Anyush (15 page)

On two occasions this week I made visits away from the hospital, and I have to admit I remain more than a little disturbed by the second.

Firstly, I went to see the Vali. Paul’s talk of an Armenian blacklist is gaining momentum in certain circles, and Hetty is beginning to credit these stories herself. She believes we have to exert our influence with the authorities to safeguard the hospital and the Armenians in the village, even though she knows my feelings on the matter of Paul’s ‘theories’. However, for my own peace of mind and hers, I agreed to talk to the Vali.

The Vali was more sombre than usual, but he vigorously denied there was substance to the rumours. The attack on the girl was being investigated, and the Armenian list was merely a formality, he said, a step towards taking a census of the country as a whole. I was relieved. Easier in my mind than I had been for months. Paul had overreacted as he was prone to do. It now became imperative that I talk to him and set this straight. Unusually, we had not had a visit from Paul in weeks, so I travelled to Trebizond to see him. At the hospital I was told he had been operating through the night and was resting in his quarters. Like Manon, Paul lived on the complex but in a single, sparsely furnished room on the top floor. I found him sitting on his bed fully clothed, unshaven and only just awake. I apologised for intruding and told him to stay where he was. In contrast to Manon’s apartment, there was nothing comfortable or welcoming about the room. Nothing of a personal nature, no pictures or ornaments, only the smell of an unwashed body and stale cigarettes. Paul was looking distractedly around him, searching the floor and patting down his pockets. He found his cigarette case in his white coat, and he lit up. I was shocked to see how thin he had become. His unwashed hair stuck to his
head and he had the pallor of a coal miner. I mentioned that we were wondering why we hadn’t seen him for so long, and he said to tell Thomas he hadn’t forgotten his birthday and would make it up to him. I suggested he tell him himself, but Paul insisted he couldn’t get away.

‘The others can cover for you,’ I said. ‘Take a few days off. You’re always advising me to take things easier.’

Tilting his head back, he directed a long plume of smoke towards the ceiling before lying flat against the pillows.

‘They’re gone, Charles,’ he said.

He told me then that all the physicians and surgeons in the hospital had been taken, with the sole exception of Professor Levonian, who’s allowed stay only because he’s looking after one of the Vali’s wives. This made absolutely no sense. The Municipal Hospital has five times the number of beds I have, as well as three operating theatres, an orthopaedic clinic and a TB sanatorium. It is not possible to run it on a reduced staff, never mind two doctors working alone. I asked him what exactly he meant by ‘taken’?

‘The list,’ he said. ‘All their names were on the list.’

Now
I began to understand. As usual, he had misinterpreted the facts completely. It was clear to me what was happening, and I told him as much. ‘They’ve been conscripted,’ I said. ‘Exactly as I thought.’

I asked him if the nurses were still working, and he said that yes they were, which tied up my argument neatly. I then told him about my visit to the Vali and how his officials were gathering statistics for the census. Paul didn’t react to this. He kept staring at the brown water stain on the ceiling above his bed.

‘There has never been a census in the Empire, Charles,’ he said. ‘What makes you think the government would embark on one now?’

I told him that I didn’t know, that I would guess it had something to do with troop numbers and statistics, but Paul said that the Empire didn’t have the resources or the manpower. That no one in their right mind would take on a census in war-time. I had to laugh.

‘This is Turkey, Paul,’ I said. ‘Whoever said there had to be a logical explanation?’

He sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking directly at me. A look so fierce that I thought he was going to hit me.

‘That’s a much loved saying of yours, isn’t it, Charles? “This is Turkey.”’

I didn’t like his tone and I didn’t like what it implied, but I reminded myself that he was overworked and exhausted.

As if to confirm it, he wandered off on a tangent so obscure that I hadn’t the first idea where the conversation was leading. He talked about the declaration of martial law, and the bank refusing to pay depositors, and the non-existent postal service. ‘But then we all know the postal service is something of a joke,’ he smiled. ‘This is after all Turkey.’

At that point, I was tempted to get up and leave, but he wasn’t finished. He reached for the glass on the cabinet beside his bed and threw his cigarette into it. ‘Everything going on around you, Charles, is what happens in wartime. Normal in a very abnormal way. But this …’ he pulled a sheet of paper from under the glass and waved it at me ‘… this list of Armenian names drawn up by a Turkish member of my staff and meant for the governor has nothing to do with war. This is a death list.’

I must have looked at him disbelievingly because he crushed the paper in his fist and got to his feet.

‘You
know
what’s been happening in Constantinople.’

‘That’s very different–’

‘It’s history repeating itself! The war is just what the Turks have been waiting for. The perfect opportunity to wipe out an entire race.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘It’s already happening, Charles. Even in the village.’

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was dumbfounded. What had happened to the man? The only reasonable explanation was that he wasn’t well. My anger left me and I asked him, pleaded with him, to come stay with us.

‘Levonian will manage on his own for a few days,’ I said. ‘Hetty and the children would really like to see you.’

He reached for his white coat and put it on. Without another word, he went to the door and opened it. I thought he would turn back. I was certain he wouldn’t leave things like that, but he only nodded and left me staring after him.

Sir,

I am writing in the hope of securing your attention for a crime committed here in the Trebizond area within the past two weeks. This outrage perpetrated by soldiers of the Empire was such that it sullies the name of every man who proudly wears the Turkish uniform.

Their victim was a simple Armenian girl whom they abducted and took turns in assaulting. When they tired of torturing her, they cut out her tongue and left her in an abandoned house where she was eventually found. I will spare you the details of her pitiful state, except to say that it would have been a mercy had she died. The villagers, with whom my corps had developed a certain trust, are terrified and less likely to cooperate in the procurement of provisions in the future.

As someone who took the oath of allegiance in good faith and who is proud to serve my country, I could not let this go unheeded. Because these men have disgraced the uniform and dishonoured their compatriots, I know you would wish to be appraised of their cowardly and terrible act.

I have enclosed the names of those involved, including their commanding officer who was one of them.

I remain yours faithfully,

Captain Jahan Orfalea

Sir,

Having failed to secure a response to my last letter regarding an incident in Trebizond, I understand that it may not as yet have come to your attention. I feel certain it is an issue you would want to be made aware of and so have enclosed again the particulars of this terrible crime.

Yours faithfully,

Captain Jahan Orfalea