The Blue Hour

Chapter 3: Hamid

Had he fallen asleep? He wasn't sure. Now, his eyes were wide open and his heart racing.

A group of student guards criss-crossed the square to wake everyone up. "A royal carriage is coming this way!"

Hamid felt a chill. His heart clenched tight and dropped. A royal carriage? Here? There was sudden commotion and yelling, and Jurad, already on his feet. In a matter of seconds, the softa got in motion.

A voice cried: "Let's block it!"

Voices answered: "Block it, block it!"

Another voice: "There are palace guards! Arm yourselves!"

The men reached for what they could, some had firearms and knives, most had nothing but their cooking gear. With a growing sense of panic, Hamid was swept along with the packed crowd.

"Stay close," Jurad shouted, gripping his arm.

They drifted along with the wave of softa, towards the royal carriage. In the anonymity of the crowd, Hamid felt a release of tension. Around him, the excitement of the softa expanded, and he gave himself up to it.

To one end of the square, stood the royal carriage with the golden coat of arms of Sultan Abdulaziz visible on the door. Surrounded by softa, it could neither advance nor retract. Mounted eunuchs, at least six, formed a protective ring around it, and more eunuch guards, armed with long leather whips and curved, jewel encrusted swords, travelled on the carriage. It was a stand-off.

The softa discussed their options. What would they do now? Who was in the carriage? The eunuchs shouted orders and waved their swords. One eunuch stood in the stirrups and cried: "Make way for Prince Yusufeddin." The large, white stallion under him reared.

Over the craned heads the flute player emerged, powerful arms lifted him so everyone could see him, he waved his arms to bid silence. "Brothers, did you hear?" he shouted, pointing at the trapped carriage. "Behold the son of Sultan Abdulaziz!"

The crowd exploded into a roar of cheers. Hamid stared at the surrounding faces, charged with tension. His heart raced. He imagined his cousin, Prince Yusufeddin, alone inside the carriage, behind drawn damask curtains, with his stomach contracted into a hard ball which sucked the air out of him. Would the students break the doors open, tear him out and lynch him? He ought to prevent it, but how? And yet, beneath the horror, he felt energised and excited, like the bloodthirsty men around him.

"Your Highness, Prince Yusufeddin," the flute-player's tone was sarcastic. There was laughter.

"Here's our message to your father the Sultan: Hear the voice of your people, make Midhat Pasha Grand Vizier.

The students banged their kettle-drums and chanted: "Midhat Pasha, Midhat Pasha!"

A eunuch spurred his horse, a softa tried to grab the reins, but the eunuch swung his sword and let the horse's hooves dance dangerously in the air, and the student, who was struck in the head, collapsed on the ground. As the students recoiled from the rearing horse an opening was created, the eunuch drove his horse through it, and escaped at a gallop.

Jurad stared with wild eyes, he tried to tell Hamid something, but Hamid was too stunned to understand the words, sounds were muffled, his mind dull and disconnected from his body. The pressure of the crowd pushed him away from Jurad, towards the blocked carriage.

In their excitement, the softa, too, were slow to understand what would happen next, until someone cried: "The eunuch will bring reinforcement!"

Voices chimed in. There was confusion and chaos. Jurad had already snapped into action, and dragging Hamid along by one hand, he elbowed his way forward with the other, pushing against the sweaty, frenzied crowd to cut across the square.