Hearts of Stone Read online

  Copyright © 2015 Simon Scarrow

  The right of Simon Scarrow to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2015

  All characters – other than the obvious historical figures – in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  Ebook conversion by Avon DataSet Ltd, Bidford-on-Avon, Warwickshire

  Map © 2015 John Gilkes

  Author photograph © Crest Photography

  Cover images © Stephen Mulcahey/Arcangel Images (Man), gbimages/Alamy (background) and shutterstock

  eISBN: 978 0 7553 8025 1

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  About Simon Scarrow

  Also By Simon Scarrow

  Praise for Simon Scarrow

  Map of the Mediterranean during the Second World War

  Map of the Greek Island of Lefkas

  Character List

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Book

  The fierce courage of the men and women of the Greek Resistance is brought to vivid life in Sunday Times bestseller Simon Scarrow’s powerful new novel of World War II.

  1938: A perfect summer on the Greek island of Lefkas for three young people untroubled by the simmering politics of Europe. Peter, visiting from Germany while his father leads an archaeological dig, has become close friends with locals Andreas and Eleni. As the world slides towards conflict and Peter is forced to leave, they swear to meet again.

  1943: Andreas and Eleni have joined the partisan forces resisting the German invasion. Peter has returned – now a dangerously well-informed enemy intelligence officer. A friendship formed in peace will turn into a desperate battle between enemies sworn to sacrifice everything for the countries that they love . . .

  About Simon Scarrow

  Simon Scarrow is the No. 1 bestselling author of twenty-three historical novels. After a childhood spent travelling the world, he pursued his great love of history as a teacher, before becoming a full-time writer. His legendary Roman soldier heroes Cato and Macro stormed the bookshops in UNDER THE EAGLE, and have subsequently appeared in Sunday Times bestsellers including BROTHERS IN BLOOD, CENTURION and THE GLADIATOR.

  Simon Scarrow is the author, with T. J. Andrews, of ARENA, featuring gladiator hero Pavo, and the INVADER series, which can be discovered online, taking up the story of the Roman officer Figulus. Details of all Simon’s compelling historical novels – including the gripping Wellington and Napoleon quartet – can be found here.

  For exciting news, extracts and exclusive content from Simon visit www.simonscarrow.co.uk, follow him on Twitter @SimonScarrow or like his author page on Facebook /OfficialSimonScarrow.

  By Simon Scarrow

  The Roman Empire Series

  The Britannia Campaign

  Under the Eagle (AD 42–43, Britannia)

  The Eagle’s Conquest (AD 43, Britannia)

  When the Eagle Hunts (AD 44, Britannia)

  The Eagle and the Wolves (AD 44, Britannia)

  The Eagle’s Prey (AD 44, Britannia)

  Rome and the Eastern Provinces

  The Eagle’s Prophecy (AD 45, Rome)

  The Eagle in the Sand (AD 46, Judaea)

  Centurion (AD 46, Syria)

  The Mediterranean

  The Gladiator (AD 48–49, Crete)

  The Legion (AD 49, Egypt)

  Praetorian (AD 51, Rome)

  The Return to Britannia

  The Blood Crows (AD 51, Britannia)

  Brothers in Blood (AD 51, Britannia)

  The Wellington and Napoleon Quartet

  Young Bloods

  The Generals

  Fire and Sword

  The Fields of Death

  Sword and Scimitar

  Hearts of Stone

  Writing with T.J. Andrews

  Arena

  The Gladiator Series

  Gladiator: Fight for Freedom

  Gladiator: Street Fighter

  Gladiator: Son of Spartacus

  Praise for Simon Scarrow

  ‘I really don’t need this kind of competition . . . It’s a great read’ Bernard Cornwell

  ‘Rollicking good fun’ Mail on Sunday

  ‘Scarrow’s [novels] rank with the best’ Independent

  ‘[Simon Scarrow] blends together the historical facts and characters to create a book that simply cannot be put down . . . Highly recommended’ Historical Novels Review

  ‘A satisfyingly bloodthirsty, bawdy romp . . . perfect for Bernard Cornwell addicts who will relish its historical detail and fast-paced action. Storming stuff!’ Good Book Guide

  ‘A fast-moving and exceptionally well-paced historical thriller’ BBC History magazine

  Character List

  Lefkas 1938

  Dr Karl Muller, head of the Berlin University excavation on Lefkas

  Peter Muller, his son

  Heinrich Steiner, postgraduate assistant to Dr Muller

  Inspector Demetrious Thesskoudis, chief of police on Lefkas

  Rosa Thesskoudis, his wife

  Eleni Thesskoudis, his daughter

  Spyridon Katarides, poet residing on Lefkas

  Andreas Katarides, his son

  Yannis Stavakis, a Lefkas fisherman

  Modern Day

  Anna Thesskoudis, teacher of history, and daughter of –

  Marita Hardy-Thesskoudis, retired teacher living in Norwich, daughter of Eleni Thesskoudis

  Dieter Muller, research student, and grandson of Peter Muller

  Lefkas during the Second World War

  On board RHNS Papanikolis

  Lieutenant Commander Iatridis, captain o
f the Papanikolis

  Lieutenant Pilotis, first officer of the Papanikolis

  Chief Engineer Markinis

  Warrant Officer Stakiserou

  Seaman Appellios

  Seaman Papadakis

  Cairo

  Colonel Huntley, Commanding the Special Operations Executive office in Cairo

  Patrick Leigh Fermor, an army officer soon to be recruited by the SOE

  William Moss, an officer undergoing SOE training

  Lefkas occupation

  Michaelis, a kapetan of a band of andarte resistance fighters

  Petros, kapetan of another andarte band

  Oberstleutnant Salminger, commander of the German garrison on Lefkas

  PROLOGUE

  Lefkas, September 1938

  The shutter clicked and Karl Muller lowered the camera and smiled at the three teenagers, two boys and a girl, sitting on the bench. He coughed and spoke to them in Greek.

  ‘That’s it. All done.’

  As he packed his Leica away in its leather case, the three teenagers stood up and crossed to the table where the latest findings from the archaeological dig had been placed. A student from Berlin was the only assistant still working with Muller; the rest had already packed up and returned home after the summons from the head of the department at the university. Not only this expedition, but the two others on the Ionian islands, and, as far as Muller knew, every other archaeology team around the Mediterranean, had been ordered to abandon their work and return home. All thanks to the deteriorating international situation. Muller had delayed for as long as possible, and had finally given in after the last telegram from Berlin ordering him to do as he was told, or face the consequences.

  As he recalled the telegram he looked anxiously at his son. Peter was tall for a boy of sixteen and could easily be mistaken for someone a few years older. He had yet to build muscle on his slender frame and as a result looked somewhat fragile. The glasses he wore only seemed to emphasise that. Muller sighed briefly. His son was all that he had in the world following the death of his wife several years earlier. He was afraid for the boy. Peter was staring in fascination at the latest discoveries uncovered on the site. In a better world he would be free to follow the dictates of his heart and his father’s interests in archaeology. But the world was as it was, dominated by the hard-hearted credos of powerful rulers and their henchmen. They threatened war, and if they got their wish then Peter would be drawn into its perilous embrace. Muller had seen service on the Western Front in the first great struggle of the present century and could not forget its horrors. He prayed that his boy, and millions of others, would not have to share the same fate as the previous generation.

  The girl had approached him shyly and was watching Muller as he packed his camera away. He turned to her with a warm smile. ‘What can I do for you, Eleni?’

  ‘Herr Doktor Muller,’ she addressed him by his German title before continuing, haltingly, in the German taught to her by Peter. ‘The picture you took. Is it possible . . . May I have a copy for myself?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course. I will see to it when I get back to Lefkada and develop the film.’

  Eleni Thesskoudis smiled brilliantly, white teeth contrasting with the olive tone of her skin and the long dark hair that framed her oval face with its brown eyes. A pretty girl, he thought to himself. He could understand why Peter had developed feelings for her. It was obvious the boy was smitten, even if he refused to admit it to his father, denying it in the adamant, embarrassed way that teenagers do.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Muller. You are most kind.’

  ‘And you know how to charm men to do your bidding, eh?’ he teased and she gave a shy smile and shook her head before turning away to join her friends leaning over the nearest table. Peter was pointing at a shard of pottery, still carrying its delicately curved handle, and was explaining some detail to Andreas, the sun glinting off his glasses each time he looked up at the Greek boy. Muller turned his attention to the student sitting at the next table and cleared his throat.

  ‘Heinrich!’

  The student looked round, his brown hair neatly combed into place. Heinrich Steiner’s shirt and shorts were stained with sweat and dust but Muller knew that he would discard them the moment he returned to Lefkada and change into his usual neat combination of flannel trousers and white shirt, with that wretched party pin fixed to the breast pocket. Muller approached him and stood on the opposite side of the table.

  ‘Have you finished cataloguing the day’s finds?’

  ‘Almost, Herr Doktor. Two more entries and it is done.’

  ‘Good. Then put them away and return to the villa. When you see the foreman tell him I want this all packed up first thing tomorrow. The finds are to go into storage in Lefkada. The same with our equipment.’

  The student arched a brow. ‘We are leaving it all behind?’

  ‘What else can we do?’ Muller shrugged. ‘The university wants us to return at once. I’ll have to try and arrange the shipment of our finds when I return to Berlin.’

  The student nodded and turned back to his notebook and continued filling in the details of the last items in front of him. Muller turned back to the teenagers.

  ‘You three can go with Heinrich. He’ll drive you back into Lefkada. I’ll follow in the car.’

  ‘You’re staying here?’ asked Peter with a frown. ‘But Andreas’s father has invited us all to dinner tonight.’

  ‘I’ll be there. I would not want to disappoint Mr Katarides. But I have a few last things to deal with before I leave the site.’ He pursed his lips and glanced round the small vale surrounded by steep hills. ‘Before I leave it for the last time.’

  ‘You’ll come back, Father. Once the trouble has passed.’

  Muller patted him on the back. ‘Yes. Of course I will, and you. If you want to.’

  Peter grinned. ‘Try and stop me! Besides, I would miss my friends too much.’ He gestured towards the other boy and girl and switched back to Greek. ‘My father says we will be coming back. When the world has come to its senses.’

  ‘Good!’ Andreas flashed one of his rare smiles, then frowned briefly as the girl gave the German boy’s arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘We will be waiting for you.’ He continued in a voice laced with irony, ‘No doubt bored out of our wits with no one here to explain our own history to us in such fascinating and endless detail.’

  Peter shook his head sadly. ‘I am a civilised man amongst philistines . . .’

  ‘Enough of your games, you young fools!’ Muller interrupted as his assistant completed his work, snapped his notebook shut and rose from his bench. ‘Go with Heinrich. Now.’

  The impatience in his voice was obvious and Peter and his friends turned away from the tables and made for the path that led out of the vale in the direction of the camp where the members of the expedition lived when they were not at the house in Lefkada rented by the university. The tents, camp beds and stoves would all join the rest of the equipment to be stored in the warehouse to await the archaeologists’ return. Muller watched them until they were out of sight and then waited another few minutes until he heard the rattle of the truck starting up. The gears ground, the engine note rose in pitch as Heinrich eased down the accelerator, and the vehicle clattered and jolted off along the rough track.

  When at last the sound of the engine had died away and there was silence, Muller looked round the small valley. Nothing moved. No sign of life. Then he stirred, striding purposefully around the main excavation with its pegs and taut lengths of twine marking off each area. A section of the foundations of the large structure they had discovered lay half a metre below the surface of the ground, and had been painstakingly exposed over the last two years. Now it was to be abandoned, left to return to nature if the great powers of Europe decided to turn on each other again.

  Muller left the main site and made his way through the shrubs and stunted Mediterranean oaks towards a nearby cliff. Emerging from the thin line of trees, he paused
and glanced round, listening, to be sure that he was quite alone. Satisfied, he eased his way round a gorse bush and began to climb a narrow path that ran up the cliff. The ascent was not difficult, there were plenty of protrusions to use for foot- and handholds. Five metres up he came to the ledge that rose at a gentle gradient towards a finger of rock standing proud of the cliff face. Unless a person was close, the rock appeared to be part of the cliff. Indeed, it was only a week before that Muller had ventured up to the cliff, looking for a vantage point to take some photos of the whole site. It was then that he had noticed the geological peculiarity and climbed higher to investigate.

  Breathing heavily from his exertions, Muller shuffled along the ledge until he saw the dark opening, hidden from sight behind the rock. His heart quickened with excitement as he approached. At the mouth of the cave he felt the coolness of the space within, and shivered. Catching his breath, Muller crouched low and squeezed through the gap.

  Inside, the light penetrated only a short distance, as no direct sunlight entered the cave. Muller pulled out the torch in his pocket and switched it on. Abruptly a shaft of light cut through the gloom towards the rear of the cool, clammy interior. The air was musty smelling and Muller’s boots crunched on the small stones on the floor of the cave. He felt an excitement burning in his veins that he had hardly ever felt before. And then bitter frustration. Here was the great archaeological discovery of the age. And yet he could not take advantage of it. If only there had been more time. More time to explore the cave properly and discover all its secrets.

  As he had done a handful of times before, Muller slowly approached the rear of the cave, where the hewn rock gave way to a flat surface. Two columns, cut out of the mountain, flanked a great slab of stone. It was featureless, save for a short phrase engraved into its surface, the work of a mason who had passed from this earth nearly three thousand years before, yet preserved so well it might have been the work of yesterday. Muller shone the torch at an angle so that the words would be clearly discernible. There was no mistaking the name, or the epitaph. One day, Muller vowed to himself, this discovery would make his reputation. The world would forever link his name to this place and the treasures that rested in the darkness beyond the wall of stone.