15

THE PEDIMENT

From the wreck they made their way back along the edge of the inlet to Limani Sangri where the old fisherman was still mending his nets. They climbed down beside him and questioned him in slow, patient Greek about what he had seen the night before when the Futur foundered, and whether anyone had come ashore. The old man’s reaction was odd. He listened carefully, met their eyes with a shrewd, humorous gaze, and said absolutely nothing, returning to the process of mending his nets as if they had never been there. He was apparently neither deaf nor mentally deficient, nor hostile: he just seemed determined not to answer. It was an altogether curious and baffling encounter, which concluded with them thanking him politely and returning to the streets of the village, which were as deserted as ever.

The trek back across the island was as long and wearying as the trek out that morning had been full of promise, and halfway there Forrester began to regret bringing the octopus, whose ink was still leaking steadily into his shirt. And then, as they reached the glade where they had seen Keith Beamish that morning, he forgot the octopus, his discomfort and even the missing stone, because the peace and silence that had permeated the glade when they first saw it had utterly vanished.

The first thing that struck them as they entered was that there was something horribly wrong with the shrine where they had examined the statue. Two of the pillars now lay flat on the ground, pointing away from the rest of the shrine like skeletal fingers. The pediment they had supported had fallen too – and beneath it lay the broken body of Giorgios Stephanides with General Aristotle Alexandros kneeling beside him. Alexandros turned to look at Forrester.

“I need help, Duncan,” he said. Forrester grabbed the largest pine branch he could find, thrust it under the pediment and began to lever the massive marble block up, allowing Alexandros and Sophie to pull Stephanides free. The General examined his friend with the swift efficiency born of years on the battlefield.

“His head is injured, but I think the skull is not crushed,” said Alexandros after a moment. He felt Stephanides’s arm. “His shoulder is broken, but a moment ago he could move his feet, so I think not the spine. But we need to get him to the monastery as soon as possible.”

“I’ll rig up a stretcher.”

Alexandros nodded, and began to take off his jacket; Forrester went in search of more branches. Sophie knelt down in his place.

“How did it happen?” she said.

“Giorgios found me here while I was waiting for you and Duncan,” said Alexandros briefly. “There was an explosion and the shrine collapsed.”

Forrester began to slide the branches through the arms of the jacket and shirt to create the stretcher.

“Waiting for us? Why?”

“Because of your message,” said Alexandros.

“There was no message from me,” said Forrester as he worked. “We were on the other side of the island, searching for the stone at Limani Sangri.”

“A shepherd boy brought it. He said you sent him.”

Together, they slid the unconscious man onto the improvised stretcher.

“Then somebody wanted to lure me here,” said Alexandros.

“Well, it wasn’t us,” said Forrester. “Ready to lift?”

Giorgios groaned as the two men raised the stretcher. Then, with Alexandros at Stephanides’s head, Forrester at his feet, Sophie following behind carrying everything the two men had had to put down, they set off for all the world like some ancient funeral procession.

Behind them, silence returned to the clearing, the goddess looked out from the remains of her ruined temple, Stephanides’s blood began to soak into the pine needles, and the evening midges came out to hover in the glade.

* * *

The previous night the Abbot and Chrystomatos had seemed somewhat comic figures to Forrester, but as he and Alexandros carried Stephanides in through the massive wooden gates of the monastery, they were all calm efficiency. The Abbot gave the orders, half a dozen monks came running, and within minutes Stephanides was lying on a wooden table in the monastery’s hospital, his bloodied clothes being gently cut away by a surprisingly calm, unhurried Chrystomatos as Brother Thersites, the monastery’s resident doctor, examined the wounded man’s injuries and instructed other monks to bring his surgical instruments, to heat water, and to begin preparing certain herbs.

The Abbot beckoned them away and gestured for them to follow him through a labyrinth of vaulted corridors until they reached his spartan, whitewashed study, its window looking out over a bay now being steadily gilded by the setting sun.

“Sit,” he said, and began pouring four glasses of liqueur from a stone bottle. Without further words, he handed the glasses round and raised his solemnly towards them, as though conferring a blessing.

“To your comrade’s survival,” he said to Alexandros. “He is in good hands.”

“I know, Vasilios,” said Alexandros.

“What happened, Ari?” asked the Abbot, and as they spoke Forrester began to realise they knew each other much better than either of their formal positions would suggest.

“I received a message asking me to meet Captain Forrester and his lady at the shrine,” said Alexandros. “While I was waiting Giorgios found me there and began a conversation. Then there was a small explosion and the shrine collapsed. I ducked out of the way but Giorgios was closer – the pediment struck him as it fell.”

“We sent no message,” said Forrester. “Somebody else wanted Ari there.”

“To bring Maia’s shrine down on top of you?”

“So it would seem, my friend,” said Alexandros.

“So the question is,” said the Abbot, looking hard at Alexandros, “who would do such a thing?”

There was a pause.

“Who indeed?” said the General.

* * *

An hour later, when Brother Thersites had finished his operation and Stephanides was asleep in the infirmary, Alexandros, Forrester and Sophie left the monastery and began to walk along the path that skirted the edge of the woods back towards the kastello.

“Do you think this is to do with ELAS?” said Forrester.

Alexandros shot him a dark look. “It had better not be,” he said.

“Elas?” said Sophie. “I’ve forgotten, who is Elas?”

“ELAS is the army the communists are putting together,” said Alexandros. “They want me to lead it. Needless to say there are those who would go to any lengths to prevent me.”

“Have you decided?” said Forrester.

“Greece has seen far too much bloodshed. I have no desire to plunge it into another civil war,” said Alexandros.

“Then why might anyone think you would?” asked Sophie.

Alexandros gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Because they know I have been frustrated and isolated since I returned to my official position,” he said. “My fellow officers hate me because when they surrendered I fought on against the Nazis. They fear me because many of the brave men with whom I campaigned against the Germans are the same men who are putting ELAS together today. And because they know I despise most of the politicians who are now sinking their talons into Greece. These are the reasons why people might think I would accept the offers ELAS has been making.”

“But you’re not going to?” said Forrester.

Alexandros turned and fixed him with a hard stare. “If whoever destroyed that beautiful shrine did so in order to prevent me from joining my old comrades in their struggle, they are making a very bad mistake. They might achieve exactly the opposite of what they want. Or the Americans want. Or the British.”

Forrester met his eyes. “Ari, let’s be clear about one thing: whatever has happened, it has nothing to do with me. Whoever lured you to that clearing simply used my name to deceive you, that’s all.”

“But the British are desperate to prevent Greece falling into communist hands – and you work for the British government, do you not?”

“No,” said Forrester. “I’m here on an archaeological expedition, as I told you.”

“Paid for by the British government.”

“Funded by the Empire Council for Archaeology, which is not the same thing.”

“But you have been working with Major Archibald MacLean since the war ended.”

Forrester hesitated: he hadn’t realised Alexandros would be so well informed. But when he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Of course, Soviet intelligence in London would have passed news of his reconnection with MacLean to the communists in Greece – the very people who had been trying to recruit Alexandros.

“I worked with Archie MacLean to help save a colleague who was wrongly accused of murder. I’m not employed by the War Office or MI6 or any other organisation. Besides, I’m your friend. You don’t seriously think I’d try to kill you, do you?”

“No.” Alexandros shook his head. “I don’t know. Truth is, I don’t know who to trust any more, Duncan.”

Forrester turned to face him, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Well, you can trust me, Ari. Deep down, you know that. You saved my life at least twice during the war; I probably did the same for you.”

“Beyond a doubt you did,” said Alexandros.

“What you decide to do about ELAS is not my business, though I won’t pretend I’ve any time for the communists or that I think another civil war would do Greece any good.”

“Believe me, neither do I,” said Alexandros. “That’s what makes this whole thing so crazy. If they’d just leave me alone—”

“They may be leaving you alone,” said Forrester. “This may have nothing to do with ELAS.”

“Constantine Atreides is here,” said Alexandros. “Is that a coincidence?”

“Connie?” said Forrester. “Can you see Connie murdering anyone?”

“He wants to bring the king back, and all the fascist swine who lorded it over us in the thirties.”

“But seriously, Ari – Connie?”

“I know, I know. But we have a whole boatload of British here – Durrell, Runcorn, Venables, Beamish—”

“To say nothing of some fiery Greeks like Helena Spetsos and her lover.”

“Helena would never—”

“Would never try to kill you? Are you kidding, Ari? She practically caused a shipwreck to get here and she smashed half the relics on the island to stop you remarrying Penelope.”

“I never divorced Penelope, it was—”

“Yes, we understand. But the point is the woman is capable of anything.”

“So what should I do?” asked Alexandros.

“Make sure you stay alive,” said Forrester simply.

“Which is hard when I don’t know who is trying to kill me.” They walked on for a moment in silence, and then Alexandros turned to Forrester. “Would you try to find out who it is, my friend?”

Forrester glanced at Sophie. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll do anything I can.”

“Thank you,” said Alexandros. “It is good to know you are on my side. By the way, did you find anything at the wreck?”

“Nothing,” said Forrester. “Except a bloody octopus.”

“I’m sorry,” said the General. “So your stone is lost at sea?”

“So it would seem,” said Forrester, but even as he spoke, he began to wonder.