The girl from Kassiopi.
Aaron had not foreseen the power this girl would have on him. Already, his reason appeared to have left him. He felt inexorably pulled towards her village.
The journey seemed to never end, and Aaron forgave the unbearable stench of his donkey whose stoic endurance he almost admired. He employed this time to ponder over that astonishing tale told to him by the young doctor. The tale which he had not, at first, believed but which had driven him to drop everything and find the coastal village.
The tale about the Corfu dog that had caught rabies and which was seen wondering in the hospital courtyard. And how one of the nurses, a village woman, had run to fetch the girl. The men had readied themselves to shoot the dog despite its owner’s protests. And already it showed signs of violence and was not easily contained, almost wounding one of them. Until the girl had arrived. Murmurs rose among the crowd as the dog stood still. And the young doctor from Athens had explained how, before all the men, the village girl had walked slowly towards the dog as it drooled and snarled. Then as everyone watched and believed she would be lost, she had knelt before it and healed it with her hands.
Aaron’s eyes watered at the thought. Despite the heat, the hair on his skin rose and he experienced the delicious sensation of knowing something others ignored.
Aaron would seek the village doctor first. The man would be familiar with every inhabitant in the community. Then Aaron would find a way to observe this girl closely and learn everything he could about her.
He was pleasantly surprised to finally dismount in Kassiopi. The summer sun would not set for another three hours. The village lay very near the water, while inland, lush green hills and more olive groves cradled it. Overlooking the village was a stern black mountain which his guide called Pantokrator. Beyond the harbour, an expanse of balmy blue stretched as far as the eye could see, while overhead stood a mighty Byzantine fortress facing the sea. This was the serene Ionian Sea, a soothing sight for the soul. And beyond, across the ocean, the guide pointed out, you could see the mountains of Albania. It was possible to swim out to the Albanian coast, he explained, and likewise, it was not unheard to come by Albanian bandits in Corfu. Village girls were warned to stay away from the beaches but they were stubborn, he deplored.
Aaron found a small lodging near the harbour and paid his guide. The cooler afternoon brought a coastal breeze and he inhaled the odour of salt and sea.
As he strolled among villagers, one of the few Englishmen in Kassiopi, he lingered by the shimmering harbour where small colourful boats, laden with nets, were moored. Here and there, white chalk buildings dotted the coast. Olive and citrus trees spread their welcome shade over sun-heated stone streets. Blooms, in red and purple, framed the blue doors of tiny homes.
Aaron’s quick glance took in the colours and manners of this innocent village. He spotted healthy looking women in black skirts and black stockings. Over billowing white blouses, they wore elegant embroidered vests with intricate flower motifs. Their dignified attire did not spare them from honest labour, for upon their heads, they carried baskets laden with vegetables and fruits.
Far up on the hillside, Aaron noticed another girl with similar attire and whose black hair was modestly covered beneath a white veil. She sat near a dozen goats, staff in hand.
What an idyllic existence, mused Aaron. One could not imagine a more peaceful village. Here, the gloom of a London winter was unimaginable. Here, the sun shone and spread life. For an instant he contemplated abandoning his life’s plans and embracing this Mediterranean paradise. But he fought off this naive thought.
Led to the doctor’s home, Aaron introduced himself as an English teacher from Athens. The doctor, a short plump man with a round face, heard his remarkable rabies story, and knew instantly who the Englishman described.
“She is Nikolaos’ daughter.”
The doctor was surprised for he met with few Englishmen. They did not venture to Kassiopi unless it was to see the beaches or the Byzantine castle. He looked sternly at Aaron.
“What are you here for?”
“I cannot hide from you. You seem to be a wise man. What if I told you this girl is unique in the world? I believe she is special.”
The Corfiot began to laugh.
“For all I know, Calista Argyros is bad luck,” he replied. “What do you want with her?”
Aaron’s grave expression had not changed. He fixed the doctor until this one ceased laughing.
“You would have heard,” began Aaron, “that since the foundation of the Greek state five years ago, there has been an astounding progress in education. Greek young girls are even learning to speak French.”
“That is Athens,” replied the Corfiot. “This is here. This is a British island.”
“And that is why, I’ve come to offer the family my services to teach her English. She will learn to read and write at no charge.” A gleam shone in Aaron’s eye as he continued. “Corfu’s High Commissioner recompenses honourable behaviour. Through her bravery, this girl has saved lives.”
The old doctor had never heard of any free tutoring being gifted to Corfiots, but he presumed it was because he lived in a small village. So he did not argue. But he thought it best to warn the intrepid English teacher. He pointed a finger at Aaron.
“Her family thinks she is a witch. You come here and tell them
