“You see, everyone in the village,” continued Sakis, “we all wear mati to protect us.”
“What is that?”
“It is like magic. We wear a charm that looks like an eye. Or else we keep garlic around the house.”
Aaron recalled that when he had begun teaching Calista, her mother, Nectaria, had wrapped a piece of garlic in a thin cloth and given it to him. “Skorda,” she had said. “To protect you.”
He mentioned this to Sakis.
“I always carry garlic,” replied Calista’s uncle. “But most of us wear blue beads or glass necklaces.”
“And if you wear these beads, nothing will happen to you?”
“Yes. You should be safe.”
“Splendid. As it turns out, ever since I arrived in Corfu, over five months ago now, I have spent hours teaching your niece to speak and write in English, yet so far, I’ve not had a spell of misfortune.”
Sakis appeared concerned. He said nothing. He scowled and turned his attention to the donkey. He tugged hard at the stubborn animal who had dug in its hooves and refused to descend the sandy slope towards the beach. “Perhaps… perhaps she has cursed you already and you do not know,” muttered Sakis.
Aaron laughed. “If I must be cursed, so be it. Nikolaos doesn’t seem to like me much, anyhow.”
“My brother thinks it is British foolishness to teach her anything. She’s just a girl,” replied Sakis who was now out of breath. “And what is wrong with you?” he barked at the donkey. “Impossible animal.” He brandished his stick and whacked the animal’s flanks. The donkey shook its head but stood its ground.
“It does not seem to want to budge,” observed Aaron, a keen spark in his eyes.
Sakis redoubled his efforts but the donkey was proudly anchored to the ground.
“Stay here,” ordered Aaron. He walked towards the harbour.
Aaron reached the boat where Calista had been helping her father sort out the fishing spoils of the morning. They hoped to load the donkey and carry the fisherman’s catch home where her mother would prepare it.
As he greeted Nikolaos, Aaron could not help but glimpse Calista’s longing eyes.
Aaron had much experience with duping women. Over the years, he’d learnt to uncover what pleased each one of them, and to peer into their heart’s desire. He sensed when a woman was in love with him and in the last months, he had deployed all his art to captivate Calista. It almost touched him how easily the girl from Kassiopi was won. But he bided his time, conscious of the prize she represented. He understood full well what he had witnessed so far.
He turned to her deliberately. “Alas, it seems we are faced with a difficulty. The donkey does not wish to come.”
Calista smiled. She spoke to Nikolaos in their Greek dialect. Her father scowled as he answered.
Aaron sought only one thing. It was his new source of pleasure – to find occasions where Calista might employ her gift. As she did so, he would witness once more what others in the village frowned upon but which so stirred his passions, that each time, he trembled a little more with delight.
And now was such an opportunity. Aaron was determined to not let the moment slip. He addressed Nikolaos, knowing Calista would already agree.
“We tried everything. It will not obey. Please, give Calista a moment with it.”
“A good whack with the stick and it will move,” protested Nikolaos. What good farmer doesn’t know this? I’ll show Sakis how it is done.”
Aaron stood in front of him.
“You would strike an animal when no force is needed?” he asked, in perfect Greek.
Calista was moved. She stared lovingly at Aaron, the man who understood everything about her.
Nikolaos looked furious but he relented. To waste further time would only spoil the fish. He turned to his boat and waved them away. “Just bring the donkey, here.”
Calista was suddenly enlivened. Her eyes shone bright. She spun around and fled to the spot where her uncle waited.
Aaron knew what would transpire and it was no surprise to anyone when it did.
Calista approached the donkey. She reached a hand to its forehead and whispered to it. The donkey shut its eyes in a docile fashion. There was an exchange between them as the animal meekly lowered its head.
She began to stroke it, and once it was lulled, she stepped back down the slope. Facing the donkey again, she held out her hand, as though she wished it to follow.
It was instant. Without hesitation, the animal moved towards her, taking eager steps until it reached the boats. Before long, it stood at the ready before Nikolaos.
Aaron looked upon the girl triumphantly. She was smiling back at him and he knew at once that it was more than love. Calista adored him for he had been the first to encourage her talents when all in the village shunned her for it.
“That, Sakis,” he whispered to the girl’s uncle, “that is what we call animal magnetism.”
Sakis shook his head. He didn’t understand the term. He shot Calista’s teacher a resentful glare.
“And now, you are happy, English man? You are happy with yourself? Do you think it’s funny?”
“You should not be afraid of something which is perfectly natural,” replied Aaron icily.
“The villagers, here, do not think like you. There are people in Kassiopi who are fearful of her presence.”
Aaron pondered over those words.
Flowers of Kerkyra
UNLIKE England, Corfu was always green. There was the green of the olive trees, the green of the tall cypresses, the green of figs and oaks, and year round, colourful wild flowers dotted the island. One could observe the passing of time with the changing blossoms.
Aaron had arrived on the island during the late summer of 1835. Before he knew it, it was
