EYE OF THE HYDRA (complete)

CHAPTER THREE

I returned to my apartment, located in one of the steeply rising side streets, with my nerves on edge. Once I sat down on the balcony and drank a glass of beer, I calmed down a bit. The area was quiet and the noise of the bustling main street dully reached my ears. Across the rolling dark sea the lights of other settlements vibrated on the mainland. A little closer, the cross of Koronisi island's only church shined with blue light, like an improvised lighthouse.

At this moment I would have gladly returned to my house in London to enjoy the company of my cat, Tom, who I left at one of my friends in my absence. Finally, I gathered myself together and started reading the diary. Surprisingly, it described the life of Luc Sicard's father, François Sicard. He was born in Paris, into a moderately wealthy family. François lost his mother very soon and his father became alcoholic, so as a teenager he was forced to look for a job.

After a long search, a local press employed him as an assistant but in his spare time François devoted himself to painting. He often made some drawings in the streets for money. In time, a benefactor and patron of art discovered his talent and searched for a teacher to train him. Meanwhile, his father slowly drank himself to death.

The young François soon became independent, and under the hands of his teacher, he grew up to be a true artist. Until the age of twenty-six, François lived a modest life despite the inherited family wealth because he didn't throw away the money. In a cafeteria he met with his future wife, Patricia Laroche. A year later, they married and began to travel. The painter was charmed especially by the Mediterranean atmosphere and historic monuments of Greece.

Despite his talent he didn't become famous. His complicated nature just made things even more difficult. Apart from Patricia, not many people could develop a good relationship with François, which was probably a consequence of his hard childhood. The breakthrough happened at the age of thirty, when a big number of his pictures were sold. It was mentioned even in the newspapers, because two English Lords and a German lawyer got hold of them.

However, the happiness of François was overshadowed by his wife's illness. In every second month a hot fever knocked Patricia off her feet. The doctors didn't know the reason for it, and the medicines could only ease the symptoms. She became skinny and weaker over time. For three years, Patricia battled the disease but on an autumn day she finally closed her eyes. In his grief, her husband reached out to the alcohol, as well as his late father, and became addicted too.

He had only few friends, who unsuccessfully tried to steer him back towards a healthy lifestyle. Even his only son, the five year old Luc, wasn't able to change his mind. Following this, the cousin of François looked after the children when the painter became unsuitable to raise up a child. Finally, everyone turned away from him and there wasn't any gallery which would exhibit his creations.

As a last hope, he sold his house and moved to Greece, to the island of Hydra, which was known as a centre of culture and arts for ages. The man built a new home for himself three kilometres away from the town. The sea air and the hospitable residents made him to find peace and slowly François gave up the alcohol.

Then he began painting again, while in a telegram made contact with his son and cousin. On the island he made numerous pictures, which were purchased by several galleries throughout Europe and some even reached America. But the fame never found him again.

Though he established an acceptable relationship with his son, the gap that separated them still remained. Then, on a summer night, tragedy happened. The sixty year old François, who was said to adore cigars, fell asleep in his bed and the sheet caught on fire. The whole building burned down. His family transported his remains home and the memory of the artist was slowly forgotten on the island.

His works were also destroyed by the flames, but some said one painting survived the fire.

The diary ended here. I was sitting with my thoughts, staring at the dark sea. According to Bergman, I shall know what's going on after reading the diary but I could only guess. Lack of anything better, I flipped through the book again. Then I came across an inscription at the bottom of a page, written with small letters. It was hard to read but in the end I succeeded: The victorious Heracles (1991 – François Sicard & Giannis Pavlis.)

Now I realized what was going on! The victorious Heracles was probably the last painting of François, which wasn't destroyed in the fire. Luc Sicard discovered the person, who could know something more about it. Unfortunately he didn't have the time to get to the bottom of things, just like his daughter, who shared his fate. Professor Bergman also passed away. It seems, I was the last person who could reveal the secret.

I was ready to fulfill the task. Not because of pride or a reckless desire for adventure. Simply due to my commitment to justice. I owed it to the memory of the Sicard family.