The
Christmas Bread ( title of the original: Το Χριστόψωμο)
by
Alexandros Papadiamantis(Rendered
by Vassilis C. Militsis)
Among
the many popular characters, who will always be the center of
interest in the tales of the future story teller, paramount positions
are held by the bad mother-in-law as well as the wicked step mother.
Concerning the wicked step mother, I shall try to describe one some
other time for the instruction of my readers. This tale is about the
wicked mother-in-law.
Unhappy,
young Dialechti, daughter of Uncle Manolis Kassadreos, who at the
time of the Greek Revolution had migrated to an Aegean island, was
wondering why she was to blame if she was barren and childless. She
had married seven years before; since then she visited Aidepso’s
Spa twice, five times she was administered diverse effective potions,
but in vain: she remained unfruitful. A couple of gypsy women gave
her to carry round the armpits miraculous talismans, assuring her
that that was the only means to bear a child, and indeed a son.
Finally, a monk from Sinai donated to her a sanctified rosary,
telling her to dip it in the water and then drink the liquid.
However, all was in vain.
At
last, her despair was followed by the ease of conscience and no
longer did she consider herself responsible. However, old Kantakaina,
her mother-in-law, was not of the same opinion, and held her
daughter-in law answerable for not bearing a grandson, a consolation
in her old age.
It
was true that Dialechti’s husband was the only child of this old
woman, but he did not share his mother’s prejudice against his
wife. Did she not give birth to a child, his line would disappear.
And that was a peculiar attitude, for every Greek husband of the time
held it a most holy duty and utmost necessity to procreate his
species.
Whenever
her son returned from his sea fares – he owned a lugger and was
very daring and apt at sea travel – old Kantakaina went to welcome
him, led him to her small cottage, read prayers over him, catechized
him, and sowed discord between him and his wife, in an attempt to
turn him against her. Not only did she enumerate his wife’s
drawbacks but she also enhanced them; his wife was not only a
marble slab
– to wit sterile, as if that was not enough – she was also
slovenly, unrestrained, brazen etc. she was a good for nothing, a
childless woman.
Captain
Kantakis, flabbergasted and sea-beaten, after this entire harangue,
his mind grew biased. Then he went out to meet his fellow seamen,
exchanged the usual welcoming greetings, took to drinking about seven
or eight cups of rum, and under triple giddiness – from the sea,
the womanish slander and the load of drinks – entered his house,
where barbarous scenes took place between him and his wife.
Thus
was the state of things until Christmas Eve of AD 186… Five days
before Captain Kantakis had sailed on his lugger to the island
across, loaded with lambs and kids, hoping to return and celebrate
Christmas at home. But, as the Greek proverb went, he was settling
his accounts without the hotel owner, i.e. without the northerly
wind, which blew sudden and full blast causing all vessels to stay
put in the lee. However, it has already been mentioned that Captain
Kantakis was a daring and apt seaman. Around dusk on Christmas Eve
the wind abated somewhat, but it was still blowing. At midnight again
it gained force.
Some
sailors in the market wagered that since the wind had let up, Captain
Kantakis was expected to arrive by midnight. His wife however was not
present to hear them say so and was not expecting him. Before evening
she was visited by her mother-in-law, unusually kindly and smiling,
who wished her, first of all, an auspicious coming of her husband
and, for the thousandth time, the commonplace “may you blessed with
a healthy son”.
And
besides this, she offered her the traditional Christmas bannock.
I
kneaded the dough myself, said Granny Kantakaina. May you enjoy it
in good health.
I’ll
treasure it till the Epiphany, so it can be sanctified, added her
daughter-in-law.
No,
no, said the old woman in an uncanny hurry. A housewife keeps her
own bannock for the Epiphany all right, but the gift is consumed.
Dialechti
was a very innocent soul, and she could never imagine or suspect
something evil.
“How
come my mother-in-law brought me a Christmas Bread?” she thought to
herself. As soon as the old woman left, Dialechti locked her house
and slept with a ten-year-old neighbor girl, who kept company with
her as long as her husband was away. Dialechti turned in early,
because she wanted to attend the early mass at the church around
midnight. The church was only fifty yards from the house.
About
midnight there was a protracted peal from the church bells. Dialechti
got up, dressed and went off to church. It was agreed that the little
girl was to stay with her till matins. Therefore, she roused her and
led her to join her siblings, next door. The two houses comprised a
semi-detached edifice.
Dialechti
ascended the steps to the loft of the church, reserved for womenfolk.
After half an hour, a poor and unhappy lame woman, who served as the
sexton of the church, came over and whispered to her:
But
instead of handing the key, she rushed down the stairs herself.
Arriving
at the steps of her house she saw her husband soaked and dripping
water and sea surf.
Dialechti
took out some clothes from the press and built a fire for her husband
to warm.
Dialechti
drew some wine from the cask.
Dialechti
put the meat on the already glowing embers and was getting ready to
follow her husband’s instruction, which after all was also her own
desire, because she must receive the Holy Communion. It should be
noted that Kantakis gave his phrase off
you go to your church
a sour tinge.
Dialechti
was already at the door when Kantakis suddenly called her back.
Kantakis
did not dare to oppose her because his response would be a blasphemy.
However, he uttered a silent one.
Dialechti
made sure to dispatch a messenger, a twelve-year-old boy from the
next door family, whose daughter had slept by her the previous
evening, to her mother-in-law, and went back to church.
Kantakis,
who was starving, began to devour the stake. Squatting down by the
fireplace, he was lazy to get up and open the cabinet, where the
bread was kept. But on the left-hand side on the wooden mantelpiece
was the Christmas Bread, that bannock given by his mother as a gift
to her daughter-in-law. He reached for it and ate it almost all of it
with the barbecued meat.
Around
dawn Dialechti returned from the church, where she found her
mother-in-law embracing her son’s brow moaning and wailing.
She
had come some moments before and found her son stiff dead. Lifting
her eyes she observed the absence of the bannock from the
mantelpiece, and all became clear to her. Kantakis had eaten the
poisoned Christmas Bread, which the old vixen had prepared for her
daughter-in-law.
There
were no proper doctors on that small island, so no post mortem
autopsy was carried out. It was believed that his death was due to
the cold contracted as the aftermath of the shipwreck. It should also
be noted that the old woman, conscious of her crime, did not accuse
her daughter-in-law. On the contrary, she stood up for her against
the virulent gossip of the people.
If
she lived to celebrate other Christmasses, the heartless
mother-in-law and unwitting infanticide did not enjoy a happy old
age.
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