Inna said, ‘You are a nice man, Andreas. It will be our pleasure to call you son, but remember, Katerina is only nineteen years old, and she needs guidance, support, and protection. Like my beloved husband said, we will always be here for both of you.’
With that, the mother broke down in tears, the father was moved, and Katerina went over to Andreas and kissed him on both cheeks. In turn, Andreas took both of Katerina’s hands and kissed them gently yet sweetly.
Katerina said, ‘I have to give you a wedding ring.’
Andreas said, ‘No. I will cut a locket of your golden hair on our wedding day, and the hair will be woven into a fabric bracelet that will remain around my right wrist for all my days.’
This gesture truly touched Katerina and her parents.
The next day, Andreas told the men of his betrothal. They were all happy for him. Andreas spent a short courting period with Katerina, and arrangements were made for the wedding.
It was 1815, and Andreas was thirty-five and Katerina nineteen.
Boris found out from his Cossack friends that the duke wanting to marry Katerina screamed like a banshee when he was told the news. He then drank himself to sleep and vowed that in some way he would punish Boris for refusing to allow him to marry Katerina.
Boris regarded the threat as idle and laughed it off, saying, ‘I am a Cossack. He is the son of a Frenchman. He is welcome to visit me any time to raise his complaint.’ And he laughed with glee.
Andreas then wrote to his father about his intended wedding but received no response. He thought the lack of response from his father was due to the tyranny of distance.
Andreas and Katerina were married as Orthodox in St. Nicholas Church within a few months of Andreas proposing to Katerina. At the wedding service and to Andreas’s utter surprise, sitting in the first pew of the church was Kapelis, his father, with his youngest unmarried sister, Persephone.
Once Andreas had proposed to Katerina, a message had been sent by Xanthos to Kapelis, and Kapelis had taken the first ship bound for Odessa.
Although they could not communicate during the ceremony, Kapelis, who had learnt a few words in Russian, said to Katerina’s parents, ‘Ochen Harasho,’ meaning ‘very good’ or ‘excellent’.
Kapelis kissed the bride many times and hugged her. He also kissed Katerina’s mother and father on both cheeks. He welcomed them all to his family.
Their wedding reception was attended by the three men of the Filiki Eteria, Andreas’s father and sister, and the few close friends of Andreas he had made in Odessa. Also present were the small family and friends of the Mihalovich family. Similarly, in attendance at the wedding were several Cossacks from Kiev who had fought with Boris.
There was an abundance of food, Cossack dancing, and a balalaika playing traditional Russian folk songs.
There was dancing in a circle, where all the guests joined hands; there were similarities in the dancing styles between the Greek and Russian cultures.
Kapelis stayed for a few weeks, spending time with Katerina, Andreas, and her parents. Then he bid his son, Katerina, and her parents goodbye.
Kapelis also spent a considerable amount of time at the society with the three men, discussing several matters concerning the state of affairs in Greece.
When Kapelis arrived home, he advised his wife that their son was well, he had married a most beautiful girl, they had set up house, and Katerina’s parents were good people.
Kapelis said he was happy with his son’s choice. Andreas’ mother was pleased with the news, as were his four sisters.
Andreas and Katerina set up their home in a small house in the centre of Odessa, which had been given to Katerina’s father, Boris, by his parents when they died.
Andreas continued to make hats in Odessa as the society grew in membership every year. At first, the society only had a few members, and then Panayiotis Anagnostopoulos became a member. In the first two years Kapelis was in Odessa, the society had enlisted a mere twenty members.
As the momentum gathered, the diaspora of Greeks in Russia joined as members, and even the Lord of Moldavia became a member and wanted to help by way of funds to support the cause.
Membership accelerated between 1818 and 1821. By early 1821, thousands of patriots provided funding to the society.
The increasing membership consisted of all Greek diaspora, including tradesmen like Andreas, clergy, consuls, regals, some Ottoman officials who were sympathetic to the Hellenic cause, and future revolutionaries.
Amongst the revolutionaries that became members of the society were leaders such as Karageorge, Kolokotronis, Androutsos, Plapoutas, and the Orthodox bishop, Germanos of Patras.
Andreas was incredibly fortunate to meet all these members during his stay in Odessa and spend time with each of them. All of them became close to Andreas, and he was known to them as the hat-maker. These members would go to the house of the Filiki Eteria to discuss strategies, the philosophy of war, and how the Hellenes were now ready to commence the uprising and revolution to expel the Ottomans.
Andreas and Katerina tried for several years to have a child, but without success. The failure to have a child was upsetting to both Inna and Boris, but they were happy that their Katerina was treated well. In turn, she was happy with her husband. Andreas showed nothing but respect to his father-in-law and mother-in-law.
In the deep winter of early January 1821, the house of the Filiki Eteria started to empty with urgency to certain movements.
Ypsilantis was elected as the president of Filiki Eteria. He was a general in the Russian army. He was also a man who possessed great insight, foresight, judgment and strategic acumen. He called to arms all Hellenes outside of Greece as he believed the time was now ripe to commence the assault. He enlisted his dear friend the Prince of Moldavia, Soutzos, to support him.
The best physical description of Ypsilantis was that he had wandering brown eyes, a handlebar brown moustache with a tuft of hair on his chin, and was bald at the front of his head. His wild brown hair at the back of his head resembled wildfire.
Soutzos always did the bidding of Ypsilantis when it involved matters of the state or military issues.
There was also support coming from wealthy Hellenes and philhellenes from Britain, the United States, and Western Europe.
The men did not have the support of the patriarch, Gregory V of Constantinople, who both Ypsilantis and Soutzos believed, on reliable intelligence, had been bribed by the then Sultan Mahmud II to stop them commencing the revolution.
Gregory V was also negotiating with Rome to merge the churches without the support of his bishops and deacons and, most importantly, the people of Greece.
This fact did not sit well with the revolutionaries.
Gregory V was also known to enjoy the splendour, safety, and status of his seat in Constantinople with the approval of the then sultan, which included the sinful indulgence of debauchery.
Andreas asked what was happening. He was told that the revolution would commence in Kalavryta, the main town very near his family’s village of Vrostena. The attack would be a ferocious and unrelenting assault on the Ottoman forces, followed by strikes in all the regions of Greece.
Andreas went home and said to Katerina, ‘I must return to my homeland urgently and fight shoulder to shoulder with my countrymen.’ Andreas was now aged forty-one.
Katrina looked at Andreas with tears in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She said, ‘I cannot stop you. You love your country as you love me. I may feel sorrow that you will leave me, but I know you will return. I have been left barren, so if I am left a widow, fate has dealt her hand. When are you leaving?’
Andreas responded, ‘In three days. Please pack my bags. I will give you the 1,000 gold sovereigns that I have amassed from working as a hat-maker, and it will see you through until I return. You will never want. I want you to move back to
your parents’ home so they can keep you safe until I return.’
At that time in Odessa, a citizen could buy a lovely and comfortable home in the centre of Odessa for 100 gold sovereigns.
Katerina moved back in with her parents, as requested by Andreas, and fare welled Andreas from the front door of her parents’ home. Andreas did not want Katerina to go to the port. Both Katerina and her mother began to cry as Andreas kissed Katerina goodbye.
‘Bravo, revolutionary, and please bring me back the head of an Ottoman on a spike!’ Boris simply said, reflecting on his past life as a Cossack captain.
Andreas went down to the port and boarded the ship. On this occasion, the ship was filled with the diaspora of Greeks returning home in answer to the call to raise arms to purge the Ottomans.
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PATRAS, 1821
Andreas arrived in Patras at the end of January 1821. Kapelis was there to meet his son.
The atmosphere was electric. Greeks were meeting in secret everywhere. Guns and swords were being bought or supplied to the Greeks like leaves on a tree. Greek generals and commanders were mapping areas of battle operations and strategic positions.
At the same time, there was another camp thirty miles away in the town of Vostitsa, where the commanders had assembled.
Papaflessas, a pro-revolutionary priest, promised the involvement of the Russian army to assist in the uprising, saying that he was authorised to represent the Filiki Eteria and had then spoken to the Russian commanders on behalf of the society. Bishop Germanos rejected his authority and summoned the patriots to follow him to Kalavryta.
The rumours were that Greeks were preparing a private navy to conduct a sea battle with the Ottoman fleet. Many women and children fled for areas in the mountains to keep safe.
What was more intriguing was that the prefect or governor of the Morea, Hursid Pasha, and other provincial governors were losing control of their protectorates by the pressure being applied on the Ottomans by the Greek rebel forces.
Kapelis said to his son, ‘We have worked very hard to get here. Are you ready?’
Andreas said, ‘There is only one chance, and we are here. Let us help make glorious history.’
Father and son entered a carriage full of patriots of all ages, young and old alike. There was silence, but the atmosphere was electric. The carriage was protected as it travelled along a back goat track to get to Kalavryta. The journey took the whole night and they arrived at their destination by mid-morning.
It was mid February 1821. The weather was freezing, and the Helmos Mountain had covered the countryside with snow. The white innocence of the mountains covered with snow reflected the pure hearts of the Greeks ready to fight.
Bishop Germanos was the leader of the men. Andreas had met and knew the bishop quite well.
As he entered the church of Agia Lavra, Andreas went straight to the bishop and kissed and hugged him. They spoke like old friends.
A cannon had been put in place within the church’s surroundings, facing north.
Andreas introduced his father to the bishop.
The days that followed was time taken to instruct the men as to operational matters and strategies to start the revolution. Men kept gathering every day, and the numbers continued to swell. The rooms of the monks within the church and the church itself were used as barracks to house the men.
On the cold morning of 25 March 1821, Bishop Germanos gathered all the men in the church of Agia Lavra and said, ‘An eagle does not die like a chicken.’
He then said proudly, ‘The cannon will be fired at 10 a.m. to signal to all of our fighters in the mountains that we will begin our march through the Vouraikos Gorge and kill any Ottoman we find resisting our revolution.’
‘Freedom or death—you have my blessing.’ Bishop Germanos then blessed the Greek flag and kissed it as he left to prepare for battle.
The men gathered around in their fustanellas (fighting skirts) and were armed with guns, pistols, and swords. Andreas had his pistol and sword at the ready. Kapelis was there with his rifle.
The Greek flag was raised on a pole near the cannon. It was a white flag with a blue cross in the centre. The cannon was loaded with a cannonball and gunpowder. The cannon was pointed north and was fired loudly.
The mountains echoed for what seemed hours with the sound. The cannonball hit two Ottoman scouts in the valley below about a mile away, wounding one and killing the other.
The men marched north to their ultimate journey to the Sea of Corinth. Some were on horseback, and some marched on foot.
The slaughter began.
As the frontline encountered Ottomans, there was no mercy. Ottoman after Ottoman that stood in the way of freedom was annihilated.
The Greek klephts who hid in the mountains, in the trees, in caves, along the river banks and in the villages along the way came out to swell the numbers of the patriots. The valleys of Helmos, numb for 400 years, were ignited with the uncontrollable fury of oppressed Hellenes.
The Ottoman general who was in command of the Peloponnese, with his headquarters at the post of Platanos overlooking the Sea of Corinth, was horrified.
What was happening seemed unstoppable.
He sent battalion after battalion of Ottomans marching south up into the valleys of Mount Helmos, only to be confronted with the news that they had been wiped out. The general sent an emissary to Athens to advise ultimate command that the uprising was uncontainable. As the area was 100 miles from Athens, reinforcement would not arrive for days.
The men continued to march north. As they proceeded down the mountain towards the Sea of Corinth, which was now in sight, the sword of Andreas was dripping with blood. Each time he would wipe the sword clean. Then he would use it again, and it dripped blood once more.
The word they were receiving was that ‘small wars’ were now breaking out through the entire Peloponnese like wildfires and there were heavy losses by the Ottomans.
The revolt of March 1821 was followed by fierce revolts in Macedonia, the island of Crete, and other islands of Greece and mainland Greece.
Freedom could not now be stopped.
There were several attempts by the Ottomans, both successful and unsuccessful, to quell the rebellion. Greek naval vessels were successful in preventing Ottoman reinforcements from arriving in a safe port in Greece. In October of 1821, Kolokotronis had captured the strategic area of Tripolitsa.
Between 1821 and 1826 the hostilities were ferocious. Andreas continued to fight with the revolutionaries. Kapelis had to return to Athens in 1823 after three years of fighting as age and weariness had exhausted his older body. There were heavy losses for both the Greeks and the Ottomans during this period.
As Andreas was moving with the patriots, any communication with Katerina was limited. However, word was travelling to Katerina and her family that Andreas was alive. Andreas was very lucky to be alive. Katerina was comforted by the words of her mother and father that Boris, as a Cossack captain, had been away from his home for years at a time, fighting the Ottomans in various military campaigns.
Boris said that the mountains are used to the snow and not to worry. As long as Andreas was alive, there was also hope.
One day there was a knock on the door of Katerina’s home. It was the Duke of Moldovia. Boris invited him into the house with a frown and hostility.
Boris asked what he was doing at his home.
The duke said, ‘I am advised that Andreas has been absent for almost five years, possibly killed, and Katerina is lonely. I wish to end her loneliness and marry her.’
Boris was quick to respond. ‘Please bring me his body and bones, and Katerina is all yours.’
The duke said, ‘That is impossible.’
Boris said, ‘Agreed. It is and will always be impossible for you to marry Katerina whilst there is a single breath in m
e. I suggest you leave immediately before I face a court for the murder of a duke. Please shut the door tight behind you as you leave. I bid you a safe journey home.’
The duke never approached the family again.
By 1828, a division of the Ottoman forces surrendered in the Peloponnese, leaving a depleted and fractured Ottoman army battling the Greek forces.
Andreas was satisfied that the revolution was heading for success; he needed to return to his beloved Katerina and his home in Odessa.
In December 1828, during the heart of winter, Andreas advised his commanders that he was heading home. It had been an almost eight-year campaign by Andreas.
In his heart, he was satisfied that he had represented his country during the most crucial period of modern Hellenic history. And what more could be asked from a mere hat-maker?
He approached his commander and said, ‘Sir, the hat-maker needs to go and make hats again. Can I go?’
The commander replied, ‘Andreas, our current success is a product of your sacrifice and others like you. With my blessing, may you have a safe passage home.’
Andreas then boarded a merchant ship in Patras, bought some dendura, and travelled home. Andreas was now forty-eight years of age. He could not send word home that he was returning, as the voyage he was on to Odessa would arrive before any letters arrived.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
ODESSA, 1828
Once he arrived in the familiar port of Odessa, he found a young boy and said to him, ‘If I give you a gold coin, would you please deliver a package to this address?’
The young boy followed Andreas to the house of the Filiki Eteria, which had been barely occupied during the war.
Andreas went upstairs and wrapped a bottle of dendura in fabric with a blue ribbon. He asked the boy to deliver the bottle to the home of Katerina’s parents and gave him the coin as promised.
Kapelis- The Hatmaker Page 4
