“You are giaours,” said the Turk, “And you don’t have the right to live. Terrible torture is awaiting those who do not adopt Islam. We slaughter you so the doors of heaven open before us.”
“I’ll open the doors of heaven for you, go and bliss there,” said Yesayi and dragged the Turk towards the cliff edge. Some of the Armenians turned away.
Yesayi set the Turk at the edge and pierced him with his spear. The Turk fell. Yesayi turned around and glanced at his compatriots.
“You pity him, don’t you?” yelled he, gasping, “You can’t even hate your enemy. Have you seen the earrings in his bag? Why hasn’t he been feeling pity when raping Armenian women, slaughtering children, or snatching earrings with flesh?
Should have I freed him? Freed him so he then stabs me in the chest? Freed him so he fills the cradle of my grandson with blood? Those who pity their enemy cut the throat of their children with their own hands.”
He threw the Turk crawling on the ground nearby into the abyss.
“Go!” angrily shouted Yesayi, as if he was mad with someone, “I don’t kill you at your doorstep, at your home, at the edge of your field. You brought death, so receive death.”
Excerpt from a book “Mkhitar Sparapet” by Sero Khanzadyan, 1961
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