Abdul came! I was so pleased to see him. He said that there is a big battle going on and no one is concerned for us so perhaps he can take us away. He has some orders on official paper.
We are out of the camp! Abdul showed his orders to the officer and he grunted and waved so we got up and we just went. I think they were glad to get rid of us. Out of the camp we went, past the soldiers and the sellers and the water-carriers. Mehmet gave us some bread. Father is walking quite well. We didn't halt until we were miles out into the country. Forests. Trees. I haven't seen a tree for ages. When we stopped for a rest beside a well Abdul told me that we had to keep moving till we got to a village five miles further on where he had relatives. He said his orders were faked. His father taught him to type and he had typed them on the commandant's machine. He said the battle was going badly and soon he would be killed. But if he was found out he would be shot and us too. I told him that he was very clever and brave and we were no worse off. And at least we were out of the cage. And there were flowers growing around the spring. Sweet flowers. God is good.
We got to this village, whose name I do not know. Father has fallen ill. I think it is malaria. I have nothing to give him; that beast Mehmet stole my quinine tablets. Abdul's aunt gave us a little hut to hide in. At last I managed to strip and scrub and kill my lice. Then I stripped Father and washed him, too, and laid him down on a straw mattress under a single sheet. It is hot. He is hot, too. Abdul belongs here. His auntie screamed when she saw him and ordered him to be washed and cared for. She gave him clothes instead of his uniform. The barber shaved his head and mine. It is odd but airy and much easier to keep clean. Auntie Fatima gave me a pair of pantaloons and a loose sort of blousy thing to wear instead of my khaki tunic. I managed to wash and change without revealing my treasure belt. If only I could change one of the coins! But this is a small village. There is a blacksmith, a carpet maker, a place that sells food, a sort of general store. No banks. A peaceful place of mostly women and old men and small children. All the men are away at the war. But we can still hear the big guns. The war hasn't gone away.
Nothing happened yesterday. Father is raving. His forehead is hot enough to scald my hand. Auntie Fatima gave him a bitter tea to drink and shook her head. She is a large lady in dark clothes. She seems sad. She said she would pray for Father and even though they are the prayers of a pagan, who knows but they might work? It is a very cruel world and maybe their god knows more about such things than ours.
Same as yesterday. Officials came through the village collecting taxes. They were very arrogant and beautifully dressed. They took away a lot of stuff from the shop. The whole village wept and wailed until they were gone. Then they dug up the stuff that they had hidden and the boys brought the goats back. No one seems to think that this is unusual. They were not interested in Father or me. We look like we belong. Father was whispering about putting on the armour of faith, in English, but luckily no one recognised it. I wasn't even really scared. What else can God do to me, if Father dies? Talked for a while with Abdul. He doesn't want to stay here. He wants to get back to Istanbul to see his father in jail but he knows that he cannot. If he is caught that will give them another weapon against his father. So he intends to go away. The nearest border is with Greece. He won't be welcome there. He wants me to teach him Greek. I will swap if he teaches me more Turkish. I can't go anywhere for the moment. Not while Father is so ill.
Auntie Fatima says these fevers usually last three days. It has been four days already and Father is still raving, but he is weaker now. I can't do much but give him more bitter tea and pray. Abdul has taken one of my gold coins to the nearest town, a place called Gelibolu. He thinks he might be able to change the coin and get some quinine. Gelibolu is miles away. He won't be back before dark. I suppose that I trust him to come back and not just go on to Istanbul without me. We are staying with his relatives, after all. I told Abdul that I had only one coin. I think he believed me. I hope he comes back. I would like to reward Auntie Fatima for her kindness. I remind her, she says, of her own son, who is somewhere on the front. Poor boy.
Still no sign of Abdul. Auntie Fatima is worried, too. She says there are bandits and thieves on the road to Gelibolu. I can't imagine that any bandit would think that Abdul would be worth stopping. And he has his papers. They look very official. Today I left Father with Auntie Fatima's cousin and went out with the goat herds. There I can keep an eye on the road and will see Abdul returning. The goat herds are girls. They didn't talk to me but stayed muffled in their veils. The goats were better company. They are very friendly, especially the little ones.
Abdul is back! He was tired and dusty but he had a pocketful of lire and a tin of quinine tablets. They looked familiar. They were, in fact, my own British army tablets which that beast Mehmet had stolen and sold. I dosed Father right away. I took the money and gave Abdul half. He had earned it.
The villagers all gathered to hear about Abdul's journey. These people do not travel much. Auntie Fatima made tea out of mint. Abdul had bought sugar. This was a luxury. Abdul reported how he had walked and walked. He would have begged a lift but there were no carts or cars on the road. He was stopped twice; once by officials who looked at his documents and let him pass, and once by thieves who slapped him around a bit and let him go on. They did not find the coin, which was in Abdul's mouth. They thought he was mute. When he got to Gelibolu he went to the money-changers and sat down to bargain for my sovereign. The man tried to cheat him because it was a coin of the enemy and he would be in trouble if he was found with it. Abdul said that no one would find it because the money-changer was so good at hiding his treasure. He drank a lot of tea while bargaining and eventually got enough lire for the coin. Not as much as it was worth but enough. Then he bought some sugar and my quinine and a few other treats for the village and walked back. He had walked at night because the bandits would be asleep.
We all told him he was brave and ingenious. The old men smoked the tobacco he had brought them in a water pipe which bubbled. For the women he had brought needles and pins. The children had sweets. It was a happy day for them.
When I came back to our hut Father seemed a little better. I dosed him with more quinine. I can only wait on the judgment of God. Insha' Allah, as the Turks say. As Allah pleases. Allah is their name for God.
Father is definitely better. He opened his eyes and actually saw me. âEvan,' he said, âwhere are we?' I told him we were in a village and all he had to do was get better. He said that God had saved him for a purpose and went to sleep. I think it was the quinine but God created the tree from which quinine is made so I suppose it's all God really. I am going out with the goats again. Men don't cook or clean or do any housework so I can't help Auntie Fatima. The hardest task in this village is carrying water and only women and girls do that. They balance the jars on their heads. I think it is very clever. Abdul is coming with me. He's still very pleased with himself and demands Greek lessons. And I do like the baby goats.
This would not be a bad place to sit out the war. In the morning you get up and wash and have breakfast, which is bread and soft cheese or maybe jam, if there is any jam. And tea. Then we go out with the goats and watch them graze. Lunch is more bread and maybe some cooked vegetables or yoghurt with honey. Then more goat grazing until it is getting dark, when we bring the herd in and have dinner, which will be a soup or stew of whatever Auntie Fatima can find, usually beans. No bacon or pork because that is not halal, or permitted. Abdul and I spend all day exchanging languages. Father grows slowly better. Today he walked into the village square and sat down with the old men. He seemed to belong there. His hair is becoming white, his beard is growing, and he seems serene and old, like them. In his Turkish clothes he looks Turkish. Like me, I suppose, with my shaved head. I must look Turkish too.
Abdul and I were sitting under a tree with a lot of goats when we saw someone very official come into the village. He had soldiers with him. The man wore spotless white and shone in the sun. Abdul told me he was Sabit Bey, a local governor, and very important. I asked him what such a personage would be doing in such a small village and Abdul said we should creep close and see what was happening. So we burrowed down through the undergrowth. I was suddenly so afraid that I had to clench my jaw to stop my teeth chattering. I had felt safe in the village but we are not safe anywhere. We have no papers and everyone in Turkey needs papers. I strained my ears to listen and found that the official was asking about Father and me. He clearly didn't know about Abdul. He was asking for a man and a boy in British army uniforms. I thought of a dozen ways I could get out of the village but not Father. He was sitting in plain sight with the old men over their glasses of mint tea. The bey was asking each old man if they knew where these fugitives might be. One after another, each shook his head. When it came to Father's turn my heart was in my mouth, but I couldn't do anything but stand and stare and clutch a thorn bush so hard that the thorns were driven into my hand. I didn't even feel it at the time. I was terrified that Father would deliver his speech about the values of peace. If he spoke in English the officer would surely know that this was the man he was looking for. Time slowed down so that hours seemed to pass as I waited for Father to respond. Father just shook his head. None of the old men spoke. Sabit Bey looked disappointed, handed over a leaflet, then got back into his truck and went away. I let out the breath I had been holding and felt quite dizzy for a moment.
Then Abdul and I broke cover. He grabbed the leaflet and translated it for me. It said that a reward of 1000 lire would be given for news of us, 10,000 for our capture. That is a lot of money in these dirt-poor places. My one gold coin had only got us 2000 lire. We would have to leave right away.
But why hadn't the old men handed us over? They knew Father was the man the official was looking for. Auntie Fatima came out of the house and said that no one trusted officials, who were only interested in stealing the work of the farmer's hands and giving him trouble. Funny. Australians think the same. She said that we are safe for the moment but not for long because sooner or later someone would be tempted. I have packed all our stuffâsuch as there is of itâand we are leaving in the morning. Abdul is coming too. I should not have felt safe here. Now we are marked men. Anyone can turn us in for the reward.
But money doesn't mean a lot in the country. Most of the trade is barter. There isn't a lot to buy. However, I did spend some of my lire on a tarpaulin and a blanket, a cooking pot and matches and some food. We are going to have to avoid villages. I don't know how far it is to the border. I don't even know where the border is, really, from here. I will have to trust in God. At least Father is well enough to walk a little.
We left in the early morning. I have a swag now, and so does Abdul. The old men gave Father a long staff to lean on as he walks. We are sundowners, as they say in Australia. Tramps. The weather is warm but not too hot. The smell of the trees is strange; like incense. Abdul and I converse as we walk. I speak in Turkish, he replies in Greek. The grammar is similar. It usually ends with me saying
anlam
i
yorum
, and him then saying
then kataleveno
, which means âI don't understand' in Turkish and Greek, and then we laugh. I didn't think I could enjoy things after Gallipoli. And we are being hunted. But still.
Father cannot walk far. We set up camp in an olive grove after only maybe eight miles. I wish that thief Mehmet had not stolen my Homer. He gave Father back his Bible, he could have given me back my
Iliad
. But the Bible is the best book in the world, of course. But Abdul and I can tell stories. I told him about the quarrel between the heroes which started the Trojan war. He told us about the female ghouls who haunt the desert and eat men's hearts and suck their blood. They must be called War.
I am getting better at cooking. Abdul can't cook, he says it's women's work. But I learnt to cook from shearers' cooks and they were all men. I managed to cook the beans down until they were mushy and made an oniony stew which Father said was good and easy on his loose teeth. Perhaps I can find some lemons. I think they would grow here. I remember how to make damper but I need some flour. We walked another eight miles or so along this dusty road, ready to dive into the woods if anyone came, but no one did. We are camped under more olive trees. They give a nice oil which you can cook with if you have any, but the trees are not guarded much because you can't eat olives off the tree. I know, I tried. When we camp we light a little fire, just enough to cook our dinner. I found a patch of wild mint and made tea with it. Most refreshing.
We walked further today. Fully ten miles. We are to one side of Gelibolu, where Abdul changed the money. I am wondering whether to leave Father and go into the town to get some more supplies. Father seems to be calm and sleepy and might easily just stay under cover until we come back. We are almost out of food. I'll have to risk it.
LATER Gelibolu has a large mosque, a hero's tomb and a lot of stone houses. It is on the edge of the sea and I thought about getting on a boat but they only go to other places in Turkey so that would not be a help, really. Abdul dived into a maze of lanes around the market and I just followed. I was scared to begin with but no one was looking at usâjust another pair of boysâand Abdul is very good at cheeky replies to people who call out to us. They just laughed and left us alone. He went on and on with a lady who was wearing bright clothes and a very thin veil. He called her Moon of Delight and Star of Evening. It was silly. We bought flour, oil and salt and some vegetables, including lemons. On the way back we bought a piece of
borek
each. It was like a meat pastie and it tasted wonderful. I could not save a bit for Father because it had meat in it. Abdul was craving sweets so we found some rather dusty boiled lollies. Gelibolu seems to be thriving, though it has a lot of soldiers and army trucks. People were singing and bargaining and selling things and sitting in the shade drinking tea and talking. It felt far away from the war but you could still hear the guns. There is some news of the war. There was a big sea battle at Canakkale against the British. The Turks won. They call it Deniz Zaferi. People are still talking about it though it happened in March.