There was a cool and heady atmosphere about the gardens of the Hotel Hermes, situated on a promontory surrounded by the sea. Kathryn had chosen Nauplia as her headquarters because it made a convenient centre for visits to several archaeological sites besides that of Mycenae, which of course was to be the highlight of her holiday.
She had booked in at the hotel, then wandered from the grounds down to the waterfront, where the odours of fish and fruit mingled with the scent of the sea which penetrated deeply into the Gulf of Nauplia. She noticed a delightful taverna where seafood was a specialty and decided to try it for lunch one day. She walked beneath waving palm trees, delighted in the mountains that dominated the coastal plain, thrilled to that clear crystal air which, she had been told, is unique to Greece, land of pagan gods, great philosophers and poets.
There were not many people about; the clerk at the travel agency had told her that, despite its wild beauty and all it had to offer in the way of ancient sites, this part of Greece had not yet succumbed to the onslaught of modern tourism. It was still the haunt of those who craved peace and relaxation away from the noise and crowds and a view of layer upon layer of concrete slabs relieved only by windows absurdly aslant to enable those behind them to glimpse the sea or mountains or whatever scenery the particular place had to offer. The Hotel Hermes was not a concrete block; on the contrary, it was low, and built with taste and a regard to what nature provided in the way of a setting. Trees had been left, even though it had meant building around them; a little rivulet was allowed its sparkling freedom instead of being culverted to provide more space. Pretty little bridges of rustic wood spanned this dancing stream which flowed into a lily pond before escaping at the other end to make its way to the sea.
The afternoon had flown; it seemed no time at all before Kathryn was again in her luxurious bedroom, taking a shower before preparing for dinner. She had bought three new evening gowns, a couple of full-length skirts and several glamorous tops, two of which were identical in style but one was knitted in silver thread and the other in gold. For her first evening she chose a white dress in cotton, very plain except for the silk cording that made a flower pattern on the front of the high-necked, tight-fitting bodice, and the flouncing on the bottom of the long, flowing skirt. A bracelet of plain gold, and the ring she had found, were her only pieces of jewellery. Yet as she entered the dining-room almost every head was turned. She knew she looked nice, that her russet-brown hair was lit with honey lights, that her eyes were happy, her figure supple and slim with curves which at this moment attracted the attention of many people, mostly men.
But it was the interest of one man in particular that affected her, a dark, clear-skinned Greek immaculately clad in a loose-fitting safari suit of white linen. The sole occupant of his table, he had seemed to catch a glimpse of something to her side, causing his dark, metallic eyes to widen in what seemed to be an expression of astounded disbelief. Kathryn felt her nerves tense as she wondered for one horrifying moment if her dress was torn, or tucked up in some way, but on glancing down swiftly she saw nothing amiss. As she proceeded to her table in the wake of a square-shouldered waiter, she was still wondering what had arrested the Greek's attention.
She had a table to herself, and as she sat down her eyes naturally sought him out. To her amazement, he had moved so that he faced her rather than having his back to her! She felt the colour rise in her cheeks and she picked up the menu quickly and held it in front of her face. But every few seconds she glanced at that table again; it was as if she had no control over her mind… or was it that he possessed some strange magnetism that drew her eyes to him all the time? The waiter appeared, but she was not ready and he went away again. She saw him go to that particular table and take the order. The wine waiter appeared, but the Greek was still considering; the choosing of a wine was obviously of major importance to him.
After dinner there was a floor show, then dancing until midnight. Kathryn decided to watch the show and then go to bed. Somehow she was not even surprised to find herself seated next to the dark Greek. She had chairs vacant on both sides of her, and he took possession of one of them. She expected him to speak and was not disappointed.
'Are you here on holiday?' he asked, his eyes resting for a moment on the hand nearest to him—her left hand.
'Yes, I am,' she answered, some strange tremor of excitement rippling along her spine. The man interested her, seemed to hold her in some kind of suspended state where she waited, breathless, for something momentous to happen.
'You're staying here? At the Hermes?'
'Yes,' she said again, wondering why she did not resent the questions being put to her.
'Are you alone?'
She hesitated this time, her nerve-ends taut. But his glance was open, his lips curved in a half-smile, and she found herself answering, 'I'm alone, yes.'
'When did you arrive?'
'Only today.'
'How long will you be here?'
'Three weeks,' she replied. Then, feeling it was her turn to ask a question, she said, without giving him time to speak again, 'Are you staying here?'
There was the slightest hesitation before he said, his attention appearing to have strayed to a group of people looking around for seats, 'Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.'
'On holiday?'
He nodded his head. 'That's right.'
'What part of Greece do you come from?'
He looked at her in some amusement. 'My turn to be questioned, eh?'
'Well, I don't see why I should be cross-examined without putting the odd question myself,' she retorted.
'I'm on my own here; I'm not married, nor do I have any children to my knowledge,' he thought to add, amusement edging his voice. 'I can stay as long as I like, so I might just stay three weeks. Is there anything else which will be of interest to you, I wonder?' He still hadn't answered her last question, Kathryn realised. 'No, I don't think so, not at this stage, anyway.'
'At this stage?'
Kathryn looked questioningly at him.
'Forget it…' He took her hand, holding her fingers very much in the grand manner of a gallant in days gone by who was intending to kiss them. 'That's a pretty ring you're wearing,' he murmured. 'A most unusual setting. You're engaged?'
She shook her head. 'No, I'm not engaged.' And on noticing the faint inquiring life of his brows, she added, 'I wear it on this finger because it won't fit any other—except my little fingers, but it would slip off and I might lose it.' She gave him a smile, her eyes wide and honest, like a child's.
He still held her hand, retaining his hold when it did not seem in the least necessary to do so. She could not understand why she allowed this. All she did know was that the touch was pleasant, that the contact of flesh against flesh was sending absurd tremors racing along her spine.
'It's… pretty… isn't it?' she managed at last, and he nodded, still thoughtful. He released her hand.
'Very, and worth a lot of money. Where did you get it?'
'It's… er… been in the family for years…' She stopped, and stared, staggered by the lie she had never meant to tell.
'It has?' A long pause; and then, 'Would you sell it?'
She shook her head at once. She had never really considered it was hers to sell, despite her angry declaration to the contrary after being almost ordered off the premises of Algernon St. Clere. She still had the conviction—vague, it was true—that one day she might just run across the legal owner, in which event she would willingly give it back.
'No, I would never even consider selling it.' She paused and looked at him, wondering what he, a Greek, could want with it. Perhaps he was getting engaged and wanted something antique, and different. 'What makes you want to buy it?'
'I… collect antique jewellery,' came the response. Kathryn looked at him again, puzzled by the hesitation. 'That ring would make a most interesting addition to what I already have.'
She said, hoping to veer the subject from the ring she wore, 'Do men usually collect antiques? I mean, jewellery is associated with women, usually.'
'People collect all sorts of things these days, as investments.' His voice had a casual edge to it; he lifted one lean brown hand to suppress a yawn. 'Your stay here seems rather long,' he remarked, changing the subject. 'People usually spend no more than a couple of days and then move on to somewhere else.'
'Two days wouldn't be anywhere near enough for me,' she asserted. 'There's so much to see. I imagine one could spend a whole day at Mycenae for a start; then there's Epidaurus and Tiryns, and the Roman baths at Argos, and the ancient theatre…' She flicked a hand expressively. 'There's more than enough in these parts to occupy me for three weeks!'
The hint of a smile touched the handsome, classical lines of his face. 'What is your name?' he asked after a pause.
She frowned then, deciding it was time she made some protest against his questions. 'I don't think there is any need for me to give you my name,' she said stiffly.
'Only that I would like to know it,' he said in some amusement.
Kathryn felt at a loss, aware that she had no answer to this. She slanted him a glance, taking in facial qualities which were already impressed on her mind—the distinctive classical features of the Greek with those high cheekbones and rigid jawline. His mouth was thin yet in some indefinable way sensual; his eyes, the colour of harsh grey serpentine, were long-lashed and deep-set below finely marked brows. His olive skin was smooth and shiny. His raven hair waved a little; it was wiry and clean and greying at the temples. Kathryn judged his age to be around thirty-five, although he could be older—thirty-eight, perhaps. Certainly he had all the confidence and savoir-vivre of the mature aristocrat, the noble qualities characteristic of those silent statues carved so many centuries ago by the pagans of Greece.
'I never give my name to strange men,' she said at last, aware that he was waiting for her to speak.
'I shall give you mine, then,' he said coolly. 'It's Leonides Coletis. I prefer Leon for short.' He leant back in his chair, totally at his ease. Anyone would think he had known her for months!
'Are you telling me to call you Leon?' she asked, nerves quivering as once again she felt excitement flooding over her, along with the expectancy that something was about to happen.
'That's right—but of course you'll have to tell me your name, won't you?'
She had to smile. His charm was devastating when he glanced at her like that, with the glint of amused satire in his eyes. She suddenly realised that she was acting in a manner completely alien to her—picking up a man like this at an hotel. Nevertheless, she found herself giving him her name, then heard it repeated. It rolled off his tongue in a way that made her catch her breath; his accent gave it an attractive richness which was exceedingly pleasing to her ears.
She coloured adorably as he repeated it again, and lowered her head when he murmured, almost to himself, 'It's a delightful name. I hope that people do not shorten it to Kate?'
'Sometimes they do, yes.'
'You ought not to allow it.' His eyes strayed to the ring and he added, 'Is Dalton your family name?'
She frowned in puzzlement. 'Of course. What a strange thing to ask.'
The wailing rhythm of the bouzouki intruded into Kathryn's words and she wondered if he had heard them. If so, he made no remark on what she had said, offered no excuse for his question. Instead, he seemed to become absorbed in the music, his eyes moving from one mandolin-type instrument to another. The strains filled the room, mournful and sad, like a lament on the pathos of life. The floor show began, but very soon Kathryn decided she did not care for it and she turned to tell the Greek she was leaving.
It was as if he sensed her intention, because even as she opened her mouth, he was saying, 'Do you care for this, Kathryn?'
'No…' She stopped, becoming vexed by his familiarity. 'If you'll excuse me…?'
'I'm leaving myself,' he said, rising at the same time as she. 'Let me buy you a drink.' It was a firm statement rather than a question, and again Kathryn's anger rose. What right had he, a total stranger, to speak to her like that?
'Thank you,' she returned coldly, 'but I'm going to my room straightaway. I've had a tiring day.'
She swept out, managing to find a pathway through the crowd watching the show. Her seat was pounced upon immediately, and so was the Greek's. He stayed beside her, though, close and proprietorial. He even took her arm when, turning as she left the room, she almost collided with a man carrying a tray.
'Steady, there,' he said. 'Come, let me buy you a drink.'
Her instinct was to throw him a sharp and acid retort, but instead she found herself saying, 'All right, then, but I'm not staying up late,' at which he gave a low laugh that brought the blood rushing to her cheeks.
'I don't intend to keep you up late, Kathryn,' he assured her in a tone that was now suave and, somehow, confident.
They drank at the bar, went from there to the dance floor, where they danced until midnight, and from there they strolled through the hotel gardens and stood beneath the star-spangled sky of Greece. The night was warm and balmy, the air filled with heady scents. It was a night for romance….
Kathryn pulled herself up with a jerk. What had come over her tonight? She'd had no intention of spending hours and hours with the Greek… and yet it seemed quite natural that she should, just as it was natural for her to say, in answer to his low-toned question about meeting her the following day, 'Yes, I'd love to. Where shall we go?'
He made no answer but drew her to him, tilted her chin in an arrogantly masterful way that thrilled when it should have angered, and bent to press his lips to hers.
It was madness, she told herself half an hour later when, in her bedroom, she was staring at her face, her lips, her hair. She was flushed, and her lips were swollen and hurting. Her hair had been immaculate; it was more than a little tousled… and it was not as if she could blame the breeze for its condition.
***
As soon as she awoke the following morning, Kathryn's thoughts flew to the handsome Greek, and she felt excited at the prospect of seeing him again, looking forward eagerly to the excursion they were taking together. After showering, she dressed with care, choosing a skirt of lime-green cotton, crisp and new, with a matching sun-top. Her wide belt and sandals were white, as was her handbag. She used her blusher sparingly and only a touch of lip-rouge; her hair was given an extra brushing. Finally she used a perfume spray and, picking up her bag, went gaily to the lift, which took her down to the restaurant. Leon had said last night that he would see the headwaiter and have him arrange for them to share a table.
'It's much more pleasant if one has company,' he stated, and Kathryn found herself agreeing eagerly with what he said.
She saw him just as he spotted her. He rose from his chair, waiting until she was seated before he sat down again.
'Did you have a good night?' Leon asked with a smile.
'Yes, a very good night, thank you.' She smiled in response, aware of his appreciative eyes flickering over her… and finally coming to rest on the hand with which she was accepting the menu from the waiter at her side. It was the ring, she thought, wondering what his collection of jewellery was like. She loved antique jewellery herself, and could think of nothing nicer to collect if one was fortunate enough to be able to afford such an expensive hobby.
'Where are we going?' she asked him as they settled down to bacon, eggs and tomatoes, all done to a turn.
'Where would you like to go?'
'It doesn't matter. I haven't seen anything yet.' She paused to sip her coffee. 'Have you been to any of these sites before?' She was remembering that he had not told her what part of Greece he came from.
'I have, yes,' he answered, but added that he would enjoy seeing them again. 'Perhaps we'll go to Mycenae,' he went on. 'It's the highlight, after all.'
'Yes, indeed,' she responded eagerly. 'I've read so much about the fortress of Mycenae, with its royal tombs and all the beautiful treasures which the archaeologists found in them.'
'Most of the beautiful things you mention are now in the museum in Athens.'
He had his car, he had told her last night, and as soon as breakfast was over he took her to where it was parked, in the grounds of the hotel.
They got in and were soon bowling along the palm-lined avenue towards the gate leading out to the main road.
Leon drove through olive orchards and across wilder, arid country, all of it seeming to be very familiar to him. Kathryn, on the other hand, found every single aspect novel and exciting. Even a man and a heavily laden donkey brought an exclamation from her and several times she was conscious of her companion's swift glance of amusement as he drove along, smoothly covering the miles to their destination. They passed through Tiryns and Argos, travelling northwards through the Central Plateau of Peloponnesus, with mountain ranges towering all around.
'This is, of course, Arcadia,' Leon told Kathryn, smiling faintly. 'Where nymphs and shepherds danced to the merry pipes of Pan.'
'He was a nature god, wasn't he?'
'Yes; worshipped by the Arcadian shepherds because he made their sheep and goats fertile, and in addition caused the wild beasts to be killed.'
'It's fascinating—Greek mythology, I mean.'
Leon said nothing; he was negotiating a series of bends and his whole attention was on his driving. Kathryn, slanting him a glance, saw a rigid profile etched in lines both arrogant and noble. He was pleasant with her, a smiling companion of great charm… but, somehow, Kathryn had the firm impression that very different characteristics lay beneath the suave gentility which he was showing to her. In fact, she sensed latent pagan qualities that, if released, would dramatically transform his whole personality. Her thoughts switched to last night. He had taken her into the grounds of the hotel for one purpose. She had known he wanted to kiss her; and as she relived those vital moments before he had taken her in his arms, she found herself deciding that whatever this dark Greek wanted, he would get….
He spoke at last, breaking into her thoughts as he began to tell her more about the god Pan—how he made his flute from reeds because the nymph Syrinx had escaped his attentions by being changed into a reed.
'He was more successful with the moon goddess, Selene,' went on Leon in his quiet, finely modulated accents. 'He dressed himself in the dazzling white fleece of a ewe and enticed her into the forest.' The amusement in his voice turned to laughter, and Kathryn laughed with him. She was thinking how pleasant this was—being with a handsome companion instead of wandering about on her own. For although she was happy when alone, she had to admit it was far more pleasant to have a man as charming and distinguished as Leonides Coletis as her escort. She was exceedingly flattered by his attention, marvelling that he should be bestowing it on anyone like her.
Eventually Leon turned off the main road into an avenue of eucalyptus trees which led to the village. Tobacco cultivation occupied all the lands in this region, and Kathryn became aware of Leon's repeated glances, from one side of the road to the other, as if the neat, widely spaced plants with their rigid stems and wrinkled leaves were of the greatest interest to him.
The village was reached, its aspect primitive in spite of a few recent buildings. Leon pointed out the celebrated hostelry—La Belle Hélène—in whose visitors' book could be found many famous names, including those of Virginia Woolf and, of course, the famous archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann. Because of his unshakable faith in the Homeric mythical tradition, Schliemann had excavated at Mycenae, and, having been successful in finding the most fabulous array of treasures, believed he had unearthed the tombs of King Agamemnon and his companions who had returned with him from the Trojan War. But Agamemnon had returned only to be foully murdered by his wife and her lover.
When the village was left behind, the citadel was there before them. Perched on a hilltop above the Plain of Argolis, it was surrounded by a landscape of eerie bleakness, with the harsh mountain vistas of Zara and St. Elias creating a sort of primitive grandeur in keeping with the bloodthirsty history of the ancient fortress of Mycenae.
After Leon had pointed out the Treasury of Atreus, and the tombs of Clytemnestra and her lover, Aigisthos, he drove up to the front of the palace and parked his car.
Kathryn, looking around as she got out, thought she had never seen anything so austere as the aspect that confronted her—the grim isolation of the site, the harsh savage landscape of ravines and mountains… all combined to create a wild and eerie setting for a citadel whose blood-soaked history was known the world over.
The citadel looked forlorn and deserted, with no visible sign of its lost glories or the reason that it had once been called the 'palace of gold.'
'It's sad, isn't it,' Kathryn could not help saying, 'that the glory is all gone, lost in the mists of time?'
'Change, Kathryn,' responded Leon in emotionless, practical tones. 'Nothing survives the destructive encroachment of time, or its ravages.' He glanced around; Kathryn wondered if he found the aspect as bleak as she, if he felt the ominous atmosphere which the blood-ridden fortress still retained. His eyes were unmoving now, like a statue's. Tall and striking, he seemed like a god himself, for undoubtedly he possessed all the regal qualities of those awe-inspiring inhabitants of Olympus.
'All those terrible murders,' said Kathryn, shuddering as she glanced around, thinking of the foul slayings of Agamemnon and Cassandra and others who, arriving in their chariots from years of absence at the Trojan War, were joyously welcomed, then slain by his wife, the adulterous Queen Clytemnestra. 'How many murders took place here, Leon?' she asked.
'At least eight,' he said, and again Kathryn shuddered.
Leon turned and laughed. 'A great deal of blood has been spilled on the stones of this citadel.' He paused to regard her in some amusement. 'Shall I recite the list of murders to you?' he queried with a laugh.
'I expect they were pretty hideous crimes.' Kathryn glanced round the awesome place again, almost surprised to see nothing more frightening than a dog barking furiously at a group of tourists who had just arrived by coach from Corinth.
'You're quite right,' said Leon, 'they were pretty hideous. The worst, as everyone knows, was when, at the feast given by King Atreus for his brother, Atreus served him two of his own sons for dinner.'
'Oh!' Kathryn stopped and stared. 'You mean the brother's sons?'
'Yes, Thysetes' sons. It was said that the sky darkened that day, because of the appalling nature of the crime.'
Kathryn wrinkled her nose in perplexity. 'Was it real?' she asked uncertainly.
'Real?' They had begun to walk on again, to look over the fertile plain that swept down to the sea. 'What do you mean?'
'It's hard to separate fact from fiction.' Leon said nothing, and she added, thinking of the slave girl Agamemnon had brought back with him from Troy, 'I felt sorry for Cassandra. She probably didn't want to come here at all.'
'Probably not, but she was part of the booty given to Agamemnon and so he brought her with him when he came home.'
'And she was brutally murdered by his wife.' At the sadness in Kathryn's voice, her companion looked down, regarding her with an odd expression as he said, 'Wouldn't you want to be avenged on your husband's mistress?'
'I'd never want to murder her,' answered Kathryn, but she frowned for all that and added, after a moment's thought, 'One never knows, does one, how one would feel in a situation like that?'
She was looking up into his dark face, and suddenly it was transformed, his features startlingly and frighteningly changed as a harshness spread over them, erasing the handsome good looks, the expression of amused tolerance which Kathryn had found so attractive on so many occasions, both last night and today.
'I certainly know how I'd feel!' he said, the harshness in his voice matching the expression on his face.
Startled by the dramatic change, Kathryn found herself saying in a faltering tone, 'You'd… want to kill your wife… if she was unfaithful?'
'Yes,' he replied without hesitation, 'I should want to kill her!'
'But of course you wouldn't kill her.'
Leon's eyes narrowed to mere slits as he said, 'By the time I'd finished with her, she'd probably wish I had killed her.'
Kathryn shivered and walked on, unconsciously increasing her pace as if trying to get out of his way. But then she stopped to take in the view over the plain to the smooth dark sea of Greece. Leon was beside her again, and when she turned, all the harshness had left his face.
'Did I scare you?' he asked, those dark metallic eyes looking down into hers with a strange expression. 'I hope I didn't, Kathryn.'
'You certainly looked ferocious,' she said with a shaky little laugh. 'I wouldn't like to be your wife, Leon.'
'You'd have nothing to fear,' he rejoined, sounding casual enough now, and even indulgent, 'because you're not the girl to be unfaithful.'
She glanced at him swiftly, blushing at the compliment. 'No,' she said, 'I'm not.'
'You have a boyfriend?'
'Not anyone that I'm remotely serious about.'
'How old are you, Kathryn?'
'Twenty-two.'
'Young and beautiful.' He smiled, and she felt her pulses race. There was certainly something inordinately attractive about him, despite the change she had seen a few moments ago.
They wandered about the site for over two hours, with Leon explaining the layout in a way which convinced Kathryn he had been here not only once but several times. He told her of the golden doors that had hung on posts of gleaming silver, of the golden figures of youths holding flaming torches when banquets were held by the king. She wondered where all this gold had gone, and the sad thought occurred to her that it had long since been melted down for other—perhaps more practical—purposes. But if so many of these lovely things were gone, at least there was an enormous priceless collection of finds safely deposited in the museum.
Leon had been frowning slightly for the past few minutes, and presently he said, sweeping a hand to indicate another coachload of tourists coming onto the site, 'I was going to say we'd come back after lunch, but it's obviously going to be crowded this afternoon, and there's nothing that robs a site like this of its atmosphere more than crowds of people milling about with their cameras snapping incessantly.'
Kathryn nodded in agreement but said nothing. She would like to come back for another visit and decided to do so before the end of her holiday. 'I'll take you to the La Belle Hélène,' he said as they were strolling back to the car, asphodels and other wildflowers at their feet, growing in glorious profusion between the stones and at the sides of the paths.
The hostelry was crowded, but one of the proprietors instantly appeared, glancing at Kathryn for a second before greeting Leon like an old friend. Leon called him Demos and said he wanted a table for two if that were possible.
'In one moment there will be one for you—in a nice secluded corner of the garden!' the man promised, his dark eyes flickering again to Kathryn, this time to rove her figure, taking in the slender form, the youthful curves, the firm contours of her breasts. She coloured and glanced away, leaving the two men to chat in Greek for a few moments while waiting for the table that was coming vacant, its occupants already preparing to leave.
'Ah, now!' Demos led the way, and soon Kathryn and her companion were seated at the table where mulberry trees afforded them welcome shade from the grilling rays of the Grecian sun.
'It will be cleared and set in a moment,' promised Demos, speaking excellent English but with a more pronounced accent than Leon's. Another man came, and he too spoke familiarly to Leon. Kathryn wondered again where Leon lived.
'Do you come here often?' she could not help asking when the waiter had gone away with his loaded tray.
'Not often, but now and then.'
'It's lovely!' Kathryn was happy, and it showed all too clearly in her shining eyes, her delicately coloured cheeks, her rosy lips parted in a smile that was both spontaneous and youthful. Leon looked at her intently, an odd expression on his dark, handsome face. Did he find her attractive? she wondered, strange tremors rippling along her spine at the possibility.
'You're obviously enjoying yourself,' observed Leon, his eyes moving fleetingly to her ring. 'There's a lot more of this to come yet.'
A lot more…. This meant, surely, that he intended to spend the whole of the three weeks with her. He must find her attractive, then.
When coming on this holiday, she had expected to be alone for the most part, at best finding a temporary companion, male or female, with whom to share the odd excursion, or perhaps a visit to the cinema. This companionship with Leon was something beyond her wildest dreams; she refused to think of the time, three weeks hence, when she would be saying good-bye to him. This was now, and she had no intention of dwelling on the void that the parting would inevitably leave.
Bouzouki music was being played by four musicians sitting on a raised wooden platform set to one side of the gardens; flowers abounded, colours flaring—the crimson of hibiscus, the pinks and whites of oleanders, the golden yellows of allamandas. From the tables came the multilingual babble of voices, with laughter often superimposed upon all other sounds. There was a carefree, almost festive air about the sunlit scene, and as she accepted the menu from the mahogany-skinned waiter, and her eyes met the admiration in her companion's expression, a wave of sheer undiluted happiness swept through her. She gave him a swift and winning smile which brought an instantaneous response. They gave their order. Leon had red mullet grilled over charcoal, and souvlaki flavoured with thyme. Kathryn had a Greek stew of beef and onions marinated in wine. It was called stifado, Leon told her. In addition, Leon ordered a variety of roasted meats and salads. Kathryn tasted such things as dzadziki, which was cucumbers soaked in yogurt, with dill and garlic; meatballs flavoured with nutmeg, olives and various cheeses and a rich Burgundy-type wine called Boutari.
Several lithe-limbed Greek youths came from somewhere behind the musicians and began to dance, twisting and diving and gyrating through the Zorba-style syrtaki. Then a couple more, linked by a handkerchief, their faces intensely solemn, rocked and dipped through the tsamiko, accompanied by the mournful strains of the bouzouki band.
Then one of the men lay down on the grass, abandoning his body to sexual movements. When he rose, there was a look of supreme ecstasy on his face, a sort of sublime joy and contentment. Leon, aware that Kathryn had been an unwilling spectator of this latest piece of activity, broke the silence that had descended upon them, telling her that all these dances were closely related to Dionysian rites as practised thousands of years ago.
'They're undoubtedly pagan,' he ended finally.
'Are all Greek dances pagan in origin?' Kathryn was grateful for his intervention.
'Most of them are a link with antiquity, yes. The dance was an integral part of their pagan religion, and, according to the expert on Greek dances, Dora Stratou, they have preserved their original movements in their entirety, all the archaic elements still intact.'
Kathryn, intensely interested, avidly wanted to hear more about the Greek dances. Leon told her about the dances of various regions of Greece, explaining how they differed from district to district.
'The dances of the Ionian islands are light and graceful, with swaying and gliding movements, while those of Epiros are more vigorous and heavy and are, therefore, rather slow. In Crete you see the war dance, the pendozalis, and until recently the dancers, all men of course, were armed. On the island of Cyprus the dancers often face one another, and here you have men dancing alone or women dancing alone. Not very often do men and women dance together.'
'It's strange to me,' she said, smiling. 'This separation of the sexes is very evident—with men everywhere and the women being conspicuous by their absence.'
He laughed with his eyes and Kathryn caught her breath. How devastatingly attractive he was when he laughed like that!
'The women are at home, cooking and mending and having babies,' he said. 'The men spend a great deal of their time in tavernas, playing tavla and drinking ouzo.'
Kathryn relapsed into silence, wondering what he did for a living. She found herself wondering about his home life, too, if he had brothers and sisters, a father and mother. She felt sure he had no wife, or even a girlfriend about whom he was serious. Other women friends…? Well, she had heard about the Greeks and their pillow-friends, and she felt she would be very na?ve indeed if she tried to convince herself that a man with the personality and obvious virility of Leon Coletis was living the celibate life.
The waiter was at their table again, removing the plates and all the side dishes, while another refilled their wineglasses, then handed them the menu so that they could choose their dessert.
Leon had the cheese board but Kathryn chose a fresh-fruit concoction composed of banana and pineapple slices and wedges of watermelon topped with cherries, cream and walnuts.
'That was delicious!' Kathryn leant back with a contented sigh when she had finished, her eyes on the musicians, watching them individually—the man with the lute and the other with a clarinet. One man played a violin and the fourth a dulcimer-like instrument whose strings were struck by cotton-covered mallets.
'You're full, obviously,' commented Leon, who, Kathryn had noticed, had eaten sparingly.
'It was a lovely lunch. Thank you very much, Leon, for bringing me here.'
'A pleasure,' he returned, smiling. 'I little thought, this time yesterday, that I'd be here today, having lunch with a charming English girl. But there you are; one never knows what fate has in store for one.'
Kathryn coloured and lowered her lashes, shy all at once beneath his flattery. Was it genuine? Was she a gullible fool and he a wolf? She had heard a bit about Greek men, and how all they thought about was sex, which was why they stared so, with prolonged insolence, uncaring that you were staring back with contempt. Leon was not like that at all, although he did cast his eyes over her figure now and then, but with an appreciative glance, certainly not a sensual one. She was perfectly at her ease with him, thoroughly enjoying his company, feeling she had known him for weeks rather than hours.
At last they left the inn and sauntered over to the car park. The ground was rough, with small boulders strewn about, and Kathryn, although treading with care, managed to step upon one of these boulders and would have overbalanced if Leon hadn't seen what was happening and caught her before she fell. He brought her up against him; she felt the muscular hardness of his body, the strength of his arms, the cool clean breath that came from between lips that were touching her cheek.
'Oh… thank you!' she gasped, her heart pulsating at his nearness. 'I would have fallen…' She stopped and winced and glanced down at the ankle she had twisted.
'Did you hurt yourself?' asked Leon quickly.
'It's only my ankle. I wrenched it, I think, but it's nothing.'
'You'd better get into the car, and I'll take a look at it,' he said peremptorily. 'I hope you haven't sprained it.'
She hastily reassured him that no such injury had occurred, but limped painfully as they made their way over to where the car was parked beneath the shade of a clump of cypress trees. Leon told her to sit sideways on the seat so that he could examine the ankle.
'No, it's not sprained,' he pronounced after pressing and probing with his fingers. Kathryn, trying to retain an air of sophisticated calm, found instead that her pulses were hammering, her emotions wildly out of control. She looked down onto the top of his dark head as he bent over her foot, saw the broad, arrogant shoulders, dark-skinned beneath the thin white summer shirt he was wearing. He glanced up as he spoke, and his lips twitched because her cheeks were fused with delicate colour.
Perceptively, he knew she was deeply affected by the touch of his hands on her bare flesh. Slowly he straightened his lithe-limbed body to stand for a long moment regarding her with a strange expression in those darkly foreign eyes. Kathryn swallowed to get rid of the dryness affecting her throat. It was a tense and profoundly intimate situation even though he was not now touching her, and some thread of unconscious thought convinced Kathryn that Leon was as deeply affected as she. Did he like her? she asked herself again. Yes, she had already decided that much. Was it more than liking she saw written on his face at this moment…?
