was weakening.
The Marcquesa was effectively fighting herself. Everybody present was mesmerised. Iraklios and Andrew were rooted to the spot, unable to react, to help her, as if hypnotised by the drug of her torment.
Suddenly the Marcquesa, completely drained, the remaining vestiges of her strength having left her, collapsed. She was dead. The effort took everything out of her. The stress caused her heart attack, the final nail in her coffin.
But before she passed away from this world she became a child again, the child she was back when the nightmare was still ahead of them. She became the child that Elli remembered. She smiled at Elli and mouthed a ‘thank you’.
Out of nowhere a huge trunk came rolling down and nearly chopped off the heads of Elli, Katerina, Aristo, Giorgos, Vasilis and John, as well as the last Emperor’s and Eleni’s. But Aristo saw it coming and warned everybody.
‘Get down, now. No, don’t look, just duck for God’s sake.’ They all ducked just in time. In the end the trunk ended up knocking the hell out of one of the walls which started crumbling down together with the whitewashed frescoes until then covering its imperfections and giving it a worth and value it would not otherwise have had.
‘Who are you?’ Aristo said, anger spitting it out of him and infecting the air around them.
‘You don’t recognise me, do you? Does my voice say anything to you? No?’
It was Andrew. Elli knew that voice. ‘You always were full of yourself, a pompous fool.’
Andrew, like a dog with a bone, would not let go. ‘I cannot let you do this. What you are doing is perverse, a travesty. It’s dangerous messing about with powers beyond your control. Are you not afraid of the consequences?’
Elli tried to placate him and, at the same time, to hammer some sense into him. ‘Andrew, get out of the way. Don’t be stupid. We are not doing this for our benefit. It’s not selfishness. It’s charity. Let those souls rest at last. Restrain yourself.’
It only took a flick of her wrist to immobilise Andrew. However, he immediately managed to shake her off and free himself from her suffocating embrace. The sudden shift in advantage left her bewildered and confused, but only for a second for in the next round she managed to restrain Andrew and gain the upper hand once more.
The situation could not be judged resolved as it kept changing with the advantage moving from one side to the other, from Andrew to Elli and back again.
Aristo had to intervene to help his mother and prevent a catastrophe at the hands of a seemingly ruthless Andrew, even though she appeared to be handling herself surprisingly deftly. He had no idea she had it in her to be so capable in physical combat.
Elli and Andrew were preoccupied with each other, in deliberate denial to the presence of anything else around them. They did not expect anybody present to dare to interfere.
It was personal between Elli and Andrew now, after Andrew’s so blatant a betrayal and Elli was still smarting from the realisation as if having been slapped. Elli and Andrew’s mental blocking of everything around them apart from each other allowed Aristo enough time to react.
He began to slowly, but determinedly, approach the near explosive spot, hoping against all odds to diffuse the pressure building to a deafening crescendo. But he was concerned that he was too far and would not make it.
Elli had regained control of the tussle and her hold over Andrew appeared to be decisive when, suddenly, it was Iraklios’ turn to move to immobilise Elli, and, in case there was any doubt in the mind of anyone present that he was serious, he made clear his intentions by pointing a gun to her head, showing that he would not hesitate to use force to harm her and anyone daring to get in his way.
Iraklios’ action left her even more confused than before. Even though everything up to that moment had been telling her that her brother, Iraklios, was the traitor, she refused to acknowledge the fact staring her in the eye, pushing to gain entry and blind her in the process.
Now that the truth had finally sank in it was probably too late to deal with Iraklios. With a gun to her head, she had run out of options. With her back to the wall she was maniacally trying to think her way out of a seemingly impossible situation.
Aristo knew he had to intervene, but without putting his mother’s life at further risk. He forgot any intentions he had of using diplomacy to defuse the situation. He just could not believe and could not accept that Iraklios, of all people, was capable of such ruthlessness.
What could possibly have motivated him to act with such brutality? Surely he could not be doing it for the power and the money. He had more than enough of both. He could not be craving more. Aristo never saw him as being the selfish and ruthlessly ambitious kind.
Could a person change so much or even hide his true nature so well for so long? After all this years of being like a father to him, how could he now have become this cold-blooded machine? How could he have fallen so low, if he ever was the person Aristo thought he was? He no longer knew him.
What reason could he possibly have to hate this family so much as to resort to this? Full-blown anger took him over completely and had to be expelled or it would consume him. With his next outburst Aristo gave full vocal vent to the fury coursing through his veins.
‘Iraklios, you are insane. That’s your sister you are holding a gun to. Your sister. Stop this madness and let her go. Why are you doing this Iraklios? Why? What, the hell, do you have to gain from this?’
Iraklios ignored Aristo. His stare hardened. He tightened his grip on Elli. His resolve was immune to Aristo’s pathetic attempt at persuasion. He was in no mood to allow Elli the right of appeal.
Andrew, meanwhile, picked up the gun Iraklios threw in his direction. With Elli firmly in his grip, loath to relinquish her, knowing he had the upper hand, Iraklios gave Aristo a sardonic smile that rushed to blacken and disfigure his lips and colour his face and his cheeks, a colour that, sadly, clashed with his complexion and attire.
Aristo had to fight the urge to laugh that was rapidly rising like bile inside him looking for an outlet into the fresh air, an irresistible urge to laugh in the face of adversity, of this unfolding tragedy, this travesty that he could not stop, the deadly spell that he felt powerless to break.
Iraklios’ face was transformed into a grotesque mask of hatred, fiery sparks shooting out of his eyes. He became a man possessed, a man those present could no longer recognise, a man obsessed with his twisted principles and ideas which he would not allow anyone to question.
A madness, so far hidden deep inside, took over. Aristo didn’t know Iraklios had it in him to be so ruthless, so brutal, and, yes, so mad.
Andrew who had so far kept everybody at bay with his gun suddenly turned and shot Iraklios in the head. Death came instantly. Iraklios’ arm holding Elli fell limp and she was released.
Iraklios collapsed to the floor. Iraklios had caught the shift in Andrew’s stance, the change in his demeanour. He suddenly knew what Andrew was about to do and he fired a shot at him just before Andrew’s bullet smashed into his brain.
Andrew had no time to react, because he was not expecting Iraklios’ bullet. As Iraklios was collapsing to the floor, his bullet tore through Andrew’s heart. He was dead before he touched the floor.
Elli and Katerina, Vasilis and Giorgos and John… they were all waiting for Aristo. They called to him. But the tunnel was calling to him too. He turned away from the tunnel, but he kept looking back at it and its openings bursting with goodies and promises of other worlds and great adventures, the tunnel pulsating like a living organism, drawing Aristo in and making his head vibrate with the excitement and the temptation of it.
Aristo was tempted by that tunnel. Suddenly he ran for it, as if driven by an invisible force, like an addict at the mercy of a drug, a desperate need he could not fight, because he felt he had no hope of winning that losing battle.
Aristo had to try again, one more opening, and then another and another, until there were none left. He was ready to take the plunge into a vicious, probably without end or escape, round of exploration and new self- discovery. But then he came to his senses. Further exploration would have to wait for another time.
Aristo’s adventures were only just beginning, or so he thought that was what he wanted. Reality and responsibility and his forthcoming marriage to Katerina and the prospect of family life was another matter and were all mistresses that beckoned him over with not exactly the most subtle of guiles. Aristo had to make a choice. He
