Front Matter

Death in Solun

A Novel

By Iovan Parlapanov (Translated from Macedonian to English and edited by Risto Stefov)

Death in Solun A Novel

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June 11, 2017

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PART I

I 1. “The war is over, you should be happy now Evangelia Gasparova”, said Pondilaki cheerfully to the woman sitting across from him, wiping her tearful eyes with a colourful handkerchief.

“The war may be over for you Pondilaki but it not over for the rest of the world; especially for the unlucky... they killed Stavre Nakovski... They murdered many of them... those caring for us... Who will care for us now? The guards chased me away at the Edi Kule Prison gate, even though my eyes were sunk in tears... I lost my parents in the war and now... I am all alone and what do you suggest I do? Forget my parents and Stavre Nakovski and fall in love with someone else and have a family with them?”

Pondilaki tightened his loose jaws, focused his expressionless pale green eyes in the distance, gently tapped Evangelia Gasparova’s hair and, without attempting to comfort her, escorted her to the exit door of the café “Macedonia”. Evangelia Gasparova was silent and kept wiping her tearful eyes with her colourful handkerchief.

“Life is terrible Evangelia Gasparova. Toss that black head kerchief and black dress! If you need to fight then fight the wind. Call me and together we will start a new war... Don’t cry, tears are a bad sign, that’s what my mother used to say... Go home, I will come and see you later and we will finish our conversation... we will draw Stavre Nakovski out of prison, I don’t think they have killed him…” said Pondilaki and gently pushed her away towards her home.

Evangelia Gasparova pushed her hair inside her head kerchief and remained silent. Her eyes were swollen, her face was red and she looked worried and scared.

“See you later!” she said quietly and walked down the street.

Pondilaki returned to the café. He showed signs of concern on his smooth face. He sat at the table with four men dressed in dark brown, worsted suits. They all looked alike, like Siamese twins. They silently and respectfully allowed Pondilaki to join their

company. The owner of the café brought him a shot of rakia. Pondilaki took the glass, toasted the four men and drank it down in one gulp. He then got up from the table and put his hat on.

“I will see you later,” he said to the four and left the bar. He wandered around the city for two hours. He was tired when he returned to the café. He went close to the table where a large group of dock workers had gathered and were conversing noisily. It was not his kind of conversation so he did not engage them. The bar owner brought him a shot of rakia. Pondilaki toasted the dock workers and took a sip.

“You are wracking your brains for nothing. The politicians are unable to agree among themselves, that is why they transfer their intrigues to the streets. Don’t get mixed up in their dirty ways! Have some patience! Everything will come into place…” said Pondilaki lazily and sighed deeply, took the last sip of rakia and put the empty shot glass on the table.

“Their quarrels and intrigues cause uncertainty among the people. We are not a flock of sheep you know, where anyone can lead us where they want. We know what democracy is…” snapped back a rebellious younger boy who sat across from him.

Pondilaki looked inquisitively at the boy. He began to caress the shot glass with his finger. He looked nervous but had no desire to complement what the young man had said. He looked at the faces of the others sitting around the table. They all were expecting him to say something.

2. The owner of the café “Macedonia” is a young man named Foti Steriov. People are saying that he is not so smart. He brought another shot of rakia and gave it to Pondilaki.

“This is a café people, not a meeting hall. If you want to discuss politics go find another place. I don’t want the police coming around. The times are not good for poor people… You will go, you will leave this place but others will come…”

“What are you afraid of Foti? We are in this bar every day,” said the young man who had spoken earlier and hit his fist on the table while his face blushed. He then stood up and yelled: “I am not afraid of anyone. And in the end, screw them all…” He was even redder in the face. “You all cower like rats in fear,” he then added.

Foti Steriov scratched his head. He was feeling uncomfortable. He wanted to get back behind his counter to avoid the dialogue with the boy. Outside of the dock workers there were no other guests in the café. The dock workers were all silent waiting for Foti to reply.

“I am not a coward, young man. When I was your age I said what I felt like and expressed my opinions just like you. Now I have commitments. Ever since the day this city fell into Greek hands and since then our rights as Macedonians are dependent on the Greeks, I have not slept a single night in peace. The Royalists and nationalists are our loudest opponents here... I fear for my café… I fear they will demolish it like they demolished Manoli Strezovski’s shop last week... They burned down his shop just because he said that Macedonia should be free. Now Manoli curses the day he opened his mouth and vomits at the idea of getting involved in politics... The same could happen to me...” said Foti and turned away heading for the counter.

“Don’t be afraid, Foti. All that you lose because of us will be compensated from our own pockets,” replied the boy, laughing out loud. He then sat down on his chair.

“Foti Steriov has his own pockets boy, just remember that. Also try and be decent,” replied Foti.

The boy blushed and was flowing with anger. He stood up and said: “Fuck you… You are the biggest coward in Solun!”

Foti Steriov felt offended. He had no desire to return to his counter. He looked at the boy’s face and said: “Watch what you say young man!”

The boy laughed a bizarre laugh. Saliva was flowing out of his mouth.

“Watch what you say young man!” said Foti Steriov angrily.

The boy continued to laugh, ignoring Foti.

Foti Steriov became very angry. The veins on his neck and forehead began to swell. He firmly grabbed the boy by the collar and raised him off his feet. The boy tried to escape, but when he couldn’t he spit on Foti’s face. Foti lowered his slim body and struck the boy’s face with his head. He then let him fall to the floor. The boy dropped on the wooden floor and lay still. Foti wiped his forehead with his palm and looked at the dock workers. He noticed hostility in their eyes. He looked down at the boy and again at the dock workers.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly. “We have been friends for a long time and I did not mean to offend anyone. Splash some water on his face and take him out of my café,” Foti said to the others and went behind the counter. He washed his hands and then went into the kitchen. He stayed there a while. When he returned the dock workers were gone. Foti coughed. He lit the lamps in the bar and stood behind the counter.

“What a flea-bitten moron,” he mumbled to himself, “Foti Steriov is the boss here and he must be respected.”

3. Foti stood behind the counter for two hours. He thought of the incident with the boy. He didn’t blame himself for what happened. New customers came into his café. He served them rakia and again went behind the counter. A tall young man with a scar on his face entered the café. He wore black clothes. He had a silver chain around his neck on which hung some sort of a medallion. The boy walked up to the counter and leaned on his elbows.

“Ouzo,” he said lazily to Foti and made a face.

Foti Steriov coughed and grabbed the bottle of ouzo. His poured the liquid into a shot glass and slid it down the counter. The boy grabbed the glass with two fingers, raised it high and said:

“To your health, Slavo-Macedonian!” and took a few sips. He then said: “Again you’re wrong,” and cynically added, “I told you to chase the dock workers away from your café.”

Foti Steriov kept quiet.

“You didn’t reply to my toast…” the young man challenged Foti.

“My health has not improved since you entered my café… However, I thank you…” replied Foti.

The boy laughed loudly. Several guests turned to see what was happening at the counter.

“I will burn down your shop. You’re not the real boss here. You are but a common communist dog; or better known as communist rubbish,” said the young man.

Foti’s heart began to beat faster. Five unshaven boys appeared at the café’s door and cheerfully greeted the boy who was standing at the counter threatening Foti.

“Hello, Hash”, said the first boy. “Pour him some ouzo!” said Hash to Foti with a commanding tone of voice.

“A shot for all of us,” said another boy in a loud voice. All the boys stood at the counter leaning on their elbows.

Foti Steriov took four shot glasses from under the counter and put them on the counter. He then filled them with rakia and put the bottle back on the shelf.

“Leave the bottle here! We will pour our own drinks,” said Hash sternly. “And then we will burn your café down to the ground,” he threatened again.

Foti Steriov gave them no sign to show that he was concerned. He left the bottle on the counter and went into the kitchen.

4.

The café was filling with customers. People sat down and demanded to be served. Foti Steriov came out of the kitchen. He received the orders and began to fill the shot glasses with rakia. Once in a while he looked over at Hash and his friends. He thought about their threats and ways to avoid them. Hash and his friends finished the bottle. Hash looked at Foti and said:

“Your café will burn!” Moments later, quietly, all five left.

Foti Steriov nervously began to pace around the café. His eyes were blurred and he almost collided with Pondilaki.

“Are you concerned because of Philip?” asked Pondilaki.

Foti Steriov did not reply. He offered Pondilaki a table and he sat on one of the chairs himself.

“The Royalists will burn down my café,” he complained.

Pondilaki smiled.

“Bring some rakia over so we can have a drink!” said Pondilaki.

Foti reluctantly got up from his chair, went to the bar, took out two shot glasses, picked up a bottle of rakia, again sat on the same chair, poured rakia into the glasses and handed Pondilaki one.

“Help me get rid of the Royalists,” said Foti looking concerned.

“Don’t worry!” replied Pondilaki.

“They are not kidding. They will set fire to my café, man, I need your help!” said Foti.

“Do not worry!” repeated Pondilaki, gulped down his rakia and said: “I have to go now.” He then got up and walked out of the café. Foti remained at the table for a few moments holding his head in his hands.

“Give me two Ouzos!” yelled a man wearing a hat sitting at the table beside the window, “And hurry up!”

Foti lazily got up from his chair, picked up a bottle and two glasses and walked over to the man with the hat. He poured the ouzo into one shot glass, then into the other and walked back behind the counter.

5. Foti Steriov closed his café earlier that evening. He left for home concerned. He did not undress and lay in his bed with all his clothes on. He waited until dawn awake. In the morning his eyes were swollen.

“Hash burned down Manoli’s shop. He will burn down my café,” he thought and decided to seek help from Urania Papaioannou, who had a brothel on Odos Irinis Street. Foti got out of bed angry and left his apartment. About a half hour later he found himself in one of the rooms on the ground floor. To the left was the hallway leading to the upper floor; to the rooms where Urania Papaioannou led customers to the iron beds where the girls were. The beds were covered with silk sheets. There he came across Urania sitting on a sofa.

“Come on in, I haven’t seen you for a long time,” said Urania with a smile.

Foti Steriov became confused. There, in front of him, stood a lavish beauty in her thirties with braided hair. She shyly walked into the room.

“Don’t be shy!” said Urania gently and tapped Fote’s lips with the thin finger of her right hand. Then, with her long fingernail, she placed some rose-coloured lipstick on her upper lip. She shivered and shook like a leaf in the forest during a strong wind. She had been asking Foti to come over for a long time. Now he had arrived uninvited. Many times she had asked him to come over but he wouldn’t. She thought he was here purely for motives of love. It never occurred to her that he may be there for other reasons and his refusal to go to bed with her was not because of his laziness.

“You’re mine now!” Urania Papaioannou thought to herself and with her widely open dress showed him her brilliance. She smiled at him appealingly.

Even though this was not Foti Steriov’s first encounter with Urania, what he saw took his breath away. He began to pace back and forth in the room, showing all the excitement that overcame him from having seen her thin translucent dress, her wholesome breasts with large nipples that seemed to want to break through the crimson translucent dress that glowed in the dim light and spread the aroma of chestnut. Foti tried hard to hide his emotions, brought on by the storm that sought to bring him under the silk covers on the iron bed and thought he might lose his head over it. He remembered meeting Urania several years ago. When he came to her place he took an advance of twenty drachmas but after sleeping with her he returned a few more times. It was not to saturate his passion but only to satisfy his occasional desire. He never paid her for her services. During the last three times he reimbursed her the twenty drachmas and gave her an extra ten. She did not want any money from him because only Foti could satisfy her restless and hungry soul that knew no cuddling and tenderness, love and dignity, and worked just for interest. Foti now stood in front of her and trembled. Urania looked at him, her eyes stroking him like he was a lamb. She was worried she might anger him and he would leave. She slowly lifted herself out of the bed and gently went towards him. She glued herself against his body and gently pushed his mouth shut with her long thin fingers and felt him flinch. His entire body became aroused as he was mustering his spirit to enter her spoiled soul.

“Help me, Urania! They want to destroy me…” he blurted out.

Urania Papaioannou laughed gently and parted his hair with her fingers.

“I will help because only you can hold me in the ghetto of the immoral,” she replied in a gentle but muffled whisper full of passion.

Foti Steriov sighed contentedly and relieved the tension in his tame and rather sleepy eyes.

“Thank you!” he mumbled slowly. He then gently lay down on the bed, covering his devilish body and his manhood.

“You are the only man that can satisfy my soul. I will help you,” she whispered in his ear and let out a breath of satisfaction.

They lay in bed for a long time. Someone’s strong hand knocked three times on the door, above which hung a red lantern. For a moment the door sounded like it was opening but did not open. Whoever was out there knocked several times, each time harder than the previous one. The two inside the room continued to hug each other, forgetting that outside the red lantern was cradled in the quiet breeze.

II

1. Foti Steriov was standing behind his counter rubbing his hands with satisfaction. Urania Papaioannou had arrived at his café wearing a black satin dress long enough to barely cover her long, round tapered legs at the knees. Her rounded behind attracted the eyes of every customer in the café. She began to flirt with them twisting her body and highlighting her breasts under her dress, which demanded to be stopped by her bra or otherwise they would fly out into the hands of the male customers hungry for a female. Urania sat on one of the many high chairs, arranged herself beside the counter and kept winking flirtatiously at Foti. Then she turned toward the customers and sent a few of them compassionate looks and a gentle smile.

“Tonight we will have a lot of customers,” she said to Foti. “Be prepared to welcome them with a smile.”

Foti Steriov nodded affirmatively. Everything was possible. He was pleased by the presence of the woman he now desired with all his manhood.

A number of half-dressed girls came inside the café. They were well-groomed and had nice and smooth hair with stitches on their long black silk stockings, filled with light and dark spots. They were buttoned to red bands that hung from their white -laced panties. Their chests were nearly bare with see through tops showing the redness of their nipples poking out from under the broadly rounded flimsy braziers. Their dresses made them very attractive to the customers who immediately shifted their eyes to them. The girls were all young. Each had a pipette in her mouth about ten centimetres long and they constantly smiled. They sat on chairs beside the counter and displayed they bare legs. On their bare thighs they wore a red rose pinned with thin pin to the red bands, which caused even more customers to turn their heads and stare at the girls. One of the girls got up, went to the table beside the window and joined the three middle-aged men sitting there. Urania Papaioannou smiled, looked sternly at the other girls, and took a sip of her rakia.

Foti Steriov was not idle. He constantly went in and out of the kitchen. A moment later he went behind the counter with two bottles of ouzo. He put them on the first shelf and then stared at them. The shelf was full of liquor.

“Hello Urania!” she heard someone say and turned around.

“How are you Foti?” the same man asked in a perfect tone of voice.

“I am fine, thank you for asking.” replied Foti and smiled. “How is your work going?” he then asked.

The man was dark-skinned and tall. His eyes were red from lack of sleep.

“I lost everything gambling,” the man said. “Now I can get drunk and jump into the sea!” he added and laughed.

“That’s impossible. You Turks are a very unusual people. I don’t believe you…” said Foti.

“What is there to believe? I lost everything… it shouldn’t surprise you,” added the man. “The only thing that remains for you to do

now is to admit your loss with dignity…” weighed in Urania Papaioannou and smiled at the man. “Have a drink Dzhemail, on the house,” said Foti. Urania offered him a chair.

Dzhemail smiled and sat down. Foti poured him a large glass of rakia.

“Cheers!” said Dzhemail.

“To your health!” returned Urania. “What will you do now?” she asked.

Dzhemail did not respond immediately. After sitting there silently he placed the glass in his other hand, smiled and said:

“I will go to Istanbul.”

“To do what? Seek your fortune?” Urania asked curiously.

“I have no other options. I must!” replied Dzhemail and sighed deeply. “I want to sell my apartment, maybe you can help me?”

Urania Papaioannou thought about it for a moment and then signaled Foti to come over. Foti came over and leaned on the counter.

“How much are you asking for your apartment?” she asked Dzhemail.

“Very little, as much as it will take me to travel to Istanbul,” he replied and took another long sigh.

“Agreed!” said Urania Papaioannou and smiled. “Pour him another brandy,” she ordered Foti and invited Dzhemail to sit at one of the empty tables in the bar.

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘agreed’?…” asked Dzhemail in a loud voice and stood up.

Urania Papaioannou grabbed him under his arm and led him to an empty table in the corner of the bar. They sat down. Foti Steriov brought them two glasses half-filled with brandy.

“I said I will buy your apartment…” she said and raised a glass to toast.

“Seriously!?” he asked.

“I am serious,” said Urania and they both downed the brandy, at the same time.

“I will send you one my girls. Have fun and drink to unconsciousness. Everything is on the house for you today,” she said, threw him a gentle smile and then got up and went back to sit beside the counter.

“Aphrodite, the guest at the table in the corner is alone,” Urania said to the girl who sat next to her. She then poured herself some brandy into the glass from which she had been drinking a while ago. She took a sip and turned around to see if Aphrodite had done what she was asked to do. Urania smiled. Aphrodite was sitting next to Dzhemail caressing his forehead.

“Are you going to buy the apartment from Dzhemail?” asked Foti.

“Why not? His apartment is located right above us. We will turn it into lodging rooms and get a lot more money for it. We will be rich, Foti...” she said and smiled gently.

“There is no one in the city smarter than you, Urania. I am happy to have you as a partner,” said Foti and disappeared into the kitchen. Urania sat there a few more minutes and slowly, unnoticed by the customers, followed him.

III

1. Foti Steriov got up somewhat earlier than usual this day and started working on the joke of the day, designed for every kind of customer.

He stood in front of his large mirror with a shallow walnut frame carved with embroidered flowers by an unknown wood carver and practiced. He only stopped when he was sure that he had captured the essence of the joke by reading the expression on his imaginary guest touching his hat, or simply raising his right hand at the height of his forehead as a sign of greeting. Sometimes he practiced for several days until the joke was perfectly expressed and his audience was fully satisfied. He then went down to the café. He smiled at the first customers who arrived at his door, showing them his white teeth. He then made a mental note of who sat where at the tables. There were four of Pondilaki’s dock workers sitting at one table, not older than thirty, dressed in uniforms. He was seeing them for the first time and didn’t know to which flag they belonged. He thought perhaps the government had issued new uniforms to its soldiers. It was not safe, however, to make assumptions so he returned to his room.

“There are some strange people in the bar,” he said quietly in an agitated tone of voice.

Urania Papaioannou got out of bed startled.

“What strange people, man? What is happening?”

“Go downstairs Urania and have a look for yourself,” he said sounding even more alarmed.

Urania got dressed quickly and went out of the bedroom. She then went downstairs to the café in her usual graceful way. She noticed the people in uniform sitting in the corner. She smiled at them.

“What are you, cross-eyed? They are English soldiers, or more specifically, officers of the Kingdom of England,” she said to Foti who was walking beside her. Foti did not respond.

“Their pockets are full of money. Officers are the greatest enemy of money. They spend mercilessly, especially on pretty girls,” said Urania, threw an artificial smile at Foti and then went to see the officers.

“Good morning, gentlemen! You have honoured us with your presence,” she said kindly and deployed a slight smile on her lips. “It would be an honour for me if you allow me to join you,” she added.

Like they were given a signal, all the officers stood up and offered her a chair bumping into one another in the process and causing excitement. Urania calmly sat down and gave them a seductive smile. Excited they all sat back in their original chairs. Their passion and desires for the pretty woman were on fire. They were excited deep down in their souls. They all wanted to touch her big round breasts, whose large and elongated nipples could be seen poking through the thin satin, dark green dress.

Peter MacDonald sat beside her and enthusiastically kept looking at her curved leg, which ended in her wide hip and protruded through the slit in her dress.

Urania Papaioannou began to laugh. She then looked at Foti and said:

“Bring some drinks for the officers…”

Foti acknowledged her by bowing slightly, went over to the bar and brought a bottle of brandy with five deep glasses.

“Please, gentlemen,” he said with a smile and put the glasses and bottle on the table and then went back behind the bar. He looked in the mirror, neatly plastered his slick black hair with olive oil, parted it above his left ear with a comb and opened his eyes wide, looking at himself and admiring what he had done.

“The Englishmen are sitting at the Democrat table. Lord, what do I do? They just arrived. They will get angry and will do something bad. Pondilaki is strict and strong. He saved my café from destruction…” Foti thought and turned red in the face. “What will happen when the Democrats arrive? They are all called dock workers here in Solun,” He looked at Urania and unnoticeably gave her a sign to momentarily come to the end of the counter. “It would

be good to move the English to another table,” he thought.

Peter MacDonald was a lieutenant in rank. He had blue eyes from which projected flashes of tenderness. He had dirty blond hair that looked like an unmown, ripe grain field roasted by the scorching sun. His hair partly covered his large light brown eyebrows and partly blocked his view. He had a straight nose, thin lips and a small mole on his face.

“You speak excellent Greek, Mr. MacDonald.” said Foti and showed everyone his white teeth.

“You are very observant,” replied Peter and smiled slightly. “I belong to the British intervention units. I spent a long time on these grounds and learned…”

“Good man…” remarked Urania through her seductive smile.

“Let us drink to your health, my beautiful Urania,” said MacDonald and lifted his glass high. “To your health and may you all live a hundred years!” said Urania.

“To your health and may you always be beautiful,” added the other three officers.

“To your health, gentlemen,” said Urania and clinked her glass against theirs.

2. Urania laughed out loudly. Peter MacDonald touched her chest. Foti Steriov opened his eyes wide. The door of the café flung open and Pondilaki appeared. He was accompanied by five dock workers. They were heading straight for the bar. They approached Foti.

“Do not act timidly. Pull yourself together and be careful not to repeat the same picture. I will break your head,” Pondilaki said sternly. “Now prepare two tables and join them together with the table the Englishmen are sitting at.”

Foti Steriov could not pull himself together because he was afraid. He hastily prepared two tables and joined them together as requested.

“The same picture will not be repeated,” said Foti to Pondilaki, with a trembling tone of voice. He blamed himself but at the same time he wanted to go to the Englishmen and tell them that the table they were sitting at was reserved for other people, who were now there and lived in the boarding house. However, he did not do that. He did not have the courage. He brought the dock workers a bottle of ouzo and went back behind the counter.

3. Two hours later, Hash entered the café. Fear overpowered Foti Steriov. Hash looked around taking in the ambience of the café. He smiled sarcastically. He then noticed Urania sitting with the Englishmen. He headed straight for the bar.

4. Urania also saw Hash. She became suspicious of his sarcastic smile. She could not decipher the look on his good-looking face spoiled, by his crooked nose and wild look. She was afraid he would cause an incident, especially when he started hitting the counter hard. Hash frantically hit the bar counter with his bear paw, overgrown with hair and blemished with scars. Urania smiled at the Englishmen, rose from her chair, went over to Hash and touched his broad shoulders with her gentle hand. Hash turned around.

“Please be a bit more quiet…” she asked him kindly.

“Hash always respects beautiful women…” he replied. “Don’t worry, Urania.”

“I know you are a clever young man, so please you are welcome to sit with my friends,” she said in a gentle tone of voice and pulled him by the hand. She escorted him to one of the tables beside the window and pulled up a chair for him to sit on. Hash placed himself in the chair and signaled his friends to sit on the other chairs.

“I am sorry to leave you,” said Urania. “But I have guests with deep pockets,” and then returned to the table where the Englishmen sat.

5. Foti Steriov took a deep breath. His heart was beating rapidly. He downed a shot of rakia to calm his soul.

6. Leaning on the counter beside Foti was Stoios Panagopoulos. He was a cook in the café. He had always smiled before Urania appeared in the café. Now he hardly ever smiled. He was definitely afraid of her.

Hash came over and, without talking to Foti, said authoritatively:

“Bring six bowls of fish soup to my table,” and then left.

Stoios Panagopoulos laughed which enraged Foti Steriov even more, but neither moved from the counter. Urania rose from her table, kind of smiled at the Englishmen, went around a few tables, came over to the counter and said:

“Didn’t you hear what Hash asked you to do? Do it now! Serve him immediately!” she growled at them.

Stoios Panagopoulos looked petrified. Foti pushed his face closer to Urania’s and said:

“Serve him yourself!” and then turned away.

Urania lowered her big dark eyebrows and smiled at him gently. Foti stretched his lips and gave her a pretend smile. Urania pulled away from him and left without saying a word.

“Mr. Pampas Mavropoulos, what an honour it is to see you here,” she said in a mellow tone of voice. Then, without taking her gaze from his eyes, she nodded to his companions.

Pampas, who represented himself as the chief of police for the city, immediately removed his small brimmed hat, parted his wrinkled

chubby cheeks that hung under his yellowed eyes to give her a courtesy smile, accepted her hand, brought it close to his big lips and kissed it. Urania giggled flirtatiously. She welcomed him with a smile, took his hand and led him through the café to the best table in the house where the most important customers sat. Many people thought that he was some sort of great beast from the government, but no one knew for certain what he did. There was always a bottle of red wine placed on the table along with a bunch of sword lilies poking out of a dark clay vase. The table always had a “reserved” sign on it which was never taken down.

With a smile on her face, especially put on for Pampas, Urania escorted him to the special table like he was an expected guest for the night. She sat beside him almost paying no attention to his companions. She even let him caresses the smooth white skin on her arm. She then looked towards the bar and, with her hand, gestured at Foti to come over. Foti Steriov ran over, almost tiptoeing.

“Bring two English cognacs,” she said. “It is rare for us to be entertaining important guests such as these in our house,” she said looking at Pampas. “Cognac for Mr. Pampas and his guests,” she ordered.

Foti Steriov nodded his head and went back to the counter. He poured the English cognac into several glasses and placed them on a tray. He then turned to Stoios and said:

“Make the fish soup because we both will suffer. As you can see these people are crazy,” and gently tapped him on the back. He then picked up the tray and left. After he served Pampas and his guests, he came back to the counter. There he saw Stoios stirring a large pot and doing what he was asked to do. Fori seemed satisfied. The café was full of customers and they all drank excessively. He leaned on the counter and smiled to himself. Late at night after all the customers had left, he and Urania felt very tired. They climbed up the stairs to their flat and collapsed on their bed.

“Are you tired?” asked Urania.

“My legs can’t hold me up and my soul is already asleep,” declared Foti.

“Today we had a profitable day. We earned a lot. Let this be a new beginning…” said Urania and fell asleep.

IV

1. The wedding. Urania Papaioannou and Foti Steriov stood before the old priest Iraklo in the Sveta Katerina (St. Catherine) Church. Foti and Urania did not look happy. They took an oath of eternal fidelety over the dark brown book that Iraklo held in his right hand and kissed, at Pampas’s insistence, and then they returned to their boarding house. Inside there was music and tables full of food and drinks.

“This is the richest wedding I have ever attended,” said Pampas to the man who sat next to him. He then looked at the man and asked: “What is your name?”

“My name is Dustin Brown but all the guys in the boarding house call me the ‘Americano’…” he replied in a gentle tone of voice.

Pampas lifted his glass and said: “Cheers.”

“To your health, Sir,” replied the American who was wearing an American military uniform.

“Are you an officer, Mr. Brown?” asked Pampas.

“Yes I am Mr. Pampas, an officer of the US Army,” said the American proudly.

Pampas pulled his view from the American and began to stare at the young beautiful drunk girl who climbed onto the long table in the expanded part of the boarding house and began to dance and undress to the rhythm of the bouzouki. All eyes were fixed on her. Sofia Geleva displayed her white chest, round breasts and red nipples for

everyone to see, to uncontrollably swallow her beauty, and to crawl deeper into her network of lust.

“Don’t frown! It is a great thing. I have seen something similar in Paris. This kind of program should be introduced in a boarding house and have acts like this every night. The girl has talent…” said the American to Urania.

V

1. Nikos Zaikopoulos was a fine young man. His legs unfortunately were curved and twisted inwards. There was a resolute but amiable look about him. Honesty sprang from his friendly blue eyes. He had come to Solun from Athens with no destination in mind and roamed around the city streets for a long time. Some time later he decided to give up walking and find an inn. His attention was caught by the boarding house “Macedonia”. He went inside. The smoke irritated his eyes. The place was hot and had a bad smell of tobacco and ouzo, which filled his lungs. He wanted to leave but decided to stay. He took a stroll through the café and then suddenly, in a surprised tone of voice, yelled out:

“What luck, Pondilaki! Hello, my good friend, I am so happy to see you.”

“Hello, Nikos. Come and give me a hug,” replied Pondilaki and got up from his chair and shook hands with the young man. “Sit and get acquainted with my friends…” said Pondilaki offering him a chair. Nikos was glad to see him.

Nikos Zaikopoulos sat on the chair. His eyes danced merrily and a smile overpowered his lips.

“I walked around the city for hours looking for you,” said Nikos.

“We haven’t seen each other for a long time, Nikos. How did you happen to find me exactly in this café?” asked Pondilaki.

“Quite by accident, by chance… I got tired of walking around the city, but I never thought I would find you in the first inn I walked into. Never!” explained Nikos.

Pondilaki laughed.

“Oh, I almost forgot. This is my friend Nikos Zaikopoulos,” Pondilaki said to the dock workers who were sitting with him at the same table. “He is one of us from Athens,” he added.

“I am glad to see you so cheerful. Things must be going okay for you here?” asked Nikos.

“We are doing somewhat okay but every day we have problems with the government. What do you think? Will the government give in a little and begin making this country a democracy?” asked Pondilaki.

Everyone was looking at Nikos. He started to become uncomfortable. He was not used to giving his opinion about anything. He finally spoke and said:

“I don’t believe so… I don’t believe anything…”

Manoli Strezovski poured Nikos a shot of rakia and handed it to him.

“Thank you!” he said softly and continued: “I have been hiding from the police for several days now…” he added.

“What did you do?” asked Pondilaki in a surprised tone of voice, moving his shot glass from one hand to the other spilling some rakia on the table. He did not notice that he had spilled his rakia. The others too looked upset and were looking sternly at Nikos Zaikopoulos.

“Don’t worry, you are among your own people here,” said Pondilaki.

Nikos Zaikopoulos looked inquisitively at the others sitting with him and, with Pondilaki at the table, noticed that he was being watched with friendly eyes.

“In that case I will tell you everything,” said Nikos sighing, drank his rakia, moistened his cracked lips with his thin long tongue and continued: “We fought a great battle, a bitter battle against the British troops that landed in our country. The government does not want the democrats. Athens is in chaos. The first person in government was brought here from London and appointed by the English to be their servant. They also want to bring the Greek king back and liquidate all those who oppose his return. And you all know that the king too is favoured by the English. We were crushed in the streets. We tried to hide behind the barricades while fighting to the death with the British troops. We used megaphones to tell the people that Mr. Papandreou’s new government, the so-called national government of salvation, with its program for national unity, is serving the English. He encourages the national feelings of the peoples living in the country that support him and promotes national hatred against those who don’t. His program contains nothing to resolve the “Macedonian Question” and he insists on robbing the Macedonian people, who shed so much blood in the four-year war, of their rights. We informed the people that, instead of creating a new country as promised, this government is resorting to turning the clock back to the time before the war. Every day this government praises the allies as patrons of the Greek people. And who are they protecting the Greek people from, themselves? This is treason pure and simple... A lot of blood was spilled in the streets of Athens. We fought like lions but, in order for the city residents not to suffer from the English bombs, we withdrew. About ten days ago we retreated from the barricades early in the morning and went outside of Athens...” said Nikos pausing and drinking some more rakia.

“We heard that a senior English statesman stayed in Athens,” said Pondilaki. “What was he doing there?” he asked.

“He was the one who caused the whole mess and turned our country into ashes. Mr. Papandreou withdrew from the leading position in the government but they kept making promises. I don’t understand

why the government of national unity has not responded to Mr. Churchill and what made Mr. Papandreou quit the government. You ask what the Englishman was doing there. Well, he wanted the country for himself, for London England... He can go to hell. Think of all the years we spent in the mountains. We all ran to find a place to be safe. The cities became the best places for us to hide... I was afraid of being hung by a rope or by an electrical cord. But here I am, alive and in your company. I believe I will be safe here, with you,” said Nikos smiling, taking another sip of rakia, putting down the shot glass and wiping his lips with his big hand.

Pondilaki was silent. He was engrossed in his own thoughts.

“What filth…” he thought, “my entire struggle is falling apart. I have no reason not to trust Nikos. Many things have passed me by and now I have to adjust to what will happen next... I have to take care of Stavre Nakovski first. I hope that he is still alive and I will be able to draw out whatever little is left of him. But how can I do it?” Pondilaki thought to himself and from the corner of his eye noticed the piece of paper marked “reserved” that permanently sat on the special table, which was exclusively reserved for a person with noble eyes, thick brown hair, long sideburns, a proper nose and dark lips. The same stranger for whom the table was always reserved, a man who Pondilaki did not know.

“Who is this man,” Pondilaki thought to himself. “Why is it so mysterious,” he wondered. “Will we again take our guns and run to the mountains?” he wondered.

Everyone was silent. Nikos Zaikopoulos finished drinking his rakia. Pondilaki was excited and it looked like flames were about to shoot out of his eyes.

“Let’s all go home,” suggested Pondilaki, “I feel we will all be sinking into silence…”

The dock workers shook their heads in agreement and got up from their chairs. Pondilaki got up next and Nikos after him. The dock workers then left the boarding house. Nikos stood at the door. Pondilaki did not turn his head to see Sofia Geleva’s naked body

dancing to the rhythm of the bouzouki. He only noticed Foti Steriov’s surprised look when he saw Pondilaki leaving, wishing he would not go. Foti looked scared like some sort of flood was about to hit the place. Nikos came out of the café. The air was cold outside. The cobblestones were wet. Each step was sluggish. His legs felt heavier than lead. He was surrounded by dock workers who silently gathered around him. Nikos swung his hand widely and created much excitement. They all thought that something unexpected was about to happen. This was expressed in their eyes. Pondilaki, who was not paying attention to their anxiety, stopped walking.

He then turned to the dock workers and quietly said: “Let us return to the boarding house. I have a hunch that we will be needed there…”, and went back to the “Macedonia” boarding house.

2. They entered the café and sat at the table in silence. They did not look at each other fearing that they may upset themselves. They instead discreetly watched the slender naked bodies of the girls, who were dangling on the podium illuminated by a spot light.

3. Their unexpected return to the café upset Urania Papaioannou.

4. Five new people entered the café. They were dressed in long leather coats with raised collars and hats on their heads. They were holding guns in their hands and warning everyone in the café to keep calm. The naked girls stopped their performance on the podium. One of the five men turned on the lights and the café brightened completely. Now everyone’s faces could clearly be seen, even those of the people in the long coats. People began to obediently raise their hands up in the air, even though no one asked them to do so. It was as if the strong light brought great fear into their bones.

Foti Steriov stood behind the counter. His face looked pale. He too had raised his long, thin hairy arms up high in the air and waited to see what would happen next. From time to time he looked for Pondilaki. He noticed how the dock workers calmly followed the

movements of men with guns and they occasionally smiled at them. He saw Manoli Strezovski lower one of his arms and place his hand in his pocket while winking at him.

The men with the guns looked wildly into the faces of the others. Dustin Brown, the so-called “Americano”, sat quietly in his chair looking confused. Urania Papaioannou got up from her chair, approached the wild-eyed gunmen who were threatening her customers with their guns, and proudly and angrily said:

“What’s this all about, gentlemen?”