Birds, Beasts and Relatives: The Corfu Trilogy 2

by Gerald Durrell

The moon was a pale, smudged sickle in a star-lit sky, shedding only the feeblest light.

‘Pasto calo,’ he answered. ‘Go to the good.’

‘In Greek,’ Theodore said, munching his sandwich methodically, ‘the name for collared dove is dekaoctur – “eighteener,” you know. The story goes that when Christ was … um … carrying the cross to Calvary, a Roman soldier, seeing that He was exhausted, took pity on Him. By the side of the road there was an old woman selling … um … you know … milk, and so the Roman soldier went to her and asked her how much a cupful would cost. She replied that it would cost eighteen coins. But the soldier had only seventeen. He … er … you know … pleaded with the woman to let him have a cupful of milk for Christ for seventeen coins, but the woman avariciously held out for eighteen. So, when Christ was crucified, the old woman was turned into a turtle dove and condemned to go about for the rest of her days repeating dekaocto, dekaocto – “eighteen, eighteen.” If ever she agrees to say deka-epta, seventeen, she will regain her human form. If, out of obstinacy, she says deka-ennaea, nineteen, the world will come to an end.’

‘Really, Mother, you do worry unnecessarily,’ said Larry in exasperation. ‘What do you think’s happened to her, for Heaven’s sake? Do you think she’s being lured into some den of vice? They’d never get her through the door.’