Alexei turned and looked at him, and when Costa saw his eyes, he knew that he was right. They shared the same anger. The same hatred, buried now, deep in their souls. It was the first time that they’d truly felt the fire that the hatred brings with it, and they both knew that they would need it now, all of it, if they were going to survive the days that were to come. That was all they could hope. That the pain and the anger could now be useful.

  Alexei started to leave—

  “Where are you going?” Costa called after him.

  “Dimini.”

  “Alone?”

  “Koukidis should be here soon. Tell him and the others what’s happened. I’ll be back at dawn.”

  Costa nodded. He’d wait for Koukidis.

  “And Costa …” Alexei said.

  “What is it?”

  Alexei knew he didn’t need to say it, but he still wanted to.

  “Let’s kill all of them, alright?”

  Costa stared back at him—

  “Yes,” he said. “Let’s kill every last one.”

  Alexei came to Dimini as the sun was sinking in the sky.

  It was a three mile walk to the west of Agria before he came to the well-preserved ruins of the late Neolithic city that sat on a low hill overlooking the Pagasitikos Bay.

  Alexei went slowly as he made the journey.

  It was the only bit of rest and beauty that he’d allowed himself in some time, and he realized that it was something that he needed. When he finally got to the ruins he stood on the hill that looked out over the sea and found himself thinking of his father. Was he out there, in his boat? Did he even still have his boat, or had it been taken by the Germans? How had the fishing been that spring? It was the longest Alexei had been away from the water in his entire life, he realized, and he missed it.

  But that was all gone now.

  He walked through the ruins by himself.

  Alexei enjoyed the way that it felt, to be among such history. Had Agamemnon lived here? Had Jason sat in these halls, and walked these hills? Did Achilles stop here on his journey to Troy and immortality? Alexei was just a solitary man, he knew, a solitary man alone amongst the giants hidden in those old and ruined piles of stone, the ancient reminders of how great his people had once been.

  And they had been great once, there was no doubt.

  But could they still be great again?

  If Agamemnon’s palace could fade to dust and stone—the same dust and stone that was now under his feet—then what would their fate be? The fate of the men like Alexei and Costa and everyone else that had been born in this land, and were the descendants of those heroes, and the inheritors of their great legacy?

  He didn’t know.

  Time passed.

  Alexei sat on the cold stones of what had once been a wall, or perhaps the foundation of a house, and he realized that the sun had set, and the moon was large in the night sky.

  And then he saw Philia walking towards him.

  She was walking softly, picking her way between the ancient stones when Alexei stood to meet her. They didn’t say anything as they moved together under the moon and stars above them, and they held each other longer than they’d ever held each other before.

  “I told you I’d come back,” Alexei said softly.

  “It’s all I’ve prayed for.”

  “I’m sorry, Philia. I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I,” she said, and she started to cry, and Alexei held her even closer. She buried herself in his chest. She felt safe when he was holding her, and soon her tears dried, and she looked up at him.

  “The funeral’s going to be in three days,” she whispered quietly. “I don’t know what suit to dress him in. I don’t know which was his favorite. Maybe you can help me?”

  “Philia …” Alexei said softly.

  He knew this was going to be hard.

  “What?”

  “We need to be gone by then,” he told her, as gently as he could.

  “What do you mean? Gone where?”

  “Away from here. Somewhere safe.”

  “I have to bury my father. I can’t just leave him.”

  “There’s no time for a funeral.”

  “And so we just leave his body to rot? I can’t do that, Alexei. Children bury their parents.”

  Alexei thought about this, and he knew that she was right, but he also knew that he was right, too.

  “We’ll talk to my father. We can do it the old way, the way that the fisherman did it when there were people living here on this hill, and the way that they do it sometimes still.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Burial at sea. My father will have no more need of his boat after this. There’s not going to be any more fishing.”

  “And then where will we go?”

  “First to Athens. Athens is still free. And we’ll find something there. A boat. A way for us to leave.”

  “And then what?

  “We’ll go to any part of the world that hasn’t been touched by this war. But we need to stay ahead of the Germans. They haven’t made it to Athens yet. There’s still hope, but we need to get there before they do.”

  “You haven’t thought this through, have you? We’ll just sail and sail until we come to something?”

  “America. We’ll go to America.”

  She was silent for a moment, then she bit her lip as she looked back at him in the darkness—

  “I know that we have to go,” she said. “I know that we have to do this, and that we have to leave. But it just seems so … final. Like an ending.”

  “It’s not final, Philia. And it’s not an ending. It’s a beginning.”

  “The Germans in the city … they won’t let us just leave.”

  “No, they won’t. But soon there won’t be any Germans in Agria.”

  She paused and looked back at him and saw the fire that was in his eyes, and she wanted to be closer to it, closer to that fire.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked him.

  “We’re going to kill them.”

  “There’s too many, Alexei. There’s dozens of men in the city.”

  “Costa is with me, and our friend Koukidis, who fought with us in Albania, and his men. It’ll be alright.”

  They were silent together for another moment.

  “I wanted our son to be born in Greece,” Philia said.

  “So did I,” Alexei answered. “But the world’s decided for us, and there’s nothing else to be done. He’ll still be Greek, and he’ll be ours, no matter where he’s born. But if we want to live, and if we want our son to live, and to be free, then we need to leave here. As soon as possible.”

  “I want to make love to you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I want to make love to my husband.”

  “Philia, something terrible’s just happened.”

  “I know. And I don’t want to feel that anymore. I want to feel you. That’s what I want right now, more than anything. I want to feel you inside of me, instead of this unbearable sadness.”

  She moved closer to him.

  She took his hands and put them on her hips. She tilted her head up and kissed him deeply.

  “I love that you’re taller than me,” she said.

  And then she took her dress off, and his shirt and trousers next, and they were naked together in the moonlight of the ancient ruins and they used their clothes to make a soft bed on the rocky and uneven ground beneath them. He kissed her again, and gently laid her down before he lowered himself on top of her, moving between her legs, his breath catching in his throat as he heard her gasp when their love began.

  They were in no hurry.

  The night was finally theirs again.

  They were as close as two people could ever be, and they took the time to bring each other as much pleasure as they could. He knew exactly what she wanted, exactly where she needed to be touched, and the way that she wanted him to do it, and she knew the same for him.

  There was no concept of time.

  He only knew her, the woman beside him, his wife.

  But that night she wasn’t his wife.

  She was a princess, and he was a prince. She was a goddess, and he was a god. They both knew that there were other lovers in the world, but they also knew that there was no question that for one night the world belonged to them, and to them alone, and that it would always be theirs.

  They never stopped. Not for the whole night.

  It was something that they didn’t even know was possible until that moment. When they eventually slowed they just lay there on the thin bed that they’d made and held each other. They held each other so close. They didn’t need anything else. They lay there and held each other under the moon and the stars and the godless sky that stretched on above them forever.

  23

  April 20th, 1941

  ALEXEI AND PHILIA WOKE AT FIRST light.

  They dressed without speaking, then left the ruins, the sun rising in front of them, high over the Aegean, and they walked back the way that Alexei had come, towards the bluff above the city and the friends that were waiting there and the plans that needed to be made.

  They knew that it was going to be a long day, and as they walked Alexei took in as much as he possibly could—the sights of his home, his youth, of every happy memory that he’d ever had—because he wasn’t sure when he would see them again.

  If he’d ever see them again.

  When they got back to the bluff, they saw that Costa and Koukidis had allowed a small fire, and they were using the last of the warm embers to heat a small pot of coffee. They sat down on the rocks and Kukidis passed around cups while they discussed how they’d take back Agria.

  Alexei was next to Philia.

  Costa pulled Nico closer to him.

  Koukidis sat with his men.

  “Do we know where the main German armies are?” Alexei asked.

  “We haven’t heard anything more after the bridge,” Koukidis answered him. “They should be to Larissa by now. Other than that, your guess is as good as ours. Do we know how many soldiers there are in the town?”

  “Twenty-seven,” Nico said, from his place next to Costa, and they all turned to look at him. “I’ve counted them,” he added, with his young voice.

  “Good,” Costa said next to him, squeezing his shoulders. “Bravo.”

  “But that’s just Agria,” Koukidis said. “Do we know how many are in Volos?”

  “It won’t matter,” Costa answered.

  “Why?”

  “Because we’ll be gone by the time the soldiers from Volos get here.”

  “Philia is going to go back this morning,” Alexei said, holding her hand, trying to give her some of his strength.

  “It’s not safe anymore,” Koukidis turned to them. “It’s better if she stays here.”

  “She has business with my father.”

  Koukidis saw the look in Alexei’s eyes and knew not to ask anything further, and so he nodded, “Alright.” And then he turned to look at Alexei and Costa both. “You two know the village better than anyone. Tell us how this begins?”

  Alexei opened his mouth, about to speak, when Philia cut him off—

  “The man who’s staying at my home.”

  They all turned to look at her.

  “His name’s Meinhard,” she said. “He wears one of the crosses at his neck, and he’s very important to Germany. He’s an officer. Their leader. Without him they won’t have any orders.”

  “That’s good.”

  “He comes home each night, just before midnight, and he’s always drunk.”

  “I’ll handle him,” Alexei said, knowing what it meant to Philia, and that it was something that he needed to do personally.

  “We’ll send men with you.”

  “No,” Alexei shook his head, and Koukidis saw the look on his face. “It’s family business.”

  Koukidis nodded, understanding.

  “My parents aren’t far from Philia’s house,” Alexei continued. “After the German’s gone, I’ll find them and bring them up here.”

  “I’ll get your parents,” Costa said. “You won’t have enough time.” Then Costa put his arm around the boy next to him. “And Nico will go with me.”

  “Good,” Alexei said, and he was happy because he knew his parents would be as safe with Costa as they would be with himself.

  “So it’s settled, then,” Koukidis said. “Now what happens after you kill this German that’s in your house?”

  “It’s close to the village. The rest of the soldiers will hear the gunshot, and they’ll come to see what’s happened. So we’ll have to find somewhere to ambush them in the dark while they’re on the way.”

  “That’ll take care of half the garrison.”

  “Then we continue to town and take care of the other half.”

  “And leave before the sun comes up.”

  They all looked at each other.

  “So we have a plan.”

  “We’ll start as soon as it’s dark, and we know that most of them will have gone to sleep.”

  Costa stood, and Nico stood with him.

  “Where are you going?” Alexei asked.

  “To teach the boy how to shoot,” Costa answered.

  Alexei watched as Costa and Nico walked into the distance towards the rocky hills above the city, and then Koukidis stood, too.

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Koukidis said. “And then certainly a long day after that. I’m going to get some sleep. Someone wake me when it’s dark.”

  Alexei was alone with Philia.

  “What should I bring from the house?” she asked him.

  “As much food as you can find.”

  “There’s no food left.”

  “That’s alright. We’ll find some on the way, then.”

  “I know we will.”

  “We’ll be safe.”

  “Our son will know nothing of the pain that we knew here. He’ll only know how beautiful this land is.”

  Alexei realized they were finishing each other’s sentences. It didn’t matter who was speaking. It was all one.

  “He’ll have the best of everything that we’ve had,” he said.

  “He’ll have a big backyard to play in. He’ll smile a lot.”

  “He won’t know anything of war.”

  “Except what he reads in books, a long time from now.”

  “We’ll find somewhere near the water,” Alexei smiled. “So that he can grow up the way that Greek boys grow up.”

  “He’ll be happy, won’t he?”

  “And we’ll be happy, too.”

  “It’ll be beautiful.”

  They sat there together for another moment, Philia leaning against Alexei’s chest, and he put his arms around her. In front of them the sun was already starting to sink. It was a moment, and they both could feel it.

  “I have to go now, don’t I?” Philia asked.

  “Find my father,” Alexei answered. “Tell him what I told you, and he’ll know what to do.”

  “I will,” she said, and she finally stood.

  She kissed Alexei.

  “I will,” she said again.

  Philia went to see Iannis and Eleni.

  Eleni fell to her knees and wept when Philia told her that Alexei was safe and had come back to Agria, and Costa, too. It’s all she’d prayed for, and her prayers had been heard, and answered. Iannis listened quietly as Philia delivered Alexei’s message, about what they were to do, and then he nodded.

  He agreed with his son.

  It was the only way.

  Then Iannis took Philia in his strong and sun-tanned arms—his dark fisherman’s arms—and he held her, because she’d lost her father, but he wanted to make sure that she knew she still had a father. She apologized to him for the burden, and that he’d have to lose his boat, but he stopped her.

  “Bring him to us here,” he said.

  “Thank you, Iannis.”

  “He was a great man, and we’ll do him great honor.”

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  And she wiped away her tears.

  She needed to be strong now.

  Alexei sat next to Koukidis in the mountains at dusk.

  He was looking into the distance as Koukidis polished his weapons and they were both watching as Costa taught Nico how to aim a rifle. They couldn’t fire any rounds, because of the Germans in the city, but they were practicing without them. Alexei remembered himself at that age, but he had to quickly put it from his mind.

  “Doesn’t he seem a bit young?” Alexei said instead.

  Koukidis looked up from polishing his rifle.

  “You heard his story.”

  “I did.”

  “Maybe yesterday he was too young. Today he’s one of us.”

  Costa showed Nico how to brace the butt of the gun against his shoulder and leverage the barrel to keep it steady. Costa looked like a father already, the way he was so natural with the boy. He’d have to ask him about it, Alexei thought, about his instincts, and how he knew what to do, and what to say. He looked much more comfortable than Alexei thought he was going to feel when his own child came, when the war was over.

  When the war was over.

  Whenever that would be.

  Alexei took his rifle from where it leaned against a rock and began to polish it alongside Koukidis.

  “It’s too bad, isn’t it?” Alexei said.

  “What?”

  “There’s going to be so many more stories like his before it’s all over. There’s still so much pain that has to be suffered. So many more mothers and fathers and brothers and husbands that are going to die.”

  “Try not to think about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s war,” Koukidis said. “It’s always beyond anything that we can imagine.”

  “There’s going to be an entire generation of us marked and changed by what’s happened.”

  “And the world will continue, as it always does, and as it always has, no matter what goes on in these hills. These won’t be the first children to have seen horrible things in the dark, you know. There’ll be scars. Of course there will be. But our children are strong, and we’re strong, too.”