by Kulin, Ayse
Doctor Mahir came back to the room and said, “You appear to be perfectly healthy, efendim. What the midwife told you was right: you are most likely with child. I’ll need a urine sample to be absolutely certain and will inform you the instant I am.”
“But how could that be? Good gracious!”
“Why not? This time, you may even be blessed with a son.”
“It’s for Reşat Bey that I want a son, Mahir Bey, not for myself.”
“As far as I know Reşat Bey is perfectly content with his daughters.”
“You also know that he sent Suat to school, as though she were a boy. If he has a son he might let the girls be girls.”
“Is it so wrong for girls to receive an education?”
“Schooling and training are a different matter altogether when it comes to girls. Suat can barely embroider. She can’t play the ud. She’s never home long enough to learn anything. That school of hers has taken over her life.”
“What about Leman?” laughed Doctor Mahir.
“Saraylıhanım was able to rescue her from Reşat Bey. You know, she sees herself in the girl, her eyes, her figure, her fastidiousness. She’s forever teaching Leman Circassian cuisine. But Leman’s quite lazy, she cares about nothing but her piano.”
“It’s a difficult age for girls,” Mahir assured her. “The indolence will pass. She’s betwixt and between at the moment. It’s only natural that she’s at something of a loss.”
By the time Mehpare and Kemal returned to the room Mahir had long since re-packed his medical bag.
“So doctor, have you discovered the why and wherefore of my aunt’s fainting spell?” Kemal asked.
“The why and wherefore is most likely seated at this moment behind his desk at the ministry of finance,” Mahir chuckled.
“You’re not serious!”
“A people constantly at war must constantly repopulate itself, I say!”
“Stop having fun at my expense,” Behice protested. “I may well have fainted from all the excitement. I haven’t been able to stand crowds of any kind ever since our flight from Thessalonica. They give me heart palpitations. So please, don’t speak a word of this to anyone, not yet!”
“Don’t worry, Behice Hanım, information of a confidential nature is kept between patient and doctor. I’ll certainly let you know the results of the test, and the rest is up to you. You can tell whomever you like.”
“And if I’m not pregnant?”
“Unless you faint again, everything is fine. If you do faint, it’s best you come to the hospital, where we’ll run some tests. But what I need you to do right now is to locate a bottle and supply me with a urine sample before I go back downstairs, please.”
As Behice thanked Mahir and left the room Mehpare ran after her. “Behice, we had a bottle of cologne with a stopper. Shall I empty it and wash it out for you?” she asked
“And waste the cologne?”
“It’s nearly gone anyway.”
“Thank you, Mehpare, bring it to my room as soon as it’s ready.”
Behice withdrew to her bedroom. Locking the door she removed her blouse and examined her breasts in front of the mirror. Her nipples had darkened slightly. She had no appetite in the morning and her sense of smell had sharpened. She might be pregnant; but, then again, the gathering that day had been terribly trying, enough to make her faint. Never again would she set foot in such a place. Mehpare knocked on the door, freshly rinsed bottle in hand. Behice raced to the toilet.
With the women out of the room, Mahir gathered the latest batch of translations scattered on Kemal’s desk, took some new journals out of his bag and handed them to his friend.
“Merely doing translations isn’t enough for me, Mahir,” Kemal said. “I feel perfectly healthy and strong. It’s time I joined you and the others.”
“I don’t deny that you’ve made a recovery. But your body is still weak, Kemal. You mustn’t take on too much.”
“Confinement to a single room is taking its toll on my spirit. At this rate, I’m in danger of losing my mind.”
“I know it’s not easy, my friend. If there weren’t a warrant out for your arrest I’d have had you sent to your uncle’s farm long ago. But there are spies everywhere. It’s become more difficult than ever to know who’s a secret agent.”
“I could change my appearance, Mahir. I could grow a beard, dye my hair, wear glasses. Saraylıhanım uses henna from time to time . . .”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. With your hair tinted red they’d take you for a Jew. You’d immediately be spared the wrath of the occupation forces: it’s Muslims they’re after, not minorities.” Mahir fell silent at a knock on the door. It was Mehpare, bringing Behice’s urine sample.
“Behice Hanım asked me to give this to you,” she said, extending the bottle to Mahir, who checked the stopper was secure before putting it into his bag.
“Kemal Bey, may I ask you something?” Mehpare said. “Go on.”
“What happened to Behice Hanım in Thessalonica? What did she mean, about her ‘flight’? Did something bad happen?”
Kemal and Mahir exchanged glances. “It’s a bad memory, yes,” Kemal said.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“Why are you so curious about it, Mehpare?”
“I thought I might be of more help to her if I knew. If she’s not pregnant, but still continues to have fainting spells, I might be able to do more for her than just offer smelling salts and cologne. I did realize at the gathering the other day that the size of the crowd disturbed her terribly.”
“You were right. My aunt’s been terrified of crowds, of loud noises, ever since that day. My uncle was posted to Thessalonica during the Balkan War and the Ottomans were given very little time to evacuate the city when we lost. He thought it best to send his wife and daughters, who were still very young at the time, on the first ship to Istanbul. Apparently, it had begun to be dangerous for Turks, subjected as they were to the insults and harassments of the Ottoman Greeks.”
“Weren’t you there with them, sir?”
“No, I was here, at boarding school.”
“Did something happen on their voyage back?”
“Behice and her daughters were collected at the door by a phaeton belonging to the Russian Envoy, and taken to the port in his personal carriage. A Russian armed attendant sat next to the driver the entire way to protect them from any possible attacks. As the city was being evacuated, the local Greeks were throwing stones at the carriages boarded by Turks, cursing them, insulting them, roughing up and plundering the personal belongings of anyone they were able to get their hands on. After their rough ride to the port they were able to board the ship, but not before being subjected to vulgarity and catcalls. They were pushed and shoved. My aunt was pregnant at the time and lost her baby during the voyage to Istanbul. Ever since, she’s been terrified of shouting and yelling, of demonstrations, of large crowds of any kind. She wasn’t herself again for quite some time. It wasn’t easy of course, a young woman and two children, without her husband by her side . . .”
“Why didn’t Reşat Beyefendi return with his family?”
“He was in charge of organizing archives going back centuries. He returned a few months later.”
“He came back to Istanbul with my father,” said Doctor Mahir. “See, you’re learning something else today, Mehpare. The friendship between our families goes all the way back to those days in Thessalonica. Not only were we neighbors, he and father were colleagues. They worked together at the provincial office of the director of finance and they shared the risky voyage back home to Istanbul. That’s why they were so close, like family really.”
“May God bless his soul,” Kemal interjected. “Mahir Bey’s father was Uncle Reşat’s superior. You came to live with us not long after Aunt Behice had returned to Istanbul. My aunt was in a feeble condition after the miscarriage and unable to look after her children properly. My grandmother gave us the news that a young Circassia
n girl was coming to stay and to keep Leman and Suat amused. You weren’t much more than a girl yourself, but you certainly knew how to keep those imps in line. What a clever, beautiful child you were, Mehpare.”
Mehpare blushed. “I was hardly a child . . .”
“What do you mean? You were no more than twelve or thirteen.”
Mehpare became agitated all of a sudden. “Ah, sir! I forget to tell you, now Saraylıhanım will become cross with me. Your grandmother will be wondering why you haven’t come downstairs; she was going to offer refreshments to Mahir Bey in the selamlık.”
“Go on down, Mehpare, we’ll join you in a moment,” Kemal told her.
With Mehpare out of the room, Kemal returned to their earlier conversation.
“Or perhaps I could dress up like a priest?” he mused.
“When it comes time to travel to the farm you can wear a çarşaf again. Everything will be fine once you get there.”
“But then what I will do, when I’m out on the streets?”
“You’ll have no cause to be on the streets in the daytime, Kemal. You’ll be working indoors. Demobilization orders and identity cards are being prepared for the officers who have fled to Anatolia. You’ll be helping with that.”
“And running guns at night, right?”
“One of our divisions is responsible for arms smuggling. They’re doing a great job. God forbid you should have to join them. Your duties lie elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“There are some Algerian troops attached to the French army. They’re staying at Rami Barracks. They visit Eyüp Sultan Mosque for Friday prayers. The sermons of the clerics there aim to persuade these soldiers of the treachery of taking up arms against their fellow Muslims. You’ll translate the sermons for the Algerian soldiers.”
Kemal’s face registered his disappointment.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have other, more dangerous duties, too.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll tell you when the time comes.”
“I want to go to Anatolia, Mahir.”
“I know you do, brother. But if everyone goes off to Anatolia, who will handle logistics and shipping here? The arms are all being secured in Istanbul for transfer there. The demobilized soldiers are being regrouped and redeployed to the countryside from Istanbul. We’ve got to prepare their papers, raise funds, buy weapons from the French and Italians . . . These are vital tasks. As vital as taking up arms. When the time comes, you’ll pass over to Anatolia, and you’ll be healthier and stronger than you are now.”
“You’re right.”
“The appointment of Reşat Bey to the Damat Ferit Cabinet is an excellent development, Kemal. You might have the opportunity to obtain some valuable information from your uncle.”
“Do you really expect me to spy on my uncle?”
“Of course I don’t, but it would be most helpful if you kept us informed of anything you learn about arrest warrants and detainments.”
“I don’t want my uncle to get into trouble on my account. Arrange my passage to the farm and I’ll do anything they want. Mahir, once I leave this house I’ll never be able to return. I have no right to endanger the others.”
“I understand, but information obtained from your uncle would be so valuable to us . . . I wonder if you couldn’t stay here a while longer?”
“I’m bored to death. And even if I stayed elsewhere, I could still . . . No Mahir, it’s impossible!”
“I don’t blame you, but I do think it’s time to forget family loyalties. We’re about to lose our homeland.”
“My uncle will understand that. Believe me, he was badly shaken by the raid on Parliament and the massacre at Şehzadepaşa Police Headquarters.”
“Well then, we’ll let time take care of everything, Kemal,” said Mahir, “but how much time do we have? That’s the problem!”
Azra got a chair from the dining table, placed it next to the stool Leman sat on as she played the piano, and sat down next to her.
“There’s a piece we can play together. Shall I show you how?” she asked.
“Is it two-handed?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, but don’t let Suat see.”
“Why?”
“She’ll want to learn it too.”
“Would that be so bad? You could play it together.”
“I don’t want to, Azra Abla. She gets her hands all muddy in the garden and then she touches the keys without washing them. She annoys me.”
“It seems you take after Saraylıhanım, you’re a little bit fastidious.”
“So what? I don’t want anyone touching my things.”
“Cleanliness and tidiness are certainly virtues, but only in moderation,” Azra said. “You play beautifully, Leman. Would you like to be a pianist?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean performing in great concert halls, playing professionally.”
“Girls don’t do that sort of thing after they’re married, Azra Abla.”
“They do if they want to, Leman. Are you thinking about marriage already?”
“Not now, but in a few years. Nana says a good match shouldn’t be missed. They make the best matches when a girl is still young.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course it is. Just look at you—can’t find a husband.”
“Is that what Saraylıhanım told you?” Azra laughed.
Leman shook her head and asked, “Why don’t you get married, Azra Abla?”
“I already have, my girl. But my husband was martyred in the war.”
“Couldn’t you get married again?”
“I could, but I prefer to remain faithful to the memory of my husband.”
“But Azra Abla, are you going to go through life without a husband, without children?”
“It wouldn’t be easy for me to find a suitable man, Leman. Saraylıhanım has a point, the men my age are all married with children.”
“Not all of them. Uncle Kemal is a bachelor.”
“Oh! Now whose idea was that?”
“They were talking about it the other day.”
“I see. So your nana wants to marry me off to your uncle.”
“No, not my nana, my mother. She thinks you’re suitable for each other.”
“Unfortunately, we grew up as brother and sister. Marriage is out of the question.”
“What a shame! I’m ever so fond of you, and I’d hate for a strange woman to come to the house.”
“Rest easy, Leman, your uncle has no intention of getting married any time soon.”
“But mother wants him married without delay. She says he won’t develop a sense of responsibility otherwise.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. He’ll settle down once he has a family, that’s what mother says.”
“And I’ve been chosen to bring him to heel, is that it?”
“Mother says only an experienced woman could cope with Uncle Kemal, but nana wants to find him a young maiden. That’s what I heard her say.”
“God willing, Kemal will find his own bride when the time comes. Now, shall we play that piece I told you about?”
They had just begun when Kemal joined them. “Azra, could I ask you to join me for a moment, there’s something we need to discuss.”
“Leman and I are playing piano right now. Let’s talk a little later.”
“Please, Azra. It’s important.”
When Leman looked at Azra with a devilish sparkle in her eyes and said, “Go talk to my uncle, we can play later,” Azra stood up with a sinking heart. She couldn’t help wondering if she was being toyed with by Leman, at the behest of Behice. Had she fallen into a trap? She’d accepted the invitation to stay at the house without hesitation, never suspecting ulterior motives of any kind. She followed Kemal into the sitting room.
“And what is it that could be so terribly urgent?” she asked brusquely.
“What I’m about to tell you should remain confident
ial, Azra.”
“Do you think I’ll babble to the neighbors?”
“What’s gotten into you Azra? What do you mean, babble?”
“I don’t know! Go on, tell me your secret!”
“You’re friends with Fehime Sultan, aren’t you?” Kemal asked. Azra was taken aback by the unexpected reference to the princess. “I am. What of it?”
“Would you be able to obtain information from her?”
“What kind of information?” asked Azra, her curiosity piqued.
“You’re familiar with the association known as T.S. . . .”
Azra thought for a moment. “Which association? Ah, yes.”
“Them. They’ve been financing religious schools and institutions as a way of opening a front against the Nationalists.”
“So I’ve heard. The ladies in my organization have discussed it.”
“Just think, Azra, this association has identified over twenty-five religious schools in Anatolia. With the funding from the Sultan, they’re swimming in money. And how do you think the Sultan finances them?”
“How?”
“The money is provided by the occupation forces. The English disburse funds to the Sultan, who passes the money along to pro-English proponents of Shari’a, chief among them Sheikh Sait. If Fehime Sultan could only find a way to get the Sultan to admit as much . . .”
“But isn’t it perfectly obvious, Kemal?”
“That may be so, but confirmation from the royal lips would be different. Otherwise, we might be forced to slander the Sultan.”
And so what if we do, Azra thought to herself. Kemal looked troubled.
“Ah, now I understand! You’re frightened of your uncle, aren’t you?”
“I’m not afraid of anyone. I’d simply like to be absolutely certain that the Sultan knows what he does. If we’re made to answer for our actions one day, I’d like to hold my head high with the certainty that I have slandered no one.”
“Is it worth taking all this trouble for a Sultan who would accept money from the states occupying his lands?”
“It is. If my uncle were to hear the Sultan himself admit as much, he would join us.”