Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature) (28 page)

We’re in trouble now
, Ahmet Re
ş
at sighed to himself.

Thanks to Kemal, he was getting more and more involved in this business. With each step, he sank a little deeper. Even worse, he was endangering others. He’d begun using Hüsnü Efendi as a courier, and the poor man would now have to be sent to the farm, both to receive the information required by Pandikyan and to get approval for the loading of the arms onto a different ship. Fortunately, vegetables and chickens were being raised at the farm. In the event of any unpleasantness, Hüsnü Efendi would be able to claim that he had gone there to buy seedlings or poultry.

“I’ll find out immediately,
Ē
Re
ş
at said, “and have the information delivered by the same person who brought you the bridge invitation. And as far as the matter of payment, you can have full confidence in me.”

“If I can’t place my in trust you, who can I trust, efendim?” Pandikyan said. “And I’m honored that you’ve placed your trust in me as well.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Beyefendi, we’re all on the same ship. If it goes down, we’re done for, all of us. I’m doing everything in my power to help keep it afloat. I see that you’re doing the same.”

“Let me say, once again, thank you and God bless you,” said Ahmet Re
ş
at. He was overcome with emotion as he offered his hand to Pandikyan. So, there were men like this: while some Armenians may have donned a French uniform and turned on their neighbors of centuries, others were prepared to put the Muslims to shame by risking all they had to help liberate the country they shared.

– 14 –
Call of Duty

Early one morning, before he’d even breakfasted, Kemal was somewhat taken aback to learn that he’d been summoned to the main building. He washed his hands and face without delay and slipped into a fresh, collarless shirt. Wetting his hair, he attempted to plaster it to the sides of his head. He was escorted to the main building by the same man who’d brought word that his presence was requested. Assuming that he’d be going to the room on the second floor where he’d been taken on his first day at the farm, Kemal headed for the stairs and had already climbed two of them when his companion said, “We’re not going upstairs, bey. Please follow me.” Kemal came back down the stairs and the two men quickly walked to the end of the corridor. A tap on the large wooden door elicited instructions to enter and the man stepped aside to allow Kemal to go in alone.

Kemal found himself in a spacious room organized into a makeshift military headquarters. There was a writing desk to one side and a large table in the middle of the room, covered with maps. A few men were leaning over the maps deep in conversation. Kemal snapped his heels together and nodded in response to the salute of a young man in civilian clothes.

“I’m Captain Seyfi of the General Staff, here from Ankara for the night. After a few appointments I’ll be returning immediately.”

“And I am Kemal Halim.”

“Please sit down,” the man said, gesturing to a chair opposite the writing desk as he sat himself down behind it. “I have learned a great deal about you,” he said, “from extremely trustworthy sources. I’ll get straight to the point. You’re a veteran of Sarıkamı
ş
.”

“Yes, if you can call me that. As you know, most of us froze to death without firing a shot.”

“The fact that you volunteered for battle indicates a certain fearlessness. We need people like you. The Greeks are advancing through Thrace . . .”

“Am I to take up arms?”

“If necessary, yes. But the gathering of intelligence is of far more importance to us at the moment. It’s vital that we establish lines of communication between the battlefield and Ankara.”

“Then how unfortunate that the postal system is under the control of the Allies,” Kemal said.

“Not entirely under their control,” interjected the man in the kalpak on the other side of the desk. “We do have access to a few secret telegraph lines. When the British requested detailed sketches of all our telegraph networks we told them we had none. We explained that a few clerks had simply memorized all the networks, and that we managed as best we could. They believed us—such is there contempt. They had our telegraph employees reserve a few lines for Allied use and cut all the other lines to Anatolia. That is, they imagine all the lines have been cut. In fact, we have a few secret lines in operation. But they’re inadequate. We also need couriers.”

Kemal listened attentively.

“Kemal Halim Bey, we’d like to use you immediately, for both our telegraph and our courier networks. Highly confidential reports and battle plans can’t be sent by telegraph. I’m aware that you’re working at the documents department here and wonder if you would agree to . . .”

“I agree,” Kemal blurted out. “I agree to undertake anything you ask. I’m also prepared to go to the front.”

“Your health won’t allow that. I also ask you to bear in mind that if you are captured while performing your new duties you could well face torture, even death. Think carefully. If you do agree to become a courier, we’ll have the necessary documentation prepared for your journey to Anatolia.”

“I’m ready. When do I go?” Kemal asked. “You’ll set out at the beginning of the week.”

“Sir, would it be possible to send word home? They don’t need to know where I’m going, but they should know that I’m leaving Istanbul.”

“As you wish. I’m afraid there’s no time to make your farewells in person. These are difficult days. We have to do whatever we can to prevent the Greeks from advancing any further, and we have to do it at once.”

“Right. I’ll be ready the moment you want me.”

There was nothing left to say. Kemal nodded a salute to the assembled men and left the room. This was the moment he’d so eagerly awaited. As if all those months in confinement, listening to the idle chatter of women, hadn’t been bad enough, his evenings now consisted of listening to the exploits of a dormitory full of men who conducted daring raids he was unable to join. Soon, he wouldn’t have to content himself with the stories of others. He would have his own tales to tell. Tales he would pass on to his children and grandchildren: daring feats, acts of heroism, perilous adventures . . .”

But he was still troubled. He’d be leaving without having made his farewells to his uncle, his grandmother, the girls . . . And then there was Mehpare . . . Never mind, when he did get back he’d most certainly enjoy her every chance he got. Kemal headed to the dormitory to write a letter of farewell to his family.

– 15 –
Reunion

As Hüsnü Efendi ventured out of the house and into the early morning darkness, where a carriage and neighing horses were waiting for him at the garden gate, a shadow leapt straight at him from behind the apple tree near the front door. “Hey! Who’s that?” he shouted, brandishing his cane.

“Wait, Hüsnü Efendi . . . Don’t hit me . . . It’s me.”

“Oh, Mehpare Hanım! What are you doing out here at this hour?”

“I’d like to ask you the same question.”

“I have some business to attend to.”

“But Hüsnü Efendi, the sun’s not even up yet. What kind of business?”

“I’d suggest you return to the house immediately, Mehpare Hanım. Were Saraylıhanım to see you out here with me I don’t want to think what she’d do!”

“You’re off to visit Kemal Bey, aren’t you?”

“Go back inside, Mehpare Hanım. It’s none of your business!”

“Hüsnü Efendi, it’s my husband you’re going to visit.”

“Who told you that?”

“Well, where are you going then?”

“I can’t say. It’s top secret. I’m simply following the Master’s instructions.”

Mehpare extended the Koran she was holding in her hand and said, “Well then, swear on the Koran that you’re not going to Kemal Bey.”

“What do you want from me, Mehpare Hanım? Why are you doing this?”

“Take me with you.”

“That’s out of the question!”

“Aren’t I entitled to see my husband?”

“Get permission from the Master first.”

Absolutely certain now of the servant’s plans, Mehpare became even more insistent. “If you had any human kindness at all you’d take me with you.”

“I can’t take you, Mehpare Hanım,” Hüsnü doggedly insisted as he worked to release his arm from Mehpare’s grip.

“Hüsnü Efendi, my husband left the house just three days after we were married. I may never see him again. He may be martyred. I’m begging you.”

“I couldn’t possibly!”

“I have something very important to tell him.”

“I’ll tell him for you.”

“It’s very personal.”

“Quick then, write a letter. I’ll wait till you’re done.”

“I want to tell him in person.”

Hüsnü Efendi freed his arm and began striding towards the carriage. Mehpare ran after him. “Hüsnü Efendi, for the love of God . . . I’ll kiss the soles of your feet . . .” Tears began sliding down her cheeks. “I think I may be going to faint . . .”

Hüsnü Efendi turned round just in time to clasp Mehpare round the waist. The Koran had slipped from her fingers. Muttering a quick prayer, he picked it up, kissed it, pressed it to his forehead, and handed it back. “Take your Koran and go back into the house, Mehpare Hanım. You’ve gone all pale and you look ill. You’ll catch a chill and make it worse. Go on.”

“I’m not ill. Look, I’m going to share a secret with you. I’m pregnant. That’s the news I want to tell my husband. He’ll be going to Anatolia soon. He may or may not be coming back. Please, I’m begging you. Have you no heart, Hüsnü Efendi?”

The servant squirmed helplessly.

“Then go and ask Re
ş
at Beyefendi for permission. I can’t take you without his knowledge.”

“He mustn’t know. Let me go with you. On the way back, you can drop me off at the corner. We’ll return to the house separately. I’ll tell them I visited my aunt,” Mehpare said, as she once again seized him by the arm. “Hüsnü Efendi, this may be the only opportunity Kemal will ever have to caress his child, even if is only through my belly. If something were to happen to him before I delivered the good news, it would weigh on your conscience forever.”

A short time later, as Mehpare took a seat next to Hüsnü Efendi and the carriage rattled off, the poor man couldn’t help asking her how she had known he was about to leave for the farm.

“Every day, from the moment I wake up until I go to bed at night, I wait for news from my husband. This morning, too, I got up early and was sitting in the chair in front of the window, reading the Koran. At the sound of horses neighing, I looked out of the window and saw a carriage had arrived. Clearly, something odd was going on. When I saw you in the garden I grabbed my çar
ş
af and ran straight out of the front door. In my haste, I was still carrying the Koran.”

“I’m going to get into trouble because of you,” Hüsnü Efendi grumbled.

“No you won’t. My lips are sealed. The arrival of that woman the other morning did not escape my notice either. But did I mention it to anyone?”

“You mean you saw her!”

“I did. And later, when Re
ş
at Bey told us that Kemal was in good health, I was convinced that she’d come with a message from my husband. God will bless you, Hüsnü Efendi, for reuniting man and wife.”

Hüsnü Efendi said nothing in response, nor did he speak for the rest of the drive: he was too preoccupied with wondering what Re
ş
at Bey would do when he found out that Mehpare had accompanied him to the farm.

Kemal was seated at his desk early that morning preparing documents. They’d had another exciting night and no one had been able to sleep until dawn. This time, a twelve-man team led by Pehlivan had pilfered a naval factory and hauled all the gunpowder they could carry to the Aynalıkavak Shipyard on the Golden Horn. The English had recently begun locking up and sealing armament plants to prevent further thefts, but Pehlivan’s men had succeeded in entering through the roof, leaving the sealed door fully intact and unlikely to arouse suspicions later. The acrobats and rope-walkers on the team had utilized their skills to stealthily remove the clay roofing tiles, allowing everyone to slip inside unnoticed. Five of the men in Kemal’s dormitory had joined the operation and those left behind had spent the night with rapidly beating hearts, praying for their success. They were still listening to accounts of the daring raid from their newly returned roommates when the morning call to prayer started. Eyes bloodshot but spirits high, Kemal was busy at work on a consignment document when the dormitory cleaner walked into the room and announced, with a barely suppressed smile: “Sir, you have a visitor.”

Kemal ignored him.

“Sir, it’s a shame to keep your visitor waiting . . .”

“Were you talking to me, Sülo?”

“You mean you weren’t expecting a visitor?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“There’s a woman here for you. She’s waiting in the side garden.” Assuming the woman in question was yet another male courier, Kemal walked straight to the end of the long corridor and out into the side garden. He could barely make out Hüsnü Efendi standing some distance away under a plane tree. There was someone next to him, someone quite tall and dressed in a çar
ş
af. He wondered if it was Azra. He knew she was about to be sent to Antep and decided she must have come to say good- bye. As he walked closer he began to get butterflies in his stomach. It wasn’t Azra. He started walking faster. When the woman pulled open her
ferace
Kemal thought his heart would stop beating. He broke into a run. Mehpare raced towards Kemal and threw her arms around his neck.

“Don’t Mehpare . . . They’ll see us . . . Stop it,” Kemal said as he unclasped Mehpare’s arms and took her hands in his. Yes, it was his wife, trembling and in tears.

“So what if they see us? Aren’t I your wife? How wonderful it is to see you again! The nightmares I’ve had. But you’re well, praise God.”

“I’m fine. Why have you come here? Does my uncle know?” Kemal asked.

“I followed Hüsnü Efendi.” She took Kemal’s hand and placed it on her belly. “We’ve missed you terribly. When we guessed that Hüsnü Efendi was likely to come here, the two of us, mother and son, began tracking his every move. And now here we are, both of us.”

“Mehpare, your powers of intuition are incredible; you never cease to amaze me—you can’t imagine how anxious I was to see you last night.”

“Are you saying I’ve appeared in your dreams as well?” asked Mehpare, whose moment of intimacy with her husband was brought to an abrupt end by Hüsnü Efendi:

“Beyefendi has sent you a letter. Please read it and write back quickly. We don’t have much time.” Pulling the letter out of his sash, he handed it to Kemal.

Kemal squatted at the base of the plane tree and read the letter. “I’m going inside to write my reply,” he said. “Please wait for me here.”

Mehpare made to follow him as he strode off.

“You can’t come inside, dear. Strangers aren’t welcome here, let alone women. As a matter of fact, I still can’t fathom how you dared to come. What if you’d been followed? What if something had happened to you?”

“We weren’t followed. And anyway, I’d risk anything to see you.”

“You’re carrying a child in your womb; you’re responsible for two lives now. Hüsnü Efendi was mad to bring you here.

“Please don’t be angry with him. I insisted. Tell him that if he’s asked to bring you another letter he should take me along. If I’m informed in advance I can bring food and clean clothes.”

“It won’t happen again, Mehpare. I’m leaving within a week.”

“No!”

“Tell my uncle. I’m being sent to the Western front, as a courier.”

“So I was right! I should have gone with you. I should be at your side.”

“What are you talking about! I’m worried enough as it is at your having come here.” Kemal was silent for a moment; then, taking his wife’s hands in his, “Mehpare, don’t mind what I just said, I’m glad you’ve come,” he said. “I didn’t want to leave without making my farewells. Tell my grandmother, my uncle, my aunt and the girls . . . Tell everyone in the house to send me off with their prayers and blessings. I won’t be on the front lines, but I will be in some danger. If anything were to happen to me, I entrust you to my uncle. I’m going to write a letter to him now and send it with you.”

“Don’t entrust me to anyone. Come back to me, safe and sound. I’ll be waiting for you. So will your son.”

“God willing!”

Kemal released Mehpare’s hands and began walking towards the inner courtyard. Mehpare stumbled back to Hüsnü Efendi’s side and leaned against the plane tree. “I’ll never forget this kindness,” she said. “Thanks to you, I’ve been able to see my husband one more time.”

“Did you give him the good news?” Mehpare nearly asked him what he meant, but caught herself. “God bless you,” she said. They awaited Kemal in silence. A short time later he returned with a few envelopes. Two of them were addressed separately to his grandmother and uncle, the other bore an unfamiliar name. Mehpare placed all three of them in her bosom.

“Come on, efendim, let’s get back,” Said Hüsnü Efendi, “we’ve got a long way to go.”

“Just a little while longer. Please.” Mehpare slipped her arm through Kemal’s and led him a short distance away. At first, Hüsnü Efendi was touched at the sight of the whispering couple, but he began fidgeting as the minutes passed. Mehpare had placed Kemal’s hands on both sides of her belly. The servant didn’t wish to disturb them, but there were burly men wandering about with guns stuck in their sashes; a little further ahead, through the oak apples, he could see a regiment of men going through drills; behind him, an injured man doubled up in pain was being carried into a large yellow building. Wherever he directed his gaze he saw things he felt he wasn’t meant to see. Finally, he could bear it no longer. “Come on, Kemal Bey, we’ve got a long trip back,” he called out.

Mehpare and Kemal came up hand in hand and the three of them walked together as far as the inner courtyard. After embracing his wife and placing a kiss on her forehead, he bade farewell to Hüsnü Efendi. “Take care of Mehpare Hanım. Make sure she doesn’t get bounced about too much in the carriage, won’t you?” he said with a look of gratitude. For the first time that day, Hüsnü Efendi was glad he’d brought her.

Mehpare reluctantly released Kemal’s arm. “Leave me an address. I’ll send word of our son’s birth.”

“I’ll write as soon I know.”

“Until we meet again, darling . . . Godspeed.”

As though anticipating that Mehpare would cry all the way home, Hüsnü Efendi took a seat next to the driver for the ride back. When, many hours later, they had arrived in their neighborhood, Hüsnü Efendi ordered the carriage to stop at the top of the street and suggested Mehpare walk the rest of the way home.

“I’ve decided to tell them the truth,” Mehpare said.

“Beyefendi will be extremely angry.”

“I’ll tell him you had no idea, that I secretly climbed into the back of the carriage. I’ll take the blame.”

“There’s no stopping you,” sighed Hüsnü Efendi. “Well, you can get out here. Give the letters to me and I’ll take them to beyefendi at the Ministry.”

“I’m coming with you. There’s something I have to tell Kemal Bey’s uncle.”

“I’m dropping off the carriage over by the bridge, that was the agreement. But you can’t walk all that way.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Do what you have to!” Hüsnü Efendi muttered to himself resignedly as he returned to the driver’s side to pay the fare.

By the time Mehpare and Hüsnü Efendi arrived at the Finance Ministry, many of the civil servants were already departing for the day. Hüsnü Efendi went up to Re
ş
at Bey’s personal secretary and informed him that the finance minister had a visitor. Then he entered the building with Mehpare, who marveled at the grand marble staircase as she ascended to the floor above, where Re
ş
at Bey had his office. When the clerk asked who she was, she replied: “His daughter-in-law. I’ve brought some urgent news from home.” The clerk ushered her into an adjoining room and a moment later she was standing in front of the minister himself.

Ahmet Re
ş
at started at the sight of Mehpare in his office. “Has something happened to Behice? Or my aunt?”

“Everyone’s fine. Forgive me, efendim,” Mehpare said, “but I’m afraid I’ve done something I shouldn’t, yet again. As Hüsnü Efendi was leaving today to visit Kemal Bey, I climbed into the carriage without his knowledge or consent; I went to the farm and saw my husband.”

“How dare you presume to do such a thing? Are you mad?”

“I had some important news for him, efendim. And I was determined to tell him myself. Please forgive me.”