will do?”
Froshenie was turning the crucifix over in her hand, over and over. “He is waiting for me, Vaya. if I do not go to meet him, he will come here himself.”
Chryssie took Froshenie protectively by the shoulders and turned her around. “My sweet child! You are a clever woman. You know you should not do this. And that you are not about to do it because you fear what people would say. It is because you want to,
regardless
of what people say. But you forget who he is. Danger lurks, Froshenie. You are about to visit a
daimon
out of your own free will.”
“A
daimon
that will come here, Vaya, if I do not come to him. But this is my home. My children live here. Do you wish them to share the same danger?”
“Neither them nor you, my sweet. Tomorrow, I will take your children to the Patriarch again. This time I will ask if they can stay with him a while. They will be safe there, even the Pasha himself would not dare enter the Patriarch’s house unbidden, he is too wise for that. Or too cunning. And then you need not go to the Beast’s son! Just stay put. If Muhtar Bey calls, refuse him. Then he must enter the house by force. If he stoops so low as to do that, it means there was no escape for us no matter what. And at least your reputation will be intact. A lady who ventures out into the streets alone and in the dark risks both her reputation and her virtue - and her life.”
“He and I will just talk, Vaya. Then, tomorrow we both will visit my uncle. Yes, we will ask him to protect the children until this matter has been settled. And we will ask his help to settle it. He has the ear of the Pasha and the Pasha must have the ear of his son. The Pasha will make his son see sense - or
order
him to see sense.”
“You would have the Pasha of the Muslims obey the Patriarch of the Christians?”
“Alhi needs the Patriarch, Vaya. He is the one that keeps the Christian flock quiet and obedient in Yannina.”
Chryssie’s face was hardly that of a true believer. “What would you do have me say, my sweet? Do you honestly believe that a sermon from the Patriarch to the beast Pasha could ever do any good, rather than make things worse? When has the Pasha ever interfered with his son’s love affairs before? Never. Do you honestly believe that Muhtar would give up that easily?”
Froshenie was wringing her hands. “I can only hope for it, Vaya.”
Tears filled Chryssie’s eyes. “Then you are hoping for a miracle, my poor sweet. May God grant it. I see no other way out of this.”
At that moment a hammering on their door made them both jump. For a moment, they looked ominously at each other. The hammering was repeated, more thunderously this time. Froshenie grabbed Chryssie by the arm, not knowing if it was to steady the nurse or herself.
Then the attack on the door ceased for a moment and a booming voice called out. “Chryssie! Froshenie! What is taking you so long? Why have you bolted the door? Open up. Is nobody in there?”
Both women’s mouths fell open in a joint gasp. Then the smile of a reprieved martyr bloomed on Chryssie’s face. “God has heard our hopes already. It is Dimitros!”
Froshenie bowed her head and shadows hid the expression it bore, but her voice was a mere whisper. “My husband has come home.”
----
XXVII
----
“A t the end of the bazaar, right after the silverware shops.” The caped and hooded figure whispered the instructions again, reluctantly, as if trying to believe the darkened house was
not
the right one. But it was. The house of Muhtar Bey’s adjutant and friend, Meço Bolno.
Tonight, it held only one occupant, a splendidly-dressed Muhtar Bey. The bluish light of the full moon glistened in his teeth, as he smiled at the sight of his visitor.
Then his smile vanished and his shoulders sagged, for the figure had hesitantly lowered the hood and now bowed before him.
“You are not the lady Froshenie. You are her nurse, are you not?”
Chryssie shivered and eyed the
Froshenie was turning the crucifix over in her hand, over and over. “He is waiting for me, Vaya. if I do not go to meet him, he will come here himself.”
Chryssie took Froshenie protectively by the shoulders and turned her around. “My sweet child! You are a clever woman. You know you should not do this. And that you are not about to do it because you fear what people would say. It is because you want to,
regardless
of what people say. But you forget who he is. Danger lurks, Froshenie. You are about to visit a
daimon
out of your own free will.”
“A
daimon
that will come here, Vaya, if I do not come to him. But this is my home. My children live here. Do you wish them to share the same danger?”
“Neither them nor you, my sweet. Tomorrow, I will take your children to the Patriarch again. This time I will ask if they can stay with him a while. They will be safe there, even the Pasha himself would not dare enter the Patriarch’s house unbidden, he is too wise for that. Or too cunning. And then you need not go to the Beast’s son! Just stay put. If Muhtar Bey calls, refuse him. Then he must enter the house by force. If he stoops so low as to do that, it means there was no escape for us no matter what. And at least your reputation will be intact. A lady who ventures out into the streets alone and in the dark risks both her reputation and her virtue - and her life.”
“He and I will just talk, Vaya. Then, tomorrow we both will visit my uncle. Yes, we will ask him to protect the children until this matter has been settled. And we will ask his help to settle it. He has the ear of the Pasha and the Pasha must have the ear of his son. The Pasha will make his son see sense - or
order
him to see sense.”
“You would have the Pasha of the Muslims obey the Patriarch of the Christians?”
“Alhi needs the Patriarch, Vaya. He is the one that keeps the Christian flock quiet and obedient in Yannina.”
Chryssie’s face was hardly that of a true believer. “What would you do have me say, my sweet? Do you honestly believe that a sermon from the Patriarch to the beast Pasha could ever do any good, rather than make things worse? When has the Pasha ever interfered with his son’s love affairs before? Never. Do you honestly believe that Muhtar would give up that easily?”
Froshenie was wringing her hands. “I can only hope for it, Vaya.”
Tears filled Chryssie’s eyes. “Then you are hoping for a miracle, my poor sweet. May God grant it. I see no other way out of this.”
At that moment a hammering on their door made them both jump. For a moment, they looked ominously at each other. The hammering was repeated, more thunderously this time. Froshenie grabbed Chryssie by the arm, not knowing if it was to steady the nurse or herself.
Then the attack on the door ceased for a moment and a booming voice called out. “Chryssie! Froshenie! What is taking you so long? Why have you bolted the door? Open up. Is nobody in there?”
Both women’s mouths fell open in a joint gasp. Then the smile of a reprieved martyr bloomed on Chryssie’s face. “God has heard our hopes already. It is Dimitros!”
Froshenie bowed her head and shadows hid the expression it bore, but her voice was a mere whisper. “My husband has come home.”
----
XXVII
----
“A t the end of the bazaar, right after the silverware shops.” The caped and hooded figure whispered the instructions again, reluctantly, as if trying to believe the darkened house was
not
the right one. But it was. The house of Muhtar Bey’s adjutant and friend, Meço Bolno.
Tonight, it held only one occupant, a splendidly-dressed Muhtar Bey. The bluish light of the full moon glistened in his teeth, as he smiled at the sight of his visitor.
Then his smile vanished and his shoulders sagged, for the figure had hesitantly lowered the hood and now bowed before him.
“You are not the lady Froshenie. You are her nurse, are you not?”
Chryssie shivered and eyed the
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