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repair and so we drive.' He made a gesture with his hand. 'The scenery
is very good, madam, and perhaps you will not find the journey so long
if you take note of it.'
She relaxed, sitting back in her seat, and looked through the window.
On first leaving the small bay they had driven into Heraklion, through
narrow winding streets reminiscent of a casbah, so oriental was their
bustling appearance, but now they were travelling through a
mountainous region brilliant with exotic spring flowers. They passed
through a village where some sort of celebration was taking place.
What it was Alaine did not know and she never bothered to ask, but
she was rather startled to see wild fierce-looking men clad in purple
bloomers and fringed headdresses clustered together in the village
square, in which stood the gleaming white Orthodox church. In their
belts the men carried evil-looking curved scimitars with ornately-
jewelled handles. So these were the men of Crete, men with dark
emotions and intense hatreds, men whose blood had been shed over
and over again in defence of their homeland, the place of which Homo:
had once said, 'Amidst the wine-dark sea lies Crete, a fair rich isle ...'
The islanders were steeped in age-old traditions, they were merciless
and tough, possessed of loyalties so strong that they could be carried to
their deaths by them - and of course there were their feuds.
Cimon Duris was a Cretan. Would she have become so friendly with
him had she known? She did not think so, but it was too late for
regrets. She had foolishly given her heart to one of these men who
were 'prouder, taller, fiercer, straighter' than all other Greeks, a man
whose sensitive and uncompromising pride had spurred him to this
unlawful act of abducting her, believing she was the woman who had
brought disgrace to his family.
These thoughts engrossed Alaine as the chauffeur drove her through
the mountains where bloomed dainty rock-roses, and thyme and
saxifrage, with spurts of pink and white where the lovely oleanders
fringed a mountain pool. Another village was reached, a sleepy village
where men lounged at tables in the plateia, set out under mulberry and
tamarisk trees and other trees shading the square. The men drank ouzo
and played tavla, or clicked their worry beads. A Greek peasant with a
donkey stopped at the cafeneion, tethered the animal, took something
from one of the panniers and disappeared inside the vine-draped
building. Another man came into view, dragging along a lovely white
kid; in his hand was a knife and, struck with sudden horror, Alaine
turned her head and stared out of the other window.
On leaving the village far behind there was yet another transformation
of scenery as they entered an idyllic landscape of forested highlands
where the indigenous ilex grew in abundance among the pines and
chestnuts and, of course, the olives, their silver-grey leaves catching
the sunlight as a faint breeze fluttered through their branches. Winding
about, the car crossed a fearsome gorge before descending to lush
undulating country bright with asphodels and yellow daisies,
blooming along with the pink-clothed almond trees and
sweet-smelling oleander bushes. A surf- fringed beach came into
view. The chauffeur told Alaine that they were nearing the end of their
journey.
'The town you see down there is Sphakia; we are now on the south of
the island, as you will have gathered.' Presently he turned his head and
Alaine's glance moved from the little town nestling on the shores of
the Libyan Sea, to the majestic blue and white mansion standing high
above them on a wooded rise. 'This is the house of Mr. Cimon. Over
there you have a view of a fortress built by the Venetians. We have
many such castles on our island.'
The car rolled to a standstill, and the brakes were applied. The door
was opened for Alaine and she got out, and only then, while she stood
on the wide forecourt looking up at the grandeur that "was Cimon's
home, did she experience a return of her initial fear. Yet how foolish.
A very short while from now her explanation would have been given
and received - and what then? She closed her eyes tightly because of
the pain behind them brought about the knowledge that Cimon had no
feelings whatsoever for the girl whose name was Alaine Marsland.
She opened her eyes as the chauffeur touched her, indicating that she
should precede him up to the wide white steps leading to a patio
overhung with vines and bougainvillea and on which numerous other
flowers bloomed in brown earthenware pots of an attractive village
design.
A dusky maid opened the front door, smiled and asked her to enter.
'Mr. Cimon is expecting you, madam. If you will come this way?'
Excellent English again; Alaine wondered how the girl had learned it
so well. 'In here, madam.' Another door opened and Alaine found
herself face to face with the man who was waiting to pronounce
sentence on Estelle Marsland.
He had been sitting down, but as Alaine entered he eased his long lithe
body from the chair and stood looking across at her as she stood just
inside the door, inwardly gasping at his expression, for this man with
the satanic countenance bore no resemblance whatsoever to the man
who had swum with her every morning and danced with her at night,
the man whose smile of welcome, appearing the moment she came
into view, had sent her heart racing and her spirits soaring into the
clouds. This was not the tender gentle lover who had held her and
kissed her under a velvet Aegean sky, who had whispered in tones
l
caressing as the softest summer breeze, To fengari kay sis einay
auraya.' You're so adorable in the moonlight.
Cimon was the first to speak, in tones so cold that she actually
flinched.
'By now you know who I am?'
She nodded.
'Sulas's uncle, yes.'
'So you also know why you are here?'
She swallowed. What had appeared so very simple a short while ago
now seemed so difficult that she floundered, searching for the right
words, trepidation sweeping over her as she pictured his anger when
the truth ware made known to him. That he would place a good deal of
the blame on her she did not for one moment doubt, for she had
deliberately masqueraded as her sister.
'It's not - not as you th-think,' she began, when he interrupted her, his
tones harsh-edged and merciless.
'Afraid, eh? People always are when the reckoning comes along. They
then wish with all their hearts that they'd acted differently. But it's too
late, Estelle Mars- land - too late even for a plea of mercy. You not
only deliberately robbed my nephew, driving him to a most
disgraceful act, but you humiliated him by having one of your lovers
eject him in the most ignominious manner. Such an affront to a
member of my family is a folly for which you are going to pay dear.'
His contemptuous eyes flickered over Alaine and although she opened
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