Next day I woke on my balcony with a head full of dung and the tongue of an imbecile. What strange, convincing dreams I'd seen - the sounds of battle, clashing spears and swords, screams and marching feet; there were flashes of rituals and rites, as old and sacred as the world, something quite magical and mystical - something quite rare.
Down in the kitchen, Alessandra and Alexis were chatting over coffee while Mikri and Maska dozed by the door.
'Morning, boss. How's your head?' Alexis hid a smile, 'Here, drink this.' Fresh, fizzy orange juice. I didn't want to know what made so loud but not being in any fit state to argue, I swallowed and after a second glass my head began to clear.
'Can we decide when we're going to Faria and please, can it be some day very soon?' asked Alessandra.
'How about this morning?' Alexis was full of jolly enthusiasm.
'Perfect,' said Alessandra.
'Count me out,' I said. 'I'm sorry but I couldn't walk that far today.'
'You could ride Zacharia's donkey or one of the sheep,' said Aless.
'I like donkeys. Meditators. Seasoned. Very spiritual,' said I, trying to change the subject.
'They take a vow of silence when they're very young,' joked Alessandra.
'Stop. OK. OK. One day soon I promise,' said I, giving in.
'Why don't we meet in the Antonis this evening and talk it over?' suggested Alessandra. 'That way we'll have a better idea of what each of us thinks and at least we could make a plan, no matter when we decide to go.'
I groaned. They exchanged glances and Alessandra frowned. She was disappointed, 'If we don't go to Faria pretty soon, it'll be too late. Look Godfrey, just call me when you're fit enough to walk that far! I'll be at the shop,' and she swept out of the villa.
Alexis would be spending the day helping tidy up the village after all the celebrations. I'd promised to help too but I had to give in. I knew then that my body didn't like me to drink so much.
'How long will it take us to get to Palatia?'
'With the goats, downhill, it takes me maybe three hours.'
'I feel awful. I should have known better not to over do it. Really sorry old chum, I have to get some fresh air and maybe something solid to eat.' I pushed myself away from the table, 'Won't be long.'
'Hey boss, we don't have the Cornish pasties in Sophia.'
I made my way to the comforting shadows of the Antonis for morning stillness. Once there, I had to admit that for the first time in all my modest existence the evidence overwhelmingly pointed to my being hung over. My brain was a lava-lamp. Somewhere out there was me. Somewhere inside was throbbing, shivery, trembling, self-inflicted, continuous punishment. Yet the most striking compensation for all the physical weakness and mental thunder after a reckless day of alcohol under the Greek August sun was the surprising sense of tolerance that came from the people of this village to someone like me, with all my insecurities.
The goodly Zacharias recognised my condition. He'd seen it all before, countless times. He shook his head then made all the breakfast decisions for me. All I had to do was guide it into my mouth, chew and swallow. With a throat like brushed velvet I wobbled past Zacharias and dragged open the door of his cooler. A soothing bank of cold air brushed over me. I helped myself to a bottle of sparkling mineral water and, ignoring all protestations, twisted off the cap, thereby spraying myself with a fizzy shower.
'I tried to warn you, it has just had a rocky ride to get up here from Stephanos town.'
After breakfast, I sat in a quiet corner of the taverna pretending to read but really just listening to the floorboards creak as various feet walked by. Although the shadows playing round the room were startling enough, once I'd sipped about a pint of sage tea I began to feel able to almost cope with the rest of the morning. Stretching like a cat, I eased back into the comfort of my cushion just as a hellish, eerie, hideous shriek ripped my peace asunder. I shot upright. Rigid. Each quivering eyeball anticipating the screeching, sacred peacocks of Hera.
Through the door I could see it was good old dependable Aristethes standing in the square, legs astride, head back, holding a bugle to his lips with both hands. As village postman, he had his responsibilities and nothing would get in his way. Not even his obligations to the festival rehearsal the other night nor even the festival itself yesterday. Admirable Aristethes would perform his duty even if it made him wince. Grey peaked cap on the back of his head, grey crumpled uniform over grey crumpled shirt, braided epaulettes, dusty, scuffed leather boots. Here was the linchpin of the community, his face the colour of shiny cherries, announcing to the entire mountain community that the mail had arrived on time and he was ready for business. One more tortuous shriek proclaimed, 'Come one, come all!'
Zacharias and I exchanged winces, 'The horn has to be loud because so many of our people are deaf.' I nodded in doubtful agreement.
The postman puffed through the curtain and collapsed behind the table which Zacharias had stacked with grey envelopes, some pens, the register and the cash box. The villagers swarmed about the room and down to the bottom of the steps outside. He acknowledged each of their greetings with persistent discomfort. Even the priest was there for his rewards. Why wait?
But before Aristethes could begin accepting pension books from the people in the queue and doling out their allowances, he had to go through the formality of removing his cap and buffing up the official brass badge on the seat of his pants. After issuing the mail, he was doling out pension cheques and unemployment benefits. The people filed in, signed for their cheque, signed and pocketed their receipt, then exchanged the cheque for another signature and some cash.
'Ena, thio, tri, tess, pende, ksi, ta, to, ya, dek...' all names of numbers shortened to one syllable whenever possible. It reminded me of infant school formalities, and that memory took me home for a second and I imagined my aunt arriving at our cottage and how it would be empty. Even with Irene and Ebby, memories would be bittersweet so, betting myself she'd never had a card from Sophia, I picked one out of the rack and wrote, 'Make yourself a home!' and joined the queue for a stamp. When Aristethes was free I approached the table with the card and watched. He would not be hurried. He was being busy and I would have to wait - just as I did when we arrived in his van. After a while, he straightened his back, coughed a special postman's cough, then when he was ready, looked up, peered over the rim of his glasses and winced.
'Good morning, sir. How can I help you?'
'Good morning, Aristethes. How are you today?' He met my gaze with a steady silence. I decided it best to continue, 'Do you have any stamps?'
He would not be ruffled. He took the card, studied the address for a moment, coughed and looked down at his papers, 'Europe? You will need three stamps for the revenue.' He began rummaging around in an old tin box amongst rubber bands, a sponge and loose paper-clips. After almost covering the address with the stamps I looked around for somewhere to post the card. He crumbled and snapped, 'Look, just leave it behind the radio with the others. I'll take them to the ferry later.'
I sat down and sipped my drink wondering how he could be so coordinated the morning after the festival, and then returned to my book so as not to intrude any further.
The old boys loved the pantomime in there, the highlight of their week. At one point, after pocketing their money and their komboloi beads, they performed a remarkable piece of coordinated percussion by tapping their feet and fingertips on the table tops in time to a tune hummed by Zacharias, their Sophian eyes a-shining. It was quite a treat sitting there in that small and intimate little room with the local men hemmed in elbow to elbow, making happiness. I soon forgot the tiger in my head by nodding in time to the music and smiling at the others. When you've been doing your best to communicate and neither of you speaks much of the other's language you resort to the universal language of mime, grunts and nodding just like we did in the beginning, and suddenly you make a breakthrough, well the gratitude you feel is huge. Listening to their babble and knowing full well that no one in that group could speak my native language, I felt at home, accepted on trust. I began to understand the customary village wisdom of living in a place by choice, in splendid naïveté, unconcerned with fad or fashion, and where schedules bear very little weight.
To everyone's delight, in the doorway appeared the frail and gallant old man who had played for the crowd in the square. With an elaborate display of inconvenience, tutting and huffing and blowing, his mates shuffled about making a song and dance about trying to make a space for him to sit amongst them. After a couple of minutes shunting and crunching that made no difference, he stamped his foot and let out a mighty growl. Without any further to-do, a space opened up between them. He sighed and squeezed himself down in stony silence. Almost a minute went by before someone sniggered, then someone else and it became contagious until, just like in school, the giggling grew to laughter until they were shaking their heads in uncontrollable mirth and wiping their eyes on chaotic squares of cotton.
That evening Taverna Antonis was packed with visitors and tourists. I found Alexis and Alessandra deep in conversation. As I bent to sit next to them, I inhaled a cloud of something perfumed.
'What on earth is that smell?' I asked, looking at Alessandra as I sat down. She made no reply. 'Are you upset with me?' I asked.
'I don't think so. No more than usual.' She was upset with me.
'So you like my hair oil, boss? It's a pomata I learned how to make in Brindisi,' interrupted Alexis before I could make my apologies. At first glance he looked as though he'd varnished his head with lacquer. 'Italian men know how to smell nice.'
'It's...er...it suits you, Alexi. Where did you get it?'
'I made it myself from orange water and laurel oil. Tonight is a special occasion so I made the effort.'
'Tasteful.' At least the fragrance of this one didn't make my eyes water. Zacharias suggested ouzo. I thanked him but ordered lemonade then sat and lowered my voice to my friends, 'Listen you two, I didn't mean to be so insensitive and I hope it won't spoil our friendship. I want to apologise to you both. I still have much to learn. I was a fool yesterday.'
'And a clown this morning,' said Alessandra.
'But very funny,' Alexis covered his mouth.
Zacharias delivered our drinks with a genial pat on my shoulder, 'Welcome, welcome, my friend. I hope you are feeling a little better.'
The others thought this very funny. I told them about Ariadne and Theo's conversation with Nino and Tsitsanis on the evening in the Antonis, about the comments from Athens Tourism and the reaction in there the other night. We talked about the unique atmosphere at the festival and the threat from the intimidating thugs in our midst.
'If they are allowed to continue as they are, we can say goodbye to this special day. They will control everything,' Alessandra was winding up.
'And it's going to get much worse as long as we stand alone,' said Alexis. 'It's time to summon as much help as possible.' The more we talked, the more enraged Alexis became and the more he spoke in Greek, but there was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. At one point he boomed, 'I refuse to be enslaved.' He laid an arm around my shoulders, 'Boss, there's just one thing for it. We have to go to the island very soon.'
'And get shot? Are you mad?' Now I wasn't so brave.
'But listen, I've got an idea. What if we were to go to the island tomorrow when the looters aren't around and carry back as much as we can hide in the village?'
He was suggesting sheer madness. I was astonished. Alexis took hold of my hand and looked me in the eyes, 'Boss, boss, if I were you I'd think I was insane. You never saw such a foolish, crazy dream. Am I right?' Then, with a terrible English accent, 'What? You want us to steal from the thieves? And where will be the first place they look?' He was obviously very pleased with himself, 'I've been practising.'
'You're dead right. It's a good idea but we'd be in serious danger.'
'I know the perfect place to hide our heritage,' Alessandra chipped in.
Alexis touched my arm. 'We thought we really should go in the morning, very early when I take my goats.'
'Perhaps play some trumpets very loudly as we go,' I suggested sarcastically.
'Be sensible,' Alessandra was determined. 'We've all noticed the prying eyes of certain 'brick-heads' around the village the last few weeks, but if we go overland with the goats, no one will be any the wiser.'
'The snag is it could be hard going once we get through the pass. Are you sure you're up to it, boss? You're an old divorcee man,' said Alexis, nudging Alessandra.
'Divorced? Yes! So good - that lets me out then.'
'Sorry boss. Just curious. There'll be no one there for another few days yet. We can have a good look round.'
'What if they've left guards? We might get caught,' I was more than worried.
'Don't be so negative. You worry too much. They will never suspect three shepherds and some vagabond goats.'
'Three shepherds?' I'd lost the thread somewhere.
'No more questions. Wait and see.'
I swallowed hard. 'Perhaps we'd better rethink this and find a safer way.'
'That's not the right attitude, boss, you must be more positive, like me.'
'And me,' said Alessandra, misplacing her empty glass inside mine. 'Oops,' she wiped up the overflow, 'Sorry, it's been a long day. Now it's my turn to apologise.'
I lowered my voice. 'There's such a lot to organise. What if they come back and surprise us?'
'Don't worry, if we have to, we can hide in my hut. They'd never find us there. It's almost invisible.' Alexis emptied his glass and slammed it on the table top.
'Your hut? What hut? And keep your voice down. We don't know who's listening.'
'On the spur jutting out into the sea at the peaceful Palatia. Sometimes the goats they drive me mad and my life gets so noisy I have to get away. A man needs a little time to himself.'
'Oh dear, the stresses and strains of modern goat herding,' teased Alessandra.
'Alexi. I've had an idea. I'm going to ask my aunt if she will keep the house
for the time being, maybe not sell it at all. What do you think?'
'I think you're changing the subject. I think we've been making too much festival and I think it's time we all went back to the villa and I'll make some hot chocolate. That's what I think.'
'Perfect. And here's me thinking I'd had too much sun. You are a wizard, Alexi.'
'Thank you, whatever you say. But first, I make some toast.'
We all stood and raised our glasses. He bowed towards Alessandra. 'Here's to the most perfect woman in my life.'
'Cheers,' Alessandra raised her glass. 'Whoever she is.'
Alexis scowled in mock horror then suggested we make a definite arrangement and check out the island the next day. Alessandra agreed.
'If you say so,' I shrugged, resigned.
Just as we were making our way through the door into the street, three members of the maroon crew came barging through, sweeping us to one side.
'Oh, my fault. So sorry,' I said.
'You will be,' said the last in line, and he wasn't smiling.
Alexis was heating the chocolate. 'Hey boss, you know of Barbarossa? He lived on Faria. He was the fiercest of all the pirates of the Aegean, of the African coast, of everywhere. But he hid there when he could live nowhere else because the nymphs of the rocks protected him from prying eyes. When we get there, I will show you.'
'How can you say that? There's no proof,' he was full of these fairy stories.
He looked around as though someone might hear him, 'Let me tell you sir, I have seen his house.'
Alessandra gave him full attention, 'Barbarossa? His house? Are you serious? You mean it's still there? Why didn't you tell me?'
We stared at Alexis.
'Of course. Where could it go? You can still see the broken amphora he put in the roof for the smoke to get out. A good chimney, no? And his garden with the herbs, and inside the house, paintings on the walls. Magnificent! But from outside you would not know it was there and for sure, it cannot be seen from the sea. Some say there's pirate treasure, but I don't know. I hear these stories when I was sailing with Kaos and I believed them with all my heart. Ha. A man must believe in something, or he go mad.'
Dear Alexis. Too many stories and too much time with goats. Pirates? Treasure? No, it was straight out of folk lore and old village tales.
'But that's so cool. Amazing. I can't wait to see it,' enthused Alessandra.
'Sophia is everything to you, isn't it?' I said to Alexis, a little irritated.
'Sophia is like a mother. She takes me for who I am - the real me. She will do
the same for anyone. As you know, when we meet someone for the first time, we can project any image we want and they will react to that image. If we pretend to be someone we're not, how the hell are they to know? On the other hand, if we can just be ourselves, win or lose, then OK, we reflect on some and not on others - but at least we are true to our real self with no pretending. That way is more simple and that is why this place is pretty special, I can be myself, no problem. Hey, I know all this because your father told me,' a huge grin spread across his face and he slapped his thigh, nodding and waving a finger in my face.
'It's true. He was always saying stuff like that, I will miss him,' Alessandra agreed.
'Maybe one day, after you sell the house, you will come back and live here.'
'Do many people come back to live, Alexi?'
'Not many - well, none. When they are here it is the holidays. Holidays are easy. It's like you return to childhood and there are no responsibilities and you spend all day having fun. On the holiday you always have enough money, people run to fetch for you, the weather is great and you meet nice people and make new friends, then you go back to where you came from to work for your next holiday. Here, when the winter comes, it is hard and cold and the wind blows and you have to have spirit or you perish.' This was simple Pani logic and I clung to every word. 'You know what boss, I think I must be blessed because there was a time when I was by myself and fishing below the village off the rocks and I fell from a high place and lay with a broken leg for four days before I was found.'
'Four days? That's impossible.'
'It's a long way down. One more day and I would have perished, but I was missed and they came looking for me and found me in a cave where I'd dragged myself. The helicopter takes me to Kriti hospital, and everything's OK. So you see, my goddess Athena gives me spirit. The spirit protects the village. Simple.'
Our conversation more or less wound down in the knowledge that early next day we would make the trek together. I was committed. So, taking my drink with me to my bed, I wished the others a good sleep and pulled myself up the stairs to my room.
But the day wasn't over.
I was standing in the WC looking up through the window at the peaceful square of night, face of moon, two stars, when something attracted my attention in the yard. With nerves already ragged for fear of Mercouri's revenge, I crept onto the pan to get a clearer view and to make sure we were safe. I peered into the shadows and to my surprise, there was Alexis standing in his doorway, silhouetted by the soft glow of candles from his room. He was standing still and staring at the sky. Then all at once he threw back his head and raised his outstretched arms and I was unable to believe my eyes because the more they stared, the more I saw it wasn't Alexis at all. It was Alessandra.
Tendrils of hair snaked over her shoulders and tumbled down her bathrobe in waves of moonlight as she flowed to the left and the right then stopped. The gown tumbled to the ground leaving her completely exposed, utterly physical and utterly vulnerable, if only for a second. In fact I was shocked because she was so naked and it never occurred to me that underneath those clothes she might be naked but now that I could see, I was almost shocked. Then I was shocked at being shocked. After all, what could be more natural? She swayed like a eucalyptus in a breeze, gently from side to side, her limbs long and firm. She seemed completely indifferent to the world outside her mind where I stood and watched. I was enchanted, far too scared to blink. She turned to face the moon and softly, but quite clearly, there came the sound of humming as if from bees in a hive.
Shouts from Alexis broke into prying, 'Boss, boss, come quick!' He was in a real panic. I cleared the stairs two at a time. 'Boss, boss, it's little Mikri. My darling sweet little boy has left us. He's dead, stiff as a stake.' In his open palms he held the lifeless body of tiny Mikri. Ice glistened in his fur. His eyes were slits - the yellow and the baleful blue. His tongue was hanging limp. Alexis took a deep breath trying to hold back his tenderness. 'I must have left the fridge door open getting the juice this morning and he must have climbed in looking for food and it shut behind him. He's been there all day.'
'No, Alexi. Stop. I don't think it was like that all. Oh no. Our little chum was killed on purpose, meant as a threat for me. Cold, spiteful, callous Mercouri.'
Once again they'd been inside our house. They had brought their evil world to us and murdered a helpless sentient being to make a point. When would this persecution stop? Were we such a threat?
Alessandra flew into the kitchen, 'What is it? What's wrong?' When she saw, she gasped. A hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears, 'Poor, poor Mikri. He was just a baby. Who would ...?'
'Mercouri!'
We buried little Mikri outside the front door by the chair where he always slept in the sun. Alexis dug the hole, wrapped him in his cardigan and put him in a cardboard box in the hole then covered it with flowers and soil.
It started to rain.
The moon and the rain.
The end of our innocent fun.