The college emptied rapidly; the dormitories acquired a mournful atmosphere, and the voices of chance speakers re-echoed in the deserted corridors. Archag and Aram still lingered, impatiently chafing at the delay. As a violent epidemic of typhus was raging at Diarbekir, Aram’s parents thought it more prudent for their son not to come home. This was a hard blow for the poor boy, and he was broken-hearted at the idea of having to spend the holidays all alone at Aintab, but at the last moment Archag invited his friend to go home with him to Van. Needless to say, the proposal was joyfully accepted.
After a week’s delay, the boys succeeded in making arrangements for their journey; they were the last to go, and Badvili Melikian was the only person left to wish them a good journey. The merchants in whose company they were to travel were going to Tabriz to buy Persian silks to be sold again at Damascus and Beyrout. They were pressed for time, and made long stages, so that the journey from Aintab to Van occupied only sixteen days.
Soon the country began to look familiar to Archag; he recognized villages where he had been with his father to buy horses or sheep, and at one place an old man who was a friend of Boghos Effendi stopped him for a chat; his was the first familiar face.
Dear reader, have you ever spent a long year at boarding-school? If so, you will understand Archag’s joy at seeing his native town again. A landscape of marvelous beauty lay spread before his enchanted eyes. At his feet the great lake of brilliant blue was sparkling in the sunshine, and in its transparent waters was reflected the sublime peak of Subhan Dagh. The town with its mighty rock crowned by the castle, and its fortified walls and towers, lay embowered in orchards and gardens. To the right, a snow-crowned peak dominated a natural amphitheater, in which rose the walls of the Armenian Convent of Jedi Klissia (the Seven Churches). To the west of the lake were the Nimrona Dagh and the high table-lands which nourish the sources of the great rivers of Mesopotamia. The hills in the foreground were carpeted with gay flowers, and were the pasture ground for sheep and cattle.
The horses, urged on by the spur, broke into a gallop, and soon passed the city gates.
May I be allowed a short digression concerning Van?
According to the history of Armenia, the city was founded by Semiramis, who gave it the name of Shamiram Yerd. Here, in the charming gardens which she had planted and irrigated by means of a thousand canals, the Assyrian queen was accustomed to seek refuge from the intolerable heat of the Mesopotamian summer; returning to her palaces at Nineveh at the approach of winter. The first city, having fallen in ruins, was rebuilt, it is said, by an Armenian king whose name was Van, shortly before the invasion of Alexander the Great. It was sacked by Tamerlane,[1] and again rebuilt by the Armenians.
The two boys bade a friendly farewell to their traveling companions, in front of the khan of Achmet Pasha, and went on their way. Before long, Archag caught sight of his father’s house at a turn of the road.
Levon was keeping watch on the roof, and as soon as he saw the travelers he hurried down and ran to meet them. Boghos Effendi and his wife, together with all the servants, followed him out of the house. Archag sprang from the saddle, and embraced his father and mother and Levon.
“How tall he has grown!” exclaimed Hanna badgi with a motherly pride in her son’s fine bearing.