“Mein Herr, the nights are very cold here; my master the Count ordered me to take good care of you. There is plum rakia under the seat. You may take a few sips if you would like.”
I did not touch the plum rakia, but it was a comfort to know the bottle was there. I was consumed by strange feelings; while I might have been afraid to confess it to myself, I must say that I was very frightened. If there had been any way to avoid this night journey, I would not have hesitated to take it. This trip, which I thought would be an altogether novel and pleasant experience when I left Istanbul, was taking a turn for the worse.
After traveling for some time, the coach suddenly made a complete turn and began down a different road. It appeared to me that we were going over the same ground over and over. Once I suspected that this was the case, I took note of some salient points and confirmed my suspicions. I thought for a moment about asking the man why he was doing this, but I abandoned the idea. If it was intended to delay my arrival to the Count, my protest would be useless. By-and-by, as I was curious what time it was, I struck a match and looked at my watch.
It was a few minutes to midnight…
This gave me an unexpected shock. The things I had seen in the last few hours had given a weird potency to the primitive and terrifying superstitions of these ignorant people, and especially the villagers’ fears about midnight. With an anxiety that nearly caused me to faint, I waited.
Suddenly a dog began to howl far away, perhaps from a farmhouse on the other side of the road. The howl was a long and agonizing wail, uttered as if in great fear. It was followed by another one, and then another dog howled! And another dog! And one more! This wild, heartbreaking wailing was borne on the wind, blowing like a deep, slow moan through the Burgo Pass. It was as if the sound was enveloping the entire area, and even the whole country, in a deep, terrible darkness. At the first howl, the horses started and began to turn back. When the driver spoke soothingly to the animals they recovered, but I could see them sweat and shake. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling—that of wolves. These new howls had the same frightening effect on both the horses and myself. For not only did I have a mind to jump from the calèche and flee, but the horses also began to rear up, move back, and struggle to get away from the coach. The driver had to use all of his strength on the reins. Eventually my ears grew accustomed to the howling. The animals too began to calm down. The driver got out of his seat and approached the horses. He stroked and talked to them. And although they still trembled, they did begin to return to their senses.
The driver again took his seat and shook the reins. We started off at a great pace. This time, after reaching the far side of the Burgo Pass we suddenly took a sharp right turn down a narrow path. We passed through dense forest and entered a steep mountain passage enclosing us on either side. The wind blew powerfully around us and the trees shook as though they were about to topple. The cold intensified and finally a dusty snow began to fall. A few moments later, everything was covered in a white shroud of snow. A sharp wind still carried the howls of the dogs to us, but as we moved further away these sounds grew fainter. However, the baying of the wolves increased steadily as though they had surrounded us and were closing in. I grew afraid, and the horses shared my fear. But strangely the driver was not at all disturbed. He constantly turned his head left and right; but I was unable to see anything in the pitch black darkness that surrounded us.
Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a bright flame; the driver had seen it too. He stopped the horses immediately, jumped down, and faded into the darkness. I do not know what he did there, but the howling of the wolves grew closer; that much was certain. While I waited in terror and anticipation, the driver suddenly returned and took his seat without saying a word; we began moving again.
I think now that I had fallen asleep by the time these maddening events took place and that I was actually seeing them in my dreams. Because as I write these lines, they seem like a terrible nightmare.
Once in particular that blue flame I mentioned shone so close to the road that by its light I was able to see what the coachman did. He went rapidly toward the light once more and, gathering a few stones, formed them into some sign.
I observed a very strange illusion. Although the driver was standing between myself and the blue flame, the fire was still visible. The driver’s torso did not obstruct my view of the light. This caused me nearly to jump from my seat. But as it only lasted a few seconds I ascribed it to the weariness of my eyes, straining through the darkness for so long. Finally there came a time when the driver stopped the coach and went even further than before; while he was gone the horses began to stamp, rear up, and tremble uncontrollably. I could not understand why, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether. Then, at that very moment, the moon emerged briefly from behind the dark clouds and illuminated the area.
My God! We were surrounded by a sea of wolves! In front of us, at our back, and all around us were wolves with lolling crimson red tongues, white teeth, and shaggy manes and fur. When these monsters howled, looking like that, they were a hundred times more terrifying. Seeing them so, I was paralyzed with fear. There is no way for a man to fully understand such a horror without experiencing it for himself.
Suddenly the wolves began howling all together, as though the moonlight had a peculiar effect on them. I shouted to the coachman to return. At that moment I heard a voice and looked in its direction. Lo and behold! The driver, whom I thought was beyond the pack of wolves, had inexplicably appeared in the middle of the road. As he opened his arms in a gesture of command, the wolves retreated timorously.
When dense clouds obscured the face of the moon once more, complete darkness fell.
When I could see my surroundings again, I saw the driver climbing into his seat—and the wolves had disappeared!
This was so strange, horrifying, and surreal, a mass of gnawing fear assailed my senses; it was impossible to speak or move. As we continued on our way through this sea of darkness, it was as though time had come to a stop. I seemed to be living through long, torturous centuries!
The coach steadily ascended the hills.
Suddenly I became aware that the coachman was pulling his horses into the courtyard of a vast ruined castle. There was no light emanating from its black windows, and the broken towers and battlements of the large cluster of buildings showed a jagged line against the starlit sky.
CHAPTER II
FROM AZMI BEY’S DIARY—continued
5 May.—I must have fallen asleep the last few minutes in the coach. For had I been awake I would surely have noticed the approach of such a remarkable place. The courtyard of the castle looked exceptionally large compared with the surrounding emptiness. Three or four roads running under high arches also contributed to its expansive and somber appearance.
When the coach stopped, the driver jumped from his seat and reached out to help me alight. That was when I realized once again how terribly strong this man was. His hand was just like a steel vice. He could have crushed mine with one grasp if he had wished.
As I stood in front of a large, sturd
y door studded with nails, he unloaded my traps one by one. Then he quickly got into his seat and shook the reins, and suddenly the horses, driver, and coach vanished into the darkness.
I waited as though frozen in place, for there was no bell or knob on this door, which had evidently borne witness to centuries. There was no way that any sound I could make would have made it through those ominous windows or thick walls. The waiting seemed endless; hundreds of disturbing thoughts and gnawing fears ran rampant in my head.
Oh, what troubled place was I visiting, and to see what kind of people? How could I have blindly thrown myself into this adventure?
What resemblance was there between an ordinary lawyer, traveling to another country to deliver official documents and bills, provide necessary legal information, and give counsel to a stranger who has bought a property in Istanbul; and myself, who has endured the events of last night and today?
Ah, dear Güzin, how happy we were when the manager of my office, the honorable Rifat Bey, assigned me to this job. Of course I was still in my apprenticeship as an assistant attorney when I was given the assignment, which amounted to a sudden promotion. A budding new lawyer, a businessman! Soon we will be able to be married. Even though we have very little money at present, we shall move forward with our dream of starting a family, planning our future, and becoming prosperous. My dear Güzin, these are all your words, and the sweet voice of your joyous soul rings in my ears even now.
I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were dreaming. This all seemed like a terrible delusion to me. I hoped that I would open my eyes and find myself lying on my bed near the window, listening to the sweet sounds of Turkish carried in from the streets. But I had no doubt that I was awake. I was not wrong. I was awake, far from my motherland, beautiful Istanbul—spring-like, radiant, full of love—and in a wild, unknown corner of the Carpathians, in a fount of darkness and fear.
As these thoughts passed through my mind, footsteps approached the thick door from the other side and a light appeared through the keyhole. Chains rattled; huge rusted bolts moved from their places with a terrible noise; a large key turned inside a lock which apparently had not been used for some time, and the massive door opened inwards.