Yesterday was the first anniversary of the Day of Reconciliation – or the Day of Sham, as many of you call it now.
I started this account a year ago today. That explains the fury in my opening lines. But since then, as I went on writing and tried to convey the words and minds of the people whose destinies became entangled – three of whom have been a vital part of my soul – I’ve mellowed.
Why mellowed, given the horror of the tragedies? Well, that’s human nature for you. In this part of the world, we believe catharsis helps. Maybe also I feel my end looms. It’s been a struggle to get through the days and, particularly, the nights, without Dev in my bed.
Dev was found at the portals of the Citadel in the morning. He had been placed in a sitting position against one column. Against the other column, propped up in the same position, rested Viktor and Yilka. Both had been shot in the head, once the mark of Bostana when she had been the designated man. It had taken eight bullets to kill Dev – one of them, presumably the last, had shattered his beautiful face.
Before that, at daybreak, while we were wondering where Dev had gone – both Osip and I had heard him drive away in the night – Zemun and Lila arrived.
We discovered later that they had come in Viktor’s car and, not wanting to be heard, had left it some distance away.
They looked feral; eyes fierce like those of wolves in a pack.
Castor, instantly on edge, stood up and growled at them.
Bostana rebuked him. ‘Stop it, Castor! It’s Zemun!’
Lila, afraid of Castor, withdrew to the stone traverse over the millpond.
Bostana, with hope in her voice, offered her hand to Zemun. ‘Come to make peace, my son?’
Zemun, choosing not to touch Bostana, shook his fist at Castor. ‘Watch it, dog, or I’ll smash your head in!’
Osip pulled Castor to his side. ‘It’s all right, Castor. Zemun is family.’
Castor obeyed him, sat down by Osip’s side, but kept his eyes on Zemun.
Zemun taunted Bostana. ‘Never liked that hound! Never understood what you saw in him!’
Bostana, maintaining her maternal poise, answered him softly. ‘He’s beautiful. And faithful.’
Zemun sneered. ‘Faithful!? That’s strange – coming from you!’
Osip pulled up a couple of chairs. ‘Welcome, you two. We’re about to have breakfast. Join us. Let’s make this our own paqe meal.’
Lila, still keeping her distance on the traverse, looked distraught. She shook her head. ‘I’m staying here.’
Zemun leaned against the fireplace. ‘We don’t eat with dishonourable people! For us you are putrid corpses!’
Osip scoffed. ‘Yet you can come to our home and speak with us – that’s very commendable.’
Bostana sighed wearily. ‘If it’s not to make peace, why are you here? What do you want?’
Zemun faced her. ‘Actually, peace sounds right. That’s what I want. Peace for both of us.’
I tried to be friendly and calm. ‘You don’t have to sound so serious, Zemun.’
He faced me, his eyes looking even wilder. ‘Oh, this is serious, ancient one.’
I shrugged. ‘We’re all ears, I’m sure.’
Zemun sniggered. ‘Question is – where to start?’
Bostana snapped. ‘Get on with it, son!’
Viciously, Zemun turned on her. ‘All right, my whore Mother, let’s start with you then.’
Osip, barely controlling his anger, rose from his seat. ‘Listen, boy! You don’t talk to my woman – to your mother – like that! Be warned!’
Zemun pulled out a revolver. ‘I’ll speak to her any way I like! Sit down! Before I shoot your balls off! And don’t you ever call me boy again!’
I was so shocked, I froze in my seat.
But Bostana stood up, furious. ‘What do you think you’re playing at, Zemun?!’
Castor started barking.
Zemun waved his revolver wildly. ‘Sit down both of you! And keep that dog under control!’
Then – and it happened so quickly that I barely saw it – Osip sprang forward, wrested the gun from Zemun and slapped him hard. He held him in a tight grip.
Zemun, his nose bleeding, whined. ‘You hurt me! You hurt me!’
Osip retorted scornfully. ‘I warned you, boy!’ He turned to Bostana, uncertainly. ‘What shall we do with him?’
Bostana went up to Osip. ‘Let him go! Please, let him go.’
‘He’s not to be trusted!’
Bostana shook her head. ‘No. No. He is only a boy. Playing at being a man. This will be a lesson to him. He’ll come to his senses now.’ She started cleaning Zemun’s bloodied nose with her sleeve. ‘If Osip lets you go, you will go, won’t you, Zemun? Won’t you?’
Zemun, now in tears, whimpered like a child. ‘Yes, I will. Yes.’
Bostana stroked Osip’s arm. ‘See, my man, he’ll go. Let him go, please.’
Osip nodded, but held onto Zemun. ‘All right. But not with a gun. Pick it up. Throw it into the millpond.’
Bostana, relieved, did so.
Lila watched as Bostana went onto the traverse. Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to say something, but she could only stutter incomprehensibly.
Bostana hurried back to Osip. ‘Done. You can let him go.’
Reluctantly, Osip released Zemun.
Zemun, less tearful now, straggled onto the traverse and disappeared from view.
Lila, whom he had completely ignored, sank to her knees.
Osip and Bostana sat down. I held onto their hands.
Some minutes later, Zemun reappeared, more composed, but chastened. He didn’t come in, but stayed by the door. He spoke softly. ‘I want to say something ... To my mother.’
Instantly Bostana became motherly. ‘Yes, Zemun ...’
Osip remained seated, but kept his eyes on Zemun. He stroked Castor, who had started growling again.
As Zemun spoke his voice became harsher. ‘What a strange fate, your fate, Mother! You who were the most honourable man in all Skender, the best designated man it ever had, are now the most dishonourable! And all because of that Xenos. There can be no greater dishonour to our family – or to any family! Going after a man of bad blood! Giving up your hard-earned manhood! If you tell me you’ve gone mad, I might – just might – forgive you! Tell me you’ve gone mad!’
Bostana, though weary, faced him defiantly. ‘No. I was mad before – like most Skenderis. Mad to believe in the Law. With Osip I found sanity.’
‘You took an oath never to be a woman again. You had all the privileges of a man. Giving all that up – surely that’s madness!’
‘No, killing is madness! Now that I won’t ever kill again, I’ve found peacefulness, serenity. I found Osip. I found a man I can love. A man who loves me.’
‘And to hell with everything else, is that it? To hell with your son, your family, our honour! We no longer count! You’ve traded our good blood for his bad blood!’
‘No, you count – more than you can imagine. You are my flesh and blood. But you refuse to understand what I’m saying.’
‘Love, love, love – that’s what you’re saying! If I don’t understand it, it’s because it’s rubbish! At your age, you should be thinking about your grave!’
‘I used to. And you’re right. Now I only think about love. About being one body, one soul with Osip. About having you at home as our beloved son ...’
‘I’m no longer your son. I won’t be dishonoured by you!’
‘That’s what you refuse to understand, Zemun. I’ve stopped believing in honour. It has no meaning. It’s just a word to justify killing. Or if honour exists, it exists in the way a man and a woman become one. That way they re-create the world.’
Zemun screeched. ‘That cunt-crazy turd has emptied your mind! Every time you opened your legs, took his prick, drank his spunk, he broke you down!’
Osip was about to spring at Zemun, but Bostana stopped him. ‘Sit, my man, sit. He’s had his say. He’ll go now.’
Zemun shouted. ‘Admit it – he defiled you!’
‘No, my son. He led me to the truth!’
‘Is that your final say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s my duty to purge Skender of you!’
And he pulled out a gun and shot Bostana.
He had snatched out this other gun so unexpectedly and had fired so quickly that none of us had had time to move. Who would expect a son to kill his mother?
And when we saw Bostana catapult back with the impact of the bullet, we remained frozen. Even Osip who had seen so many atrocities in his life sat like a stone statue.
Then time spun faster than the world.
Osip started bellowing. I can’t imagine any creature howling with such pain. Then, slowly, like a leviathan rising out of the sea, he pulled himself out of his chair.
By that time Zemun was pointing his gun at him and shouting dementedly. ‘You next, cunt-crazy fucker! First your balls, then your heart, then your head! Whatever remains of you will be a warning, for eternity, to all the bad blood in the world!’
Osip ignored him, lurched towards Bostana.
Castor, freed of Osip’s steadying hand, launched himself at Zemun.
Zemun tried to fend off the attack. As he twisted round, he fired again.
He and Castor tumbled to the floor.
Zemun didn’t move.
Castor, about to go for his throat, paused, sniffed him, then moved back.
Zemun lay still, blood oozing from his chest. Under Castor’s assault, he had shot himself.
Osip had noticed none of that. He had been staring at Bostana, touching points of her body. Now, finally daring to look at her head where she had been shot, he cradled her in his arms and wailed.
Hesitantly, Castor approached Osip and Bostana. He sniffed Bostana, then crouched by them and whined.
Lila, who had stood transfixed on the traverse all that time, started screaming.
That’s when I regained my senses. I rushed over to her and slapped her a few times with all the venom I could muster.
Lila collapsed. Then, crawling on the floor, she went up to Osip. ‘I didn’t want this to happen! I didn’t want this to happen! I wanted to warn you he had another gun. But I – I couldn’t speak ...’
Osip didn’t seem to see her. He went on keening.
Lila turned to me. ‘Zemun kept telling me: I’ve got plans! I’ll put matters right. We’ll go back to our old ways! We’ll honour Honour! Stop all this reconciliation nonsense! You’re Toma’s successor! You’re our prophetess! You’ll be queen. I’ll be the warlord. You must help me! That’s what he kept saying – over and over ...’
I spat at her and went over to Osip and Bostana. I put my arms around Osip.
Lila crawled over to us. ‘I didn’t want this to happen. But Zemun was my only hope! To be somebody! So we went after Viktor. Then suddenly the Shrimp arrived in his van! He saw what had happened. Rushed at Zemun with a sword. So Zemun shot him!’
Another avalanche of ice covered Osip and me. We looked at each other. I managed to mutter. ‘Dev dead?’
‘And Viktor! And Yilka!’
I buckled into Osip’s other arm.
Lila, out of control, started beating her head. ‘I didn’t want this to happen! I just wanted to have some worth. To be important – like Bostana! Like you, Kokona!’
Osip managed to mutter. ‘Go away, Lila. Leave us alone ...’
Lila touched Osip’s neck. ‘I wanted to be important! But really I wanted to be a wife, a mother ... And I couldn’t be ... You didn’t want me ...’
Osip pressed Bostana harder to his chest. ‘Lila! Go! Go!’
Lila hesitated a moment, then ran out, beating her head and screaming.
Osip and I sat on the floor holding Bostana, Castor and each other, oblivious of Zemun lying dead an arm’s length away.
Later that day, after Osip had cleaned Bostana’s head and laid her out on their bed, we collected Dev’s remains.
Osip dug a grave for him in my farmstead, amidst the fig trees that Dev had planted many years back and which he had so loved.
Basil was the only other person to attend the burial.
After we had drunk to Dev and poured libations onto the orchards, the vegetable patches and the home that Dev and I had made a shrine to love, Osip took Dev’s van and drove away, saying he’d be back shortly.
He was back within a couple of hours.
He’d brought his trunk and put it in a corner of my workroom. ‘This is for your keeping, Mother.’
I didn’t know what to say. ‘What for?’
‘I’m leaving you my things. And my father’s papers.’
‘Why give them to me?’
He put his finger to my lips to stop me talking. Then he hugged me and kissed me and whispered into my ear. ‘Forgive me, Mother. I must go.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. You’re back in your home now. Stay here.’
‘What will you do? Where will you go?’
‘Whatever I do, I know you’ll understand.’
I did understand.
And I didn’t cry.
Not until I saw him stop momentarily at our crossroads.
I thought he might turn round for a last look. He didn’t. He walked away.
That night the water-mill burnt down. The flames could be seen from most parts of the island.
By the time I and other islanders got there, nothing except the smouldering stone structures remained. The timber – so much of it – had been set ablaze with petrol, presumably siphoned off Dev’s van.
Rummaging through the ashes, we found the charred bodies of Osip and Bostana entwined on the warped springs of their bed. At their feet lay Castor’s remains.
Later, Basil told me he had given Osip, at Osip’s request, an injection to put Castor down; after Bostana’s death, Osip had told him, the dog had stopped eating. If he had known Osip had been planning to set fire to himself, Basil lamented, he’d have given him something to take, too. No one should burn to death – that’s not why Prometheus gave us fire.
I should have guessed Osip would kill himself that way. Maybe I had, but refused to acknowledge it. It wouldn’t have been difficult to read his mind. He had failed to save both Sofi and Bostana. The first had given him hope; the second had fulfilled that hope. He would have reasoned that torching himself would be an appropriate act of retribution – and a prophecy fulfilled.
We also found Zemun’s charred remains, by the fireplace where he had fallen. No doubt he, too, had fulfilled his own prophecy: life and death touched only by the fervour to die meaninglessly.
A few days after Viktor’s and Yilka’s funeral – which I attended – the Law reclaimed Skender like undergrowth reclaims abandoned land.
Those families who had agreed, on the Day of Reconciliation, to make peace and declare amity disclaimed their pledges.
And the feuds resumed.
With added vengeance because people, believing they had been fooled by the dream of a life devoid of killing and unable to foresee a life without the intractable order of the Law, felt betrayed and fearful.
And they renamed the Day of Reconciliation as the Day of Sham.
So now ... To today ... The first anniversary of the Day of Reconciliation plus one day ...
There you all are, confused, unloved, untouchable, living in dread of being killed while worshipping death. You look upon the love between Osip and Bostana as a calamity that hit this island in bygone days. When you feel hunger in your loins you brush it aside as indecency. For all I know, you don’t even undress in front of your spouses, fearing that desire might overwhelm you. You dare not live in case a grain of joy renders you dishonourable.
No. That’s not quite true. You do have feelings: your devotion to Lila. You have come to accept her as the Law’s prophetess because she lost her mind after witnessing the way Zemun killed Dev, Viktor, Yilka and Bostana. And you believe a deranged woman is wiser than a sane one. You even believed her when she told you that Zemun took his life heroically after killing his mother in order to restore the immaculate honour both she and he had enjoyed before Satan in the guise of Osip Gora had come to our island.
In all likelihood, in a generation or so, you will revere Zemun and crown him as the most honourable man in Skender’s history. Deplorable as all that is, it shows your hunger for love. The same was true of the way you revered Toma. Indeed, your worship of honour, your obedience to the Law are indications of that hunger. Your hearts and minds want to give themselves to the very kernel of life. The tragedy is, you have yoked them to meaningless concepts instead of the flesh and blood that is around you, all of them as hungry to be loved as you are.
I’ve spent a long time reading and thinking over some of the writings Anibal, Osip’s father, left behind.
As you will remember, he despaired of blood feuds and sought to eradicate them. Yet, in the end, he considered them a lesser evil than the endless wars that humankind endures – wars which he saw as blood feuds magnified into global dimensions. Invariably, in the meaningless pursuit of honour; invariably, fooled into that pursuit by the need to satisfy the hunger for love. He wrote in a diary entry that since prejudices propagated in the name of nationalism, religion, ethnicity, notions of power, superiority and possessions – all of them as vacuous as honour – ended up killing millions, even threatened the very survival of the Earth, it’s better that a few should die, here and there, than whole peoples. Why worry about a few deaths when humankind, suppressing doubts, fears and its longing for justice, equality and happiness, is comprehensively killing itself?
And he kept asking over and over again: what is there in human nature that keeps denying the hunger for love, that very hunger that serves Creation? The eternal question – one to which neither religion nor philosophy nor science has found an answer.
And yet ...
Try and imagine the promise of life that those whose ordeals I’ve just recounted had in them from birth. Every person – even Zemun and Toma – was worth a people, a nation, a country. Every person deserved the kind of love Dev and I and Osip and Bostana found. Why deny that?
Think!
You won’t believe this: there I was urging you to worship life when I had decided to go against my own advice. In a few moments, I was going to take a potion that I’d filched from Basil. And I was going to lay myself down to eternal sleep.
Now, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve convinced myself of what I told you: that hope is like love; you can’t live without it.
So I’ll follow my own advice and live. And I’ll try and live till I’m as old as Methuselah.
And I’ll continue urging you to forget hate and to embrace life and love.
Skender remains divided. Marius and his followers are still campaigning against the Law. Indeed, Marius has the potential to be another Anibal. He will be my ally.
Somehow we’ll guide you back to Life.