The Blue Hour

Chapter 34: Peresto

They stopped at the pavilion of the Sweet Water to perform the midday prayer. It's what the Valide would expect her to do, visit the lush garden of linden trees which Medjid had been so fond of. She was impatient to get to Midhat Pasha's house, but skipping the prayers would provoke questions. Afterwards, they crossed Galata bridge and the carriage continued through the narrow streets of Stamboul. She swayed along, lost in thought, and time drifted.

In the neighbourhood of the Eyup mosque, they came to an abrupt halt. She pulled up the blinds. Ragged, desolate refugees, mostly women and children, had set up a make-shift camp in the streets around the mosque, blocking the passage. Her eunuch escort shouted to make way. As people scattered left and right, the carriage got in motion again. It advanced at a snail's pace.

She brought out a perfumed handkerchief to cover her nose. There was an ugly smell in the air of poverty and despair, she knew it well because she often visited the city mosques to give alms to the poor and the suffering. It had been a while since she had been, and she was shocked to see the magnitude of the recent influx.

For years already, since the Crimean War, people of different creeds and nationalities had been migrating to the city from all over the Empire, fleeing war, persecution and famine. In the last year, the number of refugees had soared as a direct result of the troubles in the Balkan provinces in the East. The mosques, churches and synagogues which provided shelter to their own, overflowed.

Wretched people followed the carriage, with outstretched palms and pleading eyes. Her heart shrank. She reached for her purse and let coins fall like silvery rain out of the window. These people deserved better, they deserved a strong hand to defend them against the powers that destroyed the empire.

She drew in her breath. The prophecy confirmed what she knew to be true, the fate of the empire rested on Hamid's shoulders. Crown Prince Murad had the same feeble mind as Sultan Abdulaziz, the same weakness for drink as Sultan Medjid. Prince Yusufeddin was no better.

She pulled back from the carriage window and turned her gaze down at the silk rug on the floor. Had his moment come? She could not see clearly, there were so many obstacles between him and the throne. She should not lift her gaze, only focus on the one overriding task at hand, on getting the coup against Sultan Abdulaziz off the ground.

The two carriage horses got into a fast, steady trot. She pushed her doubts away, closed her eyes and swayed along in the comfortably symmetrical rhythm.

#

Surur received her in the salon. Even though Peresto was happy to see her friend, she waited impatiently for Midhat to arrive so she could get to the point of her visit. When he came, tea was served and they engaged in casual conversation.

Surur disengaged and kept still. Peresto saw her glance at her husband; she was worried and he disregarded her, perhaps because he would rather not show his wife that he, too, was concerned.

"I cannot stay long," Peresto said. "I must get back to the palace."

Surur rose and as she exited the room, said: "If you risk everything, make sure it's not for nothing."

The weight of those words, their obviousness, the pressure of them, made it feel as if the room had gone still.

Midhat walked to fireplace and watched the flames. "Reshid delivered your message, Princess," he said.

"You agree we cannot wait any longer?"

"I understand the urgency. Prince Hamid is alright?"

"He is, thank God." She met his gaze. "I'm sorry I had to deceive you, I didn't know what else to do to get the Prince out of the palace. Has the Valide said anything?"

"She was furious with me, but has not ordered me to revoke the authorisation for him to leave. Not yet. And she did not stop you from visiting Surur."

She nodded. "Doesn't dare cross you."

He smiled wanly.

"They fear you," she said. "You've played your cards well, Midhat. But don't be deceived. The Valide wants you gone and will act as soon as she gets the chance. You are not safe."

"I know that."

Her voice dropped. "I have risked coming here to make sure you understand we cannot wait any longer. The coup has to happen now, or it will be too late."

He frowned.

She made an impatient wave of the hand. "The army and the Ulema are still with us?"

"They are," he said.

"Good," she said.

"Princess, we must also reckon with the Ottoman people."

She was as confused as she was dismayed. "The Ulema and the army speak for the people," she replied with a chill in her voice. "The soldiers and our religious scholars express the national sentiment. They always have." A frown of concern appeared on her brow. "They will bless the new Sultan?"

"Yes, they will." Midhat paced the floor. He turned and met her hard gaze. "These are different times, Princess. New times. We cannot ignore the softa in the streets. They, more than anyone, express the popular will."

She scoffed. "Popular will?"

"Yes."

She gave him a measured look. "The softa you are paying to shout your name in the streets. What more do you want?"

Avoiding her gaze, he turned away. "A bit more time, a couple of weeks before deposing the Sultan."

More time to strengthen his power base. The softa should not be underestimated. The disorganised bunch of ignorant peasants had already forced Abdulaziz to cede to their demands. Armed and vocal and controlled by Midhat Pasha, the softa could constitute a force to be reckoned with. No wonder he was confident.

She did not trust him, unfairly, perhaps, since he had never been anything but loyal. And she couldn't blame him for wanting to secure his power. His main rival, Huseyin Avni, controlled the Ottoman army. In Midhat's place, she would have done the same, and more.

Huseyin Avni wasn't just too reactionary for her taste, and too greedy. With the military in his pocket, he was also too strong. His power should be balanced, undermined even. By creating tensions among her opponents she gained and maintained power. Midhat's rise should be monitored, but, for now, it suited her.

"The coup cannot be postponed," she said.

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Author's note

The Ulema was a class of learned Islamic scholars, held a significant position within the Ottoman Empire. As experts in Islamic law, theology, and jurisprudence, they played a crucial role in shaping the empire's religious, legal, and educational systems. They were responsible for interpreting and applying Islamic law, serving as judges in religious courts, and providing guidance to the ruling class on matters of faith and governance.

The Ulema also oversaw the empire's extensive network of madrasas, or religious schools, where they taught and trained future generations of scholars. Their influence extended beyond the religious sphere, as they often served as advisors to the sultan and held key positions in the Ottoman bureaucracy.

However, the Tanzimat reforms of the 19th century, which aimed to modernise and secularise the Empire, began to challenge the traditional authority of the Ulema. Despite these challenges, the Ulema remained a powerful force in Ottoman society, and their influence continued to shape the empire's religious and intellectual landscape.