One for the Gods (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (34 page)

“Well, we do. Did you mind?”

“Of course not. As a matter of fact, I
have
told him.”

“Really?”

“He told me to stay out of your bunk. I said he mustn’t expect the impossible, or words to that effect.”

“We’re getting pretty sassy. Do you think the gods will slap us down?”

“If I know the gods they’re on our side. If a seagull starts making passes at you, look out. It’ll be Zeus in disguise. You know, in my madder moments, I wonder if it’s possible that Jack has his eye on you.”

“Please. Spare me your gruesome fantasies. Not possibly. I’d know it if he did.” They joked and laughed together and found a taxi to take them back to the Grande Bretagne.

They were off early the next morning, all sails hanging limply, on a flat and hazy sea. Jack gave them a course that would carry them past the western tip of Aegina. They drifted. Every now and then, the wake from a freighter rocked them wildly. Charlie studied the land around them, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. There were islands everywhere and hazy promontories and land masses that were part of the mainland. It was hard to tell them apart. They drifted while Charlie reduced his vision of the past to its real visible scale. Here, great empires had risen and fallen, navies had clashed, armies had marched, momentous events that in Charlie’s mind required huge canvases to reenact had all taken place within spitting distance of each other. Just over his right shoulder, the majestic power of Persia had been challenged and defeated at Salamis, making way for the rise of Athens and the creation of a state that still existed. The hazy finger of land ahead of them that was Aegina had been important enough to decide the fate of generations of Greeks. It made antiquity seem very cozy. The scale was human. It must have been marvelous, he thought, to have the known world so near at hand. No wonder men became leaders and heroes when they were younger than he was now, and rushed happily to their death before they were forty. Death. There must have been much to be said for a quick, strenuous life when the world and its wonders were so intimately available. He felt a yearning to stretch experience, to live and die intensely, regardless of consequences.

A land breeze whispered in from behind them and they began to drift with more purpose. He remembered that they had taken. on ice and called to Martha and Peter who were sunning themselves forward. When they sat up, he made a gesture of drinking and left the wheel untended while he ran below to get cold beer for all of them. Jack was sitting at his chart table busily doing something with his papers. When he returned to the deck, Peter and Martha were sitting in the cockpit. He took the beer back to them. When he handed Martha her glass, their fingers touched and they exchanged a glance, his eyes affectionate and amused, hers undisguisedly adoring. He took a sip of the beer and moaned. “God! How have we managed without this? Ambrosia.”

He studied the top of her bikini where the swelling, pale flesh of her breasts met the rich suntan of her shoulders, and wanted to tell her to go forward and get tan all over. He didn’t, but it bothered him esthetically. He couldn’t help thinking how much prettier she would be naked without white patches. Not that it was any concern of his. Unless. Perhaps. The intensity of her adoration demanded a place in his grand design.

They drank more beer and got quite giddy under the sun. When Martha brought them an early lunch, they were lying off Aegina and the breeze was beginning to shift around to the south. When it steadied at last, it was moderate and Charlie knew they would be lucky if it lasted the afternoon, but he optimistically trimmed the sheets for a real sail. Peter eased the helm up close to the wind. Jack came above and gave them some landmarks to beat their way toward. They didn’t appear to be approaching an island but a long, unbroken line of mainland coast. Peter was learning to sail Charlie’s way, in small-boat-racing style, and they had a lively afternoon tacking into the unreliable wind. As they worked their way in closer to land, the wind shifted more to the west and freshened and for almost an hour they had a brisk run for the saddle of a mountain Jack had pointed out to them. It ended abruptly in total calm. Jack came above again.

“You want me to take over for a while?” he asked.

“There’s no real need to, Jack,” Charlie said. “We’ve had it. I guess we’ll spend the night here.”

Jack looked around him. “No. That’s Poros there. You’re headed straight for the narrows.”

“That’s an island? I’ll be damned. I couldn’t imagine what we were doing over here, but this is where you said to come.”

“Absolutely. It’s right up against the mainland. I guess it won’t look like an island till we get inside. We’ll use the motor. After all, we’re running a cruise boat now. Have to satisfy the customers. I said you’d sleep in a hotel tonight and you will. It’s only about five miles.”

Charlie and Peter clapped each other on the back and cheered. “By God, he’s not Captain Bligh, after all,” Charlie said. “Good old Jack.”

“You two handled the boat damn well. With that wind, I never thought we’d get this far.”

They got the heavy sails down and motored toward what they could see now was a narrow passage between two low spits of land. They passed through and entered a long lagoon. Olive groves climbed the hills that enclosed it. Jack swung the bow to the east and they found themselves headed for a distant town of white cubes piled up on a low hill surmounted by a bell tower. It gleamed with a rosy radiance in the lowering sun. Across a narrow inlet there were more scattered buildings.

“God. How superb,” Peter exclaimed.

“Troezen,” Charlie murmured. “That’s what I remember about Poros. I read it in some guidebook. Phaedra. Hippolytus. It all happened up in the hills near here.”

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life,” Martha said. They were all three standing near the hatch gazing forward, Charlie in the middle. He put his arms around their waists and gave Peter a special little hug. “Do you suppose this is what Greece is going to be like? I’ll never leave.” He looked at Peter, pleased to see that the discoloration of his eye was scarcely noticeable now and his mouth, though still a bit lumpy, looked well enough to kiss.

The town was not as distant as it had at first looked. They were soon tied up at a quai below the bell tower and the crowd they were beginning to expect had gathered at the foot of the gangplank. A great stillness emanated from the land, broken by the occasional rattle of an ancient car from the mainland across the narrow sea passage. There was a whitewashed hotel only a few yards away on the other side of the quai; Peter and Charlie had already learned to recognize the letters that made up the word for “hotel” even though they didn’t know how to pronounce them.

“Are you going to stay there?” Martha asked hopefully.

“It’s certainly a hotel and it looks open,” Peter said. “I want to go exploring.”

“Uh-oh, here we go again.” Charlie laughed. “You’d better stick with your bodyguard this time.”

They had a drink with the Kingsleys and went ashore as the sun was setting, carrying a small bag, having made no definite plans for departure. They were immediately surrounded by young men who talked volubly at them. “Hotel,” Charlie and Peter kept repeating. The welcoming committee pointed at the nearby hotel and shook their heads and wagged their fingers. They pointed across the lagoon to what appeared to be a big, old-fashioned mansion set apart in extensive gardens. They nodded and beamed and made a gesture with their hands with all the fingers gathered together and pointing upwards that somehow suggested well-being or completion. Since the spokesman for the group was very good-looking, with sleek, dark hair and a flashing white smile, Charlie and Peter were inclined to take his word for it. He took Charlie’s hand and jerked his head toward the water and looked at him questioningly. Charlie shrugged and smiled. They all moved down the quai to a small boat. The handsome one stopped in front of Charlie.

“Costa,” he said after a few preliminary remarks, pointing at himself. He pointed at Charlie, letting the tip of his finger brush against his chest.

Charlie said his own name, but Costa didn’t seem satisfied with it. He let his finger rest on his chest and spoke very deliberately. Charlie tried variations. “Carlos?” he suggested. Costa’s expression cleared and his smile flashed. He flattened his hand and gently patted his chest. He turned to Peter who was ready with “Petros.” This elicited a murmur of approval from the group and a number of pats on the back as the two names were repeated. Costa helped them into the stern of the little boat, two more young men jumped in forward, and they went chugging off in the direction of what Peter and Charlie assumed was a hotel.

“It does seem awfully easy to get abducted here,” Charlie said.

“He’s dreamy looking, the bossy one.”

“Not bad at all. Available too, I should think.”

“Oh, sure. You see what I mean? I think they’re all available. They just don’t think there’s anything special about it.”

When they reached their destination, Charlie produced money but Costa shrank from it and indignantly tossed his head back in the Greek negative. Their escort of three accompanied them up through terraced gardens to what looked like a big shabbily luxurious private house. There was a flurry of maids when they entered a dark foyer. A stately looking old woman appeared in front of them. She spoke to Costa and the three young Greeks withdrew. Charlie smiled at Costa and called “thank you” as they went.

“How nice to have you here. I am Mrs. Voulganis,” the woman said in perfect English. “You’ve come on a yacht? How exciting. Does that mean the tourists will come again? I turned my house into a hotel just when everything stopped. You wish to be together or do you want separate rooms?”

A maid showed them into a big high-ceilinged room with an enormous double bed. Shuttered French windows gave onto a balcony and the garden and sea beyond. The bath was down the hall but there was no one else in the hotel. Everything was immaculate. They congratulated themselves on having accepted Costa’s suggestion while they put their things away. It was getting dark, so they bathed quickly and went to ask Mrs. Voulganis where they should have dinner.

“I no longer serve meals. Of course, if you stay and let me know in the morning, I could have dinner prepared for you tomorrow. But surely Costa will show you where to go.”

“Costa?”

“The young man who brought you. He’s waiting for you.”

Charlie and Peter exchanged an astonished glance. “Does he work for you or should we pay him?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, he’d never dream of taking money from you. Your being here will be a big event for all the young men. I’m sure you’ll have a very delightful evening.”

Charlie and Peter hurried down through the garden to the boat. Costa saw them coming and stood and flicked a cigarette into the sea. The other two were lolling in the stern with their arms around each other. Costa held Charlie’s arm as they stepped aboard and continued to hold it as he spoke to him animatedly. He said “Petros” several times and pointed across the water. Peter and Charlie glanced at each other and smiled helplessly. Costa started the motor. Night fell as they chugged back toward the town. The bell tower was lighted and lights were strung out along the quai.

“Maybe we’re going to find me a boyfriend,” Peter said. “The rest of you seem to be paired off.”

Charlie laughed and put his arm around him. They slipped around the bow of
Cassandra
and continued along into the passage between island and mainland. Other small boats were plying back and forth.

Costa cut the motor and they drifted in and tied up across from a vegetable shop spilling over with tomatoes and lemons. They scrambled ashore and Costa once more fell into step beside Charlie and took his hand and led the way along the front.

They rounded a corner into a square and entered a big, bare room very like the one where the man from Cairo, Illinois, had introduced them to ouzo. Groups of men were sitting about at tables. They sat at an empty one, Charlie and Peter together, Costa at Charlie’s side.

Costa called out to a big man in a dirty white apron. Other youths entered, as if they had been following them, and sat with them. Names were pronounced that neither Peter nor Charlie attempted to keep straight. They weren’t better-looking than any other group of young men; of the ten or twelve who had soon gathered around the table, only a couple could compete with Costa. Several were very homely indeed, but they all had the advantage of being deeply tanned, of having white teeth and sturdy bodies. The way they all pressed in against each other, leaning on each other’s shoulders, taking each other’s hands, made an attractive ensemble and created a feeling of warm, young camaraderie.

Food was put on the table—sliced tomatoes and cucumbers and lumps of white cheese and sections of octopus in oil—and metal tankards of wine. They all began to feed each other, holding out bits on forks. Costa filled two small glasses for Peter and Charlie and clinked his own with theirs. They drank. Peter knew what to expect, but he saw Charlie gag and he burst out laughing. He put his arm around his shoulder and encountered Costa’s. They both held Charlie.

“It’s all right when you get used to it,” Peter reassured him.

“You mean you’re actually supposed to drink it?” He did so and shuddered.

Scratchy music suddenly filled the room, a strange, wailing minor plaint. A boy from another table rose and began a solo in a clear space at one end of the room. Nobody paid any particular attention to him except Charlie and Peter, who were fascinated by the slow ritual of the dance. The boy held his arms out from his sides as he circled with small, precise steps, communicating a sense of deep concentration. He did low knee bends and slapped the floor, he leaped into the air and performed acrobatic turns and slapped his feet. There were scattered shouts of
“oopa”
from around the room and applause when the music ended.