The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of IndependenceBenson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
History
The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Greece -- History -- War of Independence, 1821-1829 -- Fiction
the islands, and by means of the fire-ships which should destroy the
Turkish vessels seeking to leave it, and prevent others from coming
into the ports. For practical purposes there were only four ports--at
Corinth, Patras, Nauplia, and Kalamata. The first two would be the
care of the leaders of the revolution in the north; for Kalamata and
Nauplia, Nicholas and Petrobey had arrangements in hand.
That night Mitsos slept at Nemea, and all next day travelled across the
great inland plain where lie the lakes. Through the length and breadth
of that delectable country the spirit of spring was abroad--crocuses
and the early anemones burned in the thickets, and the dim purple iris
cradled bees in a chalice of gold. Brimming streams crossed the path,
and the sunlight lay on their pebbly beds in a diaper of amber and
stencilled shadow, and Mitsos' pony at the mid-day halt ate his fill of
the young, juicy grass. But in the lad's heart the spring woke no echo;
he went heavily, and the glorious adventure to which he had sacrificed
his new-found manhood, fully indeed and without a murmur, seemed to
him a thing of little profit. And if he had known what hard days were
waiting for him, and the blank agonies and bitterness through which he
was to fulfil his destiny, he would, it is to be feared, have turned
his pony's head round and said that an impossible thing was asked of
him. But he knew nothing beyond this two-week task now set him, and to
this he was committed, not only by his promise to Nicholas--and, to do
him justice, his own self-respect--but by the oath of the clan, which
rather than fail in he would have sooner died.
The second evening a little before sunset he saw Goura close before
him, standing free and roomily on a breezy hill-side, and ringed with
vineyards. Behind lay the great giants of the mountain range--Helmos
cowled in snow, and Cyllene all sunset-flushed. Yanko's house proved to
be at the top of the village, and there he found Maria with a face all
smiles for his welcoming. Yanko was still in the fields, and Mitsos and
Maria talked themselves up to date with each other till he came home.
Oh yes, he was a good husband, said Maria, and he earned a fine wage.
He was as strong as a horse, and when he let the wine-shop alone he
did the work of two men. "And I am strong too," said she, "and when he
doesn't come home by ten in the evening it will be no rare thing for me
to bring him back with a clout over the head for his foolishness. And
why are you here, Mitsos?"
"Business," he said; "business for Nicholas. It is Yanko who can do it
for us. I may tell you about it, Maria, for so Nicholas said. He is
wanted to take a message to the monastery. Four days' horse-hire, if
he wishes, will be paid, and he will be doing a good work for many."
"On business against the Turk?" asked Maria.
"Surely."
Maria shook her head doubtfully.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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