A New Kind of War

specializes in s-s-s impediments of s-s-s – shit!’ He sniffed. ‘He says it’ll go away when I’m no longer scared out of my wits, anyway.’ Another sniff. ‘Which is probably true, because I acquired it that way, one sunny afternoon. And it comes and goes quite without rhyme or reason.’ He nodded at Fred. ‘My c-commanding officer . . . will no doubt be waiting in dummy4

eager anticipation to see what I have found . . . even though he’ll not be in the best of tempers.’ Audley spoke carefully as the jeep bucked over a succession of pot-holes. ‘See how I didn’t stutter, Fred? Fred-Fred-Fred – Fred.’ Shrug. ‘Like I s-s – told you: no rhyme or r-reason, it just comes and goes . . . Not like a chap I knew at school, who developed his s-s-s- impediment solely to hide his inadequacy in Latin word-endings, to give him extra time.’

Grin. ‘Like, “Quieta G-G-Gallia, C-C-Caesar, ut c-c-con-s-s-stit-ttit-tit . . .” – Used to drive the masters crazy, I tell you!’ Wider grin. ‘Must confess I do use the same w-wheeze on my betters on occasion, when I’m up against it ... like now, eh?’ The grin was transferred through the next succession of bumps, to Kyriakos, but vanished in that instant. ‘So what were you really doing on that path, Captain M-M – I beg your pardon – Kyriakos?’

‘I told you – ’ Fred started to cut in hotly, but then remembered what Kyriakos had said about the lieutenant, and controlled his irritation. ‘But I told you . . . “David”, is it? We were going to the village, David.’

Audley grimaced at him. ‘The broken-down jeep, and all that?’

‘Yes.’ Kyriakos’s insight continued to warn Fred, against his inclination. ‘The broken-down jeep and all that. Osios Konstandinos is the closest place to where we broke down. Captain Michaelides was hoping to commandeer transport there. And if you care to send one of your storm-troopers to the main road, our jeep should still be there ... if the locals haven’t found it.’ Anger, once it started to cool, froze quickly. ‘And even if they have, ’ then you’ll still find the heavier bits of it, maybe.‘

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‘Of course – of course!’ Audley rallied. ‘W-what I meant was ... by that route – that particular one, I mean.’ He managed the travesty of a politely-inquiring smile.

‘Ah – yes of course!’ Kyriakos moved smoothly into the next moment’s silence, turning towards Fred as he did so. ‘What David means is that the path is not very evidently a promising route to Osios Konstandinos, old boy.’ He shook his head encouragingly.

‘You remember where we left the track, up the steep incline?

“Where are we going?” you said. And I replied, “By the shortest route – and on the other side it is even shorter: it is down a cliff, with steps cut into it” – do you remember?’

Fred nodded. ‘Yes – ’ All Kyriakos had said was ‘ This way!’ And he hadn’t waited for an answer. But no matter. ‘Yes?’

‘This is my country – my “neck of the woods” yes?’

Kyriakos switched back to Audley, his voice all casual friendliness. ‘You see, my family has a house by the sea, beyond Itea – by Galaxdhion, where my grandmother was born . . . After Delphi we were going on there, to celebrate Scobiemas Day, David.’ He rolled with the potholes, while waving his finger at Audley. ‘But . . . but what I would like to know ... is ... is how you know the secret back-path from Osios Konstandinos, up the steps in the cliff – ?’ The finger and the voice flattered Audley simultaneously. ‘Do you speak our language? Or our ancient language, perhaps?’

‘No.’ Audley was falling for it, flattered by the implied admiration.

‘I’m not a classicist. “A little Latin – and no Greek” is me, I’m dummy4

ashamed to admit. Or ... not ashamed ... But –’

‘Wouldn’t have done you any good, old boy!’ Kyriakos shook his head, sure of his man now. ‘No one in Osios Konstandinos would have told a stranger about that path –not a khaki stranger any more than a field-grey Jerry: Winston Churchill or Adolf Hitler – or Archbishop Damaskinos himself ... my wet-nurse was a girl from Osios Konstandinos, that is how I know . . .’ The black eye-brows furrowed, perfecting the flattery with incomprehension. ‘So how do you know?’

‘Oh . . . that’s easy – that’s . . . nothing at all, actually.’ The young man was at once smugly pleased and disarmed by such implicit praise. ‘It’s all in the history books, don’t you know ... I mean.’

‘In the what?’ Something in the Greek’s voice tore Fred’s attention away from Audley.

‘In the history books ... or book, actually – Pember-ton’s History of the Greek War of Independence – ’ A pothole caught Audley unaware as he was trying to be properly modest ‘ – I looked up

“Osios Konstandinos” in the British Library in Athens when I learnt where we were going. And ... I was rather hoping there’d be something here from the thirteenth century. But there wasn’t – ’

The jeep swerved, presenting Fred himself with a momentary glimpse of the Gulf of Corinth, purple flecked with red in the sunset, before a bank of pine-trees cut it off ‘ – not a mention.’

‘The thirteenth century?’ Kyri’s tone was incredulous.

‘Yes.’ Audley missed the change in tone. ‘After the Fourth Crusade, when this was all Frankish territory –lots of jolly little dummy4

feudal principalities, and duchies and counties.’ He nodded enthusiastically at Fred. ‘There really was a “Duke of Athens”

then, like in Shakespeare, d’you know? There’s a couple of pages on it in Pemberton’s introductory chapter. And there are still quite a few Frankish castles . . . mostly pretty ruined. But they say there’s an absolutely super one at Chlemoutsi, built by Geoffrey de Villehardouin. If I can screw some leave out of the adjutant I’m going to make a study of them. Being here is a chance absolutely not to be missed.’

‘Yes?’ Fred was aware that he shared Kyri’s incredulity now, and not least because he too had appreciated the Greek chance he had been given at His Majesty’s expense. Only here was this beardless youth, with all the glory of ancient Greece within his grasp, from the Parthenon to Delphi, and from Olympia to Agamemnon’s Mycenae, enthusing over the crude work of some gang of medieval bandits. ‘Yes?’