“We wouldn’t abandon Macedonia without making sure there’s a government in place, Elif Hanoum,” Kamil said soothingly.
“Don’t be an ass, Kamil,” Huseyin interjected. “We’ve already gone. Look what happened to her.” He indicated Elif with his fork. “They shot her husband. There’s no law and order there. It’s a sham. So it’s better that we call it a sham and save ourselves the effort.”
Elif grimaced and pressed the palms of her hands against the table.
“What about the Muslim population?” Kamil countered. “We just abandon them to be slaughtered?”
“Well, let them join the Ottoman army or get out. They’re all coming here anyway.”
Elif sprang to her feet, swaying as if she might fall. Feride put her arm around her, but Elif pushed her away. She glared at them.
“You know the roads aren’t passable.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “There are bandits everywhere.”
Kamil remembered that her son had been killed on the road.
“Elif Hanoum,” Kamil began.
Feride reached out, but Elif shook her off again. “The empire has a duty to protect its citizens,” she said in a harsh voice.
Huseyin looked amused and waved his fork at her. “Sit down, Elif. Allah protect us. We have to be realistic.”
Before Kamil could object, Elif fled the room. Kamil noted with surprise that she was wearing men’s trousers and a loose white shirt under her brocaded vest. Feride followed her out.
Kamil stood, unsure what to do. Huseyin seemed not to notice.
“So, are you working on any interesting cases?” he asked, peering at Kamil over the rim of his raki glass.
“Why did you taunt that poor woman, Huseyin? Hasn’t she been through enough?”
Huseyin shrugged. “She’s got to get over it. It doesn’t do her any good, treating her like a victim. She arrived here half dead. I’m just helping to pull her back into life. Of course, it’s not going to be easy. You know, sometimes I think people prefer to sink in their well of misery. Everyone else runs around and does things for them. Nobody challenges them. They live in a fantasy world in which the only thing that counts is what happened to them. You see how she’s dressed. That’s how she arrived, dressed as a man. I suppose it helped her to get here, but it’s time she put on a skirt. I won’t let her out of the house in that getup. She’ll be arrested. Hell, we’d all be arrested. I don’t think her attitude is healthy and I won’t stand for it in my house. If she wants to be coddled, she can go elsewhere.”
Kamil sat back down and lit a cigarette, offering one to Huseyin. Much as he hated to admit it, what Huseyin said made a certain sense. “Give her time, Huseyin. Go too fast and your cure might kill her.”
Huseyin clicked his tongue. “She’s as tough as camel hide, Kamil.” He drew on his cigarette. “She’s a member of my family, and as you well know, we’re all tough bastards.” He grinned mischievously.
Feride came into the room and heard the last sentence. “That’s certainly true,” she agreed, prompting a guffaw from Huseyin.
Elif returned to the table. “I apologize,” she said softly to no one in particular.
The servants replaced the untouched food with plates of warm rice, lamb, and eggplant puree.
“Eat,” Huseyin ordered Elif.
For a while, the only sound was the clink of cutlery.
When he had eaten all he could, Kamil pushed his chair back. “You asked about my cases, Huseyin. I have a challenging one.” He told them about the antiquities thefts in the Old City and, to amuse Elif, he added the story of the policeman Ali’s discovery of a cistern beneath his house. She smiled when he described Ali fishing through his floorboards.
“So all these Byzantine structures are still there. What happened to the people?” she asked.
“They survived,” Huseyin explained dryly. “Mehmet the Conqueror allowed his soldiers three days of looting, and then there was peace. The Byzantines became Ottomans. End of story.”
“That’s horrible,” Feride exclaimed. “Why punish a population that has already surrendered?”
Huseyin shrugged. “That’s war. The Byzantines lost and that’s how armies paid their soldiers in those days. Anyway, it was only three days. After that, he built the empire we still have four hundred years later.” He swept his hand expansively around the room. “Civilization. You don’t know a thing about gardening, Feride, but let me tell you, the best roses bloom in shit.”
Feride ignored him and asked Kamil about Balat and Fatih, where she had never been. Kamil tried to describe the districts, leaving out the filthy streets and gangs of thieves.
“I would love to see those places,” Elif said, surprising everyone.
“Not in that outfit,” Huseyin growled.
“You could draw them,” Feride said with excitement. “I could come with you.” She turned to Kamil. “She’s a wonderful artist. You should see her drawings.”
“I’m not having my wife and cousin drag themselves like whores around the worst areas in the city,” Huseyin interrupted. “But Elif,” he pointed at her with his elbow, “no one can tell her anything.” He grinned. “Isn’t that right, Elif? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The rest of you might have come from monkeys, but our family is descended from a goat.” He laughed so hard, he nearly choked.
Feride hurried over and patted him on the back. “Definitely a goat, my dear,” she agreed, trying to smile.
“Where did you learn to draw?” Kamil asked Elif, sensing that this was a safe topic and one that might engage her.
“Paris. My family sent me there as a child when the troubles started. I lived with my aunt and uncle. Have you been to Paris, Kamil Pasha?”
“No, regrettably. I’ve been to London and Cambridge, but no further. I’d like to see more of Europe someday. Perhaps when you have the time you would consent to tell me more about Paris.”
“I’d be delighted. In exchange, you will tell me about the Old City?”
“Agreed.” Kamil could see Huseyin’s point about a stubborn streak. It had probably helped her survive.
Feride followed the exchange with a satisfied smile on her lips. Huseyin also observed them closely over his spoon of pudding, but said nothing.
“Show him your drawings, Elif,” Feride urged.
“They’re nothing special,” she demurred.
“Don’t be so modest. That’s not a family trait.” Huseyin turned to Kamil and said jovially, “If I say her drawings are good, I know you’ll believe me because I never say anything good about anyone.” He looked at Feride. “Isn’t that right, dear? Why don’t you go get them, Elif, and let Kamil have a look?”
“I’m sure he’s not interested,” Elif responded shyly.
“On the contrary, I’d be honored if you would share them with me.”
Elif rose from the table, but then just stood there. She had begun to tremble again almost imperceptibly.
Feride put a hand on her arm and said, “Sit, Elif, dear. I’ll go and get them.”
Elif nodded and sat back down, her face the color of chalk.
Huseyin caught Kamil’s eye and raised an eyebrow.
After Feride left, Huseyin pushed himself to his feet and led the way into a sitting area just off the dining room. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
“Join us, cousin,” he called to Elif. “It’s warmer in here.”
As Elif came around the table, Kamil saw she was barefoot. Her clothing was a striking combination of East and West, with no ornamentation at all beyond the carnelian-colored vest. Still, dressing as a man was unacceptable and dangerous for a woman. He understood his brother-in-law’s concern.
Huseyin cut the end from a cigar. “Whatever the evidence to the contrary, Elif, you’re still young and accommodating. Just wait till you bloom and then see how many thorns you have. Right, Kamil?” He took a couple of shallow puffs. “My brother-in-law is an expert on flowers.”
“Only orchids,” Kamil replied, smiling at Elif. “I like to read about them. I used to go on botanical expeditions. There are so many varieties of orchids in the empire, but you rarely hear about them. I have some rare specimens in my winter garden. Occasionally,” he added shyly, “I try to capture one on paper.”