The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [45]
MIKE FUMED ABOUT THE cottage for fifteen minutes. Despo sank back into silence, but her hands nearly flew in nervousness over the weaving machine. Barba-Leonidas had him trapped. He had no way of getting to Dernica—did not even know its general direction. He realized, too, that he’d never get the information from anyone in Kaloghriani. This attempt at fatherhood by the giant was a major problem. Mike had only one choice—to find Leonidas and have it out.
He stormed from the cottage in search of the hunting party. But, given a fifteen-minute lead, it would be almost impossible to find them. They walked nearly as fast as he could run.
Mike traveled away from the village in the general direction of their hunts. For over a half hour he ran about searching vainly. He passed the outermost fields and went into the underbrush. Then, as the land began to rise at the base of Mount Kallidromon, Mike stopped and realized he would have to wait for the hunt to end.
The day was warm and sun-filled and the air was calm and Mike did not feel like spending it in the cottage with the dismal Despo. During the week he had looked up many times from the fields to the mountain and imagined the view was splendid from its peak, so he began to climb.
He started briskly up a time-worn path along one of the slopes and stopped at intervals for a sip of cool spring water and to catch his breath and bearings.
He climbed till afternoon when the mountain began to grow steeper. Mike worked his way to a balding shoulder near the top, crossed a rocky field, and there the peak loomed but a few hundred yards up a sheer wall.
It was strange to Mike. He had always had a dread of heights but now he felt no fear. It seemed as though many fears had vanished in Paleachora and Kaloghriani. He tingled with excitement as he edged his way up the wall toward the top.
A breathtaking sight burst below him as he stood atop the mountain with the thrill of a conqueror. To the east the blue Aegean Sea and her islands and to the west the rippling regiments of hills. He stood for many moments electrified by what his eyes saw and a wonderful feeling swept through him. A cloud passed below and disappeared like a ghost into the mountainside and reappeared on the other side....
Mike stood and looked—and wondered. What was the strange power that had brought him to all this? Who was it that wanted him to see it? What was the hunger he had carried all his life that was no longer a hunger?
He thought of his children. At first their images passing through his mind had tortured him. Then they had begun to fade as the days passed. They became distant and lost shape and became foreign. He knew he loved them above all, but he knew too that his mind had adjusted to their loss.
Now he saw seventeen men at elegant desks, or working at files, or attending cocktail parties or hobnobbing with German officers. The British were probably desperate for these seventeen names. Had he failed? Or had he done right? Perhaps he had been overcautious in wasting weeks. He didn’t know. But leave the hills he must. Bullying Leonidas would be no simple chore. Only yesterday Leonidas led the village in burning a German order for wheat allotment.
The only clear plan he could formulate would be to send Eleftheria to Athens to contact Dr. Harry Thackery. Even this was a bad risk. She wasn’t the world’s brightest and if there was any trouble she’d never be able to cope with it.
Do I have the right to make a pawn of her—risk her life? he asked himself. Many people have already died because of the Stergiou list. Life was a small thing in the struggle to find the names. Then, Mike argued with himself, Eleftheria would want to go to Athens if she knew what was at stake.
One cold fact remained. Her life or his was unimportant in the ultimate delivery of the seventeen names.
Mike took one last look at the view and started down the mountainside.
It was dark when he reached the cottage. Barba-Leonidas was pale when Mike entered. Then, upon seeing Mike, his face broke into an expression of relief which belied his