particular youth captured her heart in an unexpected way. It was during a Panigiri, feast day: it was Agios Theodoros’s holy name day and the celebrations were to last three days.
Down by the sea, along the narrow strip of road running beside the coastline where all the kafenios and small tavernas were to be found, the vendors from the small nearby villages in the mountains had set up their stalls selling all kinds of sweet delicacies and local produce as well as trinkets for the girls, colourful bangles and necklaces, silver crucifixes and lucky charms. A band armed with Cretan musical instruments was set up outside one of the tavernas; as soon as dusk fell they started to play, and then the festivities commenced. The young lads and girls in their traditional costumes lined the street to take turns with dancing; the sound of music and the tantalizing aroma of meat cooking on charcoals filled the evening air.
Of course, this was not the first time Kosmas had seen Froso; the village was not a large place. But that day, when the girl’s eyes fell on him while he danced the Pentozali, the young man was troubled. Her gaze was intense, her black eyes he fancied were shooting sparks at him, which disturbed him, so much so that a couple of times he missed his step. She looked different, he thought as she stood next to her mother, she had suddenly grown and blossomed; she was not a child anymore. Froso, for her part, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the youth. She was sure she had never seen such a palikari (young warrior) before, or a more limber and more heroic figure than him. When it was her turn to dance with the other girls, it was Kosmas’s chance to feast his eyes on the graceful young maid who had stolen his heart.
When the dance was over, and the men were invited into the circle to join the women in a mixed dance, Kosmas leapt to his feet and took his place by her side. Once they linked arms and felt each other’s physical proximity, they both knew there could never be another for either of them.
Froso, now hopelessly in love, had no one to confide in. She worried in case her father found out, fearful that he would disapprove of Kosmas due to his humble background. She knew that her mother too would be hesitant as both parents were looking for a wealthier match for their daughter. Calliope also had a small child to take care of and relied heavily on her daughter to run the house with her. Besides, everything had its proper time in sequence in those parts: if a young man was sweet on a girl he was obliged to ask the girl’s father for her hand. If the girl was too young but he agreed to the match, the boy would have to wait. And Froso was still too young as far as her family was concerned. As the young couple’s love flourished, they both knew that they had no option but to keep it hidden. It had to remain a secret.
2
Crete, 2018
After Froso had been talking for some time, she came to a halt, sat back in her chair, took a deep breath and fell silent. Calli, transfixed by this tale of clandestine love instead of the account of her aunt’s ailments that she had expected to hear, hesitated to interrupt although a host of questions were competing in her mind. The older woman sat mute for a long while, her eyes fixed in the darkness as if staring at something, causing Calli to turn expectantly and look in the same direction.
‘He was such a good boy, my Kosmas,’ Froso said in a small voice, ‘a hero!’
Calli leaned forward and gazed at her aunt as if seeing her for the first time. She had assumed in her arrogance that she had settled for an uneventful home life as a single woman in the village.
‘All we ever wanted was to marry each other . . .’ Froso’s voice trailed off.
‘Why didn’t you?’ Calli burst out.
‘We had to wait until I was older before he could come and speak to my parents. My mother might have been more tolerant, but my father was fierce, we were both scared of him; we knew he would never have agreed, so until then we had to keep our love secret.’ Froso reached for the jug of water on the