Inanna

By Murat Tuncel

This book's title is taken from the ancient Sumerian god Inanna. It is set in the Ottoman Empire during the 19th century and is the story of Cemil, an educated man who, despite having studied in Baghdad, Istanbul and Paris, still hasn't found "himself" and lives in his father's shadow. During his search to find himself, he meets an Armenian girl and falls in love with her. Cemil is already married and the girl's father does not approve of his daughter becoming Cemil's second wife. His father sends Cemil from their village into exile. The story follows Cemil, his wife and the Armenian girl on their journey to find a place to live and the three men who try to protect them.

Intertwined with Cemil's story is another about Bilal, a young man sent to become a Janissary-a soldier for the Empire. Following the Sultan's disbandment of the Janissary Corps, Bilal starts working for a Pasha. One evening whilst looking after hunting dogs, in the Pasha's mansion, he sees a girl. She's Nurhayal, one of the Pasha's concubines. Even though it's forbidden for them to meet or even look at each each other, they fall in love. Set during a turbulent period in Istanbul's history this novel explores the lives of its soldiers and people, their social lives, relationships and their struggles to live in the capital of the Ottoman Empire. It tells the story of several cultures that lived together in a single Empire on the soil of Anatolia, and looks at the daily lives of the people and their loves against the background of change during difficult times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Texianer Verlag
• Release date: Apr 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201043735

Murat Tuncel

Murat Tuncel was born in Kars, in eastern Turkey in 1952. He worked in Turkey as a primary school teacher and later taught Turkish language in a high school. He later worked as a journalist for many newspapers and magazines. He has published eleven books in Turkish including novels, short stories children’s books and memoirs. Two of his novels and a short story collection won major literary awards in Turkey. His first story was published in the Uyaniş newspaper in 1979. His stories are published in literary magazines such as Varlik, Evrensel Kültür, Damar, Edebıyat Dunyası, Kıyı, Gösteri Sanat, Cumhuriyet Kitap. He also regularly contributes to Turkish literary magazines on subjects such as Dutch and Flemish literature. Its several tales are translated and are published in Russian, Arab, pulse, Korean and Azeritisch. To be last novel Inanna is translated in Arab (Syria), Korean and Bulgarian. His last novel Traciasun is translated ın Bulgars en Arabıc. He is member of Turkish writers association (TYS, Dutch writers association (VvL), Turkish PEN, Turkish journalists association and several writer's clubs.

Book preview

İnanna

Murat Tuncel

Texianer Verlag

Copyright © 2020 Murat Tuncel

İnanna

Published by Texianer Verlag

www.texianer.com

All rights reserved

The secret seed of love has been hidden in these lands throughout history. (M.T.)

About the Author

Murat Tuncel was born in Kars, in eastern Turkey in 1952. He worked in Turkey as a primary school teacher and later taught Turkish language in a high school. He later worked as a journalist for many newspapers and magazines.

He has published eleven books in Turkish including novels, short stories children’s books and memoirs. Two of his novels and a short story collection won major literary awards in Turkey.

His first story was published in the Uyaniş newspaper in 1979. His stories are published in literary magazines such as Varlik, Evrensel Kültür, Damar, Edebıyat Dunyası, Kıyı, Gösteri Sanat, Cumhuriyet Kitap. He also regularly contributes to Turkish literary magazines on subjects such as Dutch and Flemish literature.

His several tales are translated and are published in Russian, Arabian, Korean and Azeritisch. The latest novel Inanna has been translated into Arabian (Syria), Korean and Bulgarian.

His novel Traciasun has been translated into Bulgarian and Arabic.

He is member of The Turkish Writers Association (TYS, Dutch writers association (VvL), Turkish PEN, Turkish journalists association and several writers’ clubs.

Preface

This book’s title is taken from the ancient Sumerian god Inanna. It is set in the Ottoman Empire during the 19th century and is the story of Cemil, an educated man who, despite having studied in Baghdad, Istanbul and Paris, still hasn't found himself and lives in his father's shadow. During his search to find himself, he meets an Armenian girl and falls in love with her. Cemil is already married and the girl’s father does not approve of his daughter becoming Cemil’s second wife. His father sends Cemil from their village into exile. The story follows Cemil, his wife and the Armenian girl on their journey to find a place to live and the three men who try to protect them. Cemil is often referred to in the book as Little Lord.

Intertwined with Cemil’s story is another about Bilal, a young man sent to become a Janissary—a soldier for the Empire. Following the Sultan’s disbandment of the Janissary Corps, Bilal starts working for a Pasha. One evening whilst looking after hunting dogs, in the Pasha's mansion, he sees a girl. She’s Nurhayal, one of the Pasha’s concubines. Even though it’s forbidden for them to meet or even look at each each other, they fall in love. Set during a turbulent period in Istanbul’s history this novel explores the lives of its soldiers and people, their social lives, relationships and their struggles to live in the capital of the Ottoman Empire. It tells the story of several cultures that lived together in a single Empire on the soil of Anatolia, and looks at the daily lives of the people and their loves against the background of change during difficult times.

Murat Tuncel, Author

I

The voices rising from the mansion courtyard floated over the thick stone walls and lost themselves in the sky. The wind wisping through the dirty moonlight gathered up the dispersed voices and splayed them onto the homes buried in the night. Those who heard the voices scattering onto the roofs tossed off their blankets and came out in front of their doors. The clouds at the summits, which had seen them emerge, quit their chiding with the moonlight it had tainted and slowly began to descend towards the plain. An elderly woman who watched the sneaky movement of the clouds said, I’ve been waiting for this for some time now.

Without making a sound, the others advanced towards the small square, between the homes with icicles hanging from their eaves and stood side-by-side. It was as if they had forgotten both the cold and themselves at the same time. To better endure the shivery conditions, they merely murmured the best sun prayer they knew and looked at the lights that bounced around the mansion courtyard. None of them could understand whether the bouncing lights in the courtyard of the mansion on the cliff facing the creek had approached them or vice-versa. The moment the men heard a noise that sounded like the bellowing of a desperate bull, the clouds shut off the bright side of the moon. Just when the sky and earth remained in total darkness, the weary voice of the elderly woman repeated, I’ve been expecting this.

The shortest man, who emerged in front of his door before everyone else and had remained motionless ever since, yelled out in a vibrant voice that was unexpected for someone of his short stature, We didn’t do anything!

Walking backwards, the others widened the ring in the square, as they squinted to see each other in the glaring white light of the snow on the ground crying, We didn’t do anything! in unison.

The shortest man said, It was all Little Lord’s fault.

The others all repeated in unison, It was all Little Lord’s fault.

The incessantly blowing wind made it indiscernible which door that weary voice came from as it rose as though the whipping wind was forcing it down, Love is the hidden seed of these lands. It was there before Sarduri, who pierced the mountains and it will be around after we are gone. What does Little Lord have to gain from this?

Lowering her veil below chin level, a young woman uttered,

 "Fine, can we find a solution to this?

No, because God created Love.

You’re right, but which God? Fire, the one in people, the one in those who came before us or else ours?

Don’t double up your heart...

How can we learn the truth without doubling up our hearts?

Because the wind had carried all of what they said since the beginning of their conversation into the mansion courtyard, the Chief as well as the Grand Woman had heard everything. Once those talking had gone silent, the Grand Woman stood up. Despite all her Chief’s pleading, she walked quickly towards the door of the grand mansion and barked vicariously at the men holding the door, Get away from the door! She looked towards the Chief. I’m also doubling up my heart in order to find the truth, she exclaimed and went out through the door.

The mansion courtyard was illuminated again once the Chief’s men, who were forced to walk in front of Şehnaz Hanım, lifted the torches they were all carrying. One of them went out in front and waved the oily torch in his hand back and forth a few times. While a windy blizzard that had manifested itself out of nowhere swallowed the flames, he shouted with all his might, Şehnaz Hanım is moving into the small mansion!..

As soon as he had shouted, he turned and walked towards the small mansion. Forming a ring in the space in front of their doors, those looking into the mansion courtyard held their breath in order to add noise to the sound the man left in the void, repeating, Şehnaz Hanım is moving into the small mansion.

Once the lights in the mansion courtyard were buried in the darkness behind the heavy, cumbersome doors, they sauntered inside. Entering through the gate of her home after everyone else, the elderly woman with the weary voice walked towards the dark void before the door closed. She shouted once again, Don’t double up your heart.

II

He fell in the snow as he ran. He brought his cold hands to his mouth, blowing warm breath a couple of times towards his fingertips. She puckered her lips as the pain persisted. Just as he was going to cry, I took his tiny hands into my palms. While trying to warm his hands, the other came beside us splashing mud. Like his feet, his hands were muddy as well. His hair had stiffened and stood erect, like the quills of a frightened porcupine. While moving his fingers towards his hair, he asked me, Did you ever grow up?

No, I replied. After rubbing his tiny hands in my palms for some time, I added that I didn’t grow up but that I had forgotten about my childhood.

I was going to speak some more, when suddenly the other words melted in my mouth, as I forgot about talking and looked at him. His stiff hair mixed with his muddy hand.

You grew up, you grew up, he said insistently.

After that insistent voice, those small hands in my palms as well as the children suddenly disappeared. I began to crawl over the cold ice against my frozen clothing, as if I was going to catch up to them. I felt my nearly frozen hands stick to the ice, but I couldn’t see into the distance. I couldn’t comprehend whether night had fallen or whether my eyes couldn’t see well. I wanted to stop and wipe my eyes in order to look at a distance, but I couldn’t stop out of fear. I paid no heed to my exhausted state or the saliva that leaked from my mouth and nose as I coughed. The only thing I could think about was to crawl faster. I threw my arms forward and after pulling my body up next to my arms, I gave myself strength, saying faster, faster.

I don’t know how long I crawled like this or how much ground I covered. I’m not sure if my eyes suddenly began to see or else the moon appeared in the sky... whatever happened, the ice, which seemed to resemble an infinite flatland, began to shine brilliantly. Nonetheless, like the darkness that I had just experienced, I was afraid of the light and began to intrepidly crawl at a quickened pace. As I sped up, the warmth that began from my hands touching the ice seeped towards my arms.

It wasn’t long before that warmth spread throughout my body as I felt my clothing sting my skin like burrs. Once the tip of my nose warmed up, I felt an unbearable urge to get to my feet. But for a while, I couldn’t make my solidified garments listen to me. Unable to stand up, the only thing that came to mind was to resume crawling. This time, I was crawling faster than before. I was warming up as I crawled and going faster as I warmed up. But there was no way this interminably long icy plain was going to end crawling like this. Even though the desperation eating me up inside slowed me down considerably, I still thought I’d be saved if I kept on crawling.

While contemplating this, I looked off at the glaring icy plain as I muttered to myself, I don’t think I’m going to make it through to the end. The moment I asked myself how I was able to execute two tasks simultaneously in my mind, I understood that my memory opened up. As soon as I fathom this, my heart was overcome with a palpitation. After dragging myself along like a dog with mutilated rear legs for some time, I was thinking I would be saved when my steadily interrupted speed frightened me once again, as my body started sweating and the hot sweat began thawing the frost of my garments. Along with the softening of my clothes, I was overwhelmed with the desire of getting to my feet, which had disappeared out of fear shortly before. But no sooner did I lift myself up than I fell down again.

My bending, wet boots with their flattened soles slid along worse than skis. After rubbing my hip that ached with the impact for a bit, I struggled to remove my wet boots and woolen socks and began walking barefooted. Nevertheless, once my naked feet began hurting as they stuck to the ice, I put back on my soggy woolen socks. My wool socks didn’t slip and my feet weren’t hurting.

Once I jammed my boots between my sash, I waved my empty hands and started running as the scent of the soil that hit my nose told me I had come quite close to the shore. Snow and ice covered everything around me, but I still perceived this earthy scent. I was running while trying to determine the source of the earthy aroma. As I muttered, I wouldn’t be in this mess had I picked up the soil scent yesterday, I understood that I was running, speaking and thinking at the same time. I was stunned that my awareness had blossomed so suddenly. I hesitated a bit. Was I really this person who spoke, who ran while speaking and who thought while running? I truly believed I was alive after frisking my body with my hands. I believed I was alive but a massive weariness descended upon me. I didn’t feel like even taking another step, let alone running. The shore that I assumed I was approaching had begun to distance itself and mingle in the darkness.

Something was going on inside my brain. The painful snickering of Nergis ringing in my ears combined with Misti’s voice saying ‘the arrow of the sled’ that suddenly begot next to me along with the ice that was cracking up. Once Misti lost her voice, she started swimming in order to grab onto the arrow that broke her sled. While looking at Misti, I saw that a broken arrow had pierced her belly and that Nergis was desperately struggling so that the sled’s broken arrow didn’t stick into Little Lord’s steed. When I saw she was immersed in so much blood, I started swimming towards Nergis with all my might. As I wanted to scream, my mouth filled with cold water mixed with Nergis’s blood. The bloody water kept me from seeing whatever was in front of me. The moment I was dumbfounded as to which side I was going to swim, a huge piece of ice struck my hand.

III

The Chief was the first to wake up in the morning. He hardly slept at all at night, but he managed to get up early just the same. The Chief’s footsteps also woke up his butler, whose custom it had been for years to fill his silver ewer with water at night, place it next to the jug, then go to sleep, wake up early in the morning and wait for his Chief to wake up. However, this morning, Beyreoğlu Yarosman Bey woke up before his butler. For that reason, the butler found himself wallowing in a state of guilty conscience upon entering the Chief’s room as he held the pitcher and ewer. Having asked him several questions while washing his face everyday, his Chief was too sorry to say a word. Thinking the Chief was livid with him, he took the towel from the butler’s shoulder and dried his face with it. Handing him back the towel, he said with an impervious voice, Tell Greyhound to inform everyone.

Just when the butler had opened the door to go outside, the Chief’s eyes fell upon the towel with which he had just dried his hands and face. Leaping from his place, he grabbed the towel draped around his butler’s shoulder. Once the butler went into the corridor with its wooden planked floor to shut the door, he rolled the towel fiercely into a ball and threw it onto the bed that had yet to be made. He regretted doing that even before the towel had fallen on the bed. He ran over to the bed, picked up the towel and covered his face in it, as he started sobbing. Just then, he thought the butler might enter the room. Around the time he was going to stop his crying, he slowly sat upon his bed, saying let him come if he comes.

While weeping, he made a thick sound like an aging bull, as if to emulate An’s sky bull. Once his crying subsided, he thought he would split the heavens if he shout with all his might. With the excitement that thought evoked, he ran to the window and looked in the sky. His eyes widened as if he was seeing the sky was so far for the first time in his life. He backed down from shouting as he started to walk inside his room with weary steps. Some time later, he realized that both his dreams and his thoughts were flowing back to his youthful days. He recalled the freckled Tamana, who was the daughter of the most powerful Georgian chief of Acara.

As if he was ashamed of himself, The hair you brushed strand by strand as it poured onto your shoulders, I felt as though my heart was going to dislodge itself whenever you confronted me. Whenever I saw her, I’d forget all about my three days of road weariness, as well as whatever Grandpa Chief had said. However, Grandpa would always wait patiently for me, after I returned home days later, he would summon me in his presence, first caress my face, then say condescendingly, ‘The crazy wind of youth always blows warm, son. It’s never clear when it’s going to warm up or when it’s going to blow cold. That said, you should know that this warmth will either turn hot and burn you or else grow cold and freeze you. You won’t even be aware of these transformations. Be on your guard, don’t waste your time. Rather than going to faraway lands, you should look in your backyard in order to see the beauty of the daughter of the Georgian chief. Had we been of the same religion, I would have had you engaged to that daughter of the Georgian chief immediately, but that’s difficult now. Because the Georgian chief is a powerful chief, he wouldn’t want to have his daughter change her religion. In that case, let’s consider the chief’s in our vicinity, what am I going to tell my cavalrymen if I can’t knock any sense into my grandson? Look in my eyes. Our ancestors were people who believed that there wasn’t a more powerful force than fire. However, nobody knew which fire they believed in. Maybe what they believed in was the fire of their hearts. Because the fire of the heart is greater than the one that incinerated Jesus. If it hadn’t been that way, would it not have turned poor Kerem into ashes or left Mecnun to fend for himself in the desert? We were young like you, once upon a time... We raced our horses with the wind, saying we created the minor mountains and the gods created the major ones. But time taught us oh so well that the world was not as small as we thought and didn’t belong to us. My son, we are people of moral fiber and traditions, if we don’t preserve our own moral laws, others will force theirs upon us. I’m going to wait patiently for your heart to cool. Perhaps you’ll suffer a lot of pain, but if you want to follow in your late father’s footsteps and be a chief as well, you’ll have to endure that pain. Otherwise... He went silent for a long time after saying this, looking at me from time to time as he tugged on his rosary beads.

While waiting for him to finish his words, I’d look into his face without feeling anything, as my feet went numb from sitting on his knee. That’s when I understood I could no longer endure, as his meaty fingers twisting his amber beads would pause and his trembling lips, finishing off his words with, ‘Otherwise you lose your right, because moral laws leave no room to be trampled on. Then he would walk out of the large room, leaving me to my own devices. Staring at the room’s engraved ceilings, I thought interminably that I was unable to get through to my heart. But the day my grandfather died, just like other hearts, the sharp sword of our moral fiber slashed its way into my heart in such a way that I forgot all about Tamana and the Georgian people. As it was, having heard of the blooming love between Tamana and myself, the Georgian chief married Tamana off to a chief of the same religious persuasion in the faraway realm of The Crimea," thus ending an inner reckoning that stretched back to my youth. The butler heard footsteps that approached the bedroom door.

After wiping around his eyes with the towel in his hand once more, he called out to the butler waiting to be summoned outside the door.

My Chief, will you be taking your coffee here or else... the butler’s words were curtly interrupted with a harsh hand movement, In the grand room, he said

As the butler’s footsteps went off in the distance, he forced himself to contemplate his youth again, but to no avail. He got up and thought about removing the pajamas he was wearing once he reached for his khaki trousers tailored from English cloth. For a while, he looked at the Indian silk pajamas his youngest son brought back from Paris without touching them. Once he touched them slowly, tears flooded from his eyes again. After a few hiccups, it seemed he had come to his senses—he was also quite upset with himself that he had cried. With an agility unexpected from his beefy, antiquated body, he took off his pajamas and flung them onto the bed. He hurriedly put on his trousers, a black shirt, pleated in front and his vest. He wrapped a sash around his waist and just when he had donned his black felt headgear, it was as if something had come to mind when he looked on the bed. He couldn’t take his eyes off the pajamas he had just tossed onto the bed. After reaching out his hand and petting them, he slowly folded them and placed them back on the bed. After placing the towel that lay on the messy bed next to his pajamas, he sensed he was going to start crying again, so he sauntered over towards the door. He muttered to himself as he went out the door, If I remain a recluse for any longer, my emotions will end up getting the best of me and I might end up doing something I’ll regret later on. I’ve been saying moral laws for days and explained that the situation was quite different than before, but I couldn’t make anyone listen. It’s out of my hands now. I’m obliged to protect my moral customs. The chief assembly will hand down its judgment today.

He took a seat on the goose feather cushion in the corner where his grandfather used to give long counsel in the grand assembly chamber, leaning his back on a Persian woven carpet pillow and picked up a Teheran souvenir plate from a row of plates lined up along the foot of the wall. He opened a ruby and emerald studded silver cigarette case and had rolled his cigarette when the butler came in with his frothy coffee made from freshly ground Yemen coffee beans. He mellowed out as he drew the cigarette smoke dipped in the coffee aroma into his lungs. He got intimate with his emotions again as he relaxed.

The sound of the blizzard raging outside suddenly turned into one of the songs he listened to in his youth, as he whispered to himself Am I against love?

While his heart tenderized, his butler brought in his breakfast. Upon spying the century-old breakfast tray, that softness attempting to seep into his heart had frozen. It wasn’t long before his rising fury had solidified his heart. The reasons for his heart to harden even further came to mind with every bit he took of his breakfast that was only missing bird’s milk. No sooner did he finish his breakfast than he told his butler to bring in his boots. From where he sat, he put on the boots his butler brought in and stood up. He repeated the sentence Am I against love? a few times in quick succession as he walked towards the cold outside in order to steel his anger even further.

IV

The movement of the lips of the man who saw me open my eyes had stopped. He leaned over as his face approached my face. After watching my eyelids open and close for some time, he turned his back quickly and shouted, Esma... Esma...

A little later, a tall woman resembling Asya entered. There was one thing that distinguished her from Asya but my eyes, which had just began to recuperate, couldn’t make out that distinction. My lips were only able to smile. When the man at my bedside who had just stopped moving his lips began to recite a prayer again, my senses went into action. I also recited this prayer at the bedside of someone years ago, but for some reason, I couldn’t recall who it was. My senses as well as my body were weary from this momentary lapse.

Just as I was going to fall asleep, the man had called to the woman standing behind him, Esma, do we have any soup? It’ll be good if we eat something before falling asleep even if it’s two spoonfuls of hot soup.

No sooner did the man finish what he was saying when the woman who resembled Asya in height and stance went out and immediately came back into the room. While holding out the bowl to the man, she said, I can prepare a soup. Have him drink this warm sherbert for now. I can make a cream-based soup by the time he wakes up.

After removing his black-dyed kalpak made from curly lamb’s wool that gave the man a grander appearance, he gave it to the woman. Then he started to make me drink the sherbert from the bowl he had taken from her. I was unable to move neither my hands nor my arms. I was only able to open my jaw with the man’s help and swallow the spoon-dispensed sweet liquid. As I swallowed the water, the man brought a new spoonful near my mouth, repeating, Drink it, drink it, drink it... swallow it, swallow it, swallow it.

Although he managed to force me to swallow a couple of spoons of sherbert, the sleep that shut my eyelids was stronger than him as it pulled me inside.

I had turned on my side when I woke up again. I was now able to feel the presence of my hands and arms. That man was back again, kneeling next to my bed and looking into my eyes. The moment he saw me looking at him, he hightailed it out of the room only to return shortly with a bowl in his hand. Dipping a spoon into the bowl and extended it towards my mouth, he comprehended that I had an appetite. He said to his unpretentiously beautiful, tall wife standing behind him,

Esma, hold his arms and let’s get him to sit up straight.

The woman and her husband lifted me by my arms, but I was unable to sit up. With a dumbfounded countenance, the man looked at me, then his wife. Without taking notice of his reprehensive, worried looks, his wife said, Hold him straight up, I’ll feed him his soup.

I had eaten a few spoonfuls of soup when that weariness grabbed me by its claws once again. I passed out within a few seconds.

This food and exhaustion game continued for days. I realized I had lost my former strength when I started eating on my own. My body no longer had the gumption to play around with shepherds or embark on a walkabout through mountains high and valleys low. The name ‘Bülbülo’ left me just as the name ‘Zağarcı’ did years ago. The only thing left from my days in the Janissary Corps were a couple of garments which I stuck in some cave.

The face of the man who hadn’t smiled for days whenever he saw me sitting at the edge of my bed grinned for the first time. With a whistle-like sound emitting between his teeth, he said, Agha you really fought it out with the Grim Reaper. But you defeated him. You wore us down quite a bit... But that’s alright, you’re back and that’s all that matters.

"What can I say agha, I don’t even know how I got here, who you are and why you went through all this trouble with me. What happened to me? Where am I? Who are you? Why are you at my every beck and call?

The man gave me such a sincere look that it seemed like he saw everything in my heart and brain. Buried in deep pockmarks over beefy cheekbones, his eyes stared into the distance saying, It’s a very long story. We found you after a horses-led contest organized by Little Lord. After going silent for a long time, he quit telling my story and began with his own. During that process, a strange thing happened with my senses. I began remembering everything I had forgotten over the years. My mother replaced the man who was telling his own story at my bedside. My mother’s voice emerged within the morning twilight, exclaiming, C’mon get up! It’s getting near dawn. We’re running late today."

V

Stepping outside, Beyreoğlu Yarosman Bey was first greeted by a bitterly cold wind, followed by snow scooped up and thrown in his face by the wind. The remaining frost worked its way from his garments to his fat, burly body. Looking eastwards at the feeble sun rising over Mt. Ararat, he mumbled, Hey Ararat, for days now, you’ve been blowing trouble towards my mansion with that wind of yours. Save me from these troubles! If you save me from these troubles, I swear I’ll light a bonfire at your highest peak. Know that my problem has grown to the point I feel I have to let you know, but you have to rescue me before the matter grows as big as you!

Feeling a shiver, Beyreoğlu Yarosman Bey ran towards the assembly room where the chief’s fleece was found in the supreme corner. Waiting for their chief to return, the ethicists got to their feet when they saw him entering through the door. While the chief took his seat on the down cushion on top of the chief’s fleece, the Grand Lady also came inside. Once she sat on the other down cushion placed next to the fleece, the ethicists took their seats once again. Noticing that everyone had taken their seats, the Lord commenced his speech immediately, Today, we’re going to decide what to do about the misfortune that has descended upon our house and our chiefdom. Everyone can say whatever is own their minds because the decision made will be one made by all of us. My only request from you is to think of our moral customs and chiefdom in these troubled times.

Regarded as the oldest member of the chiefdom and second in stature after the chief, Beyreoğlu Ahmed Sultan stroked his bushy beard as he looked at the Grand Lady and the other members of the chiefdom assembly.

We’ll sacrifice our lives for our chief who ensured that our chiefdom has thrived on the plains for so many years, but when it comes to our customs, I say we should do whatever is necessary, he said tersely.

After positioning the tired voice left to the night between her lips once again, the elderly woman who said, Don’t double up your heart before shutting her door, smacked her tongue and looked at Şehnaz Hanım. Sensing that she still didn’t have any intention of saying anything, she knelt to her knees and leaned her head forward, "Love is the hidden seed of these lands. It was there before us and it will be there after us. What can Little Lord do? Like me, our moral rules formulated by God knows which generation before us are old-fashioned. If you ask me, they need to be renewed like nature that changes in spring.

Hearing what the elderly woman said with her weary voice, the Lord, as well as the others collected themselves as they got ready to go. They all looked at the old woman with eyes as wide as saucers. Paying no heed to their shuddering from her words, the elderly woman continued, "There’s nothing to be afraid of or to hold back about here. I’m just getting the things off my chest you can’t say which my age allows me to say, that’s all. Is it right for the moral rules that we didn’t come up which we have no inkling as to where they came from to turn our lives upside down? Look, I’ve got one foot in the ground and when I spread my entire life on a rug and take a look at it, I always see I’ve lived with things that don’t belong to me. Until now, we’ve always been been forced to live the lives of others without being ourselves, so let’s leave those who come after us to live their own lives.

Grandma Sıdıka has said it quite succinctly. You husbands of the chiefdoms are always praised with your young people, you go off with the Sultan whenever he calls, you explain for days on end how brave those who are unable to return and how they fought, but whenever they fall in love, you say, toss away your heart. For God’s sake, tell me, are you against love? asked the youngest of the ethicists, Sütenne.

The Gods created Love for us, said the old woman.

Try adding the hearts of mothers to love! whispered the Grand Lady.

I see that my man doesn’t have much to say on this matter. I believe that we must do whatever our moral rules stipulate and do whatever has been done in such situations until now. Even if it’s our son who has breached our moral rules, he has to pay the price, said the Chief’s younger brother, Beyreoğlu Aksun.

I think we must think of chiefdom and moral rules without getting mixed up in anything, warned Beyreoğlu Ahmed Sultan.

The woman with the elderly voice intervened once again, The love that occurred is for our chiefdom. If it wasn’t for passions, our chiefdom couldn’t survive... Lest we forget, our ambitions shouldn’t be dragged down and defeated...

You say we shouldn’t defeat our ambitions, but you are defeating your emotions, countered Beyreoğlu Aksun Bey. You are dragging our children, our husbands to their death for the sake of our moral rules and we don’t raise our voices. That said, don’t suffocate the passions of our young ones," admonished Sütenne.

Scanning the looks on those in the room, the chief noticed that nobody was willing to talk, giving him the opportunity to suggest, There’s nothing more to discuss regarding this matter. Our moral rules stipulate that those who love someone who is not of our faith, who humiliate our chiefdom, either rip out that love from their hearts or else they’ll be cast out to faraway lands. It doesn’t matter whether it is the son of our chief or the son of our shepherd, the situation will be the same. Though my heart is hardened for our moral rules, I say he be outcast for the reputation of our chiefdom.

Let him be outcast, said Beyreoğlu Ahmed Sultan.

Let him be outcast, said Beyreoğlu Aksun Bey.

Let him be outcast, said the second of three brothers.

He shouldn’t be outcast, said Beyreoğlu Dursun Bey.

Let him be outcast, said Uncle Satuk.

He shouldn’t be outcast, said the woman with the old voice.

Let him be outcast, said the chief hunter.

Let him be outcast, said lord’s aide.

Let him be outcast, said the shepherd’s helper.

Let him be outcast, said the village roustabout.

Let him be outcast, said lords’ chamberlain.

The grand lady abstained.

The elder brother also abstained his opinion.

 He shouldn’t be outcast, shouted the youngest of the ethicists, Sütenne.

After taking a tug on a cigarette rolled from Indian tobacco that shone like the hair of a newlywed, the Chief said, The decision is clear. After waiting a while, he added, He is to pass over three mountains towards the north and placed beyond a three-day journey, because the dead shouldn’t be kept waiting more than seven days.

Nobody moved from their places for a long time, nor made a sound. They remained motionless, even forgetting about the rings of cigarette smoke wisping about inside the room. It was the Chief who broke the silence again. He turned and ordered the butler, Have him come in!

The butler called in Little Lord, who was waiting in the adjacent room. He wore a jaundiced look on his face when he entered the room, his shoulders slumping, his hands with their long fingers were trembling. He bowed out of respect, kneeling in the middle of the ethicists who were sitting in a semi-crescent manner. Leaning his head forward, he waited for the decision to be passed down in his presence, the banks of the Seine, the Galata Bridge and the Tomb of Fuzuli passed consecutively in front of his eyes like in a film. Just then, his father was looking at the eldest ethicist. Seeing that the Great Chief was looking at him, Beyreoğlu Ahmed Sultan stopped clanging his yellow-amber rosary beads that where the color of beeswax and spoke with a voice that emitted from his nose, The decision of our chiefdom assembly is thus—he is to journey to the north for three days on horseback and be placed beyond three mountains and is not to return without receiving word from the chief’s butler. In the places his journey takes him, he shall live by renting lands without harming the reputation of our chiefdom, without coveting anyone’s property and without hurting anyone. Lest we forget, this decision was taken to preserve the reputation of our chiefdom as well as that of the chiefdom of the girl’s father. You have three days to prepare for this journey. We don’t want to find you here by the time the sun rises over the mansion on the fourth day...

Once his uncle, Beyreoğlu Ahmed Sultan Bey had finished speaking, Little Lord’s shoulders slumped even further and his face turned a paler shade of yellow. While his frozen looks wandered over the embroideries of the Persian rugs hung on the walls, he said sickly, So that’s it, eh? Then if our moral customs are against love, I’ve got nothing further to say.

Those who approved the decision all stood up simultaneously in silence. The chief motioned with his hand for them to sit down without looking at their faces. Once they had all taken their seats again in cross-legged fashion, this time the interior of the fairly large council room was enveloped in a smoky haze and a spooky silence. Nevertheless, this eerie pause didn’t last long. Turning to Şehnaz Hanım, the Grand Chief queried, You’re his mother, don’t you have anything to say?

After a long inward sigh, Şehnaz Hanım exclaimed, I won’t emerge outside the little mansion until the conclusion of my son’s exile.

Neither Beyreoğlu Yarosman Bey nor the others made any assessment or responded to these words. After the coffee brought in was imbibed, Little Lord floated out of the room, followed by Şehnaz Hanım and the others. The Chief wiped his teary eyes once he was left alone. He got up and looked anxiously out of the large window towards the snow-covered Ararat and other mountains in the distance, saying, I had him study in madrasahs and French schools, now I’m giving him to you. You’re taking him from me, so I’m asking you to protect him!

VI

My mother was right when she said, We’re late while waking me up that morning. We were off to a very late start that day. Hearing the hoof prints of the horses coming from behind us, my mother hugged me tightly. After kissing my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, my ears and hair, she said in a trembling tone, They are going to separate us today.

Just as if she didn’t believe what she was saying, she grabbed my hand and started running. As the horses’ hoofprints approached, she shouted at me to Run, run. There was a moment when I’m not sure if it was me who tripped over mother’s foot or vice-versa, but the two of us hit the ground at the same time. A wheat field with green stalks that waved as they were struck with the morning breeze was a few steps from the spot where we fell. The green stalks waving in the wind gave the impression the field was quite long. Paying no attention to my scraped knee, I watched the stalks wave as the horsemen came alongside us. When I saw them so close to us, I hugged my mother’s neck out of fear. My mother’s body was really warm! Maybe it was the fact that the icy cold morning wind made me cold that she seemed to be hot to me. I began sobbing out of fear when I was tightly hugged and I felt the beating of my mother’s heart. Hearing my weeping, mother turned her face towards the sun and lifted her hands skyward calling, Oh Sun Mother, what would you do if they came to take your son away? What would you do if they made your son cry? Look, three men on horseback have come to take him away. You are Mother Nature and the greatest of the gods of fire that my father and my grandfather believed in. I need your help now, I’m begging you to help me, use your broiling fire to keep them from taking my baby," she pleaded.

I couldn’t make any sense out of mother’s words. The only thing I understood was that the horsemen had come to take me away. Fine, so where was my father? Why wasn’t he here to rescue me? Why was my mother kidnapping me and who were these horsemen who had come to take me? What were they going to do with me once they took me away? Why did my father say as we left the house, There’s nothing left to do, woman, he was chosen from amongst our children. What you have to do is give him up willingly.

The only thing of him remaining in my mind until now was his moustache that twitched in an odd manner while he spoke, looking as if it was glued to his upper lip whenever he poked his head from underneath the blanket. Maybe the eyes resembling horse eyes that appeared once in a while as if to scare me, only to disappear, were his eyes.

No, my father had neither a moustache that twitched whenever he spoke, nor did he have eyes that resembled horse eyes. As it was, while playing servant with his friends, wasn’t our father always the Sultan? He was our father in that game, but he could have been our real father. No, my father wasn’t the Sultan. Like some other children, maybe I was born without a father. Perhaps that man who looked behind us without getting out of bed while I was leaving home with mother wasn’t really my true father. Although she got undressed and got into bed with that man, my mother was always by my side. Because she was always at my bedside whenever I woke up, perhaps she waited at my bedside without ever sleeping.

Although I erased his face from my memory, I never forgot his voice reproaching my mother from behind, as he said, How long do you think you can run and hide? Even if I don’t want to acknowledge it, the fact of the matter is that man was my father. If he wasn’t my father, would my mother undress and get into his bed every night?

VII

Hüsnü, the oldest of the men was in front of Little Lord, while Sadık took up the rear. The chief’s women were driving horses side-by-side behind Sadık. Taking up the rear and riding the legendary Kumar was Misti. He was the last person that Beyreoğlu Yarosman Bey added to the convoy. Almost nobody but the chief knew who he was. Maybe they knew but would be reticent about bringing him up in conversation.

The cold morning wind blew fiercely. The felt headgear everyone wore was rendered ineffective ever since we had departed and the air breathed would freeze the instant it was exhaled. As if the harsh morning wind wasn’t enough, the snow flurries that stuck to our faces made us colder still. The colder it got, the more the horse bridles were loosened. With slackened bridles, the horses trotted, but they managed to maintain a horse length amongst themselves.

Because Little Lord only knew the winter from memories left from his childhood, everything was organized by his men and their wives and they didn’t take much baggage with them on this journey. There was a rug on each horse’s rump and enough food for a few days in their pack bags. Little Lord was unaware of the gold and silver coins that the Chief had placed in Misti’s pack bag, as well as the belts tied to the waists of Şehnaz Hanım’s brides. The only thing he knew was that all his assets were in Hüsnü’s pack bag. But Little Lord didn’t know how much there was.

Starting off without speaking, the journey continued quietly. Once the horses started off again at a trot, Little Lord turned his head and looked behind him. When he saw that everyone was looking in another direction rather than at him, his innards were practically overcome with a slight wave of joy. Squinting his eyes and looking in front of him, he thought, We’re headed towards an unfamiliar, new life. As the enthusiasm inside him grew steadily, he was overwhelmed with the desire to dismount from his steed and run alongside it. Then chuckling to himself, he muttered, Where did this fake joy come from? When the reins were gathered up slightly the horse slowed down. Its slower pace caused the others to slow down as well. He said, Doru... After waiting for a while, he repeated Doru... It is obvious he wanted to start up a soliloquy, but he was unable to do so for some reason. He looked behind him a few times at those coming up from the rear. When he saw the daughter of the Armenian lord, Sümeyla sitting erect on her horse, gazing out at a distance, the question of I wonder what she’s thinking of? etched itself upon his mind. Although he couldn’t find an answer to this question, the sentence of I couldn’t think of her name for days, always calling her ‘Çillim,’ rolled off his tongue. Once the focal point of her looks changed slightly, he saw the first lady, Sultana, who moved along absentmindedly on her horse. She was as beautiful as Çillim. While looks shuttled back and forth between the ladies, emotions got caught up with each other and once the situation had become as clear as mud, he turned foreward and had his horse resume a trotting pace.

The narrow sled path stretching northward seemed to go on forever. Upon arriving at a mountain summit, another hill appeared in the distance. White clouds began to mingle slowly at the peak of the mountain Hüsnü called ‘Devil’s Mountain’. Hüsnü became worried when he saw the clouds clashing with each other. Back-stepping on horseback, he pointed out the clouds to Little Lord, They are far away, my Lord, but these clouds look rather ominous, he said.

Little Lord looked towards him as if he had woken from a slumber. I don’t know the clouds as much as you, take a look and see how the sun is shining, he said.

My Chief, your knowledge is always more superior than ours. But if the clouds converge, then it means trouble. This sun is deceiving. I’m afraid that pretty soon clouds are going to emerge from behind all the summits and cut off the sun. If only we had an opportunity to turn back.             

Hüsnü Agha, you know how the gates of the huge mansion  were shut behind us...

We can freeze but there’s no turning back, my Lord.

Let’s speed up the horses if you’re worried."

This speed is fine, my Lord, we still have a long way to go. We shouldn’t make the horses sweat in the cold.

They looked at each other for the last time as if they had finished saying everything they had to say. The horses had slowed down and were breathing fitfully through their noses.

While Hüsnü was talking with Little Lord, Sultana looked at Sümeyla, who sat straight up with all her beauty atop her horse as she gazed distantly. She cast aside her jealousy for a moment and began to smile. On the other hand, she muttered, You’re not going to be my rival but rather my companion. Seeing that you love Little Lord as much as I do, we’re going to share him. You’re a beautiful girl and, if your mind is as beautiful as your looks, then this won’t be difficult for us at all. There are only a few years difference between us, but we can see eye-to-eye. It’ll be easy to attract the chief and turn him our way if you’re as crafty as me. We can set up a chiefdom for our chief in the nation of chiefs. Look my way, let me figure out your looks first, then let me get acquainted with you. I hope this journey will end quickly so we can settle and get acquainted with each other as soon as possible.

At the very rear was Misti, sitting slightly bent over on his horse, looking rearwards again with his suspicious soul, tugging on the two freight horses which were tied to Kumar’s saddle from time to time. Though not as splendid as the one Little Lord was wearing, he wore a rather magnificent black headgear. His face was dry and his body was as frail as a strip of leather. One might not be able to tell the difference if his head were severed at the neck and placed atop a statue of the King of Macedonia, Alexander the Great.

In front of Misti was the daughter of the Armenian chief, Sümeyla, who sat astride upon her horse next to Sultana’s, looking afar and contemplating the recent chain of events. She just couldn’t comprehend why the Great Chief and her own father had become so enraged. Despite everything, she couldn’t fit Little Lord into any other place but her heart. If she was able to wrench her passion from out of there, she would say, Son of the chief, I don’t want you to suffer because of me. Take me to your father’s home... If they don’t accept, then I can manage on my own... That’s life and I’ll get over it somehow. Who knows, maybe we’ll call out to one another from the mountains when we get old. However, neither Little Lord nor her own heart would be willing to settle for such a situation.

She looked at Sultana, who like herself, sat erect on her horse next to her. She was a tall and attractive woman, but she was upset about something as if she was wrestling with some weighty mental matters. Once in a while, she would look at him with her beaming eyes. Recalling how nice she behaved since the day she arrived, she felt an odd affinity towards her.

While checking each other out with their looks and thinking about each other, the clouds hiding behind the hills suddenly emerged from where