The information brought back by the reconnoitering teams were correct but incomplete.  Not all the Turks and Circassians in Bulgaria had yet been set to migrate.  The excesses perpetrated in the areas along the line of advance of the Russian forces had caused havoc, and as a result the early mass migration had touched off.

                There was another truth in the information:  The Circassians, in particular, were dead sure that there was no room left for them to peacefully  co-exist with the Bulgars.  They were definitely determined to abandon Bulgaria.

                Turkov Hamit was set to depart immediately.  For the sake of decency he it be known by Basti Osman and Havuduko Bislan.

                Osman considered it rather early to set out.  For the weather was too cold yet; the heights were snow covered, and the mountain passes were, therefore, hard to negotiate.

                Osman sent word to the neighboring villages.  Together with about twenty Thametes, including Havuduko Bislan and Sinan Naur, went to Turkov’s camp, and conveyed his own views.

                Turkov did his best to be accommodative.  He gravely replied Osman in a low tone:

              -  It is easy to say “Let us wait”. Inside this forest there are five thousand people.   We have pillages each one of the people dwelling in the area from Popova to Razgard.  At times we had to eat pork out of necessity.

                Osman groaned, “You are right!”

                He then turned to Havuduko Bislan, and suggested,

            -  Because we would be leaving this place in a short time, we would not need the corn and wheat stocked in our barns.  Neither would we need to save the domestic animals in our possession.  How about sharing them with our friends?

                Osman briefly paused, and continued.

            -  I am ashamed; I should have thought about it earlier.

                The party returned home without any further loss of time.

                On the following day the carriages were readied and horses were saddled.  All the surplus stock available in the three villages were moved to the camp of the Circassian refugees.

                Turkov Hamit and Şimitiko Ahmet expressed gratitude for the assistance; but regretted that they would not delay their departure more then ten days.

                 Osman reluctantly agreed to join the exodus.

                Havuduko Bislan, Sinan Naur and Yeftale Hamız, who had traveled far and wide in the area, recommended taking the Tırnova route.  It was the shortest and most convenient, they advocated.

                Turkov Hamit was not familiar with the area.  His ears, however, were receptive.  He could perceive was laid ahead. He warned,

              - There are both Russian troops and Bulgar guerrilla bands at the Şıpka Pass. Beware lest they do any ill to us!

                Osman painfully smiled, and added, “I hope not.”  He continued,

            -  The Ottomans and the Czar have made peace.  The war has ended!  The Bulgars want us to get out.  Therefore, they shouldn’t make any nonsense.

                “God willing, things would be all right as you forecast!”, Turkov responded, shaking his head.

                It was the end of March.  There was intermittent defrost snow-fall.  The cold seemed to be weaning away.

                Everyone was feverishly busy in one thing or other.  While the women were packing up the household items, the men groomed the horses, repaired the carriages and slaughtered the domestic animals, except the oxen, which would pull the carriages.  The slaughtered animals were partly consumed before departure, and partly cooked for consumption in the course of the journey.

                Skurun was in difficulty to decide which one of so many household items to carry.  She had piled up everything, and was struggling to make up her mind.

                At the sight of her dilapidated condition, Osman shouted,

                -  What is all this? The journey would take many days.  May be we are going to cross the sea.  How do you think we would carry so much things? What means of transportation do we have to carry them?

                Skurun settled down on one of the bundles, perplexed.  She did not answer her husband.
Osman continued,

                -  In all we have got five carriages.  Each family has to load their essential burden on one carriage.  Forget about horses.  The horses would be allotted to the mounted guards we are going to form.

                Skurun nodded, meaning “You are right”.  She was speechless.

                She had grown old.  She had gray hair.  She was a temperate old lady now, unlike her earlier hot-tempered one.  She had gotten used to difficulties and adversities.  She had learnt being patient.

               The sorrow and rage, which had overwhelmed her at the time of their departure from Caucasia, did not exist in the present instance.  Spiritually speaking, she was calm.  She had the premonition that things would go for the better.  While preparing for the journey, she had no trouble except  physical exhaustion.  She was contented.

                Nevertheless it was not an easy job to give up ones sweet home, the creation of which had cost one a lot of painstaking labor.  Only that was what bothered her.

                She frequently got together with her sisters and other females in the Basti district to discuss what to carry and what to leave.  Each time they found something or other to abandon.

                While the females made preparations at home, the males groomed the horses, overhauled the carriages, and oiled and loaded the weapons.

                In the Basti district, all the males were armed, except Osman.

                As usual, Basti advocated prudence.  He wanted the Russian made rifles should not be carried naked.  He mentioned it to Yaftale Hamız.

                Yeftale was the oldest person in the district.  His back was slightly hunched.  Despite it he was lively.  He retorted,

            -  You don’t know much about the weapons; where and how they are used, you don’t know.  Let me take care of that aspect of the matter.

              Osman did not answer him.  He sufficed with a light smile.

                                                  O0O
 

              Turkov Hamit, accompanied by Şirmitiko Ahmet and Aleşko Janket called on Osman on the second day of April to inform that they were ready to depart the next day.  He thanked Osman for being good enough to provide them with food supplies.Basti Osman tried to convince him of the advantages of moving together.  Turkov expressed his appreciation of Osman’s view, and explained why he wanted to move earlier.

            -  We are over five thousand persons.  If I am not mistaken, there are an equal number of persons in the three villages over here.  It would be a good idea to travel in batches, leaving some space in between.  It would be good from security point of view.  If one batch is attacked, the one before and the one after it can provide support.  We would be moving slowly, keeping the distance with your batch as short as possible.  If need be we would halt, to allow you to catch up.

               He paused, and added,

            -  The Circassians in the down stream Yantra basin have already moved out.  Any further loss of time would be of no use.

            Osman did not insist.

            In fact the inhabitants of Bastihabl were also ready to move.  Osman was  foot-dragging because he anticipated a sort of miracle.  He wanted to see someone come up and say, “Stop! There is no need for you to leave your place.  Peace has been restored.  Security of life is guaranteed for everyone!”  Nothing like that happened.

            Havuduko Bislan and Sinan Naur had been excited due to the departure of Turkov Hamit and his associates.  They discussed the situation with Osman and Hamız, and stressed that any further delay might prove dangerous.

            Yeftale Hamız had been conspicuously silent for the last few days.  While everyone argued on the mode of the impeding journey, Hamız strangely avoided being involved in the discussions.

             The three village raised armed guard unites, each consisted of fifty persons to protect the flanks.  A high speed mounted surveillance team was to reconnoiter the forward to keep the leaders informed of the situation ahead.

              They decided to set out late in April.  All the family prepared accordingly.  On that particular day of departure excitement was at the peak.  The grown ups had taken little sleep; for they worried about the journey fraught with dangers.  They got up before dawn.

                Skurun quietly got up that morning as usual.  She boiled water in the large teapot, prepared some wholesome Basti, and fed the household.

                Each family loaded their  baggages on their own carriages.

               A lot of bed and baggages, products of years of labor, had to be abandoned. Skurun made a last round of the rooms of her house, as she had done when leaving her home in Caucasia.  At the courtyard she could not withhold her tears.  She was outraged. She exclaimed.

            -  May God curse those who have destroyed our life in here! Let them suffer in this world, and be scorched in the hell hereafter. May God punish them! That is what I earnestly pray.

                All the females of the Basti district boarded the carriage already loaded with bags and baggages.  Idris helped his mother, Skurun, to board the carriage. She sat next to her daughter, Suret.

                Yeftale Hamız, his son Zekeriya and Pşılı Hakul were included in the specially selected armed mounted guards unit of the residents of Bastihabl.  They had already gone out of the village to join the guards from the other two sister villages, who were reconnoitering the path to be followed.

                The weather was moist and hazy.  It doubled the gloom of the refugees, who were departing their homes.

                It was the beginning of the spring season,  The nature was waking up.  The grass had sprouted, the plants were budding, and the birds were singing.  Nevertheless the refugees, desperate and unaware where they were headed to, were not in  the mood to appreciate the fascinating beauty of  nature.

                They arrived at Tırnova at dusk time.  But they did not enter the town.  They stopped by the side of a fountain for the night.

                The mounted guards unit, supervised by Havuduko Bislan and Sinan Naur, reconnoitered the area, and found out that they were not the only group camping there.

                Certain Circassian groups from the north had camped to the west of the town of Tırnova.  They too were headed to the south.

                Tirnova had been occupied by the Russians. There was a Russian military unit in place of the Turkish garrison. The Turkish districts had been evacuated.  The once busy town center seemed desolate.

                A group of Bulgar riders, about forty to fifty in number, approached the camp in the early hours of the evening.  They halted at a distance of about a hundred meters, and carefully scrutinized the refugees.

                Havoduko and Sinan alerted their men against any mischief by the Bulgars.

                Yeftale Hamız was also incensed at the sight of the  Bulgars.  He removed the sheath of his rifle and loaded it. Osman held Hamız’s arm, saying, “Hold on! Please stop it!” He went on,

            -  They intend to provoke us.  We have to be patient! Let us bear in mind that there is a Russian garrison in the town.

                Hamız din not respond.  Havuduko supported Osman. “Osman is right!” he stressed.

                A little while later the Bulgars disappeared.

                The leaders agreed to be prepared against a possible assault.  The carriages were positioned in an arch formation, keeping the animals inside it.  The guards stood alert all the night by turn.  At midnight a thin rainfall started, and  intermittently continued till the morning.

                The females and children sheltered under the carriages.  Others had a sleepless and troubled night.

                The rain stopped by sunrise.  The sky gradually cleared.

                After the morning prayer, Osman raised his hands, “O my God! I Thank you! the rain and cold do not matter; save us from other calamities!”  he beseeched.

                Osman had been worried about the intention of the Bulgar band.  The night passed without an incident.  He was content.

                                                   O0O
 

                True that Osman had implored  “...the rain and cold do not matter; save us from other calamities!”  However, the adverse weather condition, which he had considered of lesser significance, seriously pestered his people by time.  Suret, his daughter, began coughing on the very first morning of the journey.

                At night, following the rainfall, the temperature dropped.  The sharp change in temperature made the weaker ones sick.  There was nothing that could be done about it.  The convoy hit the road.

                They had to pass through the town of Tırnova under the     scornful gaze  of the Bulgars.

                There were hundreds and thousands of vehicles and riders moving on the road towards the Şıpka Pass.  A large part of the refugees traveled on foot.

                There were fewer Turkish refugees now. The Circassians and Tatars formed the bulk of the refugees on the move. They passed the second night at Gabrova, and on the third day early in the afternoon they reached the skirts and the slope leading to the Şıpka Pass.

                The fall in temperature because of the night rainfall had induced the earlier arrivals to lit bonefire at numerous spots. May be at over a hundred places smoke towered to the sky.

                Osman and the other leaders of the group wondered as to why such a large crow should have stopped at so an inapt place.  Before they could proceed forward to find out what had been the matter, they sighted Turkov Hamit and Şirmitiko Ahmet approaching towards them.

                Şirmitiko was extremely nervous.  He reeled off.  “God damn Russians confront us here too!”  he shouted in agitation.

                Havuduko Bislan approached Şirmitiko, held the reigns of his horse, and inquired, “Okay, tell us what do they want?”

                “They seek trouble! What else would they,” the latter replied, as he jumped down from his horse.

                 Turkov Hamit was somewhat calm.  He patiently explained the situation.

             -  The Russians have set up a check-post before the Pass.  The Bulgar bands have taken position on the cliffs. “You can’t pass through here before you surrendered your weapons”, they say.

                Şirmitiko had tics on his face, was striking his leather whip at his right leg, and kicked the ground like a wild horse.  He demanded,

            - There are at least six or seven hundred thousand riders in here! Let us hit them and pass through!

            He paused briefly and continued,

          - We would have done so long ago; thought it would be better to wait for you to catch up.

            Osman excitedly raised his right hand.  “No! No! It is impossible!  We have got to be patient!”, he exclaimed. He continued:

            -  Let us assume that we did away with the Russians and the Bulgars over there. But what about the rest?  You too are well aware that there are thousands of enemy troops across the mountain.  A part the enemy troops are at the gates of Istanbul at the moment.

                Şirmitiko was mad out of desperation.  He used abusive language, disregarding the tradition. Osman responded in a similar mood.  Şirmitiko went on:

            -  Okay! What does our wise Basti think we should do?  Should we lick the feet of those rascals, like hungry dogs?

                He paused, and continued, inflating his cheek-pouches and breathing through his nostrils.

            - I would prefer to be killed fighting, rather than doing that!

            “I have told you we got to be patient!”, Osman attempted to calm down Şirmitiko Ahmet.  Osman went on,

            - Tomorrow morning we will go up and meet the commanders of the Russian troops there.  We will have a talk with him.  We aren’t going to stay here for good!  We must find a way out.

             Şirmitiko gazed at others, waved his hand as a sign of desperation, and said:

            -  Look at the wise man! I have told you that we had already talked.  What is the use of talking again?

                He then turned to Osman and in his own right he made new a revelation:

             - They say that we have got Russian weapons.  They insist that we should definitely surrender those weapons.

                He paused, and gazed at Osman in an inquiring manner. And then articulated his question:

            -  Do you mean we hand over our weapons, and surrender to the Bulgars?  Do you know what will happen then  They will kill us, and molest our wives and daughters.  No one Adiğe would ever tolerate such an insult!

                Osman, in a serious mood, shook his head, meaning “absolutely so!” He said,

            - I didn’t say ‘let us surrender’.  I said ‘let us talk and find a way out.’

            Basti Osman turned to Turkov Hamit, and said:

          -  It is no good taking on such a serious matter while standing.  Let us sit and talk.  Let us decide what we ought to do.

            In the meantime the youth had let the horse loose to graze in the nearby meadow.  The females were busy preparing for the evening meal.  The children had clustered, and were curiously staring at the other refugee camps around them.  They looked gloomy,  for they were vaguely aware that something was amiss.

            Skurun having noticed the group of males approaching, took out a rug, and spread it over the grass.  Suret, intermittently coughing, lent a helping hand to her mother.

              The leaders took some food together, invited a few persons from other camps, and debated for a while as to how they should behave under the circumstance.

                Osman stressed that it would be extremely unwise to get nervous and do something wrong; and that they had to talked over, and to find a solution to the problem.  He did his best to persuade the leaders.

                In the process he narrated an old incident, when  many years ago he was on an Adiğe delegation, who went to Taman meet Czar Alexander II.  The meeting was spoiled due to impolite outburst by Daruk, son of the Abzeh leader Hacı Tlam.  The exile of the Circassians had been caused by such an impertinent outburst.

                Basing the argument on his experience of the unhappy incident in Taman, Osman suggested that only one person should speak with the Russian commander.  He volunteered to act as the spokesman, provided everyone consented.

                Majority of the leaders agreed to Osman’s proposal, on one condition: They would not surrender the weapons.

                                                   O0O
 

                Czar Alexander, like all his predecessors, was a patient and cautious person.  He was conscious that it would not be feasible to demand a Bulgaria, whose territories would extend to Edirne.  Therefore, his initial target was to detach, from the Ottoman State, the territories to the north of the Greater Balkan Mountain. He had secured the agreement of the Bulgar nationalists on that point in advance.

                Terrorizing the population in the south-  in Sofia., Filibe and Eski Zağra,  had been aimed at intimidating the people in the north; so that a process of “ethnic purge” could be accomplished by forcing the non-Slavic elements to migrate to the south, a strategy which would explain the guarding of the mountain passes Hain and Şıpka so closely.

                One Russian Battalion, supported by artillery batteries, had been deployed on either side of the Şıpka Pass. Besides, about fifteen hundred Bulgar militiamen had also been positioned on the slopes.

                The secessionist Bulgar leaders had cowed and exploited the Russian officers of lesser will power,  with whose connivance  they destroyed hundreds of villages and massacred thousands of Muslims.

                Osman could not figure out the designs of the Russians and the Bulgars; But had been certain about the fact that the Ottomans had lost the war, and therefore had lost predominance in Bulgaria.  Hence there could be no room in Bulgaria  for the Muslims, and for that matter for the Turks and the Circassian.

                Under the impact of such conjectures, Osman had a bad night.  He got up early than usual; offered the morning prayer, and implored, “O Almighty! Spare me from being letdown before my people!”

                It was well after sunrise when Turkov and others arrived at Osman’s camp.  The party immediately set out for the Checkpoint.

                Havuduko and Sinan also accompanied Osman.  Yeftale Hamız, however, remained at the camp to take care of the security.

                The Russian Battalion guarding the northern approach to Şıpka Pass was stationed at a nearby village, which was once inhabited by the Turks, who had migrated about a year ago.  The Commanding Officer, a colonel, had been housed in the most comfortable dwelling of the village.

                It was a double storied villa, with a beautiful garden and plenty of fruit trees  in the backyard.  It reflected the prosperity enjoyed by its erstwhile residents.

                The soldiers received Osman and his companion at the entrance of the village.  The Sergeant on duty inquired as to what had brought them there.

                Osman dismounted his horse, nicely approached the Sergeant, and politely told him that they wanted to see the Commandant.

                The Sergeant smirked as he remarked, “Too many representations”.  He curtly added,

            -  My colonel would not change his orders.  You know it.  He wouldn’t allow you to pass unless you surrendered the weapons.  So no need to see him.

                Osman painfully smiled, and insisted,

             -  I am a new arrival.  It would be my first visit to the colonel.  What I intend to state is different than that of the preceding visitors. Would you be kind enough to convey him our request to receive us?

                The Sergeant stared at Osman, bemused. Then he gazed at the men behind him and answered:
            -  You’re too many.  I can let in only three of you.  The rest of you mat wait here.

             “Very well!” , said Osman.  He turned to his companions, and repeated in Adiğe whatever the Sergeant had told him, and added that they had to conform with what he had said.

            Şirmitiko attempted to say something; but Osman stopped him.  “Let us not argue in the presence of these men” he cautioned. Accompanied by Turkov Hamit and Havuduko Bislan, Osman followed the Sergeant.

             The ground floor of the colonel’s residence had been turned to his official headquarters.

            The Sergeant entered the room, and announced that a Circassian speaking Russian, not so good though, wanted to see the colonel. It evoked some interest in the colonel.    Osman and his colleagues were showed in.

            “Come in, come in please!”, the colonel cheerfully accosted as Osman and two of his colleagues appeared at the door. His countenance was confidence inspiring, be it a pretense though.  He said,

            -  The Sergeant informs me that you have got something to tell me.  I gather one of you speaks Russian.  Who is that honorable gentleman?

                Osman took a step forward.  “It is me Colonel!” he replied.

              “O, I see”, the colonel said, as he got up from his seat.  He came closer to Osman.

            - Where and how did you learn Russian?

              Osman blushingly smiled.

            -  Back in Caucasia, I lived in Tsemez, that is Novorososki. For many years I had been supplying the garrison there with provisions.

                The Colonel smiled as he remarked, “It seems you are an old friend”.

            - All the time I had good relations with the commandant of the garrison.

                The colonel was impressed by Osman’s modesty and respectful manners.  He appreciated Osman speaking in Russian, though not up to the standard.  He showed him and his friends chairs to sit.

                The colonel had served in Caucasia as a young officer.  He had been in the eastern sector.  He was not familiar though with the Black Sea coast.  They talked about Caucasia for a good length of time.  He was decent enough to express his personal regret over the banishment of the Circassians from their homeland.

                Osman decided it was the right moment to submit his request.

              -  My Colonel!  You are aware of the misery already suffered by our people. By force of circumstances, now we have had to abandon our newly earned home.  But your soldiers do not allow us passage to the south.

                The colonel suddenly assumed a serious pose.  He roared,

             -Who says that?  There is nothing like that.  We only want you to leave your weapons here and go.

                He momentarily paused, slightly leaned towards Osman, and said,

            -  The war is over. What for should you need the weapons?

                Osman replied in a sorrowful tone, as he painfully smiled,

            - I don’t know where we are headed to.  We might be in need of the weapons to protect our own life, and the safeguard our wives and children before we find a place to settle down! Please allow us to keep our weapons!

                The colonel pondered for a moment.  Osman’s words seemed reasonable to him.

            -  The Circassians did not at all behave nicely in Bulgaria. They have been involved in incident of pillage and murder.  The Bulgars have rightly demanded that you people should be disarmed.

              Osman intended to answer him on the point; but the colonel allowed him no chance. He continued,

            -  I will let you carry your weapons.  But on one condition:  You shall not cause any incident before you leave this country.  Would you promise me?  You in particular; would you stand guarantee for your people?

            Basti Osman’s face glowed.  “Yes, I would”, he stammered, as he smiled.

            -   Please rest assured, we shall not cause any unrest so long as we are not harassed!

               Osman narrated the incident of the attempted provocation by the Bulgars in Tırnova.  He concluded,

            -We know that the are armed Bulgars on both sides of the Şipka Pass.  Please warn them so that we can  pass through without causing any incident.

              The colonel replied,

            -  Okay.  Right now I am going to issue the necessary order.   Besides I am going to dispatch a mounted detachment to supervise the passage.

                He summoned a young captain; he told him some thing in Russian in a subdued tone.  The captain, by a movement of his head confirmed having understood  the order, and left the room in brisk pace.

                The colonel turned to Osman.  “Now that there are not problems between us, I may serve you a drink or  something.” he said.  He, however had a second thought.  He helplessly opened his fold, and said,

             -  We have got only vodka and wine to offer; but you wouldn’t take them.

                Osman thanked him.  He stressed that the colonel had already obliged them best by allowing them to pass through mountain.Turkov Hamit and Havuduko Bislan had not understood much of the convers
ation.  Osman’s cheerful appearance had induced  them to be hopeful.

                The moment they stepped out of the colonel’s office, Havuduko Bislan implored, “Basti! For God’s sake tell us, what is going on?”

                Osman eased his friends in one short sentence:

              - We are going!

                The sergeant had been listening, in alert position, to the conversation in the office room between his commandant and the Circassian spokesman.  He attributed the outcome to his own genius.  He explicitly mentioned it to Osman.  It was all evident that he expected a reward.

                Basti took out a gold coin from his pocket, and stuck it on to the palm of the sergeant.  “Believe me it is all I could afford”, he apologized in whisper, to nip the sergeant’s expectation.

                The refugee representatives held outside the village were anxious by the hour; for the meeting had taken too long than they expected.  They were increasingly troubled.

                The sergeant and Osman, side by side, were walking in the front.  Turkov and Havuduko followed them a few paces behind.

                Şimitiko Ahmet, extremely tense and desperate as he had been, jumped up at the sight of Osman and others. “Our boys are coming!” he excitedly shouted.

                Osman, exchanged farewell with the sergeant.  He did not say anything to the ones outside the barrier before the party distanced from the sentry-shed.

                When they had covered a bout a hundred meters, Şimitiko Ahmet spurred his horse  close to Osman’s, and burst out,

            -  Basti! you are going to crack us! Come on; tell us what happened?

            Osman replied,

          -  Don’t worry! Everything is okay.  We ought to discuss!

                Basti led the leaders straight to his own camp, where he briefed them about what had transpired at the colonel’s office, and warned them about possible hazards in transit.  He added,

          -  First of all I want you to clearly understand one thing: The route we are going to follow from here down to Istanbul is entirely controlled by the Russian army.  Let us not allow any incident by being provoked by the Bulgars. We would be doomed if we were to be drowned into an armed clash. Let no one forgets that we are traveling along with our families and small children!

                He paused for a moment, and continued speaking:

            -  The commandant is going to assign patrols to either side of the Pass.  We should delay our departure, to allow time for the patrol-men to reach their destinations.  For God’s sake let everyone stay were he is! We will be leaving here altogether tomorrow morning.

                Osman dwelt on all the points he considered important.  He spoke in quite some length, and in conclusion he said,

              -  Once we hit the road, let us move in compact formation.  Let us have consultation as often as may be necessary.  Should we a able to maintain a strong solidarity, we would be able to surmount any problem that comes on our way.

                                                 O0O
 

                More than thirty-thousand refugees had been accumulated in front to the Şıpka Pass.  Most of them were Circassians.  The remaining part consisted of the Turks, Tatars and Pomaks.In the aftermath of the colonel’s permission, all the refugee groups lined up to pass through the checkpoint.  The  vehicles, in single file, the  riders and those on foot formed a convoy, several kilometers long.

                Over the slopes on either side of the gorge. Batches of armed Bulgars were visible over the slopes on either side of the pass.  Apparently they were not poised to attack. Their task was claimed to be to regulate and expedite passage of the refugees.

                It took three days for the refugees to cross the mountains.

                While negotiating the pass, Osman’s group had spent two nights at the heights under sub-zero temperature.  They had quite a difficult time.

                  Suret’s health condition further deteriorated.  She had fits  of coughing, which almost suffocated her.  She was too weak to raise her head.

                Skurun wrapped her daughter with a woolen quilt.  Even then she was cold.  She shivered, rattling her jaws.

                Osman decided to get his daughter examined by a physician as soon as they arrived at Eski Zağra.   Hence the convoy camped outside the town.

                There were only one doctor and a few attendant left at the Town Hospital.  The bulk of the hospital personnel had escaped during the route.

                The physician examined Suret.  He didn’t like her condition.  He let Osman know the situation:

            -  Do you know what pneumonia means?  To put it simply; she has exposed herself to severe cold.  If you wish her to survive, she must stay in the hospital for at least one week.

                Skurun and Hamız too were there.  Osman gazed at them in desperation. Do you understand  what this man says?  he asked; and added, “Suret is supposed to stay here for one week!”

                Skurun’s eyes gathered tears. Desperately she bowed her head.

                Yeftale Hamız gazed at his nephew, laying pale and weak. “Can’t help it.  We  will stay for one week,” he responded.

                Suret was admitted at the hospital.  Osman and Hamız returned to the camp.

                Basti was not of the same opinion as Hamız was.  He did not deem it advisable detain that large a convoy for the sake of his own daughter.  The fast depleting food supply could pose a serious problem.

                Osman had been told that from Sofia one could reach Istanbul by railway.  Though he had no idea about the terms “railway” or “ train; he did seek confirmation of the statement from the hospital personnel.

                He talked over the matter with the elders in the camp, including Havuduko, Sinan and Hamız. He suggested:

            -  You need not wait for us here.  You keep on going! After a week we will go to Filibe, where we will take a train to Istanbul. We will be in Istanbul before you arrive there.

                Hamız strongly objected.  Osman insisted, and  finally prevailed.

                Osman, though managed to obtain the concent of the males, faced with difficulty in persuading the females.  Skurun’s sisters wouldn’t agree to part with her. They began to cry.

                In a sense they were right.  They remembered very well that the relatives whom they had  parted with in Tsemez, hoping to meet in Varna, were still missing.  They were afraid lest it turned out to be a similar episode.

                Hamız pulled his two sisters to one side, and assured them that he would be staying with them, and that very soon the Basti Family would certainly catch up with them.  “I promise!” Hamız earnestly  told them.

                Karej and Nefin, doubtfully gazed at their elder brother,   sobbing.  They resigned; for the sisters feared lest Hamız lose his patience.

                The following day the main refugee convoy set out for Edirne.  It was led by Turkov Hamit and Şirmitiko Ahmet.

                At the moment of separation the Yeftale daughters once again shed tears, especially as they bade farewell to their nephew Idris.

               Karej, the eldest of the sisters, wiped her eyes clean,    gazed at Osman, and said

            - Vosmen!”¹  I am not at ease at all.  An inner voice tells me that we might not see each other again.  You are sending us away without letting us see our sister for the last time.  You shouldn’t have done that!

                The old woman bent her head in distress.  Having resigned to her fate, she uttered her seemingly final words:

             -  What can we do!  That is the will of God.  No one can change it.  I seek His protection.  Good-bye!

                Osman attempted to appease his sister-in-law:

            -  There is nothing to be worried about!  Rest assured, we will catch you up.  Even if we are delayed, I shall certainly trace you out.

            Karej and Nefin, helplessly boarded the carriage.

            Hamız’s wife Hanses, and Serkuse Hüseyin’s wife Goşemef also bade “Good-bye” to Osman.

            There were nearly a dozen young boys and girls; all relatives, and all had grown up together in the same courtyard.  All of them were fond of Osman, and had high regard for him.  They passed by him in turn one by one.  And the girls boarded the carriage, and the boys rode on their horses.

            Idris had grown to a stout young man.  He also mounted his horse.  As the convoy departed, he approached the vehicle which carried his aunts.  He said “Good-bye!” to her.  For a while he drove along the vehicle, posing cheerful, exchanged jokes with the boys, and turned back a little while later to join his father.

            Now there were only the elders left with the Bastis.  Yeftale Hamız, Koce Neov, Bjafe Musa and Sekuse Hüseyin stood there motionless, not knowing what to do or what to say, holding the harness of their horses.

            “Okay! Get going!”, Osman commanded.  They individually bade him good-bye and walked away trailing their horses up to a distance,  manifesting  reverence to Osman.

            Bjafe Musa’s horse  had been crippled while crossing the mountains.  Osman, hoping that himself would be covering  the rest of the journey on train, had given his own horse to Musa.  He walked to the carriage.  He got on to it.  He was overwhelmed by distress.  He was unwittingly looking at the flood of countless refugees and vehicles distancing from him.

            Hakul, the young Pşılı, removed the fodder bags from the neck of the horses and placed them at the front side of the vehicle.  He waved his hand pointing at Idris to warn him to move along.

            Föye, the orphan Basti, also had stayed with Osman’s party.  He had virtually been a shadow of Hakul since he had joined the family.  He was with Hakul now, as he has been ever  been  before.

            Basti Osman’s eyes were still fixed on the tail of the convoy proceeding to the east. It  almost disappeared at the horizon.
As the vehicle rocked him, he came to woke up. He murmured by himself: “I hope things will end up happily!”  He checked if his son was around.

            Osman sighted Idris, driving in the wake of the carriage, lively on the back of his horse with its belly sank due to starvation.

            There were very few Turks left in the town.  They were not to be seen around.  Therefore, Osman ruled out staying at an inn.  He decided to park the vehicle before the hospital,  spend the night there, and  to manage as the situation may demand the next day.

            At the courtyard of the hospital Osman was received by Kasım Ağa.

            Kasım Ağa had been a footman of the hospital for many years.  The old man had been honestly serving  for whole of his life without distinction whether his client was a Turk or a Bulgar.  He had not changed a bit during the bleak days of the war either.

             On one occasion, when the Bulgars raided the hospital, he was neither scared nor did anything  that would provoke them to further their heinousness.  On the contrary he could address them in a manner that helped a few of the raiders to restrain.  He had told them,

            -  You brigands!  Is it valorous to assault a hospital? What business could you have with the helpless people in throe of death?  If you are manly, go and demonstrate you courage elsewhere!

                At the hospital courtyard there were a few Turkish soldiers and about ten Bulgars, all disabled by the war, some without an arm and some without a leg.  They were basking in the sun, on top of a couch.

                Both the Turks and the Bulgars had forgotten enmity .  They were engaged in friendly conversation.  The pain they suffered and the common destiny had fused them together.

                Kasım Ağa had seen Osman the day before.  He immediately recognized him.  “Welcome grand Circassian!”, ha accosted.  “You are held up because of your daughter, isn’t it? God willing, she will be all right soon!”, he added.

                He then turned to Idris and Pşılı Hakul to show them the stable to the east of the courtyard.  He told them that they could leave the horse in the stable and themselves stay in one of the rooms meant for drivers and  grooms.

                Osman, leaving Kasım Ağa to attend to the boys, anxiously rushed into the hospital.  He found his wife and daughter as he had left them the day before.

                Suret was a bit more pale and weak, laying motionless on the bed with her eyes closed. Skurun was sitting at end of the bed, dilapidated; her head hung down.

                Skurun, having heard her husbands foot steps, raised her head.  She jumped up at his sight.  She had not slept the whole night.  Sorrow and exhaustion had ruined her.

                “How is the child?” , Osman asked.

                “No good!” Skurun replied, and added:

                -  She hasn’t open her eyes since yesterday.

                                                  O0O
 

                The British and French diplomatists and journalists had ,in the meantime, informed the world opinion of the atrocities committed by the Russian Cossacks and the Bulgars during the war.  Its repercussions  were manifested in the diplomatic arena.  Britain condemned Russia  for the massacre of civilian population and the displacement of the masses, forcing them to migrate; practices,  which were blatant violations of minimum international standards for  the warring nations.

                The Ottoman and Russian delegations  signed an armistice on March 3, 1878 at Yeşilköy.  It formed a framework of negotiations for a Peace Agreement.

                In the aftermath of the cessation of hostilities, and the reaction manifested by the West; the tyranny that had been  unleashed in the territories occupied by Russia  slowed down.  The Russian high command warned their field commanders to halt the violence.

                 The Ottoman Government, on the other hand took steps to stop the migration.  They endeavored to persuade the Turkish refugees to return to their home.

                The Ottoman administrative mechanism in the European sector had been profoundly shaken.  The senior officials had left their posts; and had taken shelter in more secure place in the east.  Only a few duty-conscious junior staff members had remained in the counties and villages.  The routine affairs were managed by them in the face of the prevailing adversities.

                The aged doctor at the hospital in Eski Zağra, Kasım Ağa, and other servicemen, belonged to the same category.  At the County Office, Osman found a few functionaries, engaged in resetting the racks and  filing cabinets damaged by the Bulgar guerrilla bands.   However, they were bewildered and desperate.  They needed an authority to guide them.

                Osman had lost hope in the recovery of his daughter.  He requested Kasım Ağa to find a hoca, a Muslim pries. “I want him to read some verses from the  holy Qur’an for the child in throes”, he implored.

                “Did you hear any Azan, the call for prayer, ever since you arrived here?, the old man regretfully asked Osman.  He went on,

                -  The foremost victims of the Bulgar wrath were the servants of the religion, the priest.  They murdered the religious teachers, whom they could lay hand upon.  They set to fire the Mufti’s office, located in the courtyard of the mosque.  At the present moment the Muslims are afraid of attending the mosque.  They offer the prayers at their houses, without an Azan.

                    He briefly paused and continued in a reassuring tone,

                -  Don’t worry!  We will find a remedy.  If need by, I might do the job!

                                                            O0O
 

                Suret passed away after less than one week since her admittance in the hospital.  Skurun had the urge to cry at the top of her voice, beating her chest. She couldn’t do that.  An ominous  total silence had prevailed the hospital atmosphere for days.  She didn’t dare to disturb it.

                In fact she didn’t have the energy to scream, either.  The misery, and the sleepless days and nights had consumed her stamina.

                She embraced her daughter’s body, while she silently cried for hours.  She was nearly suffocated.  She partially lost conciseness.

                Osman had lost three of his children in Bulgaria.  He murmured by himself:

            - O God! What do you have in store for us?  Are we destined to perish?  Are the Adiğe people going to be obliterated from the surface of the earth?  Was it that the Adiğes so senselessly chose to migrate, in accordance with  They providence to perish?

                His spirit was in tumult.  He was not conscious as to what he was saying and what he was doing.  He did not sense Kasım Ağa’s presence, holding his arm, while he was walking through the hospital corridor.

                It was early in the morning.  Osman sighted his son and the other two boys in the courtyard.  Idris was crying, leaning against the wheel of the carriage.  Pşılı Hakul and Föye were standing in the background.  The too were sobbing, their hand pressed against their faces. Osman partially regained consciousness; he gazed at Kasım Ağa, with a renewed sense of responsibility.  “Would you please tell me what we ought to do now?”, he asked him.

                “You do not worry,” Kasım Ağa replied, trying to soothe Osman. He added,

             -  You take care of your wife.  Her condition is awful.  Leave the rest to me to handle.

                During the past one week, the old man had seen enough of Pşılı Hakul to judge him.  He had found Hakul an aggressive and resourceful young man.

                Kasım Ağa approached Hakul, and tapped his shoulder.  “That is enough!”, he admonished, and added:

            -  Last night a crowded Circassian group arrived in the town.  A part of the group camped in the courtyard of the main mosque.  The bulk of the group chose to camp outside the town.  Go and tell them that the angelic daughter of a Circassian Prince has died.  Ask them to attend her funeral prayer.

                Hakul looked bewildered for a moment, then he nodded, meaning  “I got it!”.  He went to the stable, mounted Idris’s horse, and hurriedly drove out of the hospital courtyard.

                In Eski Zağra there was a Muslim priest nick-named “Deli Hafiz”² , who lead the prayer in one of the district mosques. The Bulgars had made an abortive attempt against his life.  His legs were wounded. He had survived by hiding in a hay-shed for several days without food and water.  Now he could move around, laming, in search of  livelihood.

                Kasım Ağa spotted Deli Hafiz.  “Come on, let us go!”,   he told him.  and added:

            -  A Circassian prince has lost his daughter.  You are going to climb the minaret of the main mosque, and make the announcement for the funeral prayer.  You know how? At the peak of you voice, so that it resounds throughout the  town!

                Deli Hafiz, supporting on his walking stick, skidded across the door-step.  He came very close to Kasım Ağa.  He protested,

                -You are more daring than myself!  The Bulgars would greet me with a volley of  bullets. Did you give a thought over this aspect of the matter?

                Kasım Ağa nodded and replied,

            -  Yes I did.  Within and around the town there are at least ten-thousand Circassians right now.  Did you know it?  Let us not miss the opportunity.  Let us resume calling the faithful to prayer from the minarets.

                Deli Hafiz nodded, and confirmed,

            - Yes I understood.  I will be there.  Let me go in and have ablution.

                Kasım Ağa did some thing else also in the meantime.  He sent word to the Muslim quitters of the town, and asked everyone to assemble at the Mosque.

                About an hour later there began to form a large crowd around the Main Mosque.  Then there came in, from different directions, the Circassians camping outside the town.  All of them carried fire-arms.

                The Turkish community present there stirred as Deli Hafiz showed up.  The crowd parted, to allow him to pass through.  The Circassians, cognizant of his being a holy man, alighted from their horses in reverence.

                Deli Hafiz had a powerful enchanting voice.  He climbed the minaret, and began reciting the Azan , the call for prayer.  Despite the big crowd, there was a total silence. There was nothing to be heard except his voice, resounding.  The listeners were  overwhelmed with a profound morale satisfaction.

                The Bulgars had sensed that there had been some sort of extra-ordinary situation.  The ones in the outdoor, disappeared into the alleys, or retired to their homes.  However, they did not neglect anxiously watching the large crowd.

                The Russian garrison in the town did not move, sufficed  surveying  the event from a distance.

                Kasım Ağa had called in a few old Turkish women to washed  clean the body of the young girl and prepared it to be coffined. One of the women fetched a coffin-cloth from her own house.  It was one she had saved for herself.  “By providence, it belonged to the deceased”, she  declared; and passed it to the eldest of the women.

                Skurun did not understand Turkish.   She just quietly watched the women performing the ritual ablution of the dead in preparation for burial.

                1. She was, however, calm both physically and spiritually.  Her eyes had reddened and eye-lids swollen due to excessive weeping.  She seemed resigned to her fate.  Her lips were moving, was praying for the virtuous persons who had been so kind to the Basti family.  “O Almighty God,  bless them all with They paradise!” , she implored.  As the time for the noon-time-prayer  approached, a small group carried the coffin  from the hospital to the mosque.  A group of women, relatives of Kasım Ağa, led away Skurun to their house, so as not to leave her by herself.

                     The Mosque was full to the brim.  Many had to stay outside.  The Circassian youth stayed outside to attend the horses of themselves and of those inside the mosque.

                     Following the noon-time-prayer,  the funeral prayer was offered, and subsequently the coffin of the young girl was carried over the shoulders out of the mosque towards the graveyard.  The crowd followed Deli Hafiz, in procession.
 The Circassian elders got mixed up with the Turkish community.  Those of the middle and younger generations rode their horses in a single file on either side of the procession.  Osman followed immediately after a smaller group of men who carried the coffin, changing hands.  Osman was flanked by Kasım Ağa to his right, and a Circassian Thamete named Harete Harun to his left.  The Circassian group led by Harete Harun and Zibe Yusuf were persons held at high esteem by the Circassian refugees camped outside the town.  They were the leaders of the refugee group from the Silistre, Ruscuk and Ziştov region. They had followed the course of the Yantra Stream down to Tırnova, and had passed through the Şıpka Pass, as Osman and his party had done.  Actually they formed quite a large group.  A part of them had been held up on the way for various reasons, and were expected to catch up at Eski Zağra.

                     Harete Harun was an aged person.  In his youthful days he had met Osman’s father, Bastiko Pşımef.  That is why he showed a particular concern towards Osman.

                     Osman had overcome the grief after all those  manifestations of sympathy.  He was overwhelmed by a serene feeling.  He could not imagine it possible. In an environment completely strange to him, he suddenly found himself amongst several thousand  people sharing this grief.  It was indeed a great blessing of God.  He, thereby, regained his faith and courage;  his hopes renewed, and the fear of being perished disappeared.  He had experienced similar sentiments at the time of his departure from Caucasia, and on several occasions subsequently.  The first episode of migration, the Bulgar rebellions,  and the War were events which had constantly worried him.  At each crisis he had found himself amongst people who shared with him common faith and values.  That had helped him to regain self-confidence and courage.

                     But yet not everything was clear to him.  The ideas and sentiments dominating him were as hazy and variable as in one’s dream.

                     His consciousness was not yet amply clear while the congregation buried his daughter’s body in the Muslim Cemetery.  He  witnessed the ritual with dimmed eyes, amidst a serene spiritual atmosphere.

                     Osman returned to the bitter realities of life.  To leave his daughter behind had seemed to him as something impossible.

                     Osman had not been so much afflicted while burying his elder son and elder daughter in the Yantra Valley. At that time he had a settled life close to the place where they had been buried.  His younger daughter, however, was buried in transit, at a foreign land, all alone.  It was a different situation.

                     He unwittingly turned back and look at her grave.  She was one of the thousands buried there in the past one year.  He noticed she was not alone there.

                    He murmured by himself under a strange emotion:

                 - My dear, we entrust you to those who came here before you.  May God bless you.

                                                  O0O
 

                 Osman was keen to go to Filibe  to take a train to Istanbul.  Harete Harun and Zibe Yusuf did not approve the idea.  They considered it a hazardous proposition, and urged him to join their convoy.

                 Had Kasım Ağa not interfered, he would not have changed his mind.  Until then he had persisted to believe that   was the best way to catch up with his relatives.

                 Kasım Ağa was a receptive person.  He was aware of the developments, as well as he was familiar with the area.  He stared at Osman, knitting his eyebrows.  “Do you know where Filibe is located?”, he admonished.  He further said,

             -  Filibe is far away to the rear.  You would hardly reach there in one week.  Besides, there are thousands of refugees in motion between Filibe and Sofia.  Some moving up and some moving down the way.  You would be lost in that ocean of human being, mind you!

                 Osman hopelessly gave in.  On the third day after burying his daughter, he set out along with the convoy led by Harete Harun.

                 He was touched while parting with Kasım Ağa.  He was at a loss what to say.  He would have had a very difficult time without him.  It was impossible to repay his kindness.  He was for more sentimental than paying for a service rendered, while handing him over a small sack of coins.  He could utter no more than “May God bless you, Kasım Ağa!”

                 The path from Eski Zağra to the south was a rough and narrow one.  As the convoy proceeded on, they witnessed unending horrible scenes of the remains of wracked vehicles and human and draft animal skeletons.  There were innumerable patches of freshly raised earth, the hurriedly improvised graves of the ones who had died in transit.

                 They finally entered the main Sofia-Edirne highway.  Upon reaching this junction,  he appreciated what Kasım Ağa had meant.

                 The Government wanted to send back the refugees swarming in the direction of Istanbul.  The officials, who blocked the road at intervals, were trying to persuade them to  turn back, and partly succeeded. The miserable crowd were partly moving to the east and partly to the west.  There was a total chaos on the road.

                 In addition; the Russian invasion and the Bulgar atrocities had provoked the Turks in the Rodop Region to revolt.  They had formed small strike forces, and had been hitting the Bulgar villages and the Russian patrols.

                 The Ottoman Sultan and his Government,  concerned as they had been lest the situation culminate into a renewed belligerency between them and the Russians,   had dispatched an official delegation to appease the population. The rebellion had been suppressed recently.

                 Nevertheless tension persisted in Hasköy, Harmanlı, Mestanlı and Kırcali.  On the pretext of the disturbances, the Russian military had tightened control of  the communication in the area.  Hence the movement of refugee convoys was been seriously hampered. The large convoy of Circassians, led by  Harete Harun and Zibe Yusuf had therefore slowed down, causing unnecessary loss of time.  The convoy reached Edirne in the middle of May.

                 More than three-hundred-thousand refugees had accumulated in and around  Edirne.  They perished in hundreds a day because of starvation and diseases.

                 The Russian army had overrun Edirne and Thrace without meeting with any resistance.  Hence they had seized the arsenal and the food stocks available in the whole area.

                 The Russian military authorities, now in possession of food stocks, in contravention of the terms of armistice, remained aloof in the face of the civilian masses dying of starvation.  Thanks to the initiatives of Fasso Efendi that they finally yielded to reason, though on a very limited scale.

                 Fasso Efendi, a Catholic Christian of Albanian extraction, had been a consultant to the Governor of Edirne.  He had been retained in service even after the Russian occupation, and had been helpful to the civilians in general.

                 The humanitarian relief work initiated by Fasso Efendi had come to fruition by the time the Circassian convoy  led by Harete Harun and Zibe Yusuf arrived in Edirne.  Members of the Government Refugees Relief Commission and the International Relief Committees had reached the Refugee camps in the area; and the Health Care Teams had been mobilized.

                 All the refugees aspired to reach Istanbul soonest possible.  They believed that once that dream of theirs materialized, all their woes would automatically end.

                 The fact of the matter, however, was that the streets of Istanbul were impassable with panicked crowd; The Sultan Ahmet Square and all the mosques  and publics shelters were full to the brim.

                 The Harete Harun group proceeded, turning deaf ears to the persuasions otherwise.  The convoy included at least five thousand armed men.  They could not, therefore,  be checked by civilian officials. They were able come as far as Çorlu, where  the Turkish military blocked their way.

                     There had been an uprising in Istanbul only two days earlier. Refugee  masses, led by Ali Suavi had attacked the Çirağan Palace.  The citizens also held the Sultan and his Government responsible for the rout.  Therefore, the rebellion had been widely supported.  Entry to and exit from Istanbul, therefore, had been prohibited due to political considerations that had emerged from the upheaval.

                     To avoid any potential threat to security, the large refugee convoy was divided in two parts.  Harete Harun and Zibe Yusuf were taken under arrest, and together with their relatives, were moved to Tekirdağ, on the western coast of the Marmara Sea.  The remaining part of the convoy, Basti Osman and his family included,  was directed to the neighborhood of Silivri.

                     The refugees so split up under compelling conditions, could hope for little chance to meet again, what to speak of reuniting.

                     The victims of the break up were not only   friends and neighbors.  In many instances, relatives and family members had gone astray in the chaos attendant with the break up process.

                     The group led by Harete and Zibe Yusuf were carried to the Syrian shores on board of a British vessel.  The group, including Basti Osman and family, by accident boarded Turkish vessels, and were carried to the Port of Badırma, on the western coast of the Marmara.