have a look round."
Alexias poured himself another coffee and moved to the fire, steam rising from his sheepskin coat. "I'll be ready to leave in five minutes. Just give me time to dry ùout a little."
Boyd was still making inroads into the bread and cheese as Lomax went through the kitchen and moved out on to the porch. He crossed the yard to the barn and paused in the entrance.
An old oil lamp swung from a beam that seemed to be the mainstay of the building and in its light Katina Pavlo was harnessing the mare. A board creaked under his foot as he went forward and she turned at once, reaching for the shotgun that leaned against the end of the stall.
She relaxed visibly. "Oh, it's you, Captain Lomax."
"So your uncle told you my name," he said.
She nodded. "You are younger than I had imagined. Much younger."
He frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Even on Kyros we have heard of the Nightcomer," she explained. "And of the things you have done in Crete. Last month all they could talk about in the cafe's was of how you had kidnapped the German general on Rhodes and smuggled him out of Egypt. Even the Germans find difficulty in keeping such things secret."
"Tales grow in the telling," he said. "Remember that."
She slipped the bridle over the mare's head and fastened the strap quickly. "Your Greek is very good-too good for an islander."
He grinned. "I spent five years in Athens as a boy. My father was an official at the British Embassy there."
"I see."
She started to lead the mare from her stall and Lomax moved forward quickly. "Can I help?"
She nodded. "The cart's over there hi the corner. If you could bring it here."
It was a light, two-wheeled affair and he tilted it forward as she backed the mare between the long curving shafts. He strapped the harness expertly into place on one side and she did the same at the other.
When they had finished, she smiled across at him. "You've done that before."
He nodded. "My grandfather was a farmer. That's all I wanted to be when I was a boy."
"And now?"
He shrugged. "My talents seem to run to darker things. I don't think there will be much demand for the qualities I possess after the war."
"But what happens now doesn't count," she said. "Not for any of us. There is a saying we have-Time out of mind. That is what the war is-a dark dream that has no meaning when the morning comes."
There was a passionate sincerity in her voice and in the soft, diffused light of the lamp, the tiredness and pain were washed away from her face and she looked very young. For a moment he wanted to tell her that life was so often not what it should be, but what it was, but he didn't have the heart.
"Let's hope you're right," he said lamely.
She nodded confidently. "If I wasn't, life would be a mockery."
He paused to light a cigarette and then followed at the tail of the cart as she led the mare outside. The night air was warm and scented, the sky like a black velvet cushion scattered with diamonds.
They stood side-by-side, shoulders touching, and she sighed with pleasure. "On a night like this it's possible to forget even the war for a little while. Oh, there is so much
I could show you if things -were different."
"If I were an English tourist straight off the Athens boat?" he chuckled. "Where should we begin?"
"That's easy," she said. "The Tomb of Achilles. We would visit it once by moonlight and again at dawn when there is mist on the mountain. Life could show you nothing more beautiful."
"If you were there, satisfaction would be guaranteed," he said gallantly, and turned and looked at the peak dark against the night sky. "The Monastery of St. Anthony is up there, isn't it?"
He could hear the swift intake of her breath and her body stiffened. She turned and peered
Alexias poured himself another coffee and moved to the fire, steam rising from his sheepskin coat. "I'll be ready to leave in five minutes. Just give me time to dry ùout a little."
Boyd was still making inroads into the bread and cheese as Lomax went through the kitchen and moved out on to the porch. He crossed the yard to the barn and paused in the entrance.
An old oil lamp swung from a beam that seemed to be the mainstay of the building and in its light Katina Pavlo was harnessing the mare. A board creaked under his foot as he went forward and she turned at once, reaching for the shotgun that leaned against the end of the stall.
She relaxed visibly. "Oh, it's you, Captain Lomax."
"So your uncle told you my name," he said.
She nodded. "You are younger than I had imagined. Much younger."
He frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Even on Kyros we have heard of the Nightcomer," she explained. "And of the things you have done in Crete. Last month all they could talk about in the cafe's was of how you had kidnapped the German general on Rhodes and smuggled him out of Egypt. Even the Germans find difficulty in keeping such things secret."
"Tales grow in the telling," he said. "Remember that."
She slipped the bridle over the mare's head and fastened the strap quickly. "Your Greek is very good-too good for an islander."
He grinned. "I spent five years in Athens as a boy. My father was an official at the British Embassy there."
"I see."
She started to lead the mare from her stall and Lomax moved forward quickly. "Can I help?"
She nodded. "The cart's over there hi the corner. If you could bring it here."
It was a light, two-wheeled affair and he tilted it forward as she backed the mare between the long curving shafts. He strapped the harness expertly into place on one side and she did the same at the other.
When they had finished, she smiled across at him. "You've done that before."
He nodded. "My grandfather was a farmer. That's all I wanted to be when I was a boy."
"And now?"
He shrugged. "My talents seem to run to darker things. I don't think there will be much demand for the qualities I possess after the war."
"But what happens now doesn't count," she said. "Not for any of us. There is a saying we have-Time out of mind. That is what the war is-a dark dream that has no meaning when the morning comes."
There was a passionate sincerity in her voice and in the soft, diffused light of the lamp, the tiredness and pain were washed away from her face and she looked very young. For a moment he wanted to tell her that life was so often not what it should be, but what it was, but he didn't have the heart.
"Let's hope you're right," he said lamely.
She nodded confidently. "If I wasn't, life would be a mockery."
He paused to light a cigarette and then followed at the tail of the cart as she led the mare outside. The night air was warm and scented, the sky like a black velvet cushion scattered with diamonds.
They stood side-by-side, shoulders touching, and she sighed with pleasure. "On a night like this it's possible to forget even the war for a little while. Oh, there is so much
I could show you if things -were different."
"If I were an English tourist straight off the Athens boat?" he chuckled. "Where should we begin?"
"That's easy," she said. "The Tomb of Achilles. We would visit it once by moonlight and again at dawn when there is mist on the mountain. Life could show you nothing more beautiful."
"If you were there, satisfaction would be guaranteed," he said gallantly, and turned and looked at the peak dark against the night sky. "The Monastery of St. Anthony is up there, isn't it?"
He could hear the swift intake of her breath and her body stiffened. She turned and peered
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