‘Resentment? Why should there be resentment?’
‘The patriotic Greeks wish that their government should be strong and independent. They do not wish it to be — what do you say? — a puppet of other nations. And yet, as a consequence of the murders, the English say, “Jump!” and our government says, “Yes, sir,” and jumps. The young firebrands — they do not like this.’
‘We want only justice,’ Fields said. ‘Someone must pay for the deaths of Herbert and Vyner.’
‘Yet, in pursuit of this justice, hundreds of Greeks are now harried or imprisoned in the countryside north towards Dilessi and here in Athens. Very nearly all of them are innocent. This man who insulted us, perhaps his father or his brother is one of those imprisoned.’
‘I still cannot see that the English are anything other than victims in the whole sorry story’ — Adam raised his hands in mock surrender — ‘but I am prepared to drop the argument. Quint, go and find out what has happened to the coffee we ordered. The waiter has been gone long enough to prepare a banquet.’
Quint stood and made his way to the wooden bar where the waiters stood when they were not scurrying between tables with drinks. When Adam glanced over his shoulder a minute later, he saw that his servant had buttonholed the plump waiter who was gesticulating in either excuse or apology.
‘The agitation will soon die away, Rallis,’ he said. ‘The men who actually killed poor Herbert and Vyner are under lock and key, are they not? All but they will be released, if they have not been so already, and the country will return to its usual state.’
‘Perhaps.’ The lawyer looked unconvinced. He seemed about to say more but there were sudden sounds of commotion from across the room. All over the café, faces turned towards their source. Quint was standing by the wooden counter, his fists raised. At his feet a figure in embroidered jacket and white fustanelle was doubled up and writhing on the ground. Fists still high, Quint backed slowly away from the coffee urns and towards the table where his friends were sitting. He kicked out at a chair in his path and it fell to the floor with a clatter. The sound was lost amidst the café’s continuing uproar of voices. Most people had turned back to their drinks. Quint had now stepped backwards as far as the others. He lowered his fists.
‘I had to knee him in the gooseberries,’ he explained.
‘So we gathered.’
‘It was the same cove as gobbed at us. He’d been outside to relieve hisself. When he come back, he started on at me. He give me a shove in the chest, and he spoke ’arsh words about my mother.’
‘You never knew your mother, Quint.’
‘No,’ the servant conceded, ‘but as the monkey said when he pissed across the carpet, you’ve got to draw the line somewhere. So I give him something to bellyache about.’
‘I’m not certain it’s his belly of which he will be complaining,’ Adam remarked. ‘But I think perhaps we should forget our coffee.’
‘I agree, my boy,’ the professor said. ‘I believe the time has come to beat a strategic retreat.’
The young Greek patriot, still clutching his groin, was being helped to his feet by his friends. From the four corners of the Oraia Ellas, other Greeks, slowly realising what had happened, began to converge on the injured man. Voices were raised in unmistakeable indignation. A dozen men started in the direction of the English party. Chairs were scattered as they moved purposefully forward. The first man to come within striking distance aimed a clumsy punch which Adam easily ducked. He returned the blow and had the satisfaction of seeing his opponent drop to the floor, holding the side of his face. But others were upon them. Adam glimpsed Quint, a stranger to the boxing code so recently introduced to England by the Marquess of Queensberry, kicking out at two assailants. Rallis and the professor were backing away from another half dozen, holding out their arms in placatory gestures. The lawyer was calling out to them in Greek. Some of the patriots had pulled apart two of the café chairs and were beating broken lengths of wood menacingly on the tables. One man swung a section wrenched from a backrest towards Adam’s thigh, but he was able to dodge it and aim a swift jab at the man’s nose. Another Greek leapt upon his back and began to pull at his ears and hair. Tugging furiously at the man’s arms, Adam was able to roll him sideways and force himself free. He aimed a series of short blows at the man as he fell. He could hear Rallis, abandoning any attempt at peace-making, shouting to his towering servant to enter the fray. Adam was seized from behind and his arms held. Another Greek approached him from the front, grinning evilly. Bidding a reluctant farewell to fair fighting, Adam followed his manservant’s example and kicked out. The man fell to the floor, clutching his knee. Adam pulled one arm free and elbowed the man behind in his stomach. With a whistling intake of breath, his assailant released Adam’s other arm.
The young man heard the professor’s voice calling out a warning and turned swiftly to his right but he was just too late. He was struck a glancing blow with half the broken leg of a chair and fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. Consciousness deserted him for the briefest of periods. For the span of little more than a minute he was adrift in a dream world of bright colours and enchanting music before a soothing voice, speaking accented but near-perfect English, brought him back to reality.
‘There is a side entrance, sir.’ It was the plump waiter, leaning over him. He smiled ingratiatingly. ‘If you will follow me.’
‘What of my friends?’ Adam asked, pulling himself to his feet.
‘They are already outside.’
The young man looked over towards the table where they had been sitting. Only Andros was there, standing amidst a chaos of broken furniture. He was in the act of throwing one of the few Greeks still upright in the direction of the Frenchmen. Most of the other patriots were lying on the floor. None showed any inclination to rise again in the near future.
‘Just the tall one remains,’ the waiter said.
‘He does not appear to require my assistance.’ Adam wiped his hand, bloodied from one of the punches he had delivered, across his brow. He staggered after the waiter, who made his way to a low green door hidden behind a curtain in the corner of the Oraia Ellas. It opened onto the busy street outside where his three friends gathered breath after the fray. None seemed harmed save Quint, whose knuckles were bleeding.
‘Ah, you have been able to join us, Adam,’ the professor said, running his hand through what little remained of his hair. ‘We were just beginning to feel a little anxiety for your welfare.’
‘Andros will have dealt with our attackers, I assume,’ Rallis said, with perfect confidence in the ability of his servant to have done so.
‘Achilles killing the Paionians by the Scamander River could not have presented a more terrifying spectacle than your giant, Rallis.’
‘He is a gentle man for the most part but he is a dangerous one to annoy.’
As the lawyer spoke, there were sounds behind him. Crouching to use a door that seemed designed for men half his size, Andros emerged onto the street. He smiled and nodded his great head at his master.
‘Shall we make our way to the Angleterre,’ Rallis asked, ‘now that our little party is complete again? I have yet to partake of my mid-morning coffee and I doubt that any of us will be welcome again in the Oraia Ellas in the near future.’
PART THREE
THESSALY AND BEYOND
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Quint stared morosely at the mule. The mule stared back. Quint had a wealth of bitter and unhappy memories of mules from his first journey through Macedonia. He had an unpleasant feeling that one more was about to be added to them. In the early morning sunshine, the mule had uncomplainingly allowed him to load it with an assortment of packs and panniers but, once loaded, it had refused point blank to move forward. No kind of cajolement or threat could make it budge an inch. Now, as Quint watched, a long jet of yellow liquid hissed into the ground between the mule’s back legs. It trickled down the slight slope on which the beast was standing and formed two neat pools around Quint’s boots. He swore beneath his breath and looked across to where another mule was tethered. Beyond that equally obstinate animal, he could see the three horses on which the gentlemen of the party rode.