The Miracle of Yousef: Historical and political thriller

by Gonçalo Coelho

  Steed of Greek and Roman emperors, the Arabian horse is esteemed as the most beautiful, most elegant and most intelligent of all horses. Its genes are found in most contemporary breeds. It comes from the desert, according to the Bedouin origination legend, which recounts that one day, Allah seized the south wind in his right hand and made a new creature out of it, a horse that he offered to his desert people, endowing it with the gaze of an eagle, the courage of a lion, the speed of a panther, the memory of an elephant, the strength of a tiger, the elegance of a gazelle, a wolf’s sense of smell, the softness of a dove’s plumage, the eyes of a leopard, the endurance of a camel, with hooves as hard as flint, leaping farther than a buck, and a love for his master like that of a dog.

  Not too far from the shores of Kaleköy, on a sheltered farm belonging to a family of friends, the Balabans kept three horses in a stable, all three Arabian, handsome and elegant. It was here that Nefise and Argun went early in the morning. An elderly gentleman wearing a hat came to receive them at the entrance to the property and led them to a stable where the horses were resting. During the walk he exchanged a few words with Nefise in Turkish that Argun could not decipher. So far he had only learned to greet people and ask for certain basic things in Turkish, which was, nonetheless, excellent progress. As they arrived at the stable, Nefise immediately approached the horses. She knelt down and spoke to them affectionately in Turkish, caressing the muzzle of one, then another, until she stood still before a third horse, to which she was clearly more attached, “her horse.” His nose and ears were small and his eyes big like the other two, but Nefise’s horse was distinctly white, in contrast to the other two, whose coats were brown. A young boy appeared who greeted them all and, together with the old man, began to get the horses ready for riding. Argun observed the horses, enjoying their beauty, but his unease was pronounced because he still did not know whether he had ever learned to ride one. He would only know when he climbed up onto the back of one of them – just as when he was forced to speak English and discovered that he knew how to do it. If it turned out he didn’t know how to ride, the day’s outing could become a big problem rather than a long and highly enjoyable excursion in Nefise’s company.

  The old man and the boy, probably grandfather and grandson, finished preparing the white horse, Nefise’s favorite, and she mounted with agility. Argun saw her in that instant as only his eyes were capable of seeing her: an overflowing sun radiating beauty, all the more so mounted on this splendid horse, so plainly mistress of herself. She wore jeans tight against her legs, long black boots and a white blouse buttoned up to just above her breasts. Her hair was pinned back in a pony-tail, a term curiously suited to these circumstances. The summons from the boy getting the horses ready snapped Argun out of his focus on Nefise. His horse was ready. It was also a beautiful, elegant creature, with a brown coat dark as a chestnut. The horse seemed tame, and Argun rested his hand on his back. The boy shot an inquisitive glance at Nefise, asking whether or not he should help Argun to mount. From high in the saddle she held up an open palm signaling for him to wait. The moment had come. Did he or didn’t he know how to ride a horse? Argun said something to the horse about mounting, and suddenly, concentrating on the animal, just as he spoke English when addressed in that language, he felt his movements go loose, as though guided by a hidden hand. With great agility and mastery he mounted the horse, took up the reins and assumed the perfect position for starting their ride. The grandfather and grandson watched in amazement like people beholding a magic trick. They were quite ready to break into applause but instead confined themselves to smiling at Nefise as they watched the two trotting away from the farm on their mounts.

  Nefise and Argun whiled away the morning riding their two impressive horses, hers white, his chestnut and aglow. Their hooves beat loud on grass and earth; the breeze blew in the riders’ faces sweeping back their hair. The landscape in the small and sparsely inhabited village near Kaleköy gave way to open fields and woods, vegetation green and yellow and dry by turns, with a mountain in the background and always, as though eternally omnipresent since Argun had awakened with amnesia, the sea. He followed her. She was in command. The two human bodies moved along in synchronization on the two agile horse’s bodies, the people suffused with a deep sensation of plenitude. The air refreshed them, restoring them from the built-up saturation of recent days, particularly for Nefise, since Argun’s memories were few and thus his grounds for worry much slighter. So they rode along for several kilometers through the northern part of Gökçeada. At the top of a rocky hill, after they left behind the harsh Mediterranean shrubbery, Nefise brought her horse to a stop by a tree. Argun approached. He was going to say something commonplace, but noticed she was so absorbed in the countryside that he became as silent and thoughtful as she was. Then she closed her eyes and slowly breathed in the pure air. He looked at the surrounding landscape. Over there was the tiny village of Kaleköy, orange tiles topping the few low houses that they could see from where they were, and beyond, the deep blue sea encompassing the faint image of the Greek island of Samothrace far off in the distance, where it seemed cloaked in an aura of mystery, an island worthy of magnificent Hellenic deities. He, too, closed his eyes and inhaled. And how good he felt at that moment! He felt a part of everything the world is, of that force that makes time and transforms space! He felt that the world is beautiful, that nature is divine, that happiness turns out to be something so simple, sheer communion between love and nature, infinite peace that arises from being nothing but love. He opened his eyes again. Nature was still there, with a harmony to stir envy in any mortal soul. And Nefise? Yes, she was there, too, by his side. The sun beat down on the side of her face and on her hair. She was beautiful, beautiful as only his eyes could fully discern. Finally she, too, opened her eyes, coming out of her trance, and the two exchanged clear glances, seated on their mounts. Beyond this, they understood each other without the need for any words, until at length she made the first move to resume their journey, and naturally, he followed her.

  Farther along they passed in front of an enormous elm tree. It was some twenty to thirty meters high, and its crown was almost as wide in diameter. “Historic tree” were the two words Nefise uttered concisely in English, gesturing towards this splendid specimen as she spoke. “A very old tree,” Argun reflected, a tree that had witnessed the effects of time’s passing, so many centuries engulfing everything, something the ephemeral life of one man would never allow him to witness, though most probably the tree had no memory of any of this, being eternally stricken with amnesia, or so it would seem, at any rate.

  The horses then adopted a slow pace, walking along the road running through a small town, until Nefise entered an open gate, arriving in the yard of a rustic house. Here was an inn and a traditional restaurant, both owned by the same company in which Okan and Mehmet were partners. The pair dismounted, visited the inn, spoke with the staff, and the visit was taken up with the usual greetings, compliments, advice and goodbyes, whereupon they set off once again on horseback to the southern part of the island.

  As they rode along, the green of the plain streamed past them, dogs and goats went by, the still water of a lake, and always the rock-bound mountains and waters of the sea, in a continuous presence as backdrop. The day was growing hotter, and hunger began to gnaw at their stomachs. They stopped at the beach of Kefaloz for lunch, a place renowned, according to Nefise, as the best spot on the island for wind-surfing. The beach also had an unusual salt lagoon adjacent to it, separated from the sea by a strip of earth. Argun was fairly sure it would now be possible to talk to Nefise alone during their lunch, yet his expectations were entirely dashed because she had invited the staff from another inn to lunch with them. Moreover, since few of them spoke English, his access to much of the conversation at the table was limited. He ended up speaking mostly to a young man who spoke some English and confessed to him that he had an overwhelming desire to get off the island. There was little to choose from in
the way of employment, he said, and not much to do overall. But he had once been to Istanbul and that was where he wanted to go to university. After that, he dreamt one day of traveling and seeing the rest of the world, other countries, other continents, even though in Istanbul, as far as continents were concerned, you would quickly get to know two of them, but doubtless this fact in and of itself would not satisfy him. The young man also told him, although Argun did not know his past, that it was plain to see that he must be a well-traveled man, a foreigner who roamed the world over. This he could deduce from the fact that Argun spoke several languages. He was of the opinion that Argun’s former life must have been very fine indeed, and that when he remembered it, which would probably happen soon, surely he would be returning to that fine life. And that when he recovered his memory Argun must not forget him, but take him to discover other worlds, this was the young man’s insistent request as he took his leave before Argun and Nefise resumed their tour of the island.

  Overall it was an utterly splendid day for Argun. The early afternoon sun bore down fiercely, and the back of his chestnut horse shone more than ever, yet as the day wore on, a painful concern grew within him for having failed to exchange any meaningful words with Nefise, for having indeed failed to find any opportunity to tell her how much he had loved since first setting eyes on her, that is, since the day he came to his senses on the island. It was becoming difficult truly to fight for her, as he had promised Leyla, and as it was his overpowering desire to do. Their outing was ceasing to be the source of lightness and plenitude of the soul that it had been all morning. It was now turning into a gradual crescendo of frustration.

  In mid-afternoon, they headed towards the island’s interior. Argun saw before him the same horse he had been following all morning. Still the same white horse that proudly bore Nefise on its back, its neck always held high, prompting Argun’s envy of this favored companion. This same white horse. These same hooves, this same agile form. Suddenly, staring at the horse, Argun went once more through the gateway to his past, uncovering yet another forgotten trove of memories. This time he saw himself as a little boy in a child’s body, mounting a pony with a very white coat, with the help of an adult. Go on, put your foot up on her and ... there you go! That’s it. Now you’re riding! And now the adult standing on the ground pulled the pony, forcing it to walk, the animal putting one hoof in front of the other slowly, and Argun, as a child, discovering the joy of riding. The adult beside him wore a white tunic, very white like the pony’s coat, and he had a cloth on his head. It was not possible to see any more of this ephemeral visitation because Argun suddenly came to, finding himself being battered defenselessly on the ground. He felt intense pains all over his body, signaling that he had taken a dangerous fall from his horse. His back hurt terribly but, fortunately, it was nothing serious, he could move all his extremities fairly well. Much better, and far more restorative, was the sight of Nefise’s figure and face right in front of him with a very troubled expression.

  “What happened to you? You seemed to know how to ride a horse so well! Are you injured?”

  Her face was directly before his, and he felt a nearly irresistible desire to kiss her.

  “Yes, I know how to ride,” he replied, restraining himself. “But all of a sudden I had one of those floods of memory, that’s all. They don’t choose the best moments to make their appearance.”

  “This is getting dangerous. You could have broken a rib. Or a leg. Are you sure you haven’t broken anything? No strong pains?”

  Apart from a few scratches and bruises, there was nothing wrong with him. To his chagrin, no immediate grounds for eliciting Nefise’s care and affection.

  “No… unfortunately there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “Fortunately, you mean.”

  “Yes, fortunately, that’s what I meant. Fortunately, everything’s fine.”

  Argun managed to stand up on his own and, seeing Nefise return to her horse to resume the same frustrating ride that had kept them apart the whole day, he felt it was now or never, he would have to take a chance. Perhaps there would be no other opportunity as good as this to be alone with her, far from everyone and everything. He would just have to take the chance, there was no other way to play it.

  “Nefise,” he called. She was just about to mount her horse.

  “Yes, I know. You must want to go straight home after that fall. That’s where I’m headed.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  Her manner became wary, and he took the plunge.

  “Forgive me if I’m being indiscreet or talking out of turn, but there’s something I must ask you: do you really care for Burak?”

  “What? How dare you ask me that?” Her face colored.

  “It’s just that if I don’t tell you now what I have to say, that’s been caught in my throat practically since I awoke on this island, I’ll go mad. I ask only that you grant me a few moments...”

  “I don’t want to hear another word.” Nefise turned back towards her horse and made as if to mount at once, but the following words froze her movements.

  “…to tell you that I love you. Since the day I came to my senses on this island. Since the day I opened my eyes. You are beautiful, wonderful, intelligent, authentic, kind, generous...”

  “That’s all very well and good. Perhaps it even served your purposes in other circumstances with another woman. Someone from your past. You don’t remember any women from your past?”

  “No. You know very well I don’t lie about my amnesia. And I would never lie to you, or your father or your sister.”

  “Well, the day after you arrived on this island I found something in one of your pockets: a photo of a woman.”

  Argun was dumbfounded.

  “A photo? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Fear, she thought. A ridiculous fear that the woman in the photograph was someone who really mattered to him.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll give it to you now. I have it here with me. Here. Sorry, but since you had no memory, you would not have remembered her before.”

  Argun stared at the photo now in his hands. He very much wanted to reach the part of his memory where information was stored regarding this woman in the photo. It would simplify everything if he could – but it was no use. The echoes of the past did not appear on command.

  “I can’t remember her.”

  “Turn it over. On the back it says, With love, Nadia. I’m certain that she remembers you. And you, considering that you go around with her picture in your pocket, would also remember her if your memory were in working order.”

  “I don’t know who she is.”

  “But I’m certain that you understand now that we cannot be together. That those things you said to me just now are nothing but words cast on the wind. My path is with Burak and yours is with that woman, as soon as you remember your past.”

  “Nefise, wait …”

  Swiftly and decisively, she mounted her horse and set off at a gallop across the plain, forcing Argun, racked with pain, to scramble onto his horse as well, and take off after her.

  11

  “Nefise, I must speak to you.”

  “What are you doing? Would you mind letting go of my arm?”

  Argun had not slept a wink the night before. In the morning he joined Okan and Nefise for breakfast and the ride to the hotel, everyone immersed in a distinctly gloomy mood that Okan tried without success to dispel. After they reached the hotel, Argun followed Nefise to the office and now accosted her impetuously, as though it were a matter of life and death.

  “Hear me for just one instant. I must tell you this before Burak arrives, and I know that he arrives today. I promise you that if you so desire, I will never bother you about this again. Ever again.”

  “Well, then let go of my arm. That’s better. And make it quick.”

  “Nefise, I do not remember that woman in the picture and I know that I should remember her because everything indicates she r
eally is important to me. Her picture was in my pocket... But the truth is that my memory has played this big trick on me, and no matter how I rack my brains, I cannot remember her. It’s simply beyond my power.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “On the other hand, while it is true that she must be someone who matters to me, the truth is that within this assumption, she could be a variety of things, from my sister to my cousin or my wife, or simply the person I was supposed to get in touch with as soon as I reached my destination on the journey I was on, before losing my memory and getting shipwrecked here on Gökçeada.”

  “Well, you’ve said it all. She could be your wife.”

  “Although she has an air that strikes me as quite young, yes, she could be my wife.”

  Nefise turned her back and went into her office, adjacent to the room they were in. She was about to shut the door behind her but Argun, fast as a shot, slipped in and, standing before her with his back to the door, leaned against it until it closed.

  “Just give me a few more seconds and I promise that I will never bother you again.”

  She turned her back on him and laid her purse on the desk, giving him a little more time.

  “Nefise, I don’t know who that woman is, or what she means to me, but on the other hand, I do know exactly what I feel for you. I have known it since the first moment I saw you. What sense does it make for me to wait until I get back my memory to discover who the girl in the picture is, or for you to wait for however long it takes before you really care for Burak? Life is here and now. This is all we know.”

  “And who was it who told you I didn’t care for Burak?”

  “Leyla.”

  Nefise scowled at this revelation.

  “Your sister is very wise.”

  “I’ll have a word with her when she gets home.”

  “She only wants what’s best for you. And she knows I love you. I may not know who that woman in the picture is, but I know very well that I love you. I know I’d be willing to give my life for you. I know that to my eyes you are the most beautiful woman in the world, you’re magical, wonderful, perfect in all that you do. By your side I feel positively sublime. You make me want to be a better man. You make me think that this amnesia was a tremendous blessing in my life because it gave me the opportunity to meet you. You make me...” Nefise made a signal for Argun to be silent, and moving on tiptoe, went to the office door and opened it. Behind it was a young girl, Nefise’s secretary who, having come to bring some matter to her attention, had stayed at the door listening. Realizing she had been discovered, she blushed, shyly held out some papers and instantly vanished.