The Stone Woman (21 page)

Salman smiled as he embraced my shoulders. “I think it is dangerous to continue in this fashion any longer. I will talk to Halil to see if our young friend can be recruited into the army as an officer this week. Then I shall talk to Father on your behalf and you must tell your mother at the same time. I think that through such a combined operation we could achieve instant success. But tell me something, my little one. Are you very sure this time?”

I nodded. “When we were first together it was as if a stroke of lightning had passed through our bodies at the same time.”

He laughed. “I know something about this lightning. You must never let it burn you. Never forget that its effects are not always permanent. Lightning comes differently at different times. You can be unstruck by it as well.”

“I know that,” I replied. “But with us it becomes more and more intense every day. It is not simply the passion, Salman. We are close in so many different ways and he is genuinely fond of Orhan. There is a natural affinity between us. Is that not truly rare?”

“Yes, it is, but how can there be a natural affinity when you had no idea as to the identity of Auguste Comte?” he teased. “You might have to change your reading habits.”

And then my brother told me his story. When he had finished he saw the tears pouring down my cheeks and he embraced me.

“I stopped weeping a long time ago, Nilofer. You mustn’t start now. Life is full of pain and suffering, but there is always a way out. Always. Once you stop thinking that, you are doomed. I was on the edge of self-destruction. Everything appeared out of focus and I could no longer see the sharp outlines of my future. It was Hamid Bey and my Uncle Kemal who saved my life. I can never repay them for such a favour. Now I am at peace with myself and waiting impatiently for our world to change.”

“Do you never think of her?”

“No.”

“That frightens me, Salman. How could it all have gone away when you once loved her so much? If love is so ephemeral and transient, what hope is there for us?”

“It did not go away of its own accord. She plunged a dagger through my heart. The love simply bled away. The wounds remained for a long time, but they have healed now. When I think of that episode in my life I feel angry with myself, not her. It was I who misjudged her. You know, I have this strange instinct that she would have done this even if the children had been mine. There was a streak of pure masochism in her. I do not wish her any harm, let alone those poor children. The only person I miss in Alexandria is Hamid Bey. He is such a warm human being and I hope he has found true peace at last. Why is there so much unhappiness in our lives?”

When one is feeling happy it is not possible to answer such questions and I moved the conversation in another direction.

“Salman, there is something else I have to ask you.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Today has been declared the day when family secrecy was abolished. Ask and you shall hear the truth.”

“Did you know my mother Sara’s story?”

A worried frown appeared on his forehead. “I know your mother Hatije’s story.”

“It is the same story.”

“I disagree.”

“Why?”

“Sara loved another man who abandoned her. Hatije is your mother and my father’s wife.”

“You are wrong, Salman. Sara is my mother and Hatije is your father’s wife.”

“We heard all that years ago, but Father loved you so much as a child that it killed the gossip instantly. A maid in the employ of Halil’s mother was dismissed for spreading vile rumours. If Iskander Pasha had been unhappy, this household would have talked of you and your real father without pause and your mother’s life would have been a misery. That never happened. Instead we were lucky to have a beautiful child in the house and one who looked so different. What we all loved about you as a child was your strong character. I sometimes wish Zeynep was a bit more like you. That girl has learnt to suffer in silence, which is never good for anyone. Enough family talk for one day. I will go and find our General to discuss your future. You should take yourself immediately to the library and study some Comte. It can only enhance your happiness!”

We were laughing as we walked towards the house. It had suddenly become dark, but the clouds had disappeared and stars were beginning to fill the evening sky. Outside the door, we paused for a moment to gaze at them.

Salman sighed. “One memory will always stay with me. When I was fleeing Alexandria and heading for Japan, our boat reached the line of the Equator. It was a warm night, but it was very late and all of us were in our cabins. The captain had seen the sight many times, but there must have been some poetry in his soul. He weighed anchor and ordered us on deck. Never in my life have I seen the sky as it was that night. It was truly as if we were on the edge of the world. The sky was like a sea of stars and they were rolling past us at an incredible speed. I knew then that I was going to recover. Compared to the universe our emotions are as nothing.”

A few minutes later, on my own, I reflected on Salman’s tragedy. There were aspects of it that would haunt me for a long time. Everything had turned out wrong for him and yet, despite the grief, he had recovered his life. He had reverted to being the thoughtful and generous person I had known as a child. His own mother had died giving birth to him. He had been unable to give his wife a child. Was his seed infertile or had something else, deeper in him, forced him to hold back? Was it a fear that the woman he loved might also die giving birth? I became desperate on his behalf. I wanted him to meet a woman who might bring some real happiness into his life. I wanted him to have at least one child of his own. I did not like the thought of my dearest brother Salman growing old and lonely. There are limits to solitude. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps he did not need a fixed companion. Perhaps he would take over Uncle Kemal’s mantle and travel for the rest of his life, a free spirit, finding comfort wherever it became available and not thinking too much of the past or the future.

After the children were safe in bed, I went to my mother’s room. I told her of my decision to marry Selim. The news did not shake her serenity.

“I knew this would happen. I hope this one works better for you, though you are still young and might yet have a third chance.”

When I saw she was serious I burst out laughing. “I appreciate that your confidence in my judgement has been shaken, Mother, but please give me some credit. I would not make the same mistake twice. I have thought about it very carefully and asked myself the most searching questions. I am not drifting into this in a trance. My head and my thoughts are clear. I know I will be happy with Selim. I just know, Mother. I’m sure this time.”

“I hope so, my child. You are not alone. There are two children whose lives are involved in your decision. I don’t want you to be like the camel who went to demand horns and found instead the ears he already had were shorn from him.”

I had never heard Sara talk like this before. “Where in heaven’s name did you get that from?”

“My grandfather used it a great deal when my mother was a child. He was a Talmudic scholar and often spoke in this language. The camel was always brought into the conversation to stop my uncle taking risks and finding he had no money left. It never happened like that, of course. My Uncle Sifrah is one of the richest private bankers in Europe. The Sultan often borrows money from him.”

“Then he won’t be rich for too much longer, Mother. Better warn him to get his money back and move to Paris or New York.”

“Why do you talk like that? It’s not my business. Now tell me, Nilofer, will you talk to Iskander Pasha about Selim or should I?”

“Iskander Pasha has already been informed and has come to give his blessing.” My father, wearing a broad smile, had walked into the room. He hugged me and kissed my cheeks. “This time you have made a good choice.”

“Are you sure, Iskander?” asked my mother. “At least the Greek was a school teacher.”

Iskander Pasha laughed. “This young man will go far if he learns to control his tongue and doesn’t expect the moon to fall into his lap immediately. I am truly pleased. Hasan Baba is almost a member of the family and, as you know, I have been very close to him for many years. The news has made him weep with joy. Nilofer, you must please go downstairs. Your brothers are questioning Selim, and the Baron and Memed are already celebrating with another bottle and are waiting to congratulate you. I need to speak with your mother alone.”

A full-scale discussion was in progress when I reached the library, but my entrance froze them. The Baron rose and proposed a toast to Selim and me. Hasan Baba came and kissed my head. Halil put his arms around me and whispered.

“At least we’ll all be present this time.”

Salman waved from the corner. Selim appeared to be embarrassed and averted his eyes from mine. His over-confident demeanour had momentarily disappeared. I had surprised him. He never really believed I would go this far so soon. Now he was confronted with a decision I had made. It was the Baron who was the first to speak.

“My dear Nilofer, we have been discussing when you two should get married. There is a great difference of opinion on this subject and a fierce argument was raging when you appeared on the scene like a Greek goddess. Memed was for October, which he says, and here I agree with him, is a beautiful month in Istanbul. Salman is indifferent. Halil prefers September since he is on military manoeuvres later in October and naturally assumes that his new Adjutant Selim will be at his side. Have you a preference?”

I assumed there might be many difficulties to negotiate before the ceremony and for that reason I had not thought of an actual date. I decided to surprise them all, including myself.

“Why not tomorrow afternoon in this very room? I will tell the children in the morning.”

The Baron roared. “The girl has courage. Let us agree!”

Uncle Memed smiled. “Fine. Then, at least, I will not be disturbed at an unearthly hour every night as some young blade tries to tiptoe his way up to your bedroom. Let tonight be a night of rest and tomorrow we will dance and sing.”

I felt myself blushing and looked in the large mirror to confirm that this was indeed the case. The Baron and Memed had known all along. No matter how large the house, it could not hold any secrets. Selim was standing near the window. As I joined him we looked at each other and began to laugh. Uncle Memed’s voice interrupted our tiny moment of privacy.

“Have you ever read Stendhal on love, Baron?”

“No,” said the Baron. “And I do not intend to do so. I’m amazed that you have wasted your time on Stendhal. He wrote too much and at too great a speed. His books were not in our house in Berlin. The only French novelists permitted in our library are Balzac and Flaubert and of the two, Flaubert is the true genius.”

“What about Rimbaud and Verlaine, Baron?” inquired Salman. “Are they permitted in your library?”

“I was speaking of novelists, Salman Pasha.” The Baron’s tone indicated that he was not in a mood to be trifled with today. “Of course the poets you mention are present, but I find Verlaine too luscious for my taste. The English romantics, Shelley and Keats, have produced much better verse. Forgive an old man his prejudices, Salman, but we Germans are terribly spoilt. After Goethe, Schiller, Holderlin and Heine it is difficult for us to take the French versifiers too seriously. There is Pushkin, of course, and he is a totally different matter, though I do sometimes wonder how much of the music in his verse is inherited from his African forebear and how much has been inspired by that cursed primeval darkness they call Russia.”

Before we could discuss Stendhal’s exclusion from the Baron’s library in Berlin, Iskander Pasha entered the room to ask if we had decided on a date for the wedding. He was greatly amused by the suggestion that the event was planned for the following day. When he realised we were serious he remained unruffled and turned to Hasan Baba.

“Do we need a beard to officiate or can you manage on your own, Hasan? I doubt whether anyone else present knows the words of the prayer for the occasion.”

Hasan Baba’s face was wreathed in smiles. “You know as well as I that our religion was not made for priests and monks. In fact they could be married without the prayer that was instituted much later. These things were invented so we could compete with the Christians. If they had priests, we needed our own. In our faith there is no divide between the spiritual and the temporal.”

“That has been a big problem,” said Halil.

“I do not want a debate on theology tonight,” Iskander Pasha intervened rapidly to guillotine the discussion. “All I want to know is who will perform the marriage ceremony. It’s a practical question. If a beard is needed we shall have to send a messenger tonight.”

“I will marry these children,” said Hasan Baba. “Provided we have two reliable witnesses I don’t need anything else. I would suggest Iskander Pasha and General Halil Pasha as the witnesses. That will suffice.”

I ran to tell Sara that we had agreed on a day and time, but she was already fast asleep and snoring gently. I went to my room in a slightly uneasy mood. I was sure of Selim, but something still bothered me. Why? I should be jubilant, singing tunes of infinite rapture, just like the celebrated birds in Sufi poetry. Everything was being done so that it accorded with my needs. I was puzzled as to why none of them had objected to Selim’s pedigree. Ten years ago edicts would have been issued. Disdainful eyes would have looked at me across the breakfast table accusingly for polluting our family by marrying a barber whose family had cut our hair for centuries. What had changed them all? Was it their own life experiences and the passage of time that had mellowed them—or was it something much greater than any individual? Was it the impending collapse of the Empire and the Ottoman civilisation of which we had been a part for a very long time and without which we would be sucked into a vortex of uncertainties?

I now realised that it was the ease with which my family had agreed to the match that made me uneasy. Whatever the reason, I was pleased and my mood changed. I was looking out of the window in a slight daze when I felt two gentle hands cupping my breasts. I screamed and the hands covered my mouth.