The Brotherhood Of The Holy Shroud

15

ZAFARIN LET HIS EYES WANDER OVER THE heavily trafficked highway. The truck driver taking him to Urfa seemed to be as mute as he was-he'd hardly spoken a word to him since they left Istanbul.

That morning at the house where he had been hidden overnight, Zafarin had recognized him as an Urfa man, one whom Addaio trusted.

He wished for news of Addaio, of his family, of his town, but the man just drove, in stubborn silence. During their journey he spoke only two or three times, to ask Zafarin if he was hungry or needed to go to the bathroom.

He looked tired after so many hours behind the wheel, so Zafarin made a gesture indicating that he could drive, but the truck driver refused.

"It is not far now, and I do not want problems. Addaio would not forgive me if I failed him. We have had enough failure recently."

Zafarin clenched his teeth. A brother had died, he himself had risked his life, and this stupid man was rebuking him for having failed. What did he know of the danger he and his comrades had faced! Of the sacrifices they had made!

There were more and more cars and trucks on the road as they went on. The E-24 was one of Turkey's busiest highways, since it led into Iraq and the Iraqi oil fields. There were also many military trucks and cars patrolling the Syrian-Turkish border, watching especially for the Kurdish militias that operated in the area.

In less than an hour he would be home, and that was the only thing that mattered.

"Zafarin! Zafarin!"

His mother's voice, choked with emotion, was like the music of heaven. There she was, small and lean, her hair covered by a hijab, the ever-present head scarf worn by Near Eastern women. Despite her small stature, Zafarin's mother ruled the family-his father, his brothers and sisters, him, and of course his wife, Ayat, and his daughter. None of them dared go against her wishes.

Ayat's eyes were filled with tears. She had begged him not to go, not to accept the mission. Not to allow himself to be mutilated forever. But how could he refuse an order by Addaio and the most sacred calling of their community, a calling his brother had answered before him? His family's shame would have been unbearable.

He got down out of the truck and in a second felt Ayat's arms around his neck, while his mother also grappled to embrace him. His daughter, frightened, began to cry.

His father looked on with emotion, waiting for the women to stop pulling and pushing him with their shows of affection. At last the two men could embrace, and Zafarin, feeling the strength of his peasant father's arms around him, was overcome and began to weep, to weep as he had as a young boy in his father's arms, bearing the marks of some fight he'd had on the street or at school. His father had always given him that sense of security, the security that he could count on him, that whatever happened, he would be there to protect him. Zafarin knew he would need all his father's strength when they stood before Addaio.