by Ahmet Altan
The joy he felt was such a strange feeling, but it didn’t prevent him from feeling other feelings, it wasn’t bright enough to leave them in the darkness with its own light; throughout his walk he felt anger, boredom, disgust, worry, and restlessness in turn, these feelings probed him, made their presence felt, but he didn’t experience them as fully as he usually did. On account of this inexplicable joy, these other feelings seemed as if they would collapse at any moment like buildings built on slippery slopes, as if they would vanish; even though he could see the reason for these other feelings clearly, he couldn’t understand the source of this joy, therefore this joy was not felt as strongly and clearly as the other feelings even though it was more noticeable than the others.
At the Committee headquarters they greeted him with the respect due to him for his formidable reputation in the army and the distinction of being Cevat Bey’s brother, but at the same time with considerable aloofness. They brought him to a large room that looked out over the street. He was familiar with some of the people, such as Hakkı Bey, Abdülkadir Bey, Mümtaz Bey, and Müştak Bey, who was sitting by the window and who had a blond moustache and a soft face. An abrupt silence fell as soon as he entered the room; the first to stand was Müştak Bey, with whom he’d once served in Fuat Pasha’s retinue, he approached him with genuine friendship and said, “Oh, welcome, Ragıp Bey, how are you, I hope you bring good news, what brings you here, we don’t often see you.”
The others, mostly former officers who were now Committee gunmen, were respectful but suspicious, like wild animals when they meet another of their species. They knew Ragıp Bey and he knew them from old “adventures” they’d had; they were all on the same side, but Ragıp Bey was experienced enough to see that they were all checking the guns under their arms. After a brief greeting, they ordered coffee for Ragıp Bey. Then an uncomfortable silence reigned in the room, no one wanted to be the first to speak.
Ragıp Bey already regretted having come, but it was too late to act as if nothing had happened; it was not in his nature to leave without saying anything once he’d come to the headquarters, if he did it might arouse a cloud of suspicion that would put his life in danger.
Müştak Bey, the only person present who liked Ragıp Bey, was the first to break the silence.
“So, Ragıp Bey, I hope you bring good news.”
“I wouldn’t call it good news, Müştak Bey.”
Ragıp Bey heard the creaking of chairs, everyone shifted slightly in their seats and paid attention.
“I heard that the mullahs are agitating the soldiers and that there will be a mutiny in a few days.”
When no one said a word, Ragıp Bey continued trying to convince them.
“I heard this from a dependable source, an old friend who I trust.”
In his usual arrogant manner, Hakkı Bey asked, “Where did he hear it from?”
Ragıp Bey had known they would ask this, and when they learned the truth they would mock him behind his back, though not to his face. He took a cigarette out of his case and lit it as he tried to gain time to decide what to say.
“He has friends among the mullahs.”
Hakkı Bey leaned back, not bothering to conceal his hatred for Ragıp Bey, whose bravery and fame he’d always envied and who was somewhat distant from the Committee, and smiled with his usual attitude of looking for trouble.
“Does your friend rat on his own friends?”
Ragıp Bey put his cigarette in the ashtray next to him, unbuttoned his jacket, and looked around the room. There was no one present who he could trust except Müştak Bey, and if there was a fight he would at best remain neutral, he wouldn’t support Ragıp Bey. The rest of them were merciless, they always held on to their guns as if they were prayer beads, and they always hit whatever they shot at. Ragıp Bey felt a tightening in his stomach.
Now he was preparing to play a game he knew, felt the pleasure of walking at the edge of death, the pleasure that filled his soul every time he tested himself with death; like the other men in the room, he also enjoyed playing with death, he realized that he only felt truly alive when he was close enough to death to touch it, when he saw death as a person of flesh and blood he became acutely aware that he was alive. This was something like a half blind man who only figures as shadows opening his eyes, like someone struggling to breathe and suddenly feeling the air fill his lungs; everything’s appearance, light, and smell became sharper, all of the emotions that were usually slightly dulled became sensitized, his soul swelled with the enthusiasm of once again embracing life.
He smiled his famous smile; this was a smile everyone knew; everyone smelled the smell of death, breathed it in, and straightened up; no one moved, but he could sense that everyone’s muscles were tensing. Death was like a beautiful woman no one knew who was going to kiss, it frightened them, but when they saw it they became very excited and felt their existence and their manhood.
They heard the creak of the mansion’s wooden stairs as someone climbed up and walked past the room, the roar of the fire in the stove, the howling of the wind as it whistled through the eaves, a ferry sounding its horn in the distance, the sound, like breaking glass, of the rain hitting the stone floor of the courtyard, and they heard each sound distinctly and separately.
“I’m not in the habit of going to places where rats go, Hakkı Bey, otherwise we’d see each other more often.”
Hakkı Bey, who was angry at Ragıp Bey because he had a reputation in the army and kept his distance from the Committee even though he’d risked his life to fight with them many times, took a step in the death dance that gunmen dance, but if one reason for his dangerous move was his irresistible urge to flirt with death, another was his confidence that Ragıp Bey would not take the second step. He didn’t think he would respond to this clear challenge with his own clear challenge, which in this crowd of gunmen would not end favorably for him.
When he heard Ragıp Bey’s answer he said, “Think about what you say before you say it, Ragıp Bey!”
Ragıp Bey remained in his seat, he just hung his arm down from the chair and allowed the knife he’d always kept in his sleeve since he was at the military high school to fall into his hand. He knew that if Hakkı Bey moved for his gun, he could hit him between the eyes from his seat before he could even touch his gun. Indeed he’d planned the moves he would make after this; which of them would pull their guns, which of them he’d kill first when they pulled their guns. He decided he would kill Abdülkadir Bey after he killed Hakkı Bey.
“I’m not the one who should weigh my words because I’m not the one who issued a challenge. The person who issues a challenge should weigh his words.”
He’d come here to be helpful, to bring news of the coming storm, and now was suddenly looking death in the face because of Hakkı Bey’s proud arrogance.
After Ragıp Bey’s retort, it seemed there was nothing Hakkı Bey could do but pull his gun, he couldn’t countenance this insult, those had been fighting words, there was no other way out, their eyes met, there was no emotion in either man’s eyes, neither fear nor anger, they just remained motionless and looked into each other’s eyes to know when the other would move.
Just as Hakkı Bey was about to pull his gun, they heard Müştak Bey’s soft voice.
“Friends . . . ”
Hakkı Bey looked at Müştak Bey out of the corner of his eye without changing his stance. Müştak Bey stood, opened his arms to show he had no intention of pulling his gun, and stepped between them.
“We’re about to make our enemies laugh for no reason. Ragıp Bey came here to warn us about a danger, he’s telling us that a group of fanatics who organized themselves under our noses is preparing for a mutiny, and instead of taking precautions we’re fighting each other. In my opinion, we should let everyone else know, we should look into this to see if there’s anything to it, we should inform Talat Bey, if he thinks it�
�s appropriate he can call the members to a meeting. If the soldiers mutiny in the capital, the entire nation will suffer. It doesn’t befit us to kill each other in such difficult times, in my view it’s time for us to think together, no one here is afraid of death, for God’s sake; no one needs to prove anything either, every brave man here has proved himself against the enemy many times before. So why are we behaving like this? Let’s sit down and think with clear heads. Fine, there are words that can kill brave men, there are words that can send a snake back into its hole, but there’s been a misunderstanding here, how can anyone be enemies under this roof, who could think about insulting each other?”
Hakkı Bey stood motionless, it wasn’t clear if he’d been convinced, he was biting his lower lip, his face seemed tight and frozen, he was looking at Ragıp Bey. Those who knew him felt he could pull his gun at any moment; Abdülkadir Bey considered intervening, their friendship went back a long time, he thought he could get through to him. They were in the organization’s headquarters, if these gunmen killed someone who’d come to warn them, and on top of that Ragıp Bey, who was known for his honesty and for the service he’d rendered, it could accelerate the opposition that had begun in the Committee to these gunmen, and the fact that Ragıp was Cevat Bey’s brother made the situation even worse.
“Müştak Bey is right,” he said in a sedate tone. “In these difficult times it will hurt the organization if there’s a fight at headquarters, we have to put the organization before our own grievances. In any event, there’s nothing to discuss here.”
Hakkı Bey looked at Abdülkadir Bey, but he was still watching Ragıp Bey from the corner of his eye. He nodded toward Ragıp Bey.
“Didn’t you hear what he said?”
Abdülkadir Bey realized that the situation wouldn’t be resolved unless Ragıp Bey offered an explanation.
“Ragıp Bey didn’t say anything to you. Ragıp Bey, do you have a grudge against Hakkı Bey?”
Ragıp Bey answered calmly.
“I don’t have a grudge against anyone, if I did, everyone would know about it. I’m not someone who holds secret grudges, everyone who knows me knows this.”
At that moment what they both wanted, and the only thing that would make either of them happy, was to kill their opponent; in spite of this desire, neither of them moved for fear of doing something “unbecoming.” For either of them to do something unbecoming would mean a loss of respect, and neither of them could countenance this. On account of this, both of them, who’d engaged in this argument out of anger, tried to get out of it with their honor intact, using diplomatic skills that were as familiar to them as shooting skills, using words, refraining from insulting but unwilling to tolerate insults.
Abdülkadir Bey, whose experience had made his skills instinctive, felt he needed to make a move, so he stood and took Hakkı Bey by the arm.
“Come, sit down, Hakkı, there’s no need to drag this out, Ragıp said it too, there’s no grudge here, don’t make people laugh at us.”
Hakkı Bey sat down without saying a word, but he was still biting his lower lip. He thought that he should have shot the son-of-a-bitch the moment he stood up, it killed him to have allowed the others to intervene, but there was nothing he could do now, it would be unbecoming to continue. Both Ragıp Bey and Hakkı Bey knew that that they each had a deadly enemy, in those meaningless and dangerous few minutes they’d developed an enmity that would continue until one of them was dead; someday, someplace, there was going to be a settling of accounts and they were going to fight it out.
Ragıp Bey sat in silence, holding his knife, sizing up each of the men in the room. He’d responded to Hakkı Bey’s insult, he hadn’t backed down, Hakkı Bey’s momentary hesitation had made him the hidden winner of the fight, but he knew he would never forgive Hakkı Bey for daring to challenge him and that he would hold a grudge against him. When he thought about the day he would kill this pudgy man, who was as skilled a gunman as he was pudgy, the famous death smile appeared on his face again.
They all had another coffee, then decided to relay Ragıp Bey’s news to the leaders of the organization. Abdülkadir Bey said that he had heard similar rumors as well. As they talked, Ragıp Bey realized that they were not that interested in this mutiny, either because they thought it couldn’t happen or because they thought it would give them an opportunity to crush the mullahs and the Sultan, they weren’t going to take any real precautions; he regretted that his brother wasn’t there.
When he left this small wooden mansion that would be the heart of one of the largest empires in history for years and where decisions would be made that would drag the empire to destruction step by step, descended broad marble steps with edges that had been slightly rounded with age, and reached the courtyard, he took a deep breath of cold air. The pleasure of having survived this ordeal and of having taught Hakkı Bey a lesson turned the unaccountable joy he’d felt into cheerfulness; this cheerfulness surprised him and he said, “Good lord,” as if he’d just played a joke on himself. He walked as far as Babiali Avenue and found a carriage at the beginning of the street.
A while after he got into the carriage the driver, whose nose had become so blue from the cold that it seemed about to fall off, asked, “Where to, sir?”
“To Nişantaşı.”
When he uttered this single word, which surprised him, it was as if someone else had uttered it, he understood the reason for the joy that had been stirring in the depths of his soul for hours like a small fish at the bottom of a river, and that had now turned to delight; he was going to see Dilara Hanım.
The prospect of seeing Dilara Hanım always excited him, indeed it excited him a bit more each time, but this time the joy had risen above every other kind of emotion, even the desire to kill and be killed, as if it had not been touched, as if it had never interacted with the other emotions entwined around it, this delight that was so unaccustomed for Ragıp Bey was not because he was going to see the woman he loved; to suddenly sense the real reason for this delight, this feeling he was aware of without fully keeping its form in mind, like the familiarity of a face seen in the marketplace for the second time without keeping its form in mind completely, made him very angry and ashamed. He realized this delight was the result of having eased his conscience.
He hadn’t realized his meetings with Dilara Hanım had made him restless, made him feel a sense of remorse; perhaps he hadn’t realized that this restlessness was remorse because he’d never known remorse before. When Hasan Efendi told him he’d brought his wife and mother to the tekke, he’d realized he could go to Dilara Hanım without thinking about them at all, without being anxious that they would worry about him, that he didn’t need to find an excuse to tell his household, and freed himself from a heavy burden he hadn’t known he was carrying; it was because of the relief he felt at getting rid of this burden that he realized he’d been carrying it at all. Moreover, despite the possibility of an uprising, of horrible massacres, the risk of death, threats, and murder that the prospect of an uprising carried, it also gave him a natural reason not to go home and this made him secretly pleased; on one hand he wanted to prevent this uprising, but on the other he wanted it to begin, so that in the chaos he could be as completely free and independent as he’d once been.
Ragıp Bey had always been a strong man; his fearlessness in the face of death, which could be considered a sickness, the way he seemed almost not to believe that death was real, set him apart from other people and encased him in a hard shell, but this power, like all powers, carried beneath it weaknesses and frailties that could not have been guessed. As usual, Ragıp Bey’s strength was only nourished by other frailties; now this evening, which smelled of wood smoke, as he huddled in a corner of the cold carriage, whose folding leather roof was being pelted by droplets, passing through city streets swept by an ash-colored wind, he grew angry because an unexpected weakness had appeared beneath his strength. When he e
ntered the realm of women, which he secretly looked down on and didn’t understand or even try to understand, his weaknesses and fears made themselves felt and led him to worry, pangs of conscience, shameful joys, and demeaning delight. He hated to pay the ever-increasing price for every pleasure he experienced in this realm. He couldn’t figure out how these women caused him to worry, but this power they never showed openly made him angry.
He arrived at Dilara Hanım’s mansion in Nişantaşı feeling worn out by his own emotions. As usual, they greeted him with a memorized politeness and showed him to the living room; even though he spent most nights at the mansion, the servants treated him like a guest each time he came, they never allowed him to feel as if he was the man of the house; in their eyes he was nothing but a handsome officer who would soon be gone, and he felt this every time he came.
A little later when the door opened, Ragıp Bey, without turning around, felt a warmth in his body that told him Dilara Hanım had entered the room. It happened this way every time, he could sense Dilara Hanım’s presence even if he didn’t see her. Much later, with a meek curiosity that didn’t match the severity of his face, he asked Osman, “Is this thing people call love the warmth you feel even without touching?” When Osman realized that Ragıp Bey had asked this not because he had something to tell but because he was truly curious, he was even more surprised. He could only murmur that he didn’t know.
When Ragıp Bey turned and looked, he saw Dilara Hanım approaching him; he now felt an intense longing for her every time he saw her, for the first time he missed someone when he was close to her rather than when they were apart.