Το Χριστόψωμο-The Christmas Bread

Αλέξανδρος Παπαδιαμάντης* Το Χριστόψωμο   Μεταξὺ τῶν πολλῶν δημωδῶν τύπων, τοὺς ὁποίους θὰ ἔχωσι νὰ ἐκμεταλλευθῶσιν οἱ μέλλοντες διηγηματογράφοι μας, διαπρεπῆ κατέχει θέσιν ἡ κακὴ πενθερά, ὡς καὶ ἡ κακὴ μητρυιά. Περὶ μητρυιᾶς ἄλλωστε θὰ ἀποπειραθῶ νὰ διαλάβω τινά, πρὸς ἐποικοδόμησιν τῶν ἀναγνωστῶν μου. Περὶ μιᾶς κακῆς πενθερᾶς σήμερον ὁ λόγος. Εἰς τί ἔπταιεν ἡ ἀτυχὴς νέα Διαλεχτή, οὕτως ὠνομάζετο, θυγάτηρ τοῦ Κασσανδρέως μπάρμπα Μανώλη, μεταναστεύσαντος κατὰ τὴν Ἑλληνικὴν Ἐπανάστασιν εἰς μίαν τῶν νήσων τοῦ Αἰγαίου; Εἰς τί ἔπταιεν ἂν ἦτο στείρα καὶ ἄτεκνος; Εἶχε νυμφευθῆ πρὸ ἑπταετίας, ἔκτοτε δὶς μετέβη εἰς τὰ λουτρὰ τῆς Αἰδηψοῦ, πεντάκις τῆς ἔδωκαν νὰ πίη διάφορα τελεσιουργὰ βότανα, εἰς μάτην, ἡ γῆ ἔμενεν ἄγονος. Δυὸ ἢ τρεῖς γύφτισσαι τῆς ἔδωκαν νὰ φορέση περίαπτα θαυματουργὰ περὶ τὰς μασχάλας, εἰπούσαι αὐτῇ, ὅτι τοῦτο ἦτο τὸ μόνον μέσον, ὅπως γεννήσῃ, καὶ μάλιστα υἱόν. Τέλος καλόγηρός τις Σιναΐτης τῇ ἐδώρησεν ἡγιασμένον κομβολόγιον, εἰπῶν αὐτῇ νὰ τὸ βαπτίζῃ καὶ νὰ πίνῃ τὸ ὕδωρ. Τὰ πάντα μάταια. Ἐπὶ τέλους μὲ τὴν ἀπελπισίαν ᾖλθε καὶ ἡ ἀνάπαυσις τῆς συνειδήσεως, καὶ δὲν ἐνόμιζεν ἐαυτὴν ἔνοχον. Τὸ αὐτὸ ὅμως δὲν ἐφρόνει καὶ ἡ γραῖα Καντάκαινα, ἡ πενθερά της, ἥτις ἐπέρριπτεν εἰς τὴν νύμφην αὐτῆς τὸ σφάλμα τῆς μὴ ἀποκτήσεως ἐγγόνου διὰ τὸ γῆρας της. Εἶναι ἀληθές, ὅτι ὁ σύζυγος τῆς Διαλεχτῆς ἦτο τὸ μόνον τέκνον τῆς γραίας ταύτης, καὶ οὖτος δὲ συνεμερίζετο τὴν πρόληψιν τῆς μητρός του ἐναντίον τῆς συμβίας αὐτοῦ. Ἂν δὲν τῷ ἐγέννᾳ ἡ σύζυγός του, ἡ γενεὰ ἐχάνετο. Περίεργον, δέ, ὅτι πᾶς Ἕλλην τῆς ἐποχῆς μας ἱερώτατον θεωρεῖ χρέος καὶ ὑπερτάτην ἀνάγκην τὴν διαιώνισιν τοῦ γένους του. Ἑκάστοτε, ὁσάκις ὁ υἱός της ἐπέστρεφεν ἐκ τοῦ ταξιδίου του, διότι εἶχε βρατσέραν, καὶ ἦτο τολμηρότατος εἰς τὴν ἀκτοπλοΐαν, ἡ γραῖα Καντάκαινα ἤρχετο εἰς προϋπάντησιν αὐτοῦ, τὸν ὡδήγει εἰς τὸν οἰκίσκον της, τὸν ἐδιάβαζε, τὸν ἐκατήχει, τοῦ ἔβαζε μαναφούκια, καὶ οὕτω τὸν προέπεμπε παρὰ τῇ γυναικὶ αὐτοῦ. Καὶ δὲν ἔλεγε τὰ ἐλαττώματά της, ἀλλὰ τὰ αὐγάτιζε, δὲν ἦτο μόνο «μαρμάρα», τουτέστι στείρα ἡ νύμφη της, τοῦτο δὲν ἤρκει, ἀλλ᾿ ἦτο ἄπαστρη, ἀπασσάλωτη, ξετσίπωτη κλπ. Ὅλα τὰ εἶχεν, «ἡ ποίσα, ἡ δείξα, ἡ ἄκληρη». Ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης, φλομωμένος, θαλασσοπνιγμένος, τὰ ἤκουεν ὅλα αὐτά, ἡ φαντασία του ἐφούσκωνεν, ἐξερχόμενος εἶτα συνήντα τοὺς συναδέλφους του ναυτικούς, ἤρχιζαν τὰ καλῶς ὤρισες, καλῶς σᾶς ηὕρα, ἔπινεν ἑπτὰ ἢ ὀκτὼ ρώμια, καὶ μὲ τριπλῆν σκοτοδίνην, τὴν ἐκ τῆς θαλάσσης, τὴν ἐκ τῆς γυναικείας διαβολῆς καὶ τὴν ἐκ τῶν ποτῶν, εἰσήρχετο οἴκαδε καὶ βάρβαροι σκηναὶ συνέβαινον τότε μεταξὺ αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς συζύγου του. Οὕτως εἶχον τὰ πράγματα μέχρι τῆς παραμονῆς τῶν Χριστουγέννων τοῦ ἔτους 186… Ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης πρὸ πέντε ἡμερῶν εἶχε πλεύσει μὲ τὴν βρατσέραν του εἰς τὴν ἀπέναντι νῆσον μὲ φορτίον ἀμνῶν καὶ ἐρίφων, καὶ ἤλπιζεν, ὅτι θὰ ἑώρταζε τὰ Χριστούγεννα εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν του. Ἀλλὰ τὸν λογαριασμὸν τὸν ἔκαμνεν ἄνευ τοῦ ξενοδόχου, δηλ. ἄνευ τοῦ Βορρᾶ, ὅστις ἐφύσησεν αἰφνιδίως ἄγριος καὶ ἔκλεισαν ὅλα τὰ πλοῖα εἰς τοὺς ὅρμους, ὅπου εὑρέθησαν. Εἴπομεν ὅμως, ὅτι ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης ἦτο τολμηρὸς περὶ τὴν ἀκτοπλοΐαν. Περὶ τὴν ἑσπέραν τῆς παραμονῆς τῶν Χριστουγέννων ὁ ἄνεμος ἐμετριάσθη ὀλίγον, ἀλλ᾿ οὐχ ἧττον ἐξηκολούθει νὰ πνέῃ. Τὸ μεσονύκτιον πάλιν ἐδυνάμωσε. Τινὲς ναυτικοὶ ἐν τῇ ἀγορᾷ ἐστοιχημάτιζον, ὅτι, ἀφοῦ κατέπεσεν ὁ Βορρᾶς, ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης θὰ ἔφθανε περὶ τὸ μεσονύκτιον. Ἡ σύζυγός του ὅμως δὲν ἦτο ἐκεῖ νὰ τοὺς ἀκούση καὶ δὲν τὸν ἐπερίμενεν. Αὕτη ἐδέχθη μόνο περὶ τὴν ἑσπέραν τὴν ἐπίσκεψιν τῆς πενθερᾶς της, ἀσυνήθως φιλόφρονος καὶ μηδιώσης, ἥτις τῇ εὐχήθῃ τὸ ἀπαραίτητον «καλὸ δέξιμο», καὶ διὰ χιλιοστὴν φορὰ τὸ στερεότυπον «μ᾿ ἕναν καλὸ γυιό». Καὶ οὐ μόνον, τοῦτο, ἀλλὰ τῇ προσέφερε καὶ ἓν χριστόψωμο. - Τὸ ζύμωσα μοναχή μου, εἶπεν ἡ θειὰ Καντάκαινα, μὲ γειὰ νὰ τὸ φᾶς. - Θὰ τὸ φυλάξω ὡς τὰ Φῶτα, διὰ ν᾿ ἁγιασθῇ, παρετήρησεν ἡ νύμφη. - Ὄχι, ὄχι, εἶπε μετ᾿ ἀλλοκότου σπουδῆς ἡ γραῖα, τὸ δικό της φυλάει ἡ κάθε μιὰ νοικοκυρὰ διὰ τὰ Φῶτα, τὸ πεσκέσι τρώγεται. - Καλά, ἀπήντησεν ἠρέμα ἡ Διαλεχτή, τοῦ λόγου σου ξέρεις καλλίτερα. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἦτο ἀγαθωτάτης ψυχῆς νέα, οὐδέποτε ἠδύνατο νὰ φαντασθῇ ἢ νὰ ὑποπτεύσῃ κακό τι. «Πῶς τὤπαθε ἡ πεθερά μου καὶ μοῦ ἔφερε χριστόψωμο», εἶπε μόνον καθ᾿ ἐαυτήν, καὶ ἀφοῦ ἀπῆλθεν ἡ γραῖα, ἐκλείσθη εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν της καὶ ἐκοιμήθη μετὰ τίνος δεκαετοῦς παιδίσκης γειτονοπούλας, ἥτις τῇ ἔκανε συντροφίαν, ὁσάκις ἔλειπεν ὁ σύζυγός της. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐκοιμήθη πολὺ ἐνωρίς, διότι σκοπὸν εἶχε νὰ ὑπάγῃ εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν περὶ τὸ μεσονύκτιον. Ὁ ναὸς δὲ τοῦ Ἁγίου Νικολάου μόλις ἀπεῖχε πεντήκοντα βήματα ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκίας της. Περὶ τὸ μεσονύκτιον ἐσήμαναν παρατεταμένως οἱ κώδωνες. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἠγέρθη, ἐνεδύθη καὶ ἀπῆλθεν εἰς τὴν ἐκκλησίαν. Ἡ παρακοιμωμένη αὐτὴ κόρη ἦτο συμπεφωνημένον, ὅτι μόνον μέχρι οὗ σημάνη ὁ ὄρθρος θὰ ἔμενε μετ᾿ αὐτῆς, ὅθεν ἀφυπνίσασα αὐτὴν τὴν ὠδήγησε πλησίον τῶν ἀδελφῶν της. Αἱ δυὸ οἰκίαι ἐχωρίζοντο διὰ τοίχου κοινοῦ. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἀνῆλθεν εἰς τὸν γυναικωνίτην τοῦ ναοῦ, ἀλλὰ μόλις παρῆλθεν ἠμίσεια ὥρα καὶ γυνή τις πτωχὴ καὶ χωλὴ δυστυχής, ἥτις ὑπηρέτει ὡς νεωκόρος τῆς ἐκκλησίας, ἐλθοῦσα τῇ λέγει εἰς τὸ οὖς. - Δόσε μου τὸ κλειδί, ᾖλθε ὁ ἄντρας σου. - Ὁ ἄντρας μου! ἀνεφώνησεν ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἔκπληκτος. Καὶ ἀντὶ νὰ δώση τὸ κλειδὶ ἔσπευσε νὰ καταβῇ ἡ ἰδία. Ἐλθοῦσα εἰς τὴν κλίμακα τῆς οἰκίας, βλέπει τὸν σύζυγόν της κατάβρεκτον, ἀποστάζοντα ὕδωρ καὶ ἀφρόν. - Εἶμαι μισοπνιγμένος, εἶπε μορμυρίζων οὗτος, ἀλλὰ δὲν εἶναι τίποτε. Ἀντὶ νὰ τὸ ρίξωμε ἔξω, τὸ καθίσαμε στὰ ρηχά. - Πέσατε ἔξω; ἀνέκραξεν ἡ Διαλεχτή. - Ὄχι, δὲν εἶναι σου λέω τίποτε. Ἡ βρατσέρα εἶναι σίγουρη, μὲ δυὸ ἄγκουρες ἀραγμένη καὶ καθισμένη. - Θέλεις ν᾿ ἀνάψω φωτιά; - Ἄναψε καὶ δόσε μου ν᾿ ἀλλάξω. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐξήγαγε ἐκ τοῦ κιβωτίου ἐνδύματα διὰ τὸν σύζυγόν της καὶ ἤναψε πῦρ. - Θέλεις κανένα ζεστό; - Δὲν μ᾿ ὠφελεῖ ἐμένα τὸ ζεστό, εἶπεν ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης. Κρασὶ νὰ βγάλης. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐξήγαγεν ἐκ τοῦ βαρελίου οἶνον. - Πῶς δὲν ἐφρόντισες νὰ μαγειρεύσης τίποτε; εἶπε γογγύζων ὁ ναυτικός. - Δὲν σ᾿ ἐπερίμενα ἀπόψε, ἀπήντησε μετὰ ταπεινότητος ἡ Διαλεχτή. Κρέας ἐπῆρα. Θέλεις νὰ σοῦ ψήσω πριζόλα; - Βάλε, στὰ κάρβουνα, καὶ πήγαινε σὺ στὴν ἐκκλησιά σου, εἶπεν ὁ καπετὰν Καντάκης. Θὰ ἔλθω κι ἐγὼ σὲ λίγο. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἔθεσε τὸ κρέας ἐπὶ τῆς ἀνθρακιᾶς, ἥτις ἐσχηματίσθη ἤδη, καὶ ἡτοιμάζετο νὰ ὑπακούση εἰς τὴν διαταγὴν τοῦ συζύγου της, ἥτις ἦτο καὶ ἰδική της ἐπιθυμία, διότι ἤθελε νὰ κοινωνήση. Σημειωτέον ὅτι τὴν φράσιν «πήγαινε σὺ στὴν ἐκκλησιά σου» ἔβαψεν ὁ Καντάκης διὰ στρυφνῆς χροιᾶς. - Ἡ μάννα μου δὲ θὰ τὤμαθε βέβαια ὅτι ᾖλθα, παρετήρησεν αὖθις ὁ Καντάκης. - Ἐκείνη εἶναι στὴν ἐνορία της, ἀπήντησεν ἡ Διαλεχτή. Θέλεις νὰ τῆς παραγγείλω; - Παράγγειλέ της νὰ ἔλθῃ τὸ πρωί. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐξῆλθεν. Ὁ Καντάκης τὴν ἀνεκάλεσεν αἴφνης. - Μὰ τώρα εἶναι τρόπος νὰ πᾶς ἐσὺ στὴν ἐκκλησιά, καὶ νὰ μὲ ἀφήσεις μόνον; - Νὰ μεταλάβω κι ἔρχομαι, ἀπήντησεν ἡ γυνή. Ὁ Καντάκης δὲν ἐτόλμησε ν᾿ ἀντείπῃ τι, διότι ἡ ἀπάντησις θὰ ἦτο βλασφημία. Οὐχ ἧττον ὅμως τὴν βλασφημίαν ἐνδιαθέτως τὴν ἐπρόφερεν. Ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐφρόντισε νὰ στείλη ἀγγελιοφόρον πρὸς τὴν πενθεράν της, ἕνα δωδεκαετῆ παῖδα τῆς αὐτῆς ἐκείνης γειτονικῆς οἰκογενείας, ἧς ἡ θυγάτηρ ἐκοιμήθη ἀφ᾿ ἑσπέρας πλησίον της, καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν εἰς τὸν ναόν. Ὁ Καντάκης, ὅστις ἐπείνα τρομερά, ἤρχισε νὰ καταβροχθίζῃ τὴν πριζόλαν. Καθήμενος ὀκλαδὸν παρὰ τὴν ἑστίαν, ἐβαρύνετο νὰ σηκωθῆ καὶ ν᾿ ἀνοίξη τὸ ἑρμάρι διὰ νὰ λάβη ἄρτον, ἀλλ᾿ ἀριστερόθεν αὐτοῦ ὑπεράνω τῆς ἑστίας ἐπὶ μικροῦ σανιδώματος εὑρίσκετο τὸ Χριστόψωμον ἐκεῖνο, τὸ δῶρον τῆς μητρός του πρὸς τὴν νύμφην αὐτῆς. Τὸ ἔφθασε καὶ τὸ ἔφαγεν ὁλόκληρον σχεδὸν μετὰ τοῦ ὀπτοῦ κρέατος. Περὶ τὴν αὐγήν, ἡ Διαλεχτὴ ἐπέστρεψεν ἐκ τοῦ ναοῦ, ἀλλ᾿ εὗρε τὴν πενθεράν της περιβάλλουσαν διὰ τῆς ὠλένης τὸ μέτωπον τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτῆς καὶ γοερῶς θρηνοῦσαν. Ἐλθοῦσα αὕτη πρὸ ὀλίγων στιγμῶν τὸν εὗρε κοκκαλωμένον καὶ ἄπνουν. Ἐπάρασα τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς, παρετήρησε τὴν ἀπουσίαν τοῦ Χριστοψώμου ἀπὸ τοῦ σανιδώματος τῆς ἑστίας, καὶ ἀμέσως ἐνόησε τὰ πάντα. Ὁ Καντάκης ἔφαγε τὸ φαρμακωμένο χριστόψωμο, τὸ ὁποῖον ἡ γραῖα στρίγλα εἶχε παρασκευάσει διὰ τὴν νύμφην της. Ἰατροὶ ἐπιστήμονες δὲν ὑπῆρχον ἐν τῇ μικρᾷ νήσῳ· οὐδεμία νεκροψία ἐνεργήθη. Ἐνομίσθη, ὅτι ὁ θάνατος προῆλθεν ἐκ παγώματος συνεπείᾳ τοῦ ναυαγίου. Μόνη ἡ γραῖα Καντάκαινα ἤξευρε τὸ αἴτιον τοῦ θανάτου. Σημειωτέον, ὅτι ἡ γραῖα, συναισθανθεῖσα καὶ αὐτὴ τὸ ἔγκλημά της, δὲν ἐμέμφθη τὴν νύμφην της. Ἀλλὰ τοὐναντίον τὴν ὑπερήσπισε κατὰ τῆς κακολογίας ἄλλων. Ἐὰν ἔζησε καὶ ἄλλα κατόπιν Χριστούγεννα, ἡ ἄστοργος πενθερὰ καὶ ἀκουσία παιδοκτόνος, δὲ θὰ ἦτο πολὺ εὐτυχὴς εἰς τὸ γῆρας της.  (Εφ. «Εφημερίς», 26 του Δεκέμβρη 1887) *Αλέξανδρος Παπαδιαμάντης  Βικιπαίδεια

The Christmas Bread   by Alexandros Papadiamantis* 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. Translation: Vasilis Militsis 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 peculiar, 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 list his wife’s drawbacks but she also increased them; his wife was not only a marble slab – that is 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-worn, after all this 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. -          Very well, replied Dialechti, your ladyship knows better. 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: -          Give me the key to your house. Your husband has returned. -          My husband! Exclaimed Dialechti surprised. 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. -          I’m half drowned, he only murmured, but it’s nothing serious. Instead of being stranded we ran aground in the shallows. -          Were you wrecked? Cried Dialechti. -          No, don’t worry. The ship is secured with her two anchors on the shallows. -          Shall I build a fire? -          Do, and fetch some dry clothes to change. Dialechti took out some clothes from the press and built a fire for her husband to warm. -          Shall I fix you some hot drink? -          No hot drink is good enough for me, said Captain Kantakis. Draw some wine. Dialechti drew some wine from the cask. -          How come you haven’t prepared something to eat? Grunted the sailor. -          I wasn’t expecting you tonight, Dialechti replied humbly. I’ve bought some meat. Shall I barbecue a stake? -          Put one on the embers and off you go to your church, said Captain Kantakis. I’ll come shortly, too. 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. -          My mother seems not to know I’ve come, remarked Kantakis anew. -          She must be at her own parish church. Shall I go and tell her? -          Go and tell her to come over in the morning. Dialechti was already at the door when Kantakis suddenly called her back. -          Do you think it proper to go to church alone and leave me here all to myself? -          Then let me take the Eucharist and I’m soon back, replied his wife. 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 and wailing moanfully. 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 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.    * Alexandros Papadiamantis - Wikipedia