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they finally reached the spread of ruins that marked the site of the
ancient city-state of Archaic-Hellenic days.
The view!' gasped Melanie when, as they stood on a sort of ledge
between the heights, she gazed with faint awe on to the crags and
sheer rock faces which culminated in sharp and rugged peaks. In the
other direction was a great valley with precipitous sides, laden with
gnarled and twisted olives, with here and there the brighter, shining
foliage of the carob trees, contrasting with the vast flutter of
silver-grey as the leaves of the ancient olives trembled in the breeze.
As so often happens in Greece, a villager appeared, from out of
nowhere it seemed. From his brown and wizened face a pair of
piercing, intelligent eyes regarded them as the man asked in excellent
English,
'You want to look around? I shall help you if you wish?'
'What luck,' commented Richard a few minutes later, for their
self-appointed guide knew all the history of the ancient site.
'It was a Hellenic town in the seventh century B.C.,' the guide said
over his shoulder as he led the way to the agora. 'But these ruins date
mainly from the third century B.C. At that time Leto was a very
important city- state and its port was Ayios Nikolaos, which you can
see down there below. So if their port was attacked they would be
warned; this gives you a good idea of how clever they were in
choosing sites for their settlements.' They lingered in the agora,, and
Melanie tried to visualize this market place when it was bustling with
life. On the altar of Hestia a lamp had burned perpetually, their guide
told them as they moved on to explore the ruined houses and shops,
the cisterns and the temple.
'This was the magistrate's house, and here they had all the civic
buildings.' Flowers and weeds grew over the broken columns, but as
with most of these historical sites nothing could take away the
impression of grandeur, or cloud the imagination of anyone willing to
see the splendour of those days when the savage, yet noble athlete
would depart from the island to compete in the Olympic Games.
Should he be a winner he would on his return be feted by the whole
community and crowned with the coveted olive wreath.
On the way home they stopped at Mallia for tea, and as Richard-had
not previously been there they wandered around for a while before
finally returning to the car and making for Heraklion. There was just
time for a hurried shower and change before they were off, once more
to dine at the Astir.
Although Melanie was awake early the following morning she lay
there, staring unseeingly at the flaking plaster and deep cracks above
her head. Two more days. ... Tomorrow night she was finishing here,
and early Saturday morning she and Richard would be on their way to
the airport. Melanie had already written to her parents; they at least
would welcome her release from the contract she had verbally made
with Lean. A tinge of guilt suddenly affected her and she frowned.
True, she had broken her word, but after the way in which she had
been treated she felt herself absolved from that promise. Not that it
was Lean's fault, for to him her guilt must seem to have been
conclusively proved, especially after her apparent dishonesty back in
England. Nevertheless, she had known unbearable hurt when, after
saying he believed her over the question of Mrs. Skonsot's earrings,
he had gone back on his word. Yes, he deserved that she should break
her promise, and Melanie could find no reason at all for these
irritating qualms of conscience that refused to be shaken off.
Richard had gone off on an organized trip to Knossos. This was in
response to Melanie's persuasion, for it was unthinkable that he
should visit Crete without seeing this magnificent centre of early
Minoan civilization. Richard would not return until seven o'clock,
when he and Melanie would go out to dine and dance. Meanwhile,
having finished her work at four, Melanie felt at a loose end, as
Sandra was out too, having gone off to visit some friends living at
Poros, just outside Heraklion. Deciding to go on to Sandra's balcony
and read, Melanie made herself some sandwiches and tea in the little
kitchen and took the tray out to the shady corner over which grew the
vines. A fresh breeze came from the sea, stirring the palm fronds and
tossing the flower heads so that their perfume mingled with that of the
pines. She sat bade, her tea on the table in front of her, a sandwich on
the plate on her knee. Voices registered vaguely, for her thoughts
were confused. Her one desire was to leave here, yet every moment
was becoming precious. Every glimpse of Lean, every snatch of his
voice in some other room or part of the grounds. ...
Every snatch of his voice
'No, I'm afraid she isn't. A friend of hers is over from England and
she's been going off every afternoon immediately on finishing work.'
Frowning, Melanie leaned forward, straining to peer through the
railings, but she saw nothing. Lean and his companion must be on the
verandah outside the lounge. Who could be asking for her? She heard
Lean's voice as he offered refreshment, heard die waiter's respectful
reply, and then the indistinct conversation between Lean and his
visitor. Should she go down? But what could she do? She could
scarcely enter the garden and approach Lean, nor could she go
through the lounge, for the staff were not allowed in there either.
It was about ten minutes later that she realized who it was, and she
knitted her brows. What could Kostagis want with her?
He was going and Melanie could hear his voice plainly as, standing
up, he moved from the shade of the verandah into the open. Both he
and Lean were immediately under the balcony where die sat, and
although on first hearing Kostagis's voice she had risen, with the
intention of going down, she changed her mind, her curiosity getting
the better of her.
'I'm still sure I know you by sight. I've seen you somewhere.'
'As I've already said, I'm quite sure you're mistaken.' Lean's voice was
polite enough, but to Melanie's ears at least it held a hint of
impatience. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]