Man Without a Heart (8 page)

'Yes-but surely the men work as well?'

'The Greek peasants are still very primitive Jill, especially in the island villages where the influence of the West has not yet made itself felt. Women work while men idle their time away in the fashion you've just seen.'

'It makes my blood boil!'

He laughed as he slanted her a glance and her heart seemed to turn a somersault at the sheer attractiveness of him. He was something, this husband of hers, and it would be devastating for her when the time came for them to part. Today was now, though, and she intended to enjoy every minute of it, for Adam was hers and hers alone, and Julia was a nebulous figure dwelling somewhere a million miles away. 'If you were born to the life, Jill,' he said, 'you'd not complain, simply because it's traditional; you wouldn't expect it to be any different.'

'The girl we're going to see,' she began, 'Marita. Will she be resigned to a life of slavery, do you think?'

'She'll know what's in store for h er, yes,' he replied matter-of—
factly. He slowed down to a crawl as two black-bearded priests started to cross the road.

'Kalimera,'
they said together, lifting their hands as if in blessing.

'Kalimera sas,' returned Adam unsmilingly, and although he felt that Jill would understand the added word, he mentioned that it was a sign of respect which priests always got. 'Yes, I know,' she said.

A minute later an audible sigh of contentment escaped her, for she felt very happy and contented sitting here in the luxurious car, by her husband's side, and as her thoughts wandered, she went right back to where it all began, with her sister's folly and impetuosity in becoming engaged to Adam. How long ago it seemed since that night of fear when she had been kidnapped by two men who she truly believed were intending to murder her. And then the drive in the car and then the yacht, which she had been on only once since, the drive to the villa, the name 'Adam,' which had given her the clue to it all, to the mistake that had been made by the two men engaged to abduct Susie. They had recently been given full charge of the yacht, Jill had learned, and wondered what their reaction would be if and when she met them again. Propelled by a little imp of mischief, she said, turning to her husband, 'Could we take a trip on your yacht sometime, Adam?' Swiftly he turned, and it seemed that his whole manner had changed, that life suddenly entered eyes that had been brooding and dull.

'You'd like that?' Undoubtedly his voice was eager, and she answered without a second's hesitation, a happy note in her voice, 'I'd love it, Adam.'

'And what,' he said after a pause, 'about your ... young man?' Gilbert! She had completely forgotten his existence! 'Er. ... well, I meant when he has gone, of course,' she stammered.

A silence followed, with a surge of dejection intruding into her happiness of a few short moments ago.

'In another five weeks' time.' His voice was edged with irony, the cause of which was beyond Jill's comprehension.

'It's only four weeks now,' she corrected him.

'A month,' he said impassively, an d fell silent, concentrating on the bends in the road, the car climbing all the time. A few houses straggled along the hillsides, the well-tended gardens including a perivoli where figs and citrus fruits were cultivated. In the hedges wild roses flourished, their heady perfume drifting in through the open windows of the car, mingling with the intoxicating smell of rain-watered countryside, sharp and tangible. As they went higher, the vegetation became more sparse but the air was still heady with the fragrance of wild thyme, citrus, lavender and pine. Above the tree line, the rocky summits of the high massif which formed the watershed between the north and south of the island rose in stark outline. The awesome peaks, contorted by the fire that gave them birth, towered in rugged nakedness against the sapphire sky, but on the foothills below the tree line all was lush and green and breathtakingly colourful, with elegant cypresses, pencil—
slim against the sky, olives with their silver-backed leaves fluttering in the breeze. Adam swung to his right and they were no longer climbing but cautiously negotiating a road that had been cut into the mountainside to link the several villages that nestled there. Every garden flaunted a luxuriant colour pattern, the pillars of their wide verandahs veiled with bougainvillaea vines, climbing passionflowers and honeysuckle. 'This is wonderful,' breathed Jill, and wished it could go on forever.

On their eventual arrival at the little mountain village of Ayios Andreas, they were immediately greeted by the bride herself, her parents, Ulysses and Thoula, her five brothers and two sisters, ranging in age from seven years to nineteen years, and about twenty aunts, uncles and cousins. 'Come for some refreshments!' invited Ulysses, grinning widely. 'We have something special for Kyrie and Kyria Adamandios!' He led the way through an army of villagers engaged in all kinds of activities in preparation for the next day's celebrations.

Some women were preparing spits and outdoor ovens, some sweeping paths, others coming and going from the shops, their arms laden with baskets and bags.

'I never dreamed it would be like this!' exclaimed Jill as she and Adam followed their host to a low cubical house with gleaming white walls and bright, newly painted shutters. Inside, all was strangely quiet, and after being invited to sit down, Jill found herself presented with som e sticky black objects, a long—
handled fork and a glass of water. Adam and Ulysses were conversing in Greek, and while she waited, not having any idea what to do with the refreshment that had been put before her, she let her eyes wander around in an interested and avid examination of a room that bore no resemblance whatsoever to any room either in her husband's house or in his mother's. The shutters had been closed against the hot sun, and so the room was dim, with a clutter of bric-a-brac and flattened cushions, religious pictures massed on every wall, and on the high, ponderous sideboard stood a row of ancient icons with small candles burning beside them. All was so different and intriguing; Jill had had no idea what the inside of one of the peasant houses looked like until now.

'You not know what to do with these nuts?' Marita, small and dainty and very tanned, smiled shyly as she struggled with her English.

They're Brazil nuts preserved in syrup-shells as well as kernels,' explained Adam as, picking up the fork, he stuck it into one of them, dipped it into the water to get rid of the excess syrup and handed it to her. 'You'll find it's delicious,' he assured her, and he was right.

After the refreshments, Jill and Adam were left to wander about the village. In the square the bridegroom's koumbari -his best men-had the mattress which they had taken from the bride's home, and were carrying it on their shoulders, laughing and cracking jokes. Other men were dancing and singing while, blaring in loud abandon over it all, was bouzouki music coming from several loudspeakers in the trees, where coloured lights were also fixed.

'The whole village seems to be one gay carnival!' Jill stopped and watched the activities of the men with the bed; they were laying it down on some grass, and then came the bridesmaids-eighteen in number on this occasion-who began to embellish the mattress with flowers and ribbons and other decorations which were stitched onto the sides and the corners. 'It's pagan,' she asserted, and Adam laughed. 'There are over a thousand guests,' he told her, changing the subject, then went on to explain that perhaps half of them would be related in some way to the bride. He and Jill were standing alone, watching the activities from beneath the shade of a carob tree in the orchard where the wedding feast would take place and which was, in fact, part of the prika supplied by Marita's father, along with a house and several other plots of land.

'I think it's crazy, the way they have to provide dowries!' Jill frowned as she spoke, thinking what an outdated custom it was.

'It's only in the villages now, where custom dies slowly. In the town, where the girls are trained for jobs and speak good English, these customs can't survive; neither the girls nor the boys will tolerate it, just as they won't tolerate arranged marriages.'

'This marriage was arranged?' Jill's eyes sought out the bride, then Thanos, the groom, who was with the black-bearded priest who had just come round for a chat and to finalise tomorrow's programme. Taller than average, Thanos wore a certain dignity which Jill liked and which reassured her that Marita would be happy. She certainly looked happy-'radiant' would be a better description, decided Jill.

'Yes, it was arranged.'

'The couple knew each other, though?'

Adam was shaking his head. 'They met for the first time a week before they were betrothed.'

'Only a week. ..' Jill was surprised.

'Yes, that's all.' Adam explained that Thanos, while on a visit to his grandmother, saw Marita with her brother, and deciding he would like to marry her, had asked his parents to arrange everything.

'It's a crazy setup,' denounced Jill. 'What about the poor girl's feelings on the matter?'

Another smile, this time a satirical curve of Adam's fine mouth. 'In Greece, my dear, the woman's wishes don't count.' He stopped and added by way of amendment, 'In the villages, I should have said. The girl is honoured when a man offers for her, because there is a real fear among young females of being left on the shelf —'

'That's an out-of-date phrase!'

'In the West, yes; but this is the East, Jill. As I was saying, these peasant girls have a fear of being left. They want the married status even though with it comes a great deal of drudgery because they not only have a baby every year but they look after the animals and they work in the fields. You've seen them, so you know.'

Jill was frowning darkly. 'And the men never work at all!'

'Some do. Those who have lemon or orange groves water them —'

'That's not work!' interrupted Jill hotly. 'At least, not like the work their wives do!'

He fell silent, his eyes wandering to the fluted summits of the mountains on the skyline, then turning to meet hers once more. 'Let's move on,' he suggested, and his hand enclosed hers, warm and strong and possessive. People came up, congratulating them on their marriage and wishing them long life and happiness.

At length they were alone again, having left the main activity behind in the village square, and a new contentment entered into Jill as she and Adam strolled along leafy lanes where colours flared, perfumes filled the air and cicadas pulsed in the olive trees. Now and then they would come upon a row of Turkish-style houses, the flowers smothering the arches, joining them in a pageant of stage settings, exotic, almost unreal in their beauty.

'It's magical!' breathed Jill. She was happy, and it showed in her eyes and the smile that lingered on her rosy lips. 'I'm glad you're enjoying it,' was all Adam said in response, and as she looked up into his masked countenance, she had the impression that he had a problem on his mind, that he was in a state of indecision, fighting something that seemed to be difficult to fight....

The sudden frown that creased his brow strengthened the impression, and she murmured tentatively, 'Is something wrong, Adam?'

'Wrong?' he asked with a lift of his brows. 'What could be wrong?' Crisp the tone, and faintly arrogant. He resented the question and had no intention of answering it. Jill fell silent, afraid of treading on dangerous ground, and after a while the conversation changed and soon they were back in the midst of the activities, with dancing and singing going on —the dances being done mainly by men alone; but one dance, the sousta, was danced by youths and girls; it was a playful performance, the movements almost always erotic in mood.

'All the dances puzzle me,' Jill was saying a short while later as they sat down to afternoon tea, which had been set out on the patio of Marita's dowry house, a newly built villa in the grounds of her parents' home.

'They all have meanings, I've been told.' Adam nodded his head, explaining that the Greek dances had survived as the quintessence of Greek history; they were an expression of the treasure of the country's heritage which not one of all the various conquerors had been able to extinguish. 'Our dances will live for as long as this world exists,' he added, with a sort of fierce pride that came as a revelation to Jill, since never before had he said much about his country and its proud claim to have brought civilisation to the Western world.

'Grief and sorrow as well as joy are depicted in our dances,' he went on, speaking very quietly, as if he were indifferent to her interest, uncaring whether she heard him or not. He was lost in reflections of the glorious history of his country, and his wife might not have been there at all. 'Instinct is the basis of human functioning,' he continued, still in the same quiet, faraway tone of voice, 'with education merely an adjunct. And dancing is instinctive. . . .' His voice trailed into silence, and he said no more. But Jill had learned something about him that was inordinately attractive, and her love swelled within her until it was a physical thing that hurt because of its futility.