner and waited for Alkis to appear with his battered taxi.

  ‘Coffee?’ The waiter stood at Pavlos’s elbow.

  ‘Who’s that man who was here? Any idea?’

  The waiter shrugged. ‘Never seen him before.’

  Pavlos sat and thought. There was something odd about a man who ordered a taxi on a regular basis, yet did not ask it to go to his hotel. He sipped at his wine; it was just possible his sister could help. There should be plenty of time to return t
o the taverna and back to the Square before Alkis brought his passenger back. He swallowed the rest of his wine, left a few lepta on the table and hurried away.

  Louisa looked out from the back room as she heard the taverna door open. She frowned. Pavlos did not usually return during the day unless he wanted money from her. He sat down at a table and called to her. ‘Get yourself ready to go out.’

  ‘Out where?’

  ‘Up to the Square; I want you to get into conversation with a man.’

  ‘What kind of man?’

  ‘Just a man.’ Pavlos was beginning to feel exasperated. ‘Get a move on. I don’t want to be away too long or I might miss him.’

  Pavlos hurried his sister along to the taverna he had so recently left. He drew the photograph of the man from his pocket and passed it to her. ‘He went off with Alkis in his taxi a short while ago. When he returns I want you to get talking to him.’

  Louisa gave the snapshot a cursory glance. ‘I saw him earlier today.’

  Pavlos raised his eyebrows. ‘Did he tell you what he was doing here?’

  ‘Not really. He said he hoped he wouldn’t be here much longer, that he didn’t like Crete.’

  ‘Why did he come here, then?’

  ‘I had the impression he’d been sent here by his company.’

  ‘How much did you charge him?’

  ‘Ten drachmas.’

  Pavlos smiled. ‘Did he complain about paying you double?’

  ‘He just said I was expensive.’

  ‘Did he arrange to come again?’

  Louisa shook her head. Pavlos lit a cigarette and they sat in silence until the waiter hovered into view and Pavlos ordered baklava for them both.

  ‘How long do I have to wait here?’

  ‘Until he returns.’

  With a sigh Louisa settled herself back into the chair. What a waste of time. She would just close her eyes for a short while and think about the fair skinned man she had entertained that morning. She felt a little shiver go through her and wished he had arranged to visit her again.

  ‘There he is.’

  Louisa opened her eyes and alighting from the taxi she saw her acquaintance of the morning. ‘What now?’ she asked her brother.

  ‘Come with me. Speak to him, introduce me, invite him for a meal.’ He took her arm and propelled her to where the man was paying Alkis.

  ‘Why, hello, what a surprise.’ Louisa smiled widely. ‘I certainly didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I am pleased, now I can introduce you to my brother.’

  For a moment the man looked at her blankly, then realising it would be of no use denying their earlier association he smiled also. ‘How do you do?’ He held out his hand.

  Pavlos grasped it. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr…?’

  ‘Dubois.’

  ‘Mr Dubois. My name is Pavlos. Louisa has told me that you spent some time chatting together this morning and how very interesting you were.’

  ‘Really?’ Mr Dubois raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Louisa tells me you are a surveyor. Are you working for an historical society, looking for a new site?’

  ‘Yes, exactly that.’ Mr Dubois answered quickly.

  ‘Have you had any luck?’

  ‘Who knows? I only look and photograph. It is up to the specialist to decide whether the features shown are worth investigating.’

  ‘I would enjoy talking to you. I worked for a while on the excavations at Knossos,’

  ‘I am not interested in the known sites.’

  ‘Maybe you’d care to tour the town with me, I could show you anything you wished to see, then we could go to my taverna and Louisa would have a delicious meal prepared.’

  Mr Dubois hesitated. It could be advantageous to be shown around by a local and he would very likely be able to extract some useful information from him at the same time.

  ‘That is very kind of you. I would not dream of taking up your time.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure. Louisa, you return to the taverna and make us a delicious surprise whilst I show Mr Dubois our fine city.’ Pavlos took Mr Dubois by the elbow and steered him towards the taverna they had recently left. ‘First, let us have a glass of wine together.’

  Louisa watched as the two men walked off. She had not been needed at all once the first introduction had been made. It had been a completely wasted afternoon for her and now she would have to busy herself preparing a meal that would impress the Frenchman.

  Pavlos drained his glass. ‘Now, my friend, where would you like to go first? Are you interested in churches? We have a number of very fine buildings.’

  ‘I am in your hands.’

  ‘Very well, we will first of all go down to the waterfront. You will see our fine fortress and the remains of the Venetian arsenals, from there we can walk through and view the Morosini Fountain and the Venetian Loggia, we will then turn back to the main road and you will see the Fondaco. I know a number of short cuts so we can view other fountains and buildings on our route.’

  Mr Dubois nodded. He was not interested in fountains and churches. He accompanied Pavlos, listening carefully as he pointed out various places that he thought might interest the stranger.

  ‘Now we will make our way back up the hill and you will see the Venetian Loggia and all our new public buildings. Here we have our post office and the banks.’ He stopped outside the Venetian building for Mr Dubois to admire it. ‘Now we take a short cut through here and you will see the Morosini fountain.’

  ‘Where is your police station?’

  Pavlos grinned. ‘All in good time. The police station, the army barracks, the Town Hall, you see, you did need someone to show you the town.’

  Mr Dubois smiled politely. ‘You are quite invaluable as a guide. I only wish I had met you earlier. I am sure that rascally taxi driver took me the longest way to everything.’

  Pavlos shrugged. ‘Where did you ask him to take you?’

  ‘The plain of Lassithi, Rethymnon, Chania.’

  ‘I doubt that you’d find much in those areas. Tomorrow I could take you to more likely places.’

  Mr Dubois shook his head. ‘I have to leave tomorrow. There is a boat to Athens that I must not miss.’

  ‘There’ll be another.’

  ‘There will, but by then I will have missed my connection. I wish to get home.’

  ‘Where is home?’

  ‘Paris.’

  ‘I’ve heard that it’s been ravaged, that much of France has suffered.’

  Mr Dubois shrugged. ‘That is war.’

  ‘Poor Greece is suffering also. We are fortunate to be an unimportant island.’

  ‘Fortunate indeed.’ A smile played across his lips. ‘What is that building?’

  ‘The back of the Court House; we will walk up the side road so you can see the front.’

  Mr Dubois followed his guide up the narrow road, stepping carefully over the holes and loose stones. ‘I wish you people would repair your roads.’

  ‘Why? We have little traffic. The main roads are well surfaced, but the side roads are only used by pedestrians.’

  ‘Many of the roads I travelled on were like ploughed fields!’

  ‘You reached your destination and returned again, so there was no problem.’

  Mr Dubois shook his head. How could people accept such things without protest? The Cretans were barbarians, their plumbing was almost non-existent, their roads were appalling and their standard of living was totally abhorrent to him. They would certainly benefit once they had settled down under their new rulers. He followed Pavlos around the centre of the town, dutifully admiring the churches and monuments of which his guide was so proud, mentally mapping where the most important of the public buildings were situated and often stopping to take a photograph.

  ‘These are my own souvenirs,’ he explained.

  Pavlos nodded. Photography did not interest him. ‘When we reach the end of this
road we shall be close to the old Venetian walls of the city. I’ll take you back through some of the older streets until we reach the taverna. How did you find it this morning?’

  ‘I was recommended and directed there by a sailor from the waterfront.’

  Pavlos nodded. ‘Our humble taverna has a good reputation.’

  Mr Dubois did not deign to reply. He just hoped the delicious surprise that Louisa was preparing for them would not be too oily. His stomach was beginning to protest. They walked together through the mean streets, which had nothing to attract Mr Dubois. ‘I see that all your public buildings are concentrated in one area. Most old towns have them dotted around everywhere.’

  ‘There was a considerable amount of rebuilding in the late eighteen hundreds and the planners of the time decided it would be wisest to group buildings together, hence most of our public buildings are in one street.’

  ‘Very sensible and convenient.’ Mr Dubois eyed Pavlos speculatively. A strange young man, not one that he would trust. They reached the taverna and once again Mr Dubois took out his camera. ‘I would like a photograph of you and your sister, to remember your hospitality.’

  Smiling broadly Pavlos called to Louisa. ‘A family group,’ announced Pavlos, as though it had been his own idea. ‘Fetch Yiorgo and Anna, Louisa.’

  Louisa obeyed, returning after a few moments with Yiorgo, who had replaced his stiff collar and donned his mayoral chain of office, and Anna, whose hair she had hurriedly brushed. They stood against the wall, smiling vacantly into the camera and feeling foolish. Mr Dubois made no comment, returned his camera to the leather carrying case and hung it over his shoulder. Yiorgo eyed him enviously. He wished he had possessed a camera when he had visited Athens and Rome. He would not have bothered with photographs of taverna keepers and their families. He sighed; the days when he had time for ancient history were gone. He poured a glass of wine for their visitor and tried to open up the conversation.

  ‘Do tell me about Paris. I’ve often longed to visit such a beautiful city.’

  Mr Dubois looked bored. ‘I can tell you nothing about Paris that you cannot read in a book. I live on the outskirts and visit the centre rarely.’