Farewell: A Mansion in Occupied Istanbul (Turkish Literature)

by Kulin, Ayse

  “And then all would be saved?”

  “If the person controlling the state coffers joined our cause it would certainly be a reason for celebrating, yes.”

  “But how can your uncle be so blind to what’s so obvious to us, Kemal?”

  “People are blind to the faults of those they love and to whom they’ve sworn fealty. Tell me, do you think Fehime Sultan can extract this admission during conversation with the Sultan?”

  “I’ll go home and have Hakkı Efendi deliver a letter to Fehime Sultan, telling her I’d to pay a call.”

  “Then please, go immediately. If we succeed, we’ll have obtained a powerful recruiting tool for the resistance.”

  “Don’t worry, I was planning on leaving anyway. My mother tells me that the Asian Shore is more secure, and wants me to stay with her at my aunt’s in Erenköy. I’ll have to visit Fehime Sultan before I go there. Nor do I wish to abuse your gracious hospitality.”

  “That would be impossible! You’re always welcome here.”

  “Yes, I’ve gathered as much. There’s some intelligence I’d like to share—shall I?”

  “Out with it.”

  “Your aunt has been matchmaking; I thought you should know.” At first Kemal didn’t fully grasp the implications of Azra’s words. When he did, he guffawed loudly. “What makes you think that?”

  “You know what they say about the accuracy of information from the mouths of babes.”

  “Did Suat tell you?”

  “No, Leman did. She’s overheard her mother talking about how suitable we are for each other.”

  “You know, she does have a point. Perhaps I’ll give it some thought,” Kemal said, still laughing.

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Am I so unworthy of you, Azra?”

  “Don’t say that even in jest. You’re like a brother to me.”

  “And even if I weren’t, you deserve far better than the likes of me. Someone healthy and wise, with an inheritance or a career.”

  “And does anyone you know meet that criteria?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

  “And who is this perfect catch?”

  “Doctor Mahir, for example.”

  “For goodness sake,” Azra cried, “I thought I was visiting the home of friends, but it seems I’ve wandered into a nest of matchmakers. If I hear the name of that doctor again, Kemal, our friendship will suffer a serious rupture. In fact, I might not look you in the face ever again.”

  “Why so angry, Azra?”

  “Promise me you’ll never pronounce his name again.”

  “I promise! But I’d like you to promise you won’t neglect to visit with Fehime Sultan.”

  “I promise.”

  “Azra . . . forgive me for breaking my promise so soon . . . But why are you so set against Mahir? Has he done something to disturb you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well then, could you explain the vehemence of your objecion?”

  “It’s a personal matter.”

  “I see. He approached you; you spurned him. End of subject. I won’t mention him again.”

  “Kemal, don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Well I know the two of you were close friends as recently as a month ago. Whenever Mahir stopped by to see me it seemed he was always on his way from your house. You must have found his attentions excessive.”

  Azra bowed her head for a moment, then she suddenly looked Kemal directly in the eye: “No, it’s the opposite. I understood that Mahir Bey didn’t return my affections.”

  “The fool,” said Kemal. “Forgive me for prying, Azra. I’ll never mention him again.”

  “Kemal, I’d have no objection . . . I haven’t made marriage to the doctor a question of my personal honor. I simply misunderstood the nature of our friendship.”

  “But his having failed to appreciate the charms of someone like you . . . It makes no sense.”

  “He appreciates me well enough, Kemal. But love is something else.”

  “Ah, Azra, don’t I know it,” Kemal sighed. “The heart knows no master. If only we could demand its obedience.”

  “The obedience of our desires, as well as our hearts. It seems to me that you men are far more captive to your desires than to your hearts.”

  “How did you reach that conclusion?”

  Azra was preparing to respond, but fell silent when Leman entered the room with a silver tray of foamy coffee, Mehpare just behind her.

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” Mehpare said, nodding in the direction of Leman, “but the little lady insisted on bringing you your morning coffee.”

  “I did no such thing!” Leman protested. “It was Mehpare Abla who wanted to make coffee.”

  “And a good thing she did, too,” Azra smiled. “I haven’t had a good strong cup of coffee for ever so long. Mehpare, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind reading my cup when I’m finished. Behice says you’re a wonderful fortune teller.”

  “Reading coffee grounds is nothing more than a diversion,” Mehpare said. “I simply make things up as I go along, just as Saraylıhanım taught me.”

  “Well let’s see what my cup inspires you to say. Who knows, perhaps you’ll divine a path leading directly to the Palace,” said Azra, with a clandestine wink at Kemal.

  The wink was not lost on Mehpare.

  Leman cried, “Oh, Azra Abla, are you really going to the Palace? And will you take mother with you again?”

  “I won’t be taking your mother this time, Leman. Certain things of great interest to me seem to leave her quite faint,” Azra laughed.

  “To be fair to my aunt, she had other reasons to faint that day,” Kemal said.

  Mehpare took a cup of coffee from the tray in Leman’s hand and placed it on the end table in front of Azra. But as she was handing the second cup to Kemal, her hand suddenly trembled, spilling most of its contents onto his lap.

  “Ah! I’m ever so sorry, sir. Let me get you a napkin. And it was piping hot, too. I hope you haven’t burned yourself!”

  Tugging at the rapidly growing stain on the front of his trousers, Kemal leapt to his feet and raced out of the room. To Mehpare, who had followed, he whispered, “I have scorched myself, actually. And each passing day makes it clearer just how badly.”

  When Leman heard her father and uncle talking inside the room with the bow window on the middle floor, she tapped on the door. Saraylıhanım had admonished her since childhood not to enter a room until granted permission, so Leman waited outside for the words “come in”. It was strange, she knew her father and uncle were behind the door, but there was no response from either of them. Her patience exhausted, she finally pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside. The two men were seated opposite each other on the divan and so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t even heard her. She ran toward her father:

  “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 Reşit 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 Reşat 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 İnzibatiye, and now we’ve decided to abolish it. Cemal Pasha will also be coming to Reşit 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 İzmir 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 Reşat 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 İzmit. 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 İzmit.”

  “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 Reşit 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!” Reşat 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 Reşit 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 Reşat 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 Reşat said.

  “When have we ever seen much of you?” murmured Behice, appearing in the doorway. “You requested a carriage, Reşat 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 Reşit Bey’s house.”

  “Off I go then. Suitable retribution indeed for having failed to heed the advice of my wife,” said Reşat 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.