The Great Lie A Novel By Petre Nakovski (Translated from Macedonian to English and edited by Risto Stefov) The Great Lie A Novel Published by: Risto Stefov Publications [email protected] Toronto, Canada All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written consent from the author, except for the inclusion of brief and documented quotations in a review. Copyright 2012 by Petre Nakovski & Risto Stefov e-book edition Any similarity, especially of the non-historical personalities, is purely coincidental. Parts of the text cursively emphasized represent a documentary stratum in the literary basis of the novel. The author The Great Lie – Chapter 1 After the great battle for Gramos, the villages spread between the Pindus and Malimadi Mountains were devastated and gripped by the black cloud of war. Those wounded at the battlefields of Gramos were taken to the hospitals in Albania and by now had recuperated and were returning, making their way back to the villages and bringing with them sad news about those who were killed, those who survived and those who were maimed and crippled. It was a quiet and still autumn night full of sadness and sorrow when the sound of a village church bell broke the silence and could be heard in all remote places of the valley. Dong… Dong… Dong… - In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, the Church bell rang three times… It was an odd sound, out of place in the darkness of night. It came softly and soon was lost. It rose from the silence, spilled over the valley and faded away only to rise again, tremble and repeat the pattern, mercilessly crushing the silence and the pain and sorrow delivered earlier by the bad news… Dong… Dong… Dong… The bell toll thickens the atmosphere… silencing all hidden desires – maybe it does not toll for me, maybe it does not toll for us? ... Yet it is still an odd sound calling... there are no weddings, no baptisms and no celebrations of holy days or saints. A bell tolls in the dark of night, a sound arising from the silence and quickly fading. For whom does the bell toll? Dark disturbing thoughts begin to rise, spreading like a wild fire, causing cold shivers… Dong… Dong… Dong… then a break, like something terrible knocking on the door in the dark of night, crossing the threshold and storming in… seizing hearts and souls… Icon lamp burning, lit flame flickering in the eyes of the Virgin Mary, St. Ilija, St. Nikola, St. Giorgi. The Saints come alive in the houses… Dong… Dong… Dong… the Church bell is again ringing, the sound is spreading… the flame in the lit icon lamp shivers in the room, creating pale, shimmering curved shadows and in the silence lies the question- for whom does the bell toll? Impatiently waiting, awaiting news about their loved ones… inquiring from the new arrivals as to what is happening… Vasil the Priest carrying his cross under his arm visits the grief- stricken houses at night – quietly and in the dark rooms with blanket covered windows, delivers his sermon in hope that with his gentle voice and counseling words he can soothe the heavy hearts and bring comfort to those suffering from grief. This he can only do at night from house to house… Dong… Dong… Dong… the bell again tolls three times in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost… Amen! The Great Lie – Chapter 2 Two days before Mitrovden snow had fallen on Vicho and Malimadi, it was the first snow of the season. Georgi, huddled under an old English overcoat, entered the battalion commander’s cabin and without the customary military salute, asked: “Commander, can I go to my village? It is not too far and I will not take long. The day after tomorrow is Mitrovden.” “Do you celebrate Mitrovden?” asked the Commander. “I do celebrate it and I don’t celebrate it; I just want to go. My father’s name was Mitre, may God bless his soul, and it is customary for me to visit his grave and light a candle… it is an annual tradition for me… and to see…” replied Georgi. The commander put down his cup of tea and gazed piercingly at Georgi. “Go,” he said rubbing his red eyes from insomnia. “Go if you want but don’t come back. You are too old for all this. Winter is coming and it will become very cold… this is not for you. Remain in your village and stay warm by your fireplace.” “Thank you Major and be well,” said Georgi. “You are welcome and have a nice trip,” replied the Commander. Georgi left the cabin and on his way greeted the courier who had just arrived from the valley below. On his way down he stepped over a trench and as he passed a bunker someone called out to him; “Georgi, have a good trip and when you return don’t forget to bring something to eat.” “And don’t forget to bring some rakia (alcoholic beverage) too,” shouted another person. They all thought that he was going home and home was on everyone’s mind. But deep down he suspected that no one was alive at home and waiting for him. Nevertheless he rejoiced at the idea that after almost a year in the mountains he was finally going home. Not knowing if his house was still intact or burned down, his thoughts were of a big fire burning in the fireplace while he lay down on his bedcovers, stretched in front of the burning fire, smoking his pipe, staring at the ceiling and enjoying a well deserved rest under his own roof. Hopes of sleeping in came to mind and in the morning at the crack of dawn, as he always did, he would like to go out on his balcony to check the colour of the sky and from that determine what the weather would be like. After that he would like to look around the house and yard to see what needed fixing. Unfortunately, deep down he suspected that there was nothing left of his house and property. Only health, he said to himself, is what is important, the rest can be acquired again. As long as a person is alive and strives he can… Only health… “Do not go straight! It is mined. Do you hear? Hey, turn back! The place is mined, I am talking to you!” a voice called out to him from one of the bunkers. Georgi stopped. Deep in his thoughts he had not noticed the rows of barbed wire, but he knew that beyond there the place was mined. Yesterday when he came by with his donkey, bringing a load of water and ammunition, he had been told where to pass. Now he remembered being told. A young man came out of the bunker, which had two gun holes covered with four rows of thick logs and boulders, and asked Georgi: “Are you going straight for the mines? And what devil made you go this way? Follow me to the Commander. Move!” ordered the young man in a loud voice while pointing his Shmaizer (gun) at him. “But I just came from the Commander’s cabin. I am going home…” replied Georgi. “Don’t do that! Go see him! You are going home, visiting, how so?” asked the young man. “Just like that, I spoke with the Commander and he let me go,” replied Georgi. “Come now, I had no idea he was such a nice man and your friend too. Go see him and you will find out how nice he is,” said the young man. “Hey Nikola what’s all the shouting? Why are you holding this man? Let him go on his way,” said another man from another bunker. “Did you tell him where to pass?” enquired the young man sarcastically. “I told you let the man go. He has permission,” replied the other man. “You have permission?” the young man asked Georgi. “Yes I do but not in writing,” replied Georgi. “You are a prankster aren’t you? You went off this way and you have no permission! Now go back to the good Commander and he will show you a different way to pass. Tell him that there is a minefield this way. Go, but not this way,” ordered the young man. Georgi turned back and followed the trench. Georgi was not a stubborn man and had no reason to storm into the Commander’s cabin to berate one of his fighters just because he had stopped him from entering a minefield. Also he had no reason to be angry with the young man for doing his job. It was his own fault that he took the wrong path because he was rushing so much. While deep in thought Georgi heard footsteps following behind him. “Hey, hey,” he heard a voice calling. It was the voice of the young man with whom he had spoken earlier. “Stop, wait! You again! I see that you really got mad and went straight for the Commander, ha? Don’t worry, I will show you where to pass and avoid the mines. Do you have one to twist? I have paper,” said the young man as he pulled an entire newspaper out of his pocket, cut a piece and gave it to Georgi.