Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature) (17 page)

“Father, Suat and I have spent forever getting ready. She’s going to accompany me on the violin. We’re going to give you a concert after dinner,” she cried.

“I won’t be at home after dinner, my beautiful girl.”

“But father, you said . . . You were mad at me for not helping Suat practice and that’s why for days now I’ve been . . .”

“I’ll be visiting the home of Ahmet Re
ş
it Bey tonight. There are some documents we need to prepare. I’ll listen to your performance another time.”

“But father, we’ve been preparing for days . . .”

“Leman Hanım! You’ll give your concert another day. Shut the door on your way out, please!”

Leman was on the threshold of womanhood, but the bowed head and pouting face with which she reluctantly left the room were those of a child.

“You’ve upset the girl, uncle,” Kemal said.

“The women of this household, from seven to seventy, have all failed to grasp the seriousness of our country’s situation,” Ahmet Re
ş
at grumbled. “Is this any time for concerts?”

“She’s only a girl, uncle.”

“You’re right. I’m afraid I’ve been a little irritable lately.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We had such high hopes when we formed the Kuva-I
İ
nzibatiye, and now we’ve decided to abolish it. Cemal Pasha will also be coming to Re
ş
it Bey’s house tonight to work on that process.”

“Well, in any case, what need was there for a new military force when we already have the National Forces?”

“There was a need.”

“I fail to see one.”

“It’s easy enough to blow hot air from the sidelines, Kemal! The occupiers issued our government a memorandum, a diplomatic warning if you will, instructing us to destroy the National Forces. Remember?”

“Of course I do! And you complied, just like that.”

“Had we rejected the memorandum, the government could very well have been dissolved. We complied for that reason alone.”

“Well, good for you, I say. And by doing so you agreed to suppress the so-called rebels who are in fact patriots trying to save their country.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why we agreed to such a thing? The occupiers knew we had no military attachments of our own—they expected that our only recourse would be to cite our lack of weapons and invite them to stamp out the insurrection themselves.”

“I wish you’d done just that. Then you wouldn’t be cursed for the rest of your days with having once issued orders to destroy the National Army.”

“Ah, Kemal. Don’t you see, it was a trap! Had we rejected the memorandum they would have dissolved the government. Had we cited our inability to fight the resistance forces ourselves, that task would have been assigned to the Greek Army, ready and waiting in
İ
zmir with 100,000 men. Affairs of state require a certain degree of finesse. Before a statesman takes a single step, he has to see his next ten. The only way to avoid the devilish trap they’d laid for us was to establish a new army and to pretend to suppress the insurrection, while in fact allowing the National Army more time to gain strength. And then, when the time came, we would deploy our new Caliphate Army in Anatolia against Greece.”

Kemal scanned his uncle’s face in astonishment. Was it possible that Ahmet Re
ş
at wasn’t blindly loyal to the Sultan? That, after all, he too was a patriot at heart? But if that were true, why, even though they lived under the same roof, hadn’t he realized it before?

“Well then why are you abolishing the new army?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, our calculations proved to be wrong, Kemal. We were outmaneuvered. We’d expected like-minded ministers to head the government and the war ministry. But Damat Ferit swooped in like a hawk and persuaded the Sultan to give him both posts.”

“Ferit is an opportunist extraordinaire.”

“Married to the Sultan’s sister as he is, he rarely leaves the Palace. Over time, he’s become one of the few people the Sultan relies upon.”

“And thus he’s succeeded in having death warrants issued for the Nationalists.”

“That’s not all. The Caliphate Army didn’t turn out at all as we’d imagined: they began using it to crush the Nationalists.”

“But Uncle, surely you knew that Damat Ferit was a sworn enemy of the Nationalists? A man unable to discriminate between CUP and the Nationalists is a man too short-sighted to see the tip of his own nose.”

“There’s been another unfortunate development. The forces of the Caliphate Army were deployed to Anatolia via
İ
zmit. When they arrived there, they were ambushed by a group of Circassians. It turns out the Circassians, too, have dreams of forming their own state. As you can see, absolutely everyone seems bent on betraying the Ottoman Empire, Kemal.”

“Yes, I heard about the events there in
İ
zmit.”

“It seems you’re intelligence is quite thorough.”

“That it is.”

“Then it’s safe to assume that you already know about Damat Ferit’s pending trip to Paris, where he’ll be dealing the final death blow to the Ottoman Empire.”

Kemal didn’t respond.

“And while Ferit is away, we intend to destroy, with our own hands, this monster of an army we created—again, with our own hands. I am working on that very task with Ahmet Re
ş
it Bey and Cemal Pasha.”

“What about their weapons? It would be wonderful if they somehow found their way to the Nationalists.”

“Let’s focus on demobilizing the army before we concern ourselves with the disposal of its arsenal.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, Uncle,” Kemal said. “When I see you like this I’m deeply grateful I’ve been imprisoned in this house. I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes.”

“I’ve considered resigning many times. But I’ve been serving the state for as long as I can remember and I’ve been well-served in return: it’s beneath me to flee like a rat from a sinking ship. I have no choice but to endure whatever comes my way.”

“May God come to your aid,” Kemal said.

“He hasn’t so far, by God!” Re
ş
at sputtered. “And as if one government split into two factions weren’t bad enough, a second government has been established in Ankara. The Chinese have a proverb: A dog with two masters dies of starvation. May God watch over us to the bitter end.”

He sighed, rose to his feet and said, “I’d best be on my way now. It won’t do to keep Re
ş
it Bey waiting, and the carriage I ordered must have arrived long ago.”

Kemal was overcome by a surge of gratitude and compassion, but he resisted the impulse to throw his arms around his long-suffering uncle, knowing how much he deplored demonstrative shows of affection. Ahmet Re
ş
at was nearly at the door when he turned round:

“There’s something I meant to say, Kemal . . . Leman and her piano . . . I’ve upset her. Would you mind listening to the concert this evening in my place? Do you think you could endure Suat on the violin, as well?”

“Who could possibly replace you? It’s for you they wish to stage their talents. Perhaps you’ll listen to them tomorrow evening.”

“Don’t raise their hopes. You won’t be seeing much of me in the coming days, I’m afraid,” Ahmet Re
ş
at said.

“When have we ever seen much of you?” murmured Behice, appearing in the doorway. “You requested a carriage, Re
ş
at Bey, but Hüsnü Efendi has been unable to locate one. You didn’t listen to me when I advised, way back when, that we get a coupe. And now you’ll be walking all the way to Re
ş
it Bey’s house.”

“Off I go then. Suitable retribution indeed for having failed to heed the advice of my wife,” said Re
ş
at Bey. “Thank God for the mild weather.”

Alone in the sitting room, Kemal stretched out on the divan and placed his arms under his head. He was bone-tired, that exhaustion born of awaiting news that never arrives. He’d grown weary of life, of everything but his translations and making love with Mehpare. A breeze brought the smell of the sea through the half-open window. Kemal filled his lungs and gazed up at the deepening darkness of the evening sky. The white blossoms of the magnolia tree just outside his window had completed their brief lifespan and the tree was now covered with shiny green leaves. So, spring this year would be like its predecessors, diffident and noiseless as it passed through Istanbul, leaving hearts untouched and blood unstirred. High spirits and exuberance would have to await another spring, in this city.

Dear Brother Kemal,

I jot down this letter in some haste in the writing room of FS.

I visited FS the moment I received word that she expected me. She received me with her usual courtesy and we spoke at length on the usual subjects. I asked her about that matter of particular interest to both of us. In two days, on the occasion of a tea being held to celebrate the birthday of her cousin, she will be in the presence of the person of whom we spoke. She has assured me that she will find a way to raise the subject and will send me a report detailing His response. It is not yet clear when the ferryboats will be running. My mother is most upset and worried about me, as you know. FS has proposed that I travel as far as Üsküdar in her private
caique
, for which reason I must leave shortly without making my farewells. I enclose letters of thanks and farewell to Saraylıhanımefendi and Behice Hanımefendi. I will convey to you any information I receive, through Hakkı Efendi. I extend my heartfelt gratitude for your family’s warm hospitality. Send my kisses to Leman and Suat.

Your Sister.

Azra Ziya

Kemal refolded the letter and put it back in his jacket pocket. He would have to wait at least a week for a second letter to arrive from Azra. If that letter confirmed his suspicions, he would attempt to persuade his uncle. He didn’t want to sneak off like a common thief, to abandon the family that had cared for him so devotedly, or to burn any bridges with his uncle, who had forgiven him so many times in the past. He knew that if he left without making his farewells, he would never be able to return. But if he could get his uncle to side with him . . . If only he could . . . Or if his uncle could at least be made to see that he had been right all along, then he would be able to say goodbye properly. He’d embrace them all. Their prayers would go with him. He paced the length of his room, dismayed by thoughts of his grandmother, the girls, his aunt, his uncle. And Mehpare! Never to see Mehpare again, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her smooth skin. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A man’s heavy tread, not Mehpare’s. His uncle had left home early in the morning. Who could it be? Hüsnü Efendi certainly wasn’t in the habit of wandering through the house! He grabbed a brass candleholder, moved behind the door and waited. There were two raps on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Mahir.”

Relieved, Kemal opened the door.

“What is it, Mahir?” he asked. “Trouble?”

“Saraylıhanım instructed me to go directly upstairs, and that’s what I did.”

“You startled me, I wasn’t expecting you. Only the women come up to this floor.”

“I wanted to give your aunt the results of her test without delay. When I was met at the door by Saraylıhanım I told her I’d come to see you, and she sent me straight here.”

“What was the test result?”

“Permit me to tell your aunt first.” Kemal left the room and tapped on the door opposite.

When the door remained closed he called out to Mehpare on the floor below:

“She’s making
ayran
for you and Mahir Bey. She’ll bring it up in a moment,” Saraylıhanım responded.

“Mahir, I received a letter from Azra,” Kemal said. “Princess Fehime is going to see the Sultan today. She’s going to send out feelers. I think she may even ask him directly. Sultan Vahdettin has never made a secret of his pro-English sentiments, so why shouldn’t she simply ask him?”

“You do realize, don’t you, that in these trying times, when everyone is hard up for money, Sheikh Sait is living a life of extravagance?”

“Are the English funding him?”

“I’m certain they are, among others. There are pro-English organizations other than Sait’s. The Freedom and Unity Party is unhappy with Sait monopolizing all the funds. The English don’t want to anger their supporters. They must be giving the Sultan a share of the money for redistribution to the others.”

“Let’s pray that’s the case.”

When Mehpare arrived with the ayran, Kemal asked her to bring his aunt upstairs. Mehpare ran down to Behice’s room and soon returned with her.

“Come on, Mehpare, let’s go to your room and let my aunt speak with the doctor in private,” Kemal said.

Behice sat on the edge of the bed, folded hands trembling in her lap as Mahir broke the news.

“Congratulations, efendim, we’ve determined the cause of your fainting spells. You’re pregnant.”

“Really?”

“Aren’t you pleased? You’d been hoping for a son. God willing, you’ll have one.”

Behice stared blankly. “Leman’s a young woman, nearly old enough for marriage. I’ll be embarrassed to tell her.”

“But you’re still young yourself.”

“We’re at war. Our troubles are many. The child is untimely. It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy.”

“Of course it doesn’t. May Allah give you a healthy, dutiful child.”

“Amen.”

“If you’re able to provide me with some dates, I can calculate when the child will be born.”

“Don’t trouble yourself anymore, doctor. I’ll be seeing the midwife from now on.”

“As you like,” Mahir said.

“Now, by your leave, I’ll be going . . .”

“Behice Hanımefendi . . .”

“Yes . . .”

“If they ask, what shall I tell them? What shall I say to Kemal, Saraylıhanım and the others?”

“Give me a few days. I’d like to give Re
ş
at Bey the news first, then we’ll tell the others.”

“In that case, I know nothing. We haven’t received the test results just yet.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Behice said as she left the room.

Mahir looked thoughtfully at the doorway. In a city under occupation, news of a husband’s promotion to minister or of a baby is insufficient to gladden a woman. Even the Judas tree and hyacinth seemed to droop; a veil of melancholy had descended on young and old, everyone and everything. Mahir waited in the room a little while longer. He was in a hurry, and when Kemal didn’t return he made his way to the stairs. The tinkling of a piano echoed up the stairs: Leman was playing in the anteroom. At the sound of footsteps she raised her head and smiled. Her light auburn hair spilled over her shoulders. Her head was uncovered. The light from the window fell full across her face, and Mahir noticed the reddish tint in her hair, the honey-colored flecks in her large green eyes. When had this girl grown up? When had she become so beautiful?