"Listen to those poor women there," he continued, as we rode through the gate, preceded by the brass band of the regiment playing a melancholy march. A deep wail could be heard even above the noise of the instruments. The wives, mothers, and other female relatives of the soldiers, had not been permitted to enter the barracks; but from an early hour they had taken up a position along the streets. The bitter cry, which was joined in by hundreds of voices, announced to the people in the very outskirts of the town that the battalion was on the march.
Presently the band ceased playing; and the old major, his long white beard streaming in the wind, began singing the words: "God is great. There is but one God, the God, and there is but one Prophet, the Prophet, and he is the Prophet of God."
The soldiers took up the strain, ten thousand bystanders joined in the verse—it even silenced the women's wail—and resounded along the banks of the river. Here taken up by some people on the ruined citadel, the words were re-echoed back to us; there wafted by the breeze to an adjacent hamlet, the peasantry swelled the chorus. The standard of the battalion, with the crescent embroidered on a green border, was raised high in the air, and several of the crowd, rushing up to the major, implored him to take them in his ranks.
It was a striking scene—these weeping women in their shroud-like dresses; the many-coloured garments of the men; the excited soldiery—the still more excited major; and the immense religious enthusiasm.
Snow-capped mountains barred the way before us, and the river, its banks set fast with ice and hoar-frost, glittered in the distance, and reflected the rays of a midday sun.
Large stacks of wood had been piled up near the stream. The timber had been cut in the forests above the town, and been floated down the river to Tokat. It is chiefly used for smelting copper, the Government having some smelting works in the neighbourhood. According to my informant, they were established thirty years ago by a German; after his decease they had been bought by the Turkish authorities.
The Caimacan thought that he had accompanied the battalion far enough. Drawing a little on one side, we let the soldiers pass us. The standard-bearer waved his flag, the old major saluted by lowering the point of his sword as he rode past, and with the words, "Go in safety, God be with you. We shall meet in Erzeroum," we parted.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Osman Bey—A Circassian feud—Will there be a rising in the Caucasus?—If England were to help us—A wonderful servant—Mohammed—His Captain—An Armenian doctor—Business is flat—The Christian population to be armed—Visitors asking favours—Your reward will be in heaven—A subscription—Promotion through favouritism—A sad story—A cruel father—A servant arrested for debt—Failure of justice.
Soon afterwards I met Osman Bey, my acquaintance of the previous day. He was on the point of leaving for a Circassian hamlet in the neighbourhood. It appeared that a feud had arisen between the people of this village and another one in its vicinity; the Bey was going there to calm, if possible, the angry feelings of the inhabitants.