Hasan Toptas - Reckless

‘So you’re determined to stay here in the village,’ he said, looking straight into Ziya’s eyes.

Ziya couldn’t understand why he was asking this question for the second day in a row.

‘Look,’ said Kâzım. ‘You can count me as your elder brother. And so now I am going to ask you to listen to me. There have been terrible rumours going around the village. And they’re not the sorts of rumours that will just go away of their own accord. . No one talks of anything else in our two coffeehouses. How can I put it? From the crack of dawn till midnight, they simmer away like kettles. And they’re all about you, these rumours. . Let me put it this way. There’s no knowing where these rumours will go, or what they’ll lead to. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow. I’d leave this village today!’

Ziya froze in shock.

‘I don’t understand. What are these rumours about?’

‘All sorts of things,’ Kâzım said. ‘Every day it’s something different. I have no idea where they come from, or who got them started. How could Kenan have died from just a knife wound? He must have been poisoned. That’s one thing they’ve been saying. And if it was you who poisoned him, then Nefise must have been the reason. You’d had your eye on her since the day you arrived.’

‘I can’t believe this,’ said Ziya, almost talking to himself. ‘Where did all this come from?’

‘And also,’ said Kâzım, lowering his voice as he bowed his head, ‘there’s something else going around with all these rumours, but let’s leave it there. I can’t bring myself to say it.’

‘What is it?’ Ziya asked angrily.

‘No,’ said Kâzım, as his eyes slipped away. ‘I can’t tell you. But let me say this much. It has to do with Besim. With you and Besim both.’

Ziya’s head began to swim. For a time he just stared at Kâzım. He had no idea what to say, what to do. Then, very slowly, he stood up. Passing between the two bald chickens, he headed for the door. Once outside, he walked towards the meydan , but he did not hear any voices coming from the houses or the courtyards, nor did he see anyone he passed. His mind was fixed on the things Kâzım had told him. The more he thought about them, the faster his feet went. It was those fast feet of his that got him back to the barn so suddenly that day. And as soon as he got there, he plopped himself down on the bench and stared in despair at that shadow on the mountaintop, until night fell.

Remembering that it was time to take Uncle Cevval his food, he stood up and went back into the village. His plan was to go into Kenan’s house and pick up the copper tray and leave, so that he could spare Cevriye Hanım from hearing what Kâzım had told him.

But Cevriye Hanım was waiting for him in the courtyard. She was still wearing the headband on her forehead. She was looking very distant. He could almost see clouds crossing her face.

‘I came for Uncle Cevval’s food,’ Ziya said.

Cevriye Hanım looked down and swallowed.

‘There are rumours going around the village, my child. So I am going to ask you to stay away from Cevval. We’ll look after him ourselves.’

Ziya had no idea what to say. He felt almost concussed.

He had no choice but to go back to the barn after that. Collapsing on the bench, he gazed at the mountains humming in the darkness, and for hours he cried his heart out.

When he woke up the next morning, Ziya had no desire for breakfast. Without so much as a glance at the kitchen door, he walked out of the barn. The sun had just peeped over the mountaintops, and there were great dazzling rods of greenish light flowing down from that nameless shadow, down and down, flowing as far as the sheep pens on the plain. That’s why the tops of poplars lining the sheep pens were each shining like lighthouses. He stopped for a moment to look at all this, and then he went through the gap in the hedge. Turning right, he walked distracted and dishevelled towards the cemetery, which was knee deep in grass, and in the midst of all this greenery were enormous thorn bushes. And now and again, he could hear birds chirping in the branches of the almond tree, pecking at the silence, almost. Making his way slowly over the uneven ground, Ziya at last found Kenan’s grave. After looking at it for some time, he sat down next to it, putting his hand on the gravestone. What he wanted to do just then was to bare his heart, tell Kenan the whole story, from start to finish, but he didn’t do this. Instead he kept his lips sealed. After giving up on the idea of talking to Kenan, he thought about the world where his friend was now. He hoped that he’d found the peace there that this world had never given him.

‘Oh, Kenan,’ he said then. ‘Do you remember that dream you told me? There was a knock on the door one day, and there before you was yourself as an old man. But to think that the only place you’ve ever seen yourself as an old man was in your dreams. .’

And suddenly he raised his head. He looked around him. Because he could hear Hayati of Acıpayam calling to him again, from that outhouse behind Seyrantepe. Osmaaaan, my fine young man, how many months has it been since you last had roast meat? He could hear that voice floating over the graves, to lose itself amongst the waving grass and the thorn bushes. So for a time Ziya sat there, pricking up his ears in case the voice came back. As he sat there, he wondered if his mind might be playing tricks on him. Then, remembering the gravestone he’d seen the day Kenan died, he stood up and headed tensely towards the cemetery gate. As he walked, he kept turning his head, studying each gravestone, looking for Hayati’s name.

‘And just look at where we have to wash. In all honesty. Not even a dog would want to wash in there!’

Hearing Hayati’s voice again, Ziya stopped. Shivering, he looked around him.

‘If you had a speck of that shit they call money, do you think you’d be wasting away here in God’s desert, my fine young man? Osman, my fine young blade, are you there?’

He stopped in front of an old almond tree. It had dried up; its trunk was covered with honey-coloured sap. His eyes nearly fell out of their sockets, because there, on the gravestone before him, were the words: Private Hayati Bulut. The grave that should have been in Acıpayam, in Denizli, was here in front of him. Thinking he must be dreaming, Ziya took a few apprehensive steps to touch the gravestone. He passed his hands over it, half fearing that if he touched it too hard it might go flying out of this world. When he turned around, he suddenly saw the name Macit Karakaş on another gravestone seven or eight feet ahead of him, and the name Ercüment Şahiner on another. Without knowing what he was doing, he walked first towards one, and then the other, but he couldn’t reach either. Because now, before his eyes, there was a blur he recognised as Binnaz Hanım’s round cheeks. Am I losing my mind? he asked himself. Frightened now, he hobbled over to the cemetery gate. And as he hurried over that uneven ground, giving no thought to the bones whitening beneath it, he saw first Veli Sarı’s name on a gravestone, and then Halime Çil’s name, and then, on another gravestone, he saw the name of the clerk from the neighbouring company, Sergeant Rasim Benli. And that was when Ziya cried out, Dear God, what are these people doing here, or is Hulki Dede right, is the world really only a few pastures wide? Dry-mouthed and half-crazed and gasping for breath, he rushed back to the barn.

Just as he was passing through the gap in the hedge, a huge brute blocked his way. ‘Do you feel no shame?’ he said. ‘Doing that with a child that age?’ Swinging his club, he brought it down with all his strength on Ziya’s head. Ziya fell to the ground, bleeding and in shock. After the huge brute had struck him once again, he struggled to his feet and began to run down towards the plain, to the poplars. The brute pointed after him. ‘He’s running away, boys! He’s running away!’ And a few more men carrying clubs came out from behind the hedge, and together they all raced after him. Still not believing that this was really happening, Ziya kept glancing over his shoulder. When he saw they had grown in number, he gathered together what strength he had left and increased his speed. In spite of these efforts, he was captured by Numan next to the sheep pens. And when he was captured, he got another blow in the head amongst those rocks that were the size of fists. He fell to his knees for a moment. Escaping from Numan’s hands, he went racing through the brambles; bent over double, running for his life, he headed for the mountains.