The Stone Woman (22 page)

“Selim!”

“Did you think that I would be so overpowered by sentimentality that I would really stay away tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you were wrong. Are you glad you were wrong?”

“Yes. But before you take your clothes off I want to know why you agreed to join the army.”

“To make it easier for everyone. They can say that Nilofer is married to a young officer under Halil. It sounds better than saying: ‘Nilofer is marrying our barber’s grandson. Yes, he’s a barber too and it will be so convenient for us because, from now on, we won’t need an outsider for the circumcisions.’”

I couldn’t help laughing, because he was mimicking my mother’s voice perfectly, but I knew instinctively that the joke was designed to conceal the truth. He would never have agreed to join the army to help preserve our family’s pride. On the contrary, he would have used the very words he put in my mother’s mouth himself whenever we had company simply in order to shock their sensibilities.

“I don’t believe you, Selim. I want the truth.”

“The officers are planning to get rid of the Sultan, his court, the clergy, their privileges, and who knows what else will fall when we push him off his throne? There is no political party in our country like the German Social Democratic Party or the French Socialist Party. Perhaps there never will be such a party, but till one comes into existence the army is a good place for me.

“But Selim,” I shouted at him, “what if there’s a war? You might be killed!”

“We’re too weak and poor to fight in any stupid war,” he laughed. “We won’t fight against our foreign enemies. If they attack, we’ll surrender quietly and quickly. The war we’re planning is against tradition and obscurantism at home. If we get rid of them, then we can build up our strength again.”

I was relieved. If he had agreed to Halil’s request simply in order to please me and appease my family, he would have become bitter sooner or later. The decision was his and taken for reasons of his own.

“Now you can take your clothes off and come to bed.”

He did as I asked.

“Nilofer,” he whispered as he put his arms around me, “tomorrow is an important day in both our lives and I think we should refrain from feeding our passions tonight. Let us just lie like this for some time and dream. Then I will leave so that we can both sleep well tonight. What do you think?”

I put my hand between his legs and felt an old friend rise. “I fear, Selim, that your mind is incapable of controlling your body. This is not good for a young officer.”

He began to laugh as his lips sought my nipples and I mounted him.

‘M
Y NAME IS SELIM
, O Stone Woman. I am Nilofer’s new husband and she has sent me here to meet you. She has told me about you, the secrets you guard, the effect you have on people, including some who are so private that they are unaware of their own problems. Is it true that for hundreds of years this was a place only women came to? I wonder why?

I know we are living in a time when everyone is unsure about the future and men also need to discuss their problems and worries. This used to be the case in the village where my father was born. Hasan Baba talks of the old days in our village, and how during the winter afternoons, men would gather once a week in a circle, blankets held tight around their shoulders, warming their hands by a fire as they spoke of their problems to each other and waited for someone to offer them sage advice. At these gatherings, they rarely spoke of their crops or the lack of water in the village or the rapacious tax-collectors, who, in lieu of money, insisted on other goods, including young women. These were not special problems. It was part of their everyday life.

The winter circles were organised to discuss personal problems and the younger men, too shy to speak in one particular winter, might none the less be emboldened to speak a few years hence. Hasan Baba says that there were very few inhibitions.

It was a mixed village with Armenians and Kurds, though we Turks were in the majority. The Armenians had some of the best land and, last year, the Kurds burnt their houses and drove them out of the village, though thankfully nobody was killed. After the Armenians had been driven out the winter gatherings came to an end. My grandfather says it disrupted the solidarity of the village and those who remained could not look each other in the eye. They had done something so terrible to their fellow-human beings that it was difficult to pretend they could solve each other’s problems.

I’m really surprised that anyone comes here at all, Stone Woman. From a distance you look like the remains of a pagan goddess, but from where I am you’re just a giant rock and it’s very uncomfortable sitting on this stone. Hundreds of delicate and well-cushioned posteriors have sat in the same place for many years. They should have made this stone smooth and soft. It is not easy for me to speak with a stone. I have never found it necessary, but Nilofer wanted to share you with me. The only thing I would not discuss with a close friend or my grandfather is the intimacy between Nilofer and me. That is our own precious secret. It is something so beautiful that we discuss it with each other every day. If, for some reason, I could not tell her certain things, I can see you might be useful, but not now.

There is one small problem. Young Orhan was a bit taken aback when Nilofer told him about us and for the first few days after the marriage ceremony, he became quite distant. He refused to speak with me or come for a walk on the cliffs as we often did during the day. He is getting better now and I’m sure he will be fine. His behaviour is not unnatural. No child wishes to see its father replaced, even if the father is dead. And if the father is alive and tormenting his wife and children, it is difficult to be disloyal. When I was Orhan’s age, I would sometimes hear my father beating my mother. I would put my fingers in my ears to banish her screams.

One day I came home unexpectedly and found my mother coupling with a stranger. Even though I knew my father was cruel, I still resented this man’s presence. When he left, I became very angry with my mother. I abused her and shed many tears of rage. My mother’s face was filled with terror. She thought I would tell my father. She said if ever I told my father of what I had seen, he would kill her without pity. She threatened me with fear.

I believed her, Stone Woman. My father claimed to believe in Sufi philosophy and he could certainly get intoxicated, sing the songs and dance all night, but it never affected his inner being. He may have been a
dervish
, but he was also an ignorant and a cruel man. I may have been upset at seeing my mother with another man, but that did not make me love my father. Naturally, I kept quiet and till this day I have never recalled that incident to anyone. Why have I told you?

It was at this time that my grandfather, with their approval, took me away from my parents and began to educate me in earnest. I learnt to read and write and later started to attend the
medresseh.
I have never seen my parents since that time. Eighteen years have passed and they showed not the slightest interest in me. I think of Hasan Baba as both my mother and my father.

One thing does worry me, Stone Woman. When my father learns of my marriage to the daughter of Iskander Pasha, he might decide to take advantage. He could arrive at the house on the pretext of paying his respects and seeing his new daughter-in-law, but in reality, to demand money. I have not mentioned this to Nilofer. She would laugh and treat it as inconsequential. You must understand that it is not my father’s poverty I am ashamed of, but his character. He is a disgusting and evil creature and I do not wish him to come to this house or visit us in Istanbul. I have mentioned this to Hasan Baba. It troubles him as well, but he is old and helpless now. He does not offer advice, but shakes his head despairingly and looks up towards the heavens.

I think I will mention my father to Nilofer and her mother, just in case the scoundrel arrives while I am away from the capital with General Halil. In a sober mood he can appear normal and even charming, but they must be on their guard.

I’m going now, Stone Woman. I’m surprised my visit was not wasted. I did reveal a secret and it was helpful. Nilofer will be pleased.’

W
E HAD BECOME SO
used to each other’s company over the last few weeks that it came as a slight shock when I first noticed the dust rising in the distance. The men on horseback heading in our direction were not unexpected. Halil and Selim had been awaiting their arrival with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. I rushed to inform them that their guests had been sighted and the three of us went to the front terrace to watch their arrival.

The coach contained two generals, one of whom was very short. The four young officers, one of them much younger than Selim, were on horseback. They jumped off as they ran and saluted Halil. Then my brother went down the stairs to receive his fellow generals. They saluted each other and laughed, but underneath it all even I, far removed from political intrigues, could detect the tension. Selim was introduced to the newcomers, though I observed that no names were mentioned. I led them into the house and then the dining room where breakfast was waiting to be served. Halil had insisted on total secrecy. Petrossian alone was entrusted to serve the meal. My brother did not want even the identity of the officers present to be known to anyone. The Baron and Memed were upset at being excluded, but accepted the decision with bad grace.

I, too, was about to leave when one of the officers, the youngest among them, stopped me.

“Is she your sister, General Halil?”

My brother nodded. “Yes and she is the wife of our new friend.”

“Is she on our side?” asked the same officer.

I looked him straight in the eyes. “I am.”

“Good,” he said in a deep and very serious voice. “Then you must stay. We want to end the situation where women are considered good only for the affairs of the heart or the home or, indeed, for purposes of procreation. We want them also to become experts in organising the affairs of the state. We want to stop encouraging them in the trivial activities they have invented to keep themselves busy while we work. The only reason my wife is not with us today is that her father is seriously ill. Are we agreed?”

The others smiled and nodded. How strange, I thought to myself, that this young man with a pleasant face and a thin moustache can speak with such authority in the presence of three generals. Where does this confidence come from?

The discussion during breakfast was deliberately low-key. They kept referring to the Committee. At first I thought it was the code-name for their leader, but it soon became clear that the Committee was a secret society to which they all belonged. I was angry that Selim had not mentioned it to me before and since the young officer had made such a fuss when he insisted on my presence I felt that my voice should be heard again.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but what is the Committee?”

The young officer looked at Selim and Halil in disbelief. “Neither of you has told her?”

Both men became sheepish and avoided my eye.

“The Committee, madame,” said the officer, “is the name of the largest secret society ever created in the entire history of this Empire. It is the Committee of Union and Progress to which we all belong. It is secret, but they know we exist and their spies are everywhere. It is not restricted to soldiers, though we form the largest component within its ranks. There are many writers and officials who are members. Some of our best people operate from Paris and Salonika. Namik Kemal, whose play
Vatan
you may have seen or read, is one of our inspirers. After today, if you agree with our aims, we shall invite you to join the Committee. My wife is a very active member in Istanbul. She teaches at the Galatsaray
lycée
and is organising other like-minded women.”

I told them I was honoured to be considered and they would have an answer from me by the evening. It was the older of the two generals who replied in a voice so soft and feminine that I seriously wondered whether he had been accidentally castrated. Unlike his colleague, he was not one of nature’s more imposing generals. He was short, clean-shaven and possessed a paunch whose size attracted attention. Because he was different from the other officers, I took a liking to him, but something must have gone wrong at some stage in his life. He spoke in the squeaky voice of a young girl and the effect was frankly disconcerting. I found it extremely difficult to maintain a serious face while he spoke.

“We are delighted to have made your acquaintance. We must now retire to discuss certain logistical details in case there is an unforeseen emergency and we have to take action without the luxury of widespread consultation with other members. Unfortunately this discussion is exclusively for officers, but we shall be finished after lunch and would be delighted if you joined us in the afternoon.”

I smiled and left the room. Outside in the garden I heaved a sigh of relief, sat down on the bench and began to laugh. I had been so taken with the morning that I had not noticed Uncle Memed comfortably seated on his favourite armchair underneath the walnut tree. He had been absorbed in a book and had initially frowned at the disturbance created by my laughter, but smiled when he saw that it was me. I was summoned with an imperious gesture of his forefinger. The Baron, who was never too far away from Uncle Memed, emerged from the other side of the tree, adjusting his
pince-nez.

“Share your joke with Favourite Uncle.”

I explained why I was laughing and Memed, who had an infectious giggle, joined in as well, which made me laugh even more. I looked at the Baron, fully expecting a brief lecture on the human voice and the conditions that caused it to change or not to change, but he had suddenly become very distracted and thoughtful.