She stared back as the tears came freely and her throat began to sting with the horrifying grief of it all. ‘It . . . It’s true.’
He leaned forward and eased back her fringe to kiss her forehead. ‘All we can do is honour their memory in our struggle. Make the enemy pay.’
‘You can do that,’ she replied. ‘For me. I must save them. I will give myself up tomorrow.’
He drew back from her and shook his head. ‘You cannot do that, Eleni.’
She swallowed and cleared her throat. ‘I have to.’
‘No. Think about it. There is no guarantee they will release your parents. Even if they did, they would still have you. They will torture you to make you tell them about the rest of us. You will tell them who we are, where our hiding places are, what equipment we have, how we communicate with the British. Everything. It is not just your life or those of your parents that is at stake.’
‘I will say nothing. I swear it.’
‘They will break you, Eleni. It may take hours, days or even weeks, but they will break you and you will tell them everything. Only then will they kill you. I could not face life knowing that they had done that.’
‘It is my choice,’ she said firmly, even though inside she felt her heart sink like a great weight into the depths of her body.
‘But it isn’t just your choice when it affects us all. We are fighting a war. All Greeks are. A war for the survival of our country. We cannot allow ourselves to put anything before that cause. Surely you see it?’
‘Of course I do . . .’ Her chin trembled slightly. ‘I am a Greek, but I am also a daughter. I would give my life for my family, just as I would give it for my country . . . You say you love me.’
‘You know it.’
‘Then what would you do if I was being held by the Germans and they said they would free me in exchange for you?’
He closed his eyes and frowned for a moment at her words. Then he breathed deeply and replied, ‘I would want to give anything to save you – my life, anything – if I could save you. But I could not put that before all those who follow me, or before my country.’
Her lips puckered into a faint sneer. ‘Spoken like a man.’
She pushed him away and turned her back on him as she curled up on her sheepskin and hugged her thin frame. He reached out and touched her shoulder, greatly pained by her reaction to his necessary words.
‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Eleni, I—’
‘Don’t speak to me.’ Her voice was strained and he felt her shudder beneath his touch as she began to cry in earnest.
‘Eleni, for the love of God, there is nothing we can do.’
‘Leave me alone! Just leave me.’
He hesitated, torn by the urge to try and comfort her, but there was nothing he could say that could change anything. He withdrew his hand and sat back, and watched helplessly as she sobbed quietly. Soon, the first ripples of anger and rage flowed through his heart and he swore a silent oath to make the enemy pay for this outrage. Blood for blood. Until they were driven from Greece, or he perished in the fighting. He sat there for a long time, watching her and torn by his feelings of guilt at not being able to save her parents, and what he knew to be his duty. The other men kept their distance. They had heard the news from the messenger, before he was escorted back to the village, and did not intrude on the private suffering of their leader and little Eleni whom they loved as a sister.
Then, while the light at the mouth of the cave began to fade as the day ended, Andreas rose stiffly and joined the men of his band squatting around the fire cooking a pot of stew. There was none of the usual animated conversation, even though a flask of raki was shared amongst them. Finally, old Yannis shook his head and muttered, ‘It is a sad matter, my
kapetan
. We will make the Nazis pay for it, eh?’
The others muttered their assent and looked to their leader as Andreas took the flask and tipped his head back. The fiery liquid offered none of its usual comfort and with a sombre expression he handed the flask on to the next man as he nodded his agreement. ‘They will pay for it, my friends. Dearly.’
When the stew was ready, Andreas set a bowl down beside Eleni and returned to the others who ate in a subdued fashion. Andreas had the first watch of the night and took up his Marlin sub-machine gun and a fleece cloak before he left the cave and climbed to the top of the hill above to settle down on the slab of rock that overlooked the approaches to the cave. The sky was clear and the cold stars glimmered down on the mountainous landscape of the island. He tried not to think of Eleni’s parents, but memories of them crept back into this mind and he recalled the happy years before the war when the cheery policeman and his wife had visited his father’s house and they had sat on the terrace overlooking the sea and drank and talked long into the night. Without his being conscious of it, the memories drifted to the times when Dr Muller and his son had joined them. The easy ache of sentimental memory instantly gave way to sickening revulsion and anger and he cursed as he thrust thought of the past from his mind and forced himself to reflect only on the revenge he would wreak on the enemy in the time to come.
There was not enough German blood in the world that Andreas could shed that would make amends for the suffering they were causing Eleni . . .
Around midnight he heard the faint sounds of someone approaching his position to relieve him. Nevertheless, Andreas eased his gun from the ground beside him and rested his thumb on the safety catch. He gave the soft whistle of a night bird and it was returned twice a moment later before Yannis emerged from the darkness and squatted down beside him.
‘I was expecting Aris. What are you doing here?’
Yannis shrugged. ‘I needed the air. The lads are as gloomy as women at a wake.’
‘And Eleni? How is she?’
‘She ate her stew, even though it was long since cold. She was cleaning her pistol when I left her. Good thing too. The girl needs to take her mind off things.’
Andreas nodded. ‘I suppose.’
They stared out towards the distant sea and Yannis cleared his throat and spoke reassuringly. ‘There’s nothing that can be done about it,
kapetan
. You must accept that, as she will, in time. Best you go to her now and try to make her see that, eh?’
Andreas stood and slipped the strap of the Marlin over his shoulder and patted his comrade on the shoulder. ‘Try and stay awake, old man.’
Yannis growled, ‘Not so old that I can’t teach you some tricks, boy.’
They shared a brief, quiet chuckle before Andreas started back down the hill towards the mouth of the cave, trying to think of the best way he could offer Eleni any comfort. Three men still sat by the dying embers, the rest had turned in, pulling their sheepskins over their bodies to warm them through the cold night. Setting down his weapon, Andreas moved to the back of the cave where he had left Eleni earlier. He stopped a short distance away, his pulse quickening. Her bedding was drawn back and she was not there. He glanced round the cave quickly and hurried back towards the fire.
‘Where is Eleni?’
One of the men looked up. ‘She went outside,
kapetan
.’
‘Out? Why?’
The man could not help looking mildly amused. ‘Same reason we all go out from time to time.’
But Andreas was already rushing to the mouth of the cave. He ducked out under the rock and stood in the darkness searching the shadows intently, desperate to call out to her, despite the risk. But it was too late. She was gone and would not answer even if she heard him. There was nothing he could do to stop her and a low keening groan welled up in his throat as he thought of her marching steadfastly towards her doom.
Chapter Thirty-Three
T
he day of the executions dawned with a clear sky. There was no wind and the sea that lapped the island was like a sheet of silk, as if oil had been poured over it to dampen the slightest ripple. The rising sun cleared the mountains on the mainland to the east and burnished Lefkada in a honeyed glow. The stillness of the new day was echoed in the sombre quiet that filled the town’s streets, until the siren sounded the end of nightly curfew. It was a harsh, ugly wail that echoed back off the side of the hill behind Lefkada and died away after a minute. Slowly the doors of the shops and houses opened and the first of the inhabitants filtered out into the streets and went about their business. But on this day many of the people made for the large open square in front of the prefecture, their hearts filled with dread, while some yet hoped and prayed for a miracle.
Eleni had stayed the night with a cousin of her mother, a dour thin woman who could be trusted to keep her presence a secret. From her Eleni had borrowed a simple black dress, shawl and shoes and left her country clothes on the bed when she left the house and joined the silent procession making for the square. The Germans had set up additional checkpoints during the night in case there was any trouble that day. They stood, weapons slung from their shoulders, carefully watching those passing by and occasionally pulling out a man to question or search. Once in a while they stopped women, Eleni noticed. Those who might be the same age as her. She pulled up her shawl and covered her head and affected a slight stoop to try and appear a little older as she approached the first of the checkpoints surrounding the square. Falling into place at the rear of a group of black-clad women, she kept her head lowered as she passed between the German soldiers. Like many of their race they were tall and well-built, looming larger than the men of Greece and frightening. After a cursory glance they waved the group through and turned their hard stares on to the people further up the street.
There was already a small crowd in the square, instinctively drawing back to the fringes as they saw the daunting wooden structure that had been erected in front of the prefecture. Eleni’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the scaffold, sturdy wooden beams supporting a length upon which four nooses hung down. Below them a thin platform stretched out beneath the nooses. In front of the gallows stood a line of soldiers with rifles to keep the Greeks back. The sight made her feel sick and giddy and for a moment she feared that she might vomit. She leaned against the wall outside a bakery and closed her eyes for a moment as she fought off the nausea. Then she took a deep breath and forced herself to stand erect and raise her chin defiantly as she moved off and found a position in the shadow of the church that overlooked the square. The modest crowd slowly swelled in size and yet there was little sound above the shuffling of feet and muted exchanges as they waited.
Eleni regarded those around her for a while, noting their thin, pinched faces resulting from the ever dwindling sources of food on the island. For a moment she wondered at their readiness to be spectators at the execution of their own people, and then realised that they had come to bear witness to this crime inflicted by their evil oppressors. They had come to see, and remember, and feed the fire that burned within. One day they would have their revenge on the Nazi invaders who had brought so much misery and suffering to their lives.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the church’s doors and a priest emerged, a silver cross mounted on a staff in his hand. Behind him came the other priests of the town and they bowed their heads as their leader paced towards the edge of the steps descending to the square. A hush fell over the crowd. The priest raised his arms, and held the cross high, as he began to chant a prayer. The crowd clasped their hands and bowed their heads as they listened.
She felt anger simmering in her breast. What good were prayers in this world? What did they ever achieve? No bullet had ever swerved from its path in response to a muttered appeal to an invisible God. No executioner’s blade or hangman’s noose had ever been stayed by divine intervention. Eleni felt the urge to shout at them. To shriek that their words were useless. The only thing that would save her parents and the other hostages was direct action. The only opposition to the Germans that mattered was violence. Blood for blood. She slipped a hand over her stomach and felt the bulk of the revolver nestling in the folds of a spare shawl she had tied about her waist under the dress to conceal the outline of the weapon.
Even now she was not sure what she intended to do. Only that she knew that she could not be anywhere else this morning. Her life had begun with her parents and now they were to be taken from her and Eleni did not know if she could survive without them. There was no will to go on. Not even for the sake of Andreas whom she loved so dearly that her heart ached at the thought of not being with him ever again. It was then that she realised that she meant to die along with them. Andreas had been right about being unable to save them, she knew. The Germans would not keep their word about releasing her parents if she gave herself up. There was no treachery that was unknown to the Germans and their Nazi leaders, who had crawled out from the darkest regions of the human heart to unleash their poison on the world. They would kill her parents one way or another, and should she surrender then they would know that their only child had also died at the enemy’s hands. Eleni coldly resolved to try and kill those responsible for the annihilation of her family, before turning the gun on herself and denying them the victory of capturing her alive.
Then she realised that her resolute expression and defiant posture might make her stand out and she eased herself away from the wall and edged into the crowd and followed the example of those around her by clasping her hands and lowering her head. An older man looked at her, his eyes widening in recognition, and his wife at his side sensed his tension and turned and also saw Eleni. Her mouth began to open but her husband whispered urgently in her ear and both looked away and deliberately ignored Eleni as they joined in with the rest, following the Trisagion prayers enunciated by the priest.
‘Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us . . .’
The prayers continued for another hour as the sun climbed into the peaceful sky and its rays illuminated the square and caused the gallows to cast a shadow across the crowd.
At nine o’clock the bell in the town hall struck and the priest abruptly stopped praying. All faces turned towards the town hall as the doors on the balcony overlooking the square opened. There was a brief pause as the bell continued tolling and then fell silent. As the last note reverberated around the square, some German officers strode out and looked down over the gallows and the crowd beyond. They wore their caps and Eleni could not make out much detail of their faces and she decided to get closer. Close enough to make sure that she did not miss. As unobtrusively as she could, Eleni began to work her way round the edge of the crowd towards the prefecture. One of the officers barked an order and a moment later the doors of the prefecture opened and a squad of soldiers hurried out and formed a cordon leading up to the gallows. Once they were in place the first prisoners were escorted outside. They looked dazed and terrified as their guards jostled them down the steps and herded them to the open ground below the balcony. Eleni saw dread in their faces as they stared up at the gallows and clung to one another, some sobbing, some trying to look defiant. One of the last to come out was the village priest, now deprived of his hat, and he affected an aloof air as he joined the others and raised his voice in prayer. One of the German soldiers promptly shouted at him and strode up and bellowed in his face. The priest ignored him, and then the soldier swung the butt of his rifle up and against the side of the priest’s head. His prayer was abruptly silenced and he staggered back, blood streaming from a deep gash in his scalp. He might have collapsed if he had not been caught and held up by two of his flock.
The crowd had gasped at the attack on the priest and began to move forward as outrage swelled in their hearts. The soldiers in front of the gallows presented their rifles as one of their officers shouted an order and an instant later bayonets rasped from their sheaths and were fastened to the ends of the weapons where the blades gleamed in the bright sunshine. Another snapped order brought the points down, directed at the crowd who recoiled a short distance and fell silent again.
Then Eleni saw the last two prisoners escorted out of the prefecture and she stopped dead, lips pressed tightly together as she fought to control the raw mix of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her: despair, love and determination. Her mother came first, chin lifted proudly as she paced steadily down the steps and towards the gallows. Behind, her husband had been stripped of his suit jacket and wore a plain white shirt open at the neck. His trousers were held up with braces and he too tried to affect an indifference to his fate in order to inspire those in the crowd. Eleni watched them, fighting back the urge to cry, and felt that her heart would break.
The soldiers led them to the gallows and forced them to mount the steps to the narrow platform, two metres above the ground, where a man was waiting by the nooses. He manhandled Eleni’s mother into place and slipped the first noose over her head and checked that it was firmly under her chin. Then he did the same for Eleni’s father and descended to the ground and indicated to his companions to stand by the trestles holding the platform up. Then all was still, save for Eleni, picking her way closer to the balcony, feeling her hands tremble as the hard steel of the revolver pressed against her stomach.
On the balcony one of the officers stepped forward and rested his hands on the stonework and began to address the crowd. At his shoulder was a thinner, younger officer, who listened and then translated his words into Greek. Even though her mind was concentrated on what she had resolved to do she still noted that his accent was good and he had picked up the regional emphasis almost perfectly as he addressed the islanders.
‘Oberstleutnant Salminger regrets the necessity of what is about to take place here this morning. The German Reich seeks only to bring peace to Greece and protect it from those who would bring violence and bloodshed to the streets and fields of your country. However, there are those amongst you who seek to defy us and shoot my men down in cold blood. That cannot be permitted. You all know of the proclamation I announced when Germany took control after the Italians betrayed us. Ten hostages to be executed for every German soldier murdered by the criminals who call themselves the
andartes
. We Germans keep our word . . . Yet we are prepared to show mercy too.’
Eleni paused and stared up at the figures on the balcony, clutching at the sudden hope sparked by the translator’s last words. Then he continued.
‘You see before you the police inspector of this town and his wife. They are guilty of raising a daughter who has joined the criminals hiding in the mountains of Lefkas, from where they launch their cowardly attacks on my men. I said that I was prepared to let these two live if their daughter gave herself up. That is still the case. If you are here, Eleni Thesskoudis, you can still save their lives . . . What dutiful daughter would not do anything she could to protect her parents? But does she do her duty by her parents? Is she here today? Is there anyone in this crowd who knows where she might be found in order to save these two innocent people? Well?’
Those in the square remained still. No voice was raised in reply and Eleni felt a terrible compulsion to answer the challenge and prove that she was the child her parents deserved. She drew a deep breath and was about to take a step forward when she felt her arm taken in a powerful grip.
‘No,’ a voice hissed in her ear.
She felt his other hand reach round her shoulder and pin her tightly against him. She tried to shake him off but it was impossible and she spoke in a furious undertone. ‘Let me go, Andreas!’
‘I cannot. This is not the way, Eleni. I told you. There is nothing we can do to stop this. Now come away, I beg you.’
She refused to move and resisted the pressure of his grip as he tried to lead her away from the prefecture. ‘I will not leave. I will not.’
Andreas relented and whispered. ‘Very well, but give me the gun, now. I mean it, Eleni. If you do anything then it will mean my death as well as yours.’
She let out a long breath and then nodded. He relaxed his grip enough to indicate the sidebag hanging from his shoulder. She carefully slipped a hand inside her black coat and undid the shawl. Holding the cloth around the revolver she eased it out and placed it in the open bag. ‘There . . .’
Andreas slid the flap over the top and fastened the buckle. It would be a risk for him to try and take the weapon out past the checkpoints but he had no intention of doing so. There were plenty of places around the square where it could be safely discarded. So they stood, with his arm placed around her shoulder as they watched.
The German commander of the garrison gave a snort and spoke again and then his words were translated.
‘I have tried to exercise mercy. You are all witness to that. My offer has been rebuffed and so I have no more choice in the matter.’
Eleni’s father puffed out his chest and cried out. ‘Long live Greece! Death to Germany!’
Salminger leaned forward and shouted an order down to the soldier who had placed the nooses round the necks of his victims. The man clicked his heels and turned to his companions and shouted an order. At once they kicked away the trestles and the slender platform collapsed. Eleni’s mouth opened and she let out a groan as her parents dropped a short distance and the ropes snapped taut. Their legs kicked out, as if they were trying to walk awkwardly. A faint, strangled series of croaks carried across the square as their bodies jerked like freshly caught fish on a line. Some in the crowd looked away in horror, but many looked on steadfastly, and then a voice echoed Inspector Thesskoudis’s last words.