Last Train to Istanbul

by Ayşe Kulin

  The heat in the carriage seemed to envelop her whole body: the palms of her hands were burning, and she lifted her arms, resting them on the window to feel the cold dampness. She remained in that position for a while until she felt someone breathing on the back of her neck. A pair of hands held her hips tightly and a body pressed against her.

  “Marcel,” she said. “Oh, Marcel…”

  She tried to turn her head, but Marcel held her head with one hand and held her arms up with the other against the window. Constance had missed her husband very much; she loved him kissing the back of her neck, his tongue caressing her neck, feeling his breathing all over her hair. She resisted when he tried to go further.

  “Marcel, don’t. Not here. Please don’t—someone might want to go to the toilet.”

  Marcel forcefully lifted her skirt with his knee. Constance wanted her husband both to stop and to continue. What if someone should come out into the corridor?

  “Don’t, I said!”

  But deep inside, she wanted him to continue, not to stop at all. When her husband let go of her hands to pull her underwear down, she tried to turn her head toward him, but she was pushed violently against the window. My God! she thought. My God! This isn’t Marcel. This isn’t my husband!

  They struggled madly in front of the window; while holding her head tightly with one hand, the stranger put his other hand over her mouth to stifle her screams. She tried to bite the hand over her mouth without success. Her panties were around her knees, and the buttons of his pants were already undone. She realized that he must have followed her, fully prepared…

  “My God!” she screamed with all her might—“Aaagh!”—but the muffled sound disappeared in the noise of the train. She moved her hips from side to side trying to escape his clutches, but she was getting weaker.

  David, meanwhile, was in a cell, asleep on the straw among smelly feet. It was pitch-dark. Everywhere was covered in a blanket of darkness. He was just like an animal in a pen. The straw smelled of dampness and dried dung.

  David opened his eyes; the darkness around him was like a wall. He jumped from his seat, tripped on Fazıl’s toy train, and fell on Selva.

  “Oops!”

  “Shush, Fazıl’s asleep. Everyone’s asleep. It’s all right, you can get through.”

  David felt his way to the door and stepped into the corridor. He was breathing heavily and went to open the window. He needed the cold air to wake him up and bring him back to his senses, to save him from the nightmare he had just had.

  He walked toward the window. What was that? A voice. Was someone groaning? He smiled to himself. Obviously basic instincts overcame these circumstances. Then, as he started to walk back to his compartment, he realized that the groaning had an edge to it.

  “Help, please help me…”

  The muffled sound obviously came from a woman. He moved toward it. In the moonlit corridor, he could see a heavily built man running away. He began to run after him, but he tripped over something. A woman was lying on the floor. He knelt down.

  “My God! Constance!”

  She was trembling under the window, her knees to her chest and her arms around her legs.

  “What happened?”

  Constance tried to explain, but she was sobbing. David couldn’t understand what she said.

  “Did that man do something to you?”

  Constance nodded yes.

  “Who was it? Did you recognize him?”

  Constance shook her head no.

  She was now pitifully sobbing her heart out. David put his arms around her and stroked her hair. “Now, now, it’s over, it’s all over. Please calm down. Let’s wash your face. Please don’t cry.”

  They heard a noise and both looked up. Marcel was standing right there, looking at them, dumbfounded.

  The train continued its journey. All the passengers in the compartment except Constance woke up one by one to a new day. Constance slept by the window with her knees pulled up to her chest and her raincoat over her. Asseo felt fine this morning, but not Marcel. He couldn’t settle at all. He went back and forth to the toilet, up and down the corridor, smoking. Siegfried was quiet as usual, and so was David.

  Selva and Margot got the food baskets down again and prepared a breakfast of bitter coffee that had been left at the bottom of the thermos, boiled eggs, bread, and some honey they’d purchased from local peasants the previous day.

  “Monsieur Asseo, you mustn’t miss breakfast today,” Selva said. “The honey is delicious and has a beautiful scent of flowers.”

  “So do you, madame, you’re as sweet as honey.”

  Selva blushed even though the man was nearly eighty. Who knew? Maybe he wasn’t that old. Sometimes difficult circumstances added years to a person’s appearance.

  Ferit and Evelyn came for a visit. Had it not been for that incident in Berlin, Ferit would have given his wife a seat with Selva and Margot so they could keep each other company, but since that night Evelyn hadn’t wanted to be separated from Ferit at all.

  “Please take my seat, madame,” said David, getting up and offering it to Evelyn. “I’ll go sit in your place. You stay here as long as you like.”

  “Just a moment, David. I need to talk to you all,” said Ferit. “We’re approaching Bucharest. We’ll be disconnected from this freight train when we get there. Apparently we’re to be connected to another passenger train from there. I want to tell those of you who want to get off that we’ll have just about half an hour in the station.”

  “Fine,” said David. “I’ll try to get some wine. I can do with a drink.”

  “I’ve noticed you’re not quite yourself today,” said Margot. “I guess you’ve had it, like all of us.”

  “And how!”

  As David walked to Evelyn’s compartment, he bumped into Marcel.

  “Do you have a second?” Marcel asked.

  “Yes, of course. What’s the matter?”

  “I just don’t understand how you weren’t able to see the guy, David.”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times. I just saw him from the back as he was running away.”

  “What color were his clothes? Was he wearing a uniform?”

  “I told you, it was very dark. He must have been wearing dark clothes. He was well built. That’s all I noticed, he was big.”

  “There are exactly forty-nine well-built guys in this carriage.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been checking all the compartments. Have you gone crazy?”

  “I just have to find the bastard.”

  “Look, Marcel, he must have been one of the soldiers. Who else would do such a thing unless he was a sex maniac? What the hell can you do? Are you going to ask the soldiers who raped your wife?”

  “Why not?”

  “Marcel, I beg you, control yourself. Otherwise you’ll get us all into trouble. We’ve only got a couple of days left on this train. Be reasonable, for God’s sake. Suppose for just one moment that one of them admits to the crime. What will you do then? You can’t beat him up.”

  “Who says I can’t?”

  “If you do, you’ll put us all into a situation; all that we have gone through the past nine days will go for nothing, and we’ll all rot in some Romanian prison. If you attack an SS officer, we might even be sent back to a prison camp in Germany. Would you like me to remind you just what that’s like?”

  “Maybe I should punch you in the face,” said Marcel.

  “You’ve gone crazy,” said David, pushing Marcel aside and walking away.

  Why the hell do I bring on all this aggravation, he thought. Is it because I don’t pray on the Sabbath?

  When the train stopped in Bucharest, everyone started rushing out of their compartments. The German SS officers were standing in the corridor and tried to stop them from getting off.

  “Halt! Halt!” they yelled.

  “What do they want now?” asked one of the women.

  “It seems they have to get off first,” Ferit explained
. “They need to disconnect the carriage, and we’ll get off later. After it’s been disconnected, they’ll shunt this carriage to a different platform.”

  “Hey there, Marcel! Didn’t you hear them? Where are you going?”

  “To the toilet.”

  Marcel stopped in front of the exit door. The soldiers walked toward the door laughing, joking among themselves.

  One of them made signs toward Marcel and spoke in German, “Don’t get off now! Later, later,” he said. He was a handsome young man.

  Marcel nodded with his head to show that he understood. He spotted the tallest and biggest among them. The handsome soldier got off first, then another one followed him, and then the big man. Marcel put his foot out to trip him and he fell onto his head. The following man bumped into him as he fell over as well. Marcel saw the second soldier’s rifle stab into the big guy’s neck. He quickly ran into the toilet and locked the door.

  They arrived in Bulgaria somewhat depleted. Forty-seven passengers had disembarked in Bucharest to continue their journey to Köstence. Ferit had gotten off the train to try to speed up the disconnecting of their carriage. He couldn’t understand why the soldiers, who seemed to be in a huff, were taking their time. Eventually he had to sacrifice their last jar of coffee as a bribe to get them to get a move on.

  This endless journey was coming to an end. The Bulgarian frontier had been notified of their arrival. This time, they weren’t thoroughly searched. Ferit as usual had collected half the passports, Rafo the other half, and the passports were stamped.

  The policeman told them, “You are not allowed to stop within the Bulgarian borders; you have to travel straight through.”

  Who the hell would want to stop here, Ferit thought; mischievously, he said, “Not even if there’s an emergency?”

  “What, is there someone ill on board?”

  “No, there’s not.”

  “There aren’t any contagious diseases?”

  “Of course not. What on earth made you ask that?”

  “So why did you ask that question?”

  I wish I’d kept it to myself, he thought.

  “It was just a joke,” he replied.

  “It’s no joke. These days wounded soldiers can die on board and spread diseases. If that happens, you must definitely inform the authorities. You should pull the emergency cord.”

  Ferit interrupted, “We have no soldiers in our carriage. There are only men, women, and children, all looking forward to getting back to their homeland as soon as possible. You can have a look if you like. I was only joking.” Ferit was suddenly covered in sweat.

  The man looked thoughtful; he was obviously a stickler for rules and regulations. “Fine, take your passports back.”

  Ferit ran all the way back to the carriage. On board, he stood in the middle of the corridor and called out, “Right then, there’s no stopping until we reach Edirne. No getting off, and no dying. Is that clear?”

  All the passengers applauded heartily. Until Edirne…Edirne…EDIRNE…No city in the whole world sounded better to their ears. Edirne meant liberation. It meant reaching their goal. It meant peace. A new beginning, a rebirth!

  The train pulled away. The passengers were full of joy. Only Constance was still sad. She hadn’t gotten off the train in Bucharest and had had nothing to eat all day.

  “You don’t look at all well. I wonder if you have a fever,” said Margot, putting her hand on Constance’s forehead. “Anyway, we’re almost there. I’m sure you’ll feel much better once we get to Edirne tonight.”

  “What’s the matter?” asked Selva.

  Constance didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.

  Margot and Selva left the compartment to pay Evelyn a visit.

  “I think there’s something going on between Marcel and his wife,” Margot said. “They haven’t spoken a word to each other all day.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Selva. “If they’d had an argument or something, surely we would have heard it. You can’t even sneeze in there without everybody knowing.”

  David was smoking by the window.

  “David, you’re smoking like a chimney today,” said Margot. “I hope you’ll be opening that wine you got in Bucharest.”

  “I didn’t get any.”

  “What! Why not? Weren’t they selling any at the station?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  This journey seems to have got to everyone, thought Margot. How strange. One would have thought that the nearer we got to our destination the happier everyone would be, but it seems to be just the opposite.

  Everyone had settled back in their own compartments now, the euphoria felt by all when they had entered Bulgaria having disappeared.

  Marcel didn’t want to play backgammon, David was sour faced, and Constance kept dozing off in her corner. The atmosphere was heavy.

  “Monsieur Asseo,” said Selva, “would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything for you, madame.”

  “It seems to me the atmosphere in here needs lifting. What would you say if David got your violin down from the rack and you played something for us?”

  “With pleasure,” said the old man.

  David reached up and got the violin down. Asseo stood up in the middle of the compartment and nodded to everyone.

  “Beethoven’s Concerto in D Major,” he said, resting the violin under his chin. He started to play.

  There was something magical in Asseo’s performance. The moment he started playing, he captivated his audience, transporting them to their own worlds. Maybe each note took them back to themselves, helping them solve questions about their new lives. Constance turned her head away again, looking outside. Tears started running down her cheeks. Marcel ran his hands tenderly through her hair, stroking her head gently. David sighed deeply.

  The train was traveling at speed. Asseo played the violin as he had done all his life, with love and passion. Suddenly he remembered the time when he performed as a soloist at the Vienna Opera House on New Year’s Day. He was playing the same concerto, to a full house. The place was packed with aristocrats, elegant ladies, and young music lovers. They were all in awe. He had begun the allegro ma non troppo with enthusiasm, then playing more slowly and deeply, evoking fairies cavorting in deep forests…His violin was resting on a pristine white handkerchief, his bow in his right hand, his fingers caressing the strings, and his body swaying to the rhythm of the music. He dabbed sweat from his brow during a moment’s rest, then continued again with the larghetto, slow, quiet, relaxing, as if he were swimming in the warm sea with long, slow strokes; he didn’t even look at the notes, playing, playing…the rondo, now faster, more enthusiastically; now he was a large white bird with white wings, flying, forming big white circles against the blue sky, among the clouds, round and round…The last note! The grand finale! The whole house is on its feet, the whole of Vienna; the applause is endless, and the conductor congratulates him to more applause…“Bravo, maestro! Bravo, maestro!” they call. He’s bowing to the audience, again and again, as the applause grows distant, quieter…

  Siegfried jumped up suddenly from his seat; “My God! My God!”

  David and Marcel also jumped up, then the women stood. Asseo’s head was bent forward as if bowing to them at first, then his head bent further and further until he finally collapsed to the floor. They tried to lift him up to the seat, but when they couldn’t manage, they let him lie where he was. Siegfried kneeled next to his friend and touched two fingers to his temple. Selva screamed, “Monsieur Kohen!”

  Siegfried was sitting on the floor. He nodded, tears streaming down his face. He lifted his friend’s body carefully, resting the balding head on his chest, and cradled Asseo in his arms like a baby, rocking him gently.

  “We must stop the train immediately,” said Ferit. “I must report this.”

  “Wait. Please don’t stop the train.”

  “But we have to, Monsieur Kohen.”

  Siegfried reste
d Asseo’s head on the floor as if settling an infant in its crib; he stood up and took Ferit’s hands in his own. Everyone around them held their breath.

  “Monsieur Ferit, I beg you not to stop the train. I don’t want to abandon his body on Bulgarian soil. I don’t want a Bulgarian hand laid on him. We’ve only got a few hours to go. We can report this after we’ve crossed the border in Edirne. It’s just a few hours. Please don’t let the Fascists touch him, strip him, and take possession of his belongings. I beg of you.”

  Ferit stopped. As if one, all eyes were upon him. Constance, Selva, Margot, David, the children, everyone’s pleading eyes.

  “Fine, Monsieur Kohen, but nobody should know about this, otherwise we will all be in trouble. It’s a crime not to report a death,” he said, staring back at the eyes one by one.

  “He was sleeping,” said Margot. “How are we to know that he died in his sleep?”

  They picked up Asseo carefully and rested his body on the seat.

  “Put his head on my lap,” said Siegfried, sitting back in his place. Siegfried closed Asseo’s eyes, as if he was stroking them, then he lifted the hand hanging down, kissed it affectionately, and left it to rest on his chest.

  Margot took her red coat from around her shoulders and covered Asseo. The others sitting on the seat where Asseo lay sat perched on its edge or squeezed onto the opposite seat.

  The train continued its journey. The notes of Asseo’s concert still flowed inside the compartment. They were all sitting together, still listening to the music he had played to them, letting it warm them deeply in their hearts. They were Asseo’s last friends.

  A uniformed Bulgarian official walked into the compartment and saluted. “We’re approaching the border. I want you all to line up with your passports and tickets when we stop,” he said.

  They were all dumbstruck. “Our passports are with a friend in another compartment,” Marcel said politely.

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s in charge of our group. I’ll go get him if you don’t mind.” Marcel walked shakily to Ferit’s compartment.