Evan's Gallipoli (13 page)
There are dovecotes all over this place. They are beautifully decorated. Father loves watching the doves wheel and circle and then land and preen. Maria says she has lots of recipes for pigeon stew but I do not like to think of them being killed and eaten. However, I am sleeping on a pigeon-feather mattress. What a hypocrite I am. As penance I washed all of our clothes, pounding them on a washboard with the women. The clothes were frightful. The other women talked a lot among themselves, then they wanted to know all about me and Father. I told them we were on a pilgrimage and my brother and I had come from Thrace. I told them what Thrace is like. They already knew we had come from Turkish territory. I don't know how they knew. It was nice, washing the clothes with such friendly women. They all said
po po po
about Father's lost wits and told me that the icon could work wonders. Then they started telling me about miracles they had heard of until the clothes were all washed and wrung and I took them home to hang them out to dry. I need to give more money to Maria for our food. She is being so kind to Father. Tomorrow I will take him to see the icon. It can't hurt. Not just to ask. And surely there is not a holier man on the island.
Abdul is worried. He was in the taverna last night when there was a big argument. Everyone yelled. It seems that the King, Constantine, has a German wife Sophia and is pro-Germany. The main politician, Eleftherios Venizelos, is pro-Britain. He wants Greece to join in on the side of the Allies and the King wants to join in on the side of Germany (which means Turkey). This could be bad for us whichever side wins. What madman would inflict war on a peaceful gentle place like this? God has surely looked away from the earth. This island is as close as I am going to get to paradise without dying. Yet I can see it easily, what would happen if war came to Tinos. The buildings ruined by shell fire, the people dead and dying or fleeing with their bundles and their crying children. The priests dying in defence of their icon. The streets ugly with fallen bricks and dead horses. The smoke of burning houses. The smell. I shall never really get the stench of war out of my nostrils. I did not go anywhere today but stayed on the balcony with Father and Sirius and watched the shipping and the market.
We have to get a boat soon, because the gales are rising and the ferries close down for the winter. Abdul has decided to come too. I packed all our stuff. Then I couldn't find Father so I searched the town and at last went into the cathedral. He was there. In front of the icon, in the holiest place. His Bible was in his hand. He was denouncing all the pilgrims for idolaters. âWoe to thee,' I heard him shout. âDancing around the golden calf!' Luckily he was shouting in English. I grabbed him by the sleeve and hustled him away. We went through the throng of worshippers and they murmured that God had touched my father and told me to look after him. When I finally got him back to Yanni's cousin's house there were priests there to talk to him. They looked stern.
I told them that my father was afflicted in his mind by the war. They nodded. All old men with flowing beards. I told them we were leaving today. They nodded again. Then they took Father into the little church nearby and sat him down and began to question him. I didn't know what to do. I had no one to appeal to and I could not leave him so I sat down at his side and held his hand. Not that he noticed me. The languages flowed around me, Greek, Latin, Hebrew. They were learned men and so was Father. When his Greek failed him he put in words in English, which was bad because we were supposed to be French. It went on for hours. Maria brought coffee and ouzo after a while and they ate and drank while the questioning went on. That ouzo is as strong as raki. In fact, I think it is the same stuff. It goes cloudy when you put water in it. Abdul came in and sat with me. In the end they decided that Father was a holy man but sadly misinformed and ought to leave. I agreed at once and led Father back to fetch our belongings. Then we said farewell to Maria and walked down to the dock. The ferry was about to leave so we rushed on board. It is a big boat with an engine and it is packed with people. They were all talking about their pilgrimage to Tinos. Some of them had icons. I bought some floppy bread and old cheese from an old lady. It's not far to Piraeus. We should be there by tonight.
LATER We stopped at Syros, which looked like a nice little island, then on to Piraeus which is the main port of Athens and very busy with sailors and ships and stray dogs. Sirius started a fight with another dog and I had to snatch him up before he attracted a crowd. He struggled to get down. He loves a fight. I don't. Father called him a limb of Satan. Then he remembered that he had lodged letters of authorisation in a bank in Athens in case he needed some money. I asked around and it looks like the only boat going to Australia is the
Themistocles
, which sails on Wednesday, six days from now. It's a bit greasy and old but it doesn't look like sinking just yet. I haven't enough gold for the fare for the three of us so we need to go into Athens. But we haven't any papers. Why should the bank believe Father is who he claims to be when he can't prove it?
We got a carroccio, drawn by a very fat mule, to go into the city and found a room in a hotel off Omonia Square, where the bank is. It's a nice room and I am tired. Abdul bought food for us. This is a city. It's loud with voices and thick with smoke and smells, some nice and some not so nice. I'll have a look at it tomorrow.
Rain. Left the Hotel Omonia to go to the bank. I produced Father but the manager said that unless he had the right documents he couldn't give us any money. Said we should go to the Australian embassy. This is a huge risk. If Father is known as a traitor then they will arrest him. Father is no help. He has gone back to talking about how beautiful are the feet of him who bringeth good tidings, who publisheth peace. I took him back to the hotel for a rest and went out myself to buy some food and have a look at the city. Omonia Square is big, with palm trees and people selling things. It seems to be rich and comfortable. But the tavernas are full of men shouting at each other about Venizelos and the King and the constitution. I need some new clothes. I have been wearing this skirt and jumper for too long. Surely I can leave off wearing girls' clothes now. The Bulgarians can't get us here. I wonder if Abdul and I can find a job of some sort and earn the money for the fare.
Athens looks like Richmond in Melbourne, except for the Plaka and the Acropolis, rising over the city like a vision. I dawdled around, had a
yourti con meli
(yoghurt with honey) at a milk shop, then found the Australian embassy building and went inside. It was very large and forbidding, but the emu and the kangaroo on the crest looked friendly. The young lady at the desk said that she would look up Warrender and see if she had a record of us, Abraham my father and me, Evan. It's been a long time since I was Warrender. At the moment I am Dubois. After a long waitâI read the papers: Carlton beat Collingwood and won the VFL Grand Finalâshe came back and asked me to follow her to another office. When I did I found a tall man, Mr Richardson, who asked me what I knew about the Warrenders. I said nothing much, that I was looking for them. He told me that they were missing, presumed dead, at Gallipoli. He said nothing about treason charges. I said that I knew they were not dead, I had met them in Thrace. He sat me down and gave me tea. Real tea. He asked me about my travels and I told him a little. He seemed not to altogether believe me. But the tea was good. He said that if the Warrenders turned up they should report to the embassy for papers to return home if they can prove their identity. I have to think about this. It might be a trap.
I talked it over with Abdul later. He thinks he can manage papers for himself. But we need the money for the fare so we have to go to the embassy.
Because the embassy is closed this morning I took Father up to the Acropolis. It is amazing. The stone columns are so high and clean and white and ordered. And it is so old. You can see all over the city from the Acropolis. Father snapped back for a moment and began to talk about the Ancient Greeks. Democracy and mathematics. But then he faded off again. Even Abdul was impressed by the Acropolis, though he says that the Sultan's palace in Istanbul is finer. In the afternoon we went to the embassy. Mr Richardson heard us out and then said that unless someone recognised Father there was not a lot he could do. We don't know anyone in Athens. Mr Richardson said that unless we could prove that we were Australian citizens then he could not give us any papers. And we cannot prove that without papers. I am so angry. I have managed to get Father through several wars and borders and now to have some office boy tell me we aren't who we say we are is disgusting. Went back to the hotel very downhearted. I think someone is following us. A thin man with a hat. Ate at a taverna. Food good but arguments very loud. It seems that the King is being urged to give up the throne. At least I have enough money for us to stay here for a few days while I try to think of what to do next. The exchange rates are very good.
Thought I might as well see more of Athens since we are stuck here. Omonia Square is always interesting. Father sits on our balcony all day and watches the people come and go, the traders, the women at market, the people with little dogs and the groups of soldiers in all sorts of uniforms who come here to the military hospital. Most of them are missing arms or legs, some of them are blind. But the tavernas are always full of them, blind or not.
Decided to try again. Saw Mr Richardson of the embassy again. He has written to Australia for details about Father and me and we will have to wait until he receives a reply. I asked him why he didn't telegraph and he said the telegraph line was only for urgent matters. I said that we were an urgent matter and he patted me on the head. I hate that man. I asked him how we were supposed to live while waiting and he went vague. I shall have to find a job of some sort.
Mrs Vasilakis, who owns this hotel, said that I could help with the cooking and cleaning for our board. Athens is short of healthy workers. Most of the men are in the army or wounded. I'm strong. Abdul and I can manage. If only I could sleep without dreams. I wake every night, stifling my screams in my pillow. Abdul is the same. Hard work might make us tired enough to sleep. Saw that thin man again. I am sure that he is watching us.
This kitchen is very primitive. Spent the morning chopping vegetables and fruit, then had lunch, then spent the afternoon chopping more fruit and vegetables and cleaning fish. Father stays where he is put and likes watching the people, Sirius on his lap. I want to go home. But at least no one is shooting at us, which is an improvement, I suppose. Mrs Vasilakis is hard to please. She likes things done as she instructs with no short cuts. I wonder what happened to Mr Vasilakis? She probably worked him to death.
Managed to get out to buy some new clothes. I am sick of being a girl. When I say new clothes I mean new to me. I have a pair of blue trousers and a shirt. After I washed them they were fine. Busy in the kitchen today. Abdul and I sang some songs. Mrs Vasilakis told us to shut up. We have to learn some Greek songs if we want to sing. Or English. I taught Abdul âOne Man Shall Mow My Meadow'. Mrs V got some beef from somewhere and made a spicy stew called a
stifado
. It was scrumptious. Father had lentil soup. His teeth are still bothering him. I shall have to find a dentist.
There is a dentist in the military hospital. I rushed through the work this morning and dashed off to seeâand who should I meet but Sister Lucas? She actually stopped me in the street outside the hospital, which is mostly in tents on the site of the ancient agora below the Plaka. She asked what we were doing in Athens. She doesn't seem to know that Father is a traitor; she thought we were dead. I explained about our journey and about Father's state of mind. She stared at me. I think she was trying to work out if I was telling the truth. She asked where we were living and I told her and she laughed and said that our hotel was a brothel. That did explain the noise and the ladies. She offered me a job as an interpreter and made me promise to keep in touch with her. Also she showed me where the dentist was and said I could bring Father this afternoon. Perhaps Mr Richardson at the embassy will believe Sister Lucas if she tells him who we are.
LATER Father came along like a lamb and was very good while the dentist examined his teeth. The dentist said there was nothing really wrong, just the start of scurvy, and Father should drink lime juice and stay active. I saw Sister Lucas again and she said she had got us rooms in her hotel, which is on Syntagma (the word for âconstitution') Square and isn't a brothel. So we packed up and moved and Mrs Vasilakis was sorry to see us go. She cried and then she docked our wages for a plate Abdul broke. The new hotel has a bathroom on every floor and I am going to have a bath.
Abdul has a job too. Between us we speak a lot of languagesâthough he says my Turkish is still very bad. But my Turkish isn't as bad as his English. Sister Lucas took us to her commanding officer. This camp is very busy and loud. People everywhereâpatients, attendants, nurses, doctors, donkeys, horses, all dusty and all ill-tempered. The commanding officer was busy and didn't even really look at Abdul and me. He seems to greatly like Sister Lucas because he instantly agreed to put us on the payroll as civilian interpreters even though he did remark that we were rather small. So now we are all right, even if it takes the loathsome Mr Richardson months to find out who we are. Now I have a paybook in the name of Warrender to prove who I am. Abdul is sticking to Dupont until he can make other arrangements.