YANNIS (Cretan Saga Book 1)

by Beryl Darby

  ‘Are you in Heaven too?’ asked Yannis weakly.

  ‘We’re all in Heaven, the whole country is in Heaven. The war’s over.’

  Yannis struggled to collect his muddled thoughts. ‘Over?’

  ‘A week ago! We’re going to live, my friend.’

  Yannis closed his eyes again and hot tears forced themselves between the lids. Phaedra was not coming for him.

  An oppressive silence seemed to follow the departure of the Italian troops from the village of Plaka. The villagers appeared to be at a loss to know how to fill their time. They gathered at the taverna and began to recount the various ways in which the soldiers had helped them, each trying to claim to have had more assistance than the last.

  Marisa went about her tasks, her eyes red and swollen from crying. The memories she had of stolen moments with Victor could not assuage the deep sense of loneliness surrounding her. He had assured her of his undying love and promised to write as soon as he was back on Italian soil, but she had no idea how long that would take.

  Of Yannis senior there had been no news and Anna had walked to Olous to enquire, only to return to break the news to her mother that he had died within six months of his enforced labour. Maria had crossed herself and cried, bewailing the misfortunes of war. Of Stelios there was no news to be had and both mother and daughter assumed him to be dead, although neither would admit the fact to the other.

  Maria watched her daughter as she moved about the house. A weary look of resignation was on her face again as she struggled to cope with the task of running a small farm and the house. Anna never mentioned her father and Maria wondered now if she was pining for him. She tried to talk to her, but Anna would just smile and change the subject. Maria tried another tack.

  ‘Has there been any news of Yannis?’

  ‘He’s still in hospital. I wish I could see him.’ Anna spoke wistfully. ‘I wish we had news of Yiorgo and Babbis as well.’

  Maria nodded. She had almost given up hope of seeing any of her men folk again. ‘They’ll be back now the Italians have gone.’

  Anna sighed. Glad as she was to see the battalion march away, she now realised how much she missed their help. However hard Yannis tried he could not do the work of a grown man. Maria patted her daughter’s hand. ‘Why don’t you ask Davros to take you over to see Yannis?’

  ‘Do you think he would?’ Anna looked doubtfully at her mother.

  ‘A number of villagers have been over to help them. There’s no harm in you asking.’

  Anna considered her mother’s words. For a few days she hesitated, then found the courage to speak to Davros. ‘Could I go to the island with you tomorrow, Davros?’

  ‘If you want.’ He spat his cigarette end on the ground.

  ‘Would you wait whilst I visited the hospital over there?’

  Davros scratched his head. ‘You’ll have to disinfect yourself.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘I’ll be off at seven.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  Anna watched as the shore receded, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands as she was torn by conflicting emotions. She was looked at curiously as the boatman handed her ashore and she asked her way to the hospital. A man indicated the path up the hill and Anna walked along between the odd shaped buildings until she reached the largest and guessed it to be the hospital. She pushed open the door and stood in the dim light. Along each wall was a row of mattresses, each one occupied by a wraith-like figure.

  ‘Yannis?’

  A man shambled forward from the far end. ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘I’ve come to see Yannis, Yannis Christoforakis. I’m his sister.’

  The man came closer, his disfigured face wreathed in smiles. ‘Welcome. He’ll be pleased to see you.’ Anna followed Spiro over to a mattress in the corner where her brother lay; his face towards the rough wall.

  ‘Yannis, Yannis, it’s me, Anna.’

  Slowly he turned his head towards her. ‘Anna?’

  Anna swallowed, trying to clear the lump that had sprung into her throat at the pathetic sight before her. She sat on the ground beside him and took one of his skeletal hands in her own. ‘Are you very sick, Yannis?’

  ‘Spiro says I just need feeding up a bit.’

  Anna nodded understandingly. ‘We’ve all lost a bit of weight.’

  ‘How’s Mamma?’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  ‘Pappa?’

  ‘They took him to work in the mines at Olous – he didn’t come back.’

  A tear coursed its way down Yannis’s cheek. ‘And Yiorgo?’

  ‘We haven’t heard from him yet.’

  Spiro arrived beside them, a mug of soup in his hand. ‘Maybe you could persuade Yannis to take a little more than I can.’

  Anna sniffed at it. ‘Did you make this?’

  ‘No, the boatmen brought it.’

  ‘It smells like mine. I’ll be offended if you don’t drink all of it.’

  Yannis smiled weakly and allowed Spiro to help him into a sitting position. Anna was struck by his lightness and frail appearance. He took a couple of sips from the mug and handed it to Anna.

  ‘That’s not much,’ she remarked.

  ‘Later.’

  ‘I want to see you drink it all before I go.’ She handed the mug back and folded her arms.

  Obediently he began to drink again. Spiro watched with a pleased smile on his face. ‘Would you be able to send some more tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course I can. What about the other patients?’

  ‘I’m sure they’d like some, but they’ll drink anything. It’s only Yannis who’s fussy.’

  Yannis handed back the mug.

  ‘That’s better,’ she commented. ‘Make sure you have that much each time.’

  Wearily Yannis slid back down on his mattress. The action was not lost on Anna. ‘I ought to go. I have to go through the disinfecting process and I don’t want to keep Davros waiting. He might not bring me again.’

  Yannis held her hand. ‘It was good of you to come.’

  ‘I’ll come again and the next time I expect to see you up and about.’ Without hesitation Anna placed a kiss on her brother’s cheek. Spiro walked with her to the door where she waved goodbye. Once outside she took a deep breath to steady herself. Spiro stood beside her.

  ‘Thank you, Anna. Your visit will have made a difference to him.’

  ‘I’ll come again,’ she vowed. ‘As often as I can.’

  Yiorgo limped back into Plaka. He was undernourished and carried the scars of skirmishes and battles. Anna was horrified by his appearance.

  ‘Now I’m home I’ll be fine again. A few of your meals will soon put the flesh back on me. Tell me the news from here. How’s Mamma?’

  ‘Mamma’s much the same. Pappa died two years ago. He was sent to the mines and the work was too much for him. Yannis nearly starved to death because they wouldn’t let supplies go to the island, and we’ve heard nothing from Stelios.’

  ‘Pappa dead?’ Yiorgo found the news almost unbelievable. ‘I thought you’d all be safe down here.’

  Anna eyed her brother warily, wondering how he would take her next piece of news. ‘We were lucky really. We had Italian soldiers lodged here and they helped us on the farm.’

  Yiorgo’s face clouded over into a dark scowl. ‘You mean you entertained enemies here? You accepted their help?’

  ‘We had no choice. They were billeted on us. They were quite nice and kind, really. They helped in return for their meals. Victor also allowed food out to the island.’ Yiorgo continued to scowl. ‘We couldn’t have managed without their help. As it is, we’ve had to let Babbis’s farm stagnate. They weren’t all bad, Yiorgo.’

  ‘If you’d been where I was you wouldn’t have given them the time of day, let alone a meal.’

  ‘If we’d refused we would probably have been shot dead by their German commander. Thank goodnes
s he didn’t stay down here. He was the one who sent Pappa to the mines and stopped supplies for the island.’

  Yiorgo nodded slowly. ‘We got him in the end. He was merciless. Would order people to be shot at random. “As an example to others” he used to say.’

  ‘You met him?’

  ‘I’d like to meet the man who hadn’t! He used to worm his way into people’s confidence. He spoke perfect Greek. Then when he had the information he wanted he would denounce them as traitors and have them shot. He said that if they gave away secrets to the enemy forces they were no use to either side. We finally ambushed him and made sure he’d never do any more harm. The only pity was that we did it so late. If he’d been spotted before the Germans landed the allied forces would have had a chance. As it was he knew where they were waiting and avoided them.’

  Anna shuddered. ‘It was a terrible time, Yiorgo. I’m so glad you’re home. When will Babbis come?’

  Yiorgo shook his head. ‘He won’t, Anna. He was part of the ambush force and didn’t come back. He had a proper burial and was acclaimed a hero by his comrades.’

  Anna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘The children,’ she whispered. ‘The poor children.’

  ‘They have you, Anna. You’ve been a mother to them.’

  ‘It’s not the same. Yannis so wanted his father to be proud of him for the way he’d worked.’

  Yiorgo held his sister to him. ‘Babbis talked about you a good deal when we were away together. He was very fond of you.’

  Anna sighed. ‘I know.’

  Yiorgo decided to change the subject. He had discovered Babbis’s feelings for Anna when they had been fighting side by side, but he had no inkling of the extent of her feelings.

  ‘When I’ve talked to Mamma I’ll have a walk around and see what needs to be done.’

  ‘Are you fit enough?’

  ‘I’m just a bit thin and tired. You don’t have to worry about me.’

  Yiorgo appeared to be correct when he said Anna need not worry. By the end of the week he was striding around the farm, saddened to find it so run down and dilapidated. He hid his disappointment and praised his nephew for his industry, making the boy’s face glow with pleasure. Yannis had taken the news of his father’s death calmly.

  ‘I knew something had happened to him when you arrived home alone.’

  Yiorgo drew the boy close to him. ‘I can’t take his place. I won’t even try. I just want you to know I’m very proud of you and there’s always a home with me for you and Marisa.’

  Yannis looked at his uncle. ‘I appreciate that. We also have nowhere else to go should you decide to throw us out.’

  ‘You have your Pappa’s farm.’

  Yannis shook his head. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever go there. We have to be sensible about it. What’s the point of trying to run two houses for one family? We might as well pull the building down and use the land. That way we could run more animals. Whilst you were away I found out just how difficult it is to farm properly. You need help to get this one back on its feet. I’m willing to help and learn, but we can’t run two. If we pulled down the farmhouse and fenced off the land we could run more sheep and goats. They virtually look after themselves. That way we could concentrate on growing vegetables and carob. The vegetables would feed us, and go to the island and the carob would also bring in some money.’

  ‘Yannis, how old are you?’

  ‘Fourteen.’

  Yiorgo shook his head. ‘You sound like an experienced farmer.’

  ‘I’ve had plenty of time to think how to manage on my own if you didn’t come back.’

  1946-1957

  Father Andreas frowned over the letter he had received from Father Minos. It thanked him for depositing the money that belonged to the lepers in the bank and went on to say that there were few of the original claimants left. No more than a hundred of the islanders had survived, and he reminded him that their pension would have accumulated also.

  The priest described vividly the hardship, suffering and deprivation the islanders had undergone during the occupation of Crete, the many unnecessary deaths that had occurred through starvation. He asked Andreas to start a campaign to compensate them for their ordeal. He suggested that labourers be sent to the island to help with the repair of the houses that had fallen, yet again, into disrepair, a modern hospital built with trained staff to run it, and all to be paid for by the government from the unclaimed pensions of the dead.

  The letters went back and forth between them, clarifying the priorities until Father Andreas decided he had a feasible case to put before the hastily elected local government.

  He was received sympathetically, listened to attentively, questioned, and then sent away to await their decision. Three weeks slowly dragged itself to a month and his patience was exhausted. Without an appointment he confronted the body of men when they next met and had the distinct impression that the whole matter had been shelved as of little importance.

  They spoke at length, explaining to him the difficulties that the country as a whole was facing, that a mere hundred people compared with the rest of the population were too few to deserve serious consideration on their part. Anger and frustration boiled over in him and he raged and shouted at them whilst they sat and listened implacably until he quietened. Finally they suggested that he visited the island and compiled a concise report of the conditions prevailing over there. It was quite possible the lepers were being excessively demanding, there were only a few of them; maybe they could reach a compromise by doing urgent structural repairs and modernising their present hospital building?

  Disappointed and disheartened by their attitude Andreas accepted. He did not doubt that Father Minos had made excessive demands and did not relish the task of convincing him that only the minimal amount could be expected by way of compensation.

  It was with trepidation that Andreas stepped ashore, followed by a morose doctor. Father Minos greeted him effusively and suggested he visited Yannis before they toured the island or talked seriously about any of the problems that confronted them.

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘A good deal better physically, but mentally…’ Father Minos shrugged. ‘He took Phaedra’s death very hard, but at least he had Anna. When she died he had nothing left. It was such an unfortunate accident.’

  ‘Accident?’ Andreas was puzzled. He had assumed everyone who had met their death on the island during the war had succumbed to either their disease or starvation.

  ‘She loved to draw. Any piece of paper she could lay her hands on, then we ran out of paper and she took to carving. Yannis had forbidden her to do it for fear that she would cut herself, but she wouldn’t obey him. The inevitable happened, the knife slipped and the silly child told no one. By the time she confided in Spiro it was too late. The poison had spread. He tried all he could, but there was nothing he could do without the doctor.’

  ‘Poor little girl; such a sad life for one so young. It’s a blessing that she was spared the knowledge of her mother’s death.’

  ‘Louisa? Dead? I knew Yiorgo had been massacred with the rest of the government, but not Louisa.’

  Andreas crossed himself. ‘Many terrible things happen during a war, but Louisa’s death was particularly sickening. Her neighbours stoned her. She was a collaborator as well as a prostitute. She and her brother gave the information to the Germans that enabled them to round up the government, except the doctor. He, poor man, was so full of remorse at his escape that he took an overdose. I blame myself for his death. I should have stayed with him longer and talked until he was able to think rationally again.’

  Father Minos looked at the young priest sympathetically. ‘Would you like me to give you absolution?’

  Andreas shook his head. ‘I’ve received absolution from the Bishop, verbally I can excuse myself, but in my heart I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘You are but a man, and man is never perfect.’

  ‘As
a priest I’ve always striven for perfection.’

  ‘Which is at it should be. The greatest goals we set ourselves are by necessity unobtainable. If we were able to do everything with ease we’d soon be discontented. Come and talk to Yannis. See if you can give him a goal to aim for. It’s what he needs at this time.’

  Andreas was appalled at the apathetic attitude that he found in his cousin. Inside the small taverna, where Anna had carved small boats on the shutters, sat a solitary figure. Across from him a group of men were playing cards and two more were passing their time in a game of backgammon.

  ‘Cheers!’ Andreas lifted his glass. ‘I’ve been sent here officially by the government.’ He had intended to make general conversation with Yannis before mentioning the object of his visit, but decided against it. ‘They seem to think Father Minos is asking for the moon when he requests repairs to the houses and a new hospital. What’s your opinion?’

  Yannis shrugged. ‘I haven’t thought about it.’

  ‘Then you should. What condition is your house in?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t live there any more.’

  ‘What of the others?’

  Again Yannis shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I never thought you were selfish, Yannis.’

  Finally Yannis lifted his eyes from his glass. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just because you have a dry roof over your head and a bed to lay on you’re willing to let the others fend for themselves. I call that selfish. I was going to ask you to help me, but I see there’s not a lot of point.’ Andreas pushed back his chair and rose.

  Yannis continued to look down. He rubbed a trembling hand across his eyes. ‘I don’t seem able to concentrate properly.’

  Andreas’s lip curled in disgust. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s not mid-day and you’ve already had too much to drink. I was not ashamed to acknowledge a leper as my cousin, but I am ashamed to acknowledge a defeated drunkard.’

  He strode from the taverna, leaving Yannis fondling the glass in his hand. He was trembling with emotion. Would his harsh words have any beneficial effect or only push Yannis deeper into bottles of alcohol as he tried to obliterate his painful memories?