It happened about a hundred and fifty years ago. They said the man was on drugs, and everyone agrees he wasn’t from the island.
So the story goes he set off from Aroniadika to go to Kalokairines, where a christening was scheduled to take place. It must have taken him about two hours. The story goes he stayed the night near or in the church and the next morning early before the christening was due to begin he started to ring the bells… The people assumed the christening had started early and one by one hurried, like lambs to the slaughter, to the church, where the met the steel point of the mad man’s blade in their flesh….
The sixteenth person to go up was a young lad, and like the others he was slashed in stomach yet, unlike the others, he didn’t die immediately, but managed to scramble up the hill to where his aunt was taking the sheep out to graze. On seeing him she at first thought he was running to greet her, but when he reached her she realized the dreadful truth. He died in her arms, but it was enough to alert the village, and with rifles and pitch forks and their courage they set of to the church.
One more was killed in the fight before they managed to get the madman under control, at which point he was arrested…. He died in prison, and those who dare to tell the gruesome tale still call him Captain 17…