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Back The Black Earth
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. THE BLACK EARTH
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. BOOK I
  6. CHAPTER ONE
  7. CHAPTER TWO
  8. CHAPTER THREE
  9. CHAPTER FOUR
  10. CHAPTER FIVE
  11. CHAPTER SIX
  12. CHAPTER SEVEN
  13. BOOK II
  14. CHAPTER EIGHT
  15. CHAPTER NINE
  16. CHAPTER TEN
  17. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  18. CHAPTER TWELVE
  19. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  20. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  22. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  24. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  25. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY
  27. BOOK III
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  42. BOOK IV
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  54. About the Author
  55. By Philip Kazan
  56. Copyright

Then she thought the boy had come back, because she turned at the sound of a strange voice and found herself looking at two skinny little legs, thick socks pulled up almost to the knees. ‘You were on that boat.’ Zoë blinked. She looked up and saw a boy, but not the child of the thin-faced woman. This boy had straight black hair, cut short all around but with a fringe that flopped over his forehead. His grey eyes were studying her keenly. ‘You were on that boat. I waved at you,’ the boy repeated, as if Zoë ought to remember. And she did remember, hazily, though she didn’t want to, because it took her back to the ship, and the endless horror of being crushed against the rail, the sobbing all around her, the shame when she had soiled herself. Hadn’t she looked up, and seen a little white figure on a gigantic ship that was a hundred times bigger than her own?

‘Hello,’ she replied, in English, and he stared at her in amazement. They talked – for how long, she doesn’t remember now. He told her about butterflies; and now, trudging along this endless road, she thinks she saw one, a gorgeous creature bigger than a sparrow, fly up out of his hands. He told her about colours. Colours … there is no colour around her now. Everything is grey and brown and dust-powdered.

But, back then, she closed her eyes and saw the butterflies. Then she thought of the red colour she had seen in the sky behind Thetis, and that made her cry again. She was always crying, now. But the boy told her the name of the colour, and that made her feel better, somehow. He held her hand and talked about figs and ice cream. How funny. No one had held her hand since she had fallen into the sea, and it felt nice. The boy was her friend. Had she known him, before? He said something about Smyrna. He wanted her to sing again and she was going to, she wanted to … And then he simply vanished: one moment kneeling beside her on the edge of the sea, with butterflies around his head, the next moment gone. She opened her mouth to sing for him, and the air swallowed him up.