Rosmerta woke to see Shushawn lighting the fire. She got up and went to help with breakfast. She filled a pot with cold water from the bucket and ground the coffee. She added the coffee grounds and some sugar to the pot and brought it to Shushawn, who placed it at the edge of the fire. While the coffee heated, Rosmerta placed another pot of water at the hottest part of the tonir. Shushawn served up the yogurt. Breakfast would be ready as soon as the men rose. All that was left to do was the bread.
The starter for the lavash had been left to rise overnight. Rosmerta added flour and some of the heated water. She kneaded the ball of dough, rolling it towards her then pushing it away. By the time it was smooth and elastic, her arms were aching. She tore off a piece and flattened it into a nice round piece of sweet, earthy smelling dough. She stretched it over a hay-filled cushion and handed it to Shushawn.
With a flourish, Shushawn pushed the cushion behind her, swung it over her head, and pulled it towards her with all her strength, sticking the dough firmly to the inside wall of the red hot tonir. She quickly pulled the cushion out and set it aside.
From somewhere outside, a loud scream reverberated through the house, startling them all. Half awake, the men looked at each other in confusion. Then there was a banging on the outer courtyard door. By the time Rosmerta could get there, it swung open and two gendarmes yelled, “Everyone assemble at the town square in one hour!” The door slammed shut and the gendarmes were gone.
Megerdich jumped to his feet. “Shushawn, get the food. It is time to go.”
“It can’t be, we still have four days! They said we had a full week to prepare. They can’t do this.”
“Oh, stop it, Shushawn. They can do whatever they want. Now get the food. Boghos, get blankets. Rosmerta, you help me with other supplies.”
The Bedrosians gathered their small collection of transportable belongings. Except for Megerdich, who used his one arm to lean heavily on a cane, each family member wrapped their share of the load in a blanket that was tied onto their back. The blankets could be used for bedding or to fashion an impromptu tent. The very pregnant Adelina carried enough wooden sticks to form two tents. In addition to carrying baby Megerdich, Shushawn carried most of the food, which amounted to several days’ worth of dried biscuits, onions, and barley they could use to make soup, along with some sandwiches and a few apples. Emma had a frying pan and a heavy pot for the soup. She was also responsible for keeping track of Anaguel. Boghos carried one change of clothes for every member of the family and a supply of small rags to keep baby Megerdich in diapers. Rosmerta carried two clay jugs for collecting water and a special gift from Megerdich.
While the others were gathering their things, Megerdich took Rosmerta into the courtyard. They sat under the peach tree and he told his youngest child about his worst fears. “Remember the story of Sarkis?”
“Yes,” Rosmerta said. “St. Sarkis refused to renounce his faith even under the most dire circumstances.”
“That’s right. And what happened to Sarkis because of his refusal?
“He was martyred for our faith.”
“He was killed. That’s right. And many more will be killed soon.”
“But St. Sarkis will protect us. Won’t he?”
“No, Rosmerta,” Megerdich said, looking into his daughter’s innocent eyes and wishing that he did not have to say these things. “Sarkis will not protect us. It looks as if we will soon be going on a journey. I am an old man. I will not be able to keep up with the caravan for very long. You will have to go on without me.”
“But Papa . . .” Rosmerta protested, fear growing in her voice.
“No buts. Just listen. I will protect you as long as I can. When the time comes that I no longer can, St. Sarkis will not defend you. And if there is a God, he will not protect you either.”
“But Shushawn says…”
“Shushawn’s faith is admirable. She is a real St. Sarkis, who will die for her faith. Let Shushawn have her God, but you must be ready to take care of yourself. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Rosmerta said weakly. She was very confused.
“Rosmertajan, there may come a time when you don’t know what is the right thing to do. There is only one thing you need to consider. Whatever keeps you alive is what you must do. Don’t worry about anything else. Do what you must to survive. When there is life, there is hope. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Rosmerta said again.
“Good.” Megerdich pulled a square of red silk from inside his jacket and spread it out on his lap. He reached back into his jacket and took out a small silver comb. The sun glistened off the comb in a dance of sparkling light. Its ornately decorated head was a cluster of cherry blossoms cradled in an arrangement of exquisitely formed leaves. “Do you know what this is?”
Rosmerta’s eyes widened. “Is that the comb that Anoush was wearing when…”
“Yes, on that horrible day. And I want you to have it.” He placed the comb in the center of the square of red silk, then grabbed the opposite corners and tied them together. “Tie this onto the belt under your shift to hide it. You will need it later.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Rosmerta, you will soon discover that when circumstances allow it, some people can be very cruel. Others can be very kind even when it is dangerous for them to show kindness. You need to be able to tell one from the other. Don’t let your expectations or religion blind you to the truth of who is on which side. Don’t worry about St. Sarkis. Don’t let Shushawn push you into doing something stupid because she has faith that God will protect you. You must take care of yourself. Do you understand?”
Rosmerta nodded. It didn’t make any more sense on the second telling.
“I hope so,” said Megerdich. He had done what he could. He hoped it was enough.
Megerdich and Rosmerta joined the others and they all headed for the center of town. Emma sniffled as they passed the church that had so recently been the site of such joy. Several men were standing at the door, as if guarding the drawbridge of a medieval castle. A mother approached them, shooing her children into the church.
Shushawn stopped. “People are congregating here. We should join them.”
“No,” is all Megerdich said. He kept moving.
Rosmerta rushed to his side. Emma hesitated, then continued on, leaving Shushawn holding baby Megerdich in front of the church.
Shushawn looked back and forth between the refuge offered by the wooden building and the procession of people shuffling towards the town square. She called out to Anaguel, who was still with Emma. “Come to Mama, Anaguel.”
“Keep walking,” ordered Megerdich.
Emma reached down and swept Anaguel into her arms. “We need to stay together, Shushawn. Come on, we’re going.”
Shushawn waited a moment more, then exhaled in exasperation and jogged to catch up.
The town square was crowded with clusters of apprehensive-looking Armenian families.
“I want to go home,” said Anaguel.
“Not yet,” Emma answered. “We need to be patient.”
“What are we doing?”
“We’re waiting for the police to tell us what we are supposed to do. We’ll be on our way soon.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. We just have to wait. We’ll know soon. Look, here they come.”
Sixty gendarmes rode up to the edge of the crowd on horseback. Among them, Rosmerta saw Aram Khan, one of the men who had seized her brothers that terrifying night. He said something to the nearest group of people and two gendarmes started off with the families closest to them following. The remainder of the gathering fell in line and started moving away from the rising sun.
Before long, the entire Armenian population of Bayburt had formed a line of humanity, walking with the few possessions they could carry. Over 5,000 people made up the mile long procession. The recent rains turned the road out of town into a boggy trail of mud. The bottom of Rosmerta’s dress was soon coated with black gunk. Her shoes were soaked. After two hours of walking, the gendarmes at the front stopped. The line compressed to a halt and everyone waited for instructions.
“Listen up, folks. We know that you were forced to leave your homes before you were ready. This action was necessary because of increased enemy activity. Since you may not have had time to prepare enough food for your journey, we have arranged to distribute food to you. I need for the senior male in every family to follow me to collect it.” Aram Khan turned his horse and headed off to the north.
Boghos started after the gendarme, but Megerdich grabbed his arm. “I am the oldest in this family group,” he said with a smile.
“In your family,” Boghos corrected, “and I am the oldest in mine.”
“No, we are one family group, and I will go.”
“They’re giving away food,” Shushawn said. “Surely an extra ration will help us.”
“No, Shushawn,” said Megerdich, his voice tight. “They’re looking at us. One of us has to go. I don’t think anyone will be returning with any rations.” Megerdich left before he finished speaking. Boghos stayed behind.
Some 400 men wandered off with ten gendarmes. Fifty gendarmes stayed behind with what was left of the Armenian families. The men walked over a small hill and disappeared from view.
“Where are they going?” Anaguel asked.
“They’re going to get food,” Emma responded, trying to hide her fear.
“I’m hungry.”
“I know, sweetie. We’ll eat soon.”
A shot rang out.
Rosmerta’s head swung around to see Shushawn jump. “What was that?”
Now Anaguel and baby Megerdich were crying.
There were screams and more shots from behind the hill. Then the gendarmes returned. They were alone. The procession resumed without the men. The mood was somber. No one spoke. They just walked.
When the sun reached the horizon in front of them, the caravan stopped. The travelers began their preparations for the night.
Boghos and Shushawn unfolded the sheets to set up a tent while Rosmerta grabbed the jugs and went to look for water. There was a small stream running behind the camp. Rosmerta walked upstream looking for a place where the water was flowing quickly over a smooth rock as Megerdich had taught her. It pained her to think of her father; she still couldn’t believe he was gone. It was only earlier today that he had warned her that she would have to go on without him. That time had come much sooner than she expected.
Rosmerta found the perfect spot and filled the two jugs. Then she picked up one in each hand and turned to see Aram Khan looming above her on his black stallion. She wondered how long he’d been watching her.
“You’re very pretty, little miss. What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Aram asked as he dismounted.
“I’m collecting water for my family.”
Aram moved towards Rosmerta. He reached out to touch her face, making sure his hand brushed her breast on the way there. “It’s not safe for a little girl to be out here alone.”
Rosmerta took a quick step back and lost her footing. She tumbled seat first into the stream, shattering the jug in her left hand. She was sitting in the cold mountain stream holding one full jug and the handle of another as she stared at a man she did not know and did not trust.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Aram, thoroughly embarrassed. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes, fine,” lied Rosmerta as she pulled herself back to her feet. “I really must get back with the water. Well, what’s left of it.”
“Yes, of course,” said Aram, returning to his horse. “I must get back as well. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rosmerta insisted. She waited by the side of the stream until Aram rode out of sight. Then she began the slow climb up the muddy embankment. A sharp pain shot up her leg every time she stepped on her right ankle. She was limping badly, but she didn’t think she had broken anything.
“Just walk it off,” she knew Megerdich would have told her. And it seemed to be working. By the time she got back to the camp, her ankle was feeling a little better. Rosmerta joined Shushawn and her children in their tent. Adelina and Emma were already asleep in the other tent. Boghos had wandered off. Rosmerta entertained Anaguel with the face game, while Shushawn put baby Megerdich to bed.
Shushawn was very concerned when she heard what happened at the stream. Rosmerta hadn’t planned on telling her, but she needed some excuse for returning with only one jug of water, and she was too tired to make up anything as convincing as the truth.
Shushawn grabbed a blue shawl from her meager belongings and handed it to Rosmerta. “Here,” she said, “In the morning you should rub dirt on your face and wear this. It will make you look older and less appealing. Try to pass yourself off as an old lady and the men won’t bother you.”
Rosmerta doubted it would work, but she took the shawl.
Night fell quickly. It had been a long and stressful day. After eating, Rosmerta spread a blanket out and lay on her side. Something sharp dug into her. She rolled over. The comb. Anoush’s comb. Megerdich had told Rosmerta the story of his first wife so many times that she knew it by heart. Yet, it was always a story of the past, ancient history to Rosmerta. Until now, that is. It seemed somehow more real, more relevant, now that Rosmerta had left her own “first life” behind and was beginning another chapter in the ever-expanding story of her family. Where would it all lead? What was to happen to them? It was only this morning that they left Bayburt. The only home they had ever known already seemed very far away.