Anyush (33 page)

He walked over to where the other soldiers were already mounting their horses and packing the wagons, but Anyush couldn’t move. Her legs were weighted to the ground as though she were tethered. Around her people clung to each other; they prayed, some stood in silence. Children pressed their hands to their eyes and mothers wept for them. Everyone watched the soldiers prepare to ride away. The lieutenant saddled his horse and was about to mount when he realised the girl hadn’t followed. He looked back to where she was standing and their eyes met. Anyush
understood what the look meant. That she could stay if she wanted. That she could die here with the rest of them because there was nothing more he could do for her. Anyush wanted to stay. She wanted to be with her mother and the people of her village, but her legs began to move. She advanced on him slowly as though trying to walk through stone. The covered wagon carrying the cholera soldiers had already moved out, and the rest of the company were mounted and waiting for the signal to leave. Handing her the reins of the Ferret’s mare, the lieutenant mounted his own horse and led the cavalcade away. Anyush climbed unsteadily into the saddle and fell into step behind them.

The screams reached them when they had covered less than a mile. The air was suddenly thick with them. The horses’ ears flattened along their necks and their eyes bulged. The men of the 23rd rode as if their lives depended on it and didn’t look back. Not once. Not even at the first gunshot scattering flocks of roosting birds into the evening sky.

Jahan

H
e remembered the early part of the journey clearly. Each stone, each hole and rut in the road jolted him into pain-wracked consciousness. Lying beneath the sun in his sweat-soaked clothes, he could feel the blanket sticking to his leg where blood oozed from the wound. Muslu had rigged a canvas bivouac over him for shade, but with the heat and choking dust the air beneath was almost unbreathable. At times reality eluded him. He felt himself drifting into a daze, a dream-like state where he was floating on the sea, struggling to keep himself above the waves. Then he was awake, staring at the canvas above him and jolted into consciousness by the agony in his leg. Tiny movements at his side reminded him of his daughter. He reached beneath the blanket and felt for her chest, less than the span of his hand and barely moving.

After the first couple of hours Muslu stopped so they could drink and water the horses. Jahan had to force Lale’s mouth open with his finger so that she might take some. Armin’s alcohol was having an effect, but her shallow breathing was a worry. Watching the captain’s efforts, Muslu whistled mournfully between his teeth.

‘Her spirit is fading, Captain. She will not last long.’

On the road, he lashed the horses with his whip and drove hard without
slackening the pace. If they lasted at the speed he was driving them and if the water supply held, then he believed they stood a chance. But that chance faded as a line of Shota appeared on a bluff rising in front of them. Muslu reined in the horses and Jahan pushed Lale further beneath the blanket.

‘We meet again,’ Murzabey said, looking down on the captain from his horse. ‘In much changed circumstances.’ He smiled. ‘Colonel Abdul-Khan and I had a most interesting conversation. Between friends, you understand. You are a convincing liar, Captain. You disobeyed the colonel’s orders, which didn’t please him. Not in the slightest.’

‘I was protecting Turkish citizens. I would do it again.’

‘Fortunately for both of us you are unlikely to get the chance. But you must remember that you are guilty of a far more serious crime. Of lying to me. I did warn you that I would have my retribution.’

The bandit dismounted and walked over to the wagon, holding his rifle in his good hand. Using the muzzle, he lifted the blanket from Jahan’s leg. The weight of the captain’s arm held it down on Lale’s side.

‘Nasty injury, young captain. You must be in a lot of pain, and yet you bear your suffering well. I have a strange reaction to seeing someone in pain … I want to prolong it or end it. Which do you think I should do, Captain? Choose.’

The captain looked into the bandit’s eyes. They shone in anticipation. Death at Murzabey’s hands would not come with a bullet to the heart.

‘Let my driver go,’ Jahan pleaded. ‘He had no part in this. Let him drive on to Gümüşhane.’

‘A man of honour! I wonder if the colonel knows of such admirable qualities?’

Murzabey signalled to two of his men who unstrapped a water barrel from a pack horse and rolled it towards him. Taking the empty barrel from the wagon they replaced it with their full one.

‘The colonel has his reasons for wanting you alive, and I will honour them,’ Murzabey said. ‘Unlike you, Captain, I keep my promises.’

Rolling the empty barrel up the incline, his men strapped it to the pack horse. Tentatively Muslu picked up the reins. Jahan felt a tiny movement at his side and willed the child to be still. Murzabey was looking into the wagon again. Something had drawn his attention.

‘Oh I almost forgot. There was one other thing. About that retribution …’ In one quick movement Murzabey swung his rifle by the muzzle over his head and brought it down with all his strength on Jahan’s broken bones.

Anyush

D
arkness was falling when they arrived in Gümüşhane. The lieutenant, the German and Anyush lagged behind the others by a couple of miles and were the last to arrive. In the course of the journey the German discovered their companion was not a soldier. Anyush had slipped from the saddle and lost her cap, revealing her identity to him. Armin stared at the Armenian and the lieutenant looked nervously at him. Nobody said anything. Anyush lay on the ground thinking of the pictures the German would take of her, like the ones he had taken of Parzik. Getting off his horse, Armin approached. He put his hand inside his tunic and she flinched.

‘Drink?’ he asked, handing her his goatskin. ‘You should have some.’

Taking the canteen from him she emptied it to the last drop.

‘Can you ride?’

She nodded.

He helped her into the saddle and guided her horse back onto the road. With a nod to the lieutenant, they travelled the last few miles to Gümüşhane.

The main gateway to the town was just visible in the darkness when a group of gendarmes stepped into the road. The soldiers were ordered to dismount.

‘Stay on the horse,’ Armin whispered. ‘Don’t talk.’

He and the lieutenant got down.

‘Armin Wegner?’ one of the gendarmes said in English. ‘You are under arrest.’

‘What am I accused of?’

‘Where is your camera?’

The German indicated the wooden boxes on the pack horse, and two policemen unstrapped them and placed them on the ground.

‘What’s this about?’

The boxes were opened and the gendarme peered inside.

‘Your equipment is being impounded by order of Colonel Abdul-Khan and Field Marshal von der Goltz.’

He nodded and the lids were put back in place.

‘You have upset two very important men, Lieutenant Wegner.’

His eye travelled over the German and the lieutenant before coming to rest on Anyush.

‘You. Get down off that horse.’

‘A word of caution …’ Armin said. ‘If that soldier gets down you will not get him up again.’

‘That is not my concern. Dismount at once!’

Cold fingers of fear crept along Anyush’s spine. She tried to move but couldn’t.

The gendarme strode over, his arm raised to pull her off.

‘Don’t touch him!’ Armin shouted. ‘He is highly infectious.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘Cholera.’

‘A number of our men contracted it on the march,’ the lieutenant said.
‘We buried three along the road.’

‘Then get him out of here,’ the gendarme said, stepping away. ‘Bring him wherever you were going! You, Lieutenant Wegner, will come with me.’

With a last look at his companions, the German followed the gendarmes into town.

Jahan

E
verything was confused. Day became night and night day. Muslu pushed the horses hard, keeping one eye out for Shota and another on the captain. At times he was delirious and at other times lucid, reaching for his daughter lying beside him. Early on a bright, clear morning, Muslu drove the wagon through the old walls of Gümüşhane. There was no hospital in the town but there was a medic attached to the barracks and that was where he was headed. Jahan came to, as houses and buildings swam into focus above him.

‘Where are you going? Stay away from the barracks. Muslu, listen to me. Look for a boarding house.’

‘Captain,
bayim
, the barracks will have a doctor. You are in no fit state to go anywhere else.’

‘Not the barracks … understand? The
ev sahibi
at the boarding house will help but no soldiers.’

Reluctantly, Muslu did as he was told and turned off the main street. Manoeuvring the wagon carefully, he drove down a narrow cobbled lane in the direction of the river.

The
ev sahibi
, the landlady, was small and thin with startling blue eyes and wrinkled skin. She was wearing the traditional costume of the
nomadic desert tribes and a burnished leather burqa over the lower half of her face. Her house stood in a street barely wide enough to accommodate the wagon, but it had a gated archway leading to a yard which was hidden behind a high wall. Muslu offered her a substantial
bahşiş
, which she took without a second glance. If she thought it odd that a wounded soldier should wish to hide in her house rather than return to the barracks, she kept her opinions to herself. Children began to cluster around, but she shooed them away and bolted the gate shut behind them. Once inside, she pulled back the blanket covering the captain’s leg. She clicked her tongue and shook her head, sniffing loudly at what she saw. Jahan made an effort to sit up. The smell of rotting flesh was overpowering and the leg had turned dark purple in colour.

‘No doctor in Gümüşhane,’ the old woman said. ‘Old Doctor Kemal died of cholera and young Doctor Kemal moved to Sivas.’

‘There must be someone … a bone-setter or
chekeji
?’ Muslu insisted.

‘No
chekeji
’s going to fix that.’ She turned her pale eyes on the captain. ‘Deserter?’

He shook his head. On impulse, he lifted the blanket to reveal the tiny figure lying beside him. Lale was on her back, limbs splayed and head rolled to one side. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were tightly closed.

‘Ayeiiaa!’ The landlady poked a finger at the child. Lale shifted slightly but her eyes remained closed. ‘Very far gone,’ she said softly. ‘She will go first.’

‘Can’t you do something?’ the captain begged. ‘Feed her.’

‘Do I look like a woman who can nurse? Even if I gushed like a fountain, Allah be praised, it would do no good. The child is too weak.’ She hit the wagon with the back of her hand.

‘Leave my house. A dead baby will draw the evil eye.’

‘
Matmazel
…
efendi
… the captain won’t make it to Sivas,’ Muslu said.
‘We have nowhere else to go.’

At that moment an intruder jumped down into the yard.

‘Eh … you …
oğlan
!’

The
ev sahibi
marched over to where a boy of nine or ten had jumped down from the wall and was desperately trying to get back up again. She grabbed him by the trousers and yanked him to the ground, pulling him up by the ear. ‘What were you doing? Spying were you?’

‘No, Bayan Fatima,’ the boy whimpered, ‘I only wanted to see.’

‘See what? What did you see?’

‘Nothing … I saw nothing … you’re hurting me, Bayan Fatima! I saw the soldier. The one in the wagon.’

‘And what else? The truth now or I’ll pull your ear off.’

‘Nothing … only the child … I saw the child.’

‘And what did you hear? Tell me now. Quick, before I take the broom to you.’

‘Bayan Fatima, let go. I know a doctor who can help.’

‘What doctor?’ Muslu asked.

The
ev sahibi
released the boy and gave his other ear a sharp tug for good measure. ‘He’s lying. There aren’t any other doctors.’

‘My aunt keeps lodgers,’ the boy said, pressing his hand to the side of his head. ‘She has giaours staying in the house. Americans. The man of the family, he’s a doctor. My aunt said he was. She said his name is Dr Stewart.’