The Winter Thief

76

Almost all the commune gathered by the fire to listen to Apollo’s lecture. Tonight he was discussing the philosophy of fate versus free will. Vera sat outside the circle, wrapped in her quilt, watching Apollo’s profile and eloquent hands as he held his audience spellbound, as much with his charisma and melodious voice as by what he had to tell them. The lectures had begun informally. Whenever Apollo explained something, a group had gathered around him. Two weeks later, they had become regular events. Only Gabriel was absent, haunting the storerooms, chopping wood, like a spooked horse, too restless to think about anything other than survival. They had not made love since Vera’s arrival. He came to her every night after she had fallen asleep, curved himself around her, and held her close. When she woke, he was already gone, but she felt the trace of warmth where he had pressed against her. They had had almost no time to talk, beyond exchanging the most necessary information. She had begun to want him again. Her blood coursed more freely as his warmth and his presence, faint though it was, became familiar.

There was a commotion at the door. The landlord, Levon, strode into the hall, followed by five tall, broad-backed men dressed in furs, their heads wrapped in red cloths.

Gabriel hurried over to welcome them. Vera watched from the shadows.

“This is my son, Taniel,” Levon announced, indicating the young man beside him. Father and son resembled each other, both sporting enormous mustaches, Levon’s yellow with age and nicotine, his son’s brown and luxuriant. Neither smiled, their hard eyes roaming the room. Vera could see that they weren’t impressed by what they saw.

Gabriel seated them near the fire on the best quilts. The commune had neither carpets nor proper cushions. Victor and Apollo joined them, and the men talked for a while in Armenian. To Vera, the visitors’ tone seemed peremptory.

A platter of rice and grilled game was placed before the men on a low tray, but they didn’t eat. This, Vera knew, was a bad sign.

Instead Levon said, “We have news from Trabzon. There was an attempt on Sultan Abdulhamid’s life by Henchak Armenians. The sultan is going to attack us in revenge.” He fixed Gabriel with an accusing stare. “Why are we being punished for something that happened on the other side of the empire?” Levon pushed the tray aside and stood. The platter of food clattered to the floor. His voice rose accusingly. “We know who these Henchaks are.” He looked around the hall, where members of the commune were rising to their feet in alarm. “They’re right here, playing innocent farmers. Do you think we’re stupid shepherds, that we don’t know what’s going on in the world?”

He marched over to a barrel top that was being used as a tray and held it up. “This is Henchak,” he said, pointing to the figure of an ax daubed in red on the wood. “You are Henchaks.” He dropped the tray and regarded the stunned faces in the room. “You are all fools. You are dead fools.”

“Please calm down,” Gabriel said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you we are socialists. Some of us are Armenians, that’s true, but not Henchaks. Look at us.” He swept his hand about the hall. “We’re from everywhere.”

Taniel approached Gabriel, his hand on his knife. “You’re lying.”

Apollo conferred with Gabriel in rapid Russian.

“Why are you speaking Russian?” Taniel demanded.

Vera heard the click of rifles being cocked. Levon’s men had taken up positions at the back of the room.

“Let’s just leave them to be killed, Father,” Taniel remarked over his shoulder. “Why bother with them?”

“Because your grandfather says we should bother,” Levon snapped. “And because we need fighters.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabriel insisted, hands outstretched. Vera could feel his despair leaking into the room and willed him to be strong, instead of reasoning with these men as if they were in someone’s living room in Geneva. “We have nothing to do with an assassination attempt. You must believe me.”

Levon shrugged. “Whether you do or not, the end is the same. How many guns do you have?”

“Why?”

Levon spoke very slowly, emphasizing each word. “Because any hour now a contingent of Ottoman soldiers is going to ride into this valley and slaughter every one of you, and probably us. That’s what sending Kurdish troops has always meant.”

Vera felt the hairs on her arms rise. She had no way of knowing it was Vahid, but she could feel him approaching the valley.

“Tell him,” Apollo commanded Gabriel in Russian.

“Nine hundred rifles and pistols.”

Levon stared at him. “Were you planning an invasion?”

“To protect ourselves,” Gabriel responded gruffly.

“Why didn’t you tell us this before? You said you had only a few guns.”

Gabriel indicated Apollo. “My friend brought them over the mountains two weeks ago.”

Levon regarded Gabriel steadily. “I have no choice but to trust you, even though it sounds like lies. You’ll see that once this storm is upon us, we will require one another. There’s no other way. Ten years ago, war came to our villages. We recognize its face, and I feel its breath on my forehead again. Nine hundred guns are better than a hundred but are no guarantee of anything. There will be death.” He glanced around the room at the thin men and women in their shabby clothes huddled in nests of straw and quilts. “Fools,” he muttered. “A paradise of fools.”

He motioned to his men to leave and told Gabriel, “We’ll be back at dawn tomorrow. Have all the guns ready to load. And remember, when we use them, we protect you too. Guns piled in a storeroom protect no one.” He turned again at the door and added, “It would be much better for us all if you left. Look at you. What are you doing here anyway?”

After Levon and his entourage had gone, the hall was still. Fear had choked off everyone’s breath. That night, Vera was awake when Gabriel came and lay down behind her. She turned and placed her lips against his, and Gabriel crushed her in his arms.

The refugees began coming before dawn. Vera heard a pounding on the main gate. She and Gabriel woke the others and ran out into the courtyard. A dozen women and children crowded into the yard, some screaming and pulling their hair, others weeping. One woman held together the tatters of her dress with one hand and gripped the arm of her daughter with the other. The little girl clung to her mother’s bare leg, which Vera saw was smeared with blood and coated in mud. The women had used head scarves to bind their wounds, the bright tatted edges strangely festive against limbs streaked with dirt and blood.

“They’re from a village just up the valley,” Victor exclaimed, holding up a lamp. “I recognize the headman’s wife. They once asked me to come and look at a child who fell in the river.” He approached an old woman supported by a teenage girl at each elbow.

“Siranoush Ana,” Victor said. “What has happened?”

One of the girls at her side fixed Victor with a glare and spit at him. “This is your doing. You brought the evil eye to this valley. You brought the djinn, and now we’ll all be dead.”

“What nonsense are you spouting, girl?” Siranoush Ana panted, laboring to catch her breath. “They were Kurds.” She sat down in the dirt suddenly as if her legs had given way. Her daughters squatted beside her. “I’ll get you some water, Mama,” one said, and gave Vera a pleading look.

Vera called over two women from the commune and asked them to pass out water. She brought Siranoush Ana a cup, then listened with growing horror while one of the daughters told them what had happened. Gabriel, Apollo, and the others stood nearby, their eyes straying to the barred gate.

“They broke our neighbor’s door down,” the girl said, her voice shaking. “Baba took his gun and went outside. We locked the door, but they broke it and dragged us out. They ripped off Mama’s bracelets.” She looked toward her mother, who sat on the ground, hands clamped together in her lap, staring straight ahead. “They did other things.” The girl started to shake. Vera brought a blanket and draped it over her shoulders.

Vera found it hard to look at anyone. It was as if her own experience in the basement of Akrep had been exposed on her face for anyone to see. She kept her eyes on the tatted flowers edging the girl’s head scarf.

“Baba must be hiding. If I’d had a gun,” the girl wailed, “I could have fought them.” Vera put her arm around the girl. We’re all hiding, she thought miserably.

She saw the headman’s wife grab Gabriel’s leg as he passed and, without looking up, say in a matter-of-fact voice, “Our men are dead. They bludgeoned them in the square. I saw the dead. I know their names. You can rely on me as a witness.”

The old woman’s words made a powerful impression on Vera. She was so tired of feeling afraid. Drying her eyes, she rose to see what she could do for the other women.

At daybreak, a guard on the battlement reported the approach of Levon and his men. The gate was opened, and Levon and Taniel charged in on horseback, followed by a line of creaking carts pulled by horses. Levon jumped from his horse and strode toward Gabriel. “Well?” he said impatiently. “Where are they?”

“The women?”

“What women? Don’t waste my time. I’m here for the guns.”

“Something has happened,” Gabriel told him. “Come with me.” He led Levon, trailed by his son, into the hall where Victor, Alicia, and others were tending to the frightened women and children. When Levon saw Siranoush Ana, he let out a shout of dismay and fell to his knees beside her. “Why are you here? What has happened?”

“They’re all dead,” Siranoush Ana said quietly.

Levon grabbed the arm of one of her daughters. “Tell me.”

When she finished her account, Levon bowed his head. “May God have mercy on us.”

Taniel stood behind him. “Baba?” Vera could see he was fighting back tears.

“We’ll take care of this,” Levon promised the women in a voice raw with feeling. He went back into the courtyard and confronted Gabriel. “You see now what I meant. These Kurds aren’t soldiers, they’re bandits. They’re like locusts destroying an entire village and then moving on to the next place.” He squinted at the mountains. “If this is the first village they attacked, they must have come from the south. That means they’ll come here next. We still have time to arm the rest of the valley.”

Gabriel led him to a storeroom and pointed to the barrels. “Leave us a hundred and fifty and take the rest. There’s also ammunition.”

Vera had followed and now whispered something in Gabriel’s ear.

“Are you sure?” he asked her.

Vera could hear the reluctance in his voice and couldn’t help wondering whether he was worried about her safety or annoyed at her interference. Her chin and the tip of her nose were scraped raw from his beard. “Please,” she insisted, “it’s important.”

“My wife wants to come with you when you distribute the weapons to the villages,” he told Levon. “She wants to teach the women how to use a firearm.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Taniel snapped, stepping forward. “We can’t have a woman riding with us. It’ll slow us down. We don’t have time.”

Levon, however, appeared to think it over. “Did Siranoush Ana suggest this?” he asked Vera.

“Her daughter.”

He nodded. “They’re wise, those women. Very well. We leave as soon as these guns are loaded. It’ll take several days to reach all the villages. Pray God we have time.”