Bosphorus Rose

Chapter 2

Murad felt the splash of water hit his face and he immediately gasped for air. He was clawing about until he realised that he was lying in the divan in his room, safe and sound. He could hear the festivities going about downstairs. Right, the wedding!

His older brother was standing by the side of the divan, a smile on his face.

"The prince is awake at last," he said, ruffling Murad's hair.

Murad couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. How could Azemet still make jokes at a time like this? Murad was filled with worry, letting out a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of the bed. He had shamed himself in front of everyone, and worse, he had shamed his family. Surely everyone must be angry at him now.

Azemet took off his fez as he sat down on the bed beside his younger brother. He had a waistcoat over his shirt, as well as a pair of trousers. He patted Murad on the back. Murad was taller than him, but Azemet had a much more muscular build. His well-groomed beard was the envy of his younger brother. He was almost a decade older than him after all.

"Don't worry," he reassured him. "The guests are all downstairs. They're all having a great time, and they're praying for your recovery, of course."

"I thought they'd all be angry at me," Murad said.

Azemet just chuckled.

"Well why would they be?" he said. "They just felt that maybe you were overexcited, that's all."

Murad felt slightly better, and smiled. He had always been close to Azemet, even though they weren't related by blood. He thought of him as his brother anyway. Ismail Celebi and his wife Esme took him in out of the kindness of their hearts. They treated him like their own son.

They had no time to stay sentimental as the door opened, and Fatima walked in. In the more private quarters of the house, she had taken off her gauze veil and instead just wore it loosely as a shawl over her head.

"Oh Murad," she gasped, a dainty hand placed over her bosom. "Thank God you're finally awake!"

Murad only smiled as her as she walked up to the men sitting on the bed. Azemet stood up to make space for her. Sitting herself down where Azemet was just a few moments ago, she took a good look at her cousin. She couldn't believe that he was about to be married already. It seemed like only yesterday the small, crying boy arrived at her doorstep, clutching at his mother's skirts. Now he was all grown up, ready to be a husband. But to Fatima, he would always be her little cousin.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

Murad only nodded. It was nice to know that everyone was so concerned.

"I heard they all saw Iskender with you," Fatima continued. "He dropped books at your feet and ran off. What a strange fellow."

Oh, so that was his name, thought Murad to himself. Iskender.

"What did he say to you?" Azemet asked. "You seemed quite shaken by it."

Murad gulped. He was not sure whether to tell them or not. He didn't want to embarrass himself further, but he had to say it. He had to be sure it wasn't true.

"Well," Fatima said, leaning forward. "What did he say?"

Murad fidgeted with his fingers.

"He said that. . ." he began, his voice soft. "He said that I was going to marry a monster. I was so scared because I've never seen her before, so what if it was true? When I presented her the gift she growled and-"

Murad sighed, cutting himself off with a shrug.

A smile crept up Azemet's lips. He had stood a respectful distance from Fatima, his hands clasped in front of him.

"I heard from her that she was only clearing her throat," Fatima reassured him. "She's deathly worried about you, you know? She was afraid that you got hit by the evil eye."

"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," Murad said. "I don't know. . . I've been preparing for so long for this day, but I don't know if I'm ready for this."

"You'll make a fine husband," she replied soothingly. "You're responsible, kind and considerate. A woman admires such fine qualities in a man."

Her words of kindness managed to garner a smile from Murad. Fatima always knew what to say.

"Well now that you're up," Azemet interrupted, after clearing his throat. "We should be heading down to the foundation. You did say that you were going to oversee the whole affair didn't you?"

"Of course, of course," Murad said, finally gathering himself "We should leave as soon as we can."

"I'm coming along as well," Fatima said, standing up. "I'd like to get away from the wedding for a while. It'll be nice to have some fresh air."

It was true, Murad thought. The wedding was all the entire family had been preoccupied with for the past week. He, too felt like some time away from the mansion would be great. It was in his itinerary after all. He had been looking forward to it ever since he woke up in the morning. At midday he was supposed to leave for the mosque complex in Uskudar. It was built by his uncle nearly a decade ago, and Murad as responsible for running the foundation. The venerable old man used to make the journey frequently between his home in Beykoz, the palace across the Bosphorus, as well as the foundation down in Uskudar, but age had begun taking a toll on him. It was now Murad's responsibility, and Murad was happy to take over. He was glad that his uncle trusted him with it.

Murad always felt strongly for the plight of the poor and starving. He remembered how him, Azemet and his mother walked to Constantinople, along with the endless column of wretched souls fleeing the war in Bulgaria. He remembered the long walk, how he saw the elderly collapse of exhaustion right beside him. He remembered seeing mothers burying their children in the frozen ground. Villagers along the way shared whatever little they had with the passing refugees, handing out morsels of stale bread. There just wasn't enough to feed everyone. Murad remembered being too tired to walk. Azemet, who was fifteen at that time, was the one who carried the seven-year old boy on his shoulders. He didn't want anyone to suffer like he did, which was why he was more than happy to help his uncle take over. He was honoured.

Wasting no time, Murad got quickly got up, nearly falling over in the process. Azemet rushed over to hold him, grabbing by the arm, while Fatima held his shoulder.

"You should be more careful," Azemet said.

Murad only smiled giddily. He was quite excited to go visit the foundation. While he freshened up and got ready, Fatima headed downstairs to tell the drivers to get the carriage and carts ready. They had set aside about half the food from the feast to be delivered to the mosque complex. The family felt it fit to share their happiness with the less fortunate. Murad was honestly more excited for it than the marriage itself if he was being honest.

Left alone again, Murad nudged Azemet.

"She's looking really pretty today isn't she?" he said teasingly.

"Who? Your bride?" Azemet replied. "Of course she is. She certainly stunned the bridegroom with her outfit."

He had tried to deflect his younger brother's teasing, but it was obvious to Murad that Azemet was flustered. It wasn't a secret between the two how Azemet felt about Fatima. Though they grew up in the same household, Ismail Celebi had made it a point to separate the boys and the girls. His daughters spent most of their time in a separate wing of the mansion, and he only saw them in the shared family quarters. He never dared to step into the women's area.

Ismail Celebi and Esme may have adopted him, but even as a teenager back then, he still knew his place. He was eternally grateful for them for welcoming him with open arms, he didn't want to go against the traditions and the way of life of this family. Murad on the other hand, was only seven when they first arrived. The girls would invite him to their quarters to play with dolls and have tea parties. Esme, who became like a mother to Murad would allow it, pitying her nephew who had lost everything.

"I was talking about Fatima," Murad said as he washed his face in the basin.

Azemet kept quiet, pretending he couldn't hear Murad.

Murad had sworn he wouldn't tell anyone, but that didn't stop him from teasing his older brother. Azemet adored the boy, but sometimes he wished that he would shut up. But at the very least he could now tease him about Muhsine. The couple was to be led to their nuptial chamber that night, and Azemet was sure to tease Murad about it the next morning. Murad was certainly not looking forward to it.

He wasn't even sure what to do. He had never done anything like that before. But Murad didn't want to think about it. He would worry about it when the time came. For now, there were people to feed.

Murad had once suggested to Azemet to just let his feelings for Fatima be known, but the older brother just let the idea slide. Murad was sweet and kind, but sometimes Azemet felt like he just didn't understand the darker sides of human nature. Ismail Celebi and the entire household might perceive him as one of them, but he would forever be an outsider, to himself and the prying eyes of society. Outside the safe confines of the marble mansion he was known as the Circassian boy Ismail Celebi adopted.

Esme out of concern for her adopted son wanted to change his name to something more Turkish, but her wise husband was against it. To erase his identity was to lie to him and everyone. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Ismail had said to him. God created all humans equal.

He had lost his entire family that day, only for God to replace it with a new one. He would never forget his parents nor his siblings snatched away from him so violently. He faulted himself for taking off so quickly into the forest leaving everyone behind. Especially his little sister, with her fair hair and bright eyes. In the chaos her small hand slipped away from his.

He heard him scream for him, but in the flurry of bloodstained veils and kaftans he couldn't find her. In the corner of his eye he saw the dragoons riding into the forest, swinging their swords at any flesh they could cut. Without a second thought, he took off.

She was only five. Azemet never stopped blaming himself.

His ancestors had fled to Bulgaria decades before in search of safety, only for their descendants to be mowed down by the same people who had chased them out of their mountainous homeland. Ismail Celebi thought highly of the people, a fierce warrior race who bravely defended themselves against the encroaches of the Russians. But what did it matter, Azemet thought to himself. They all died anyway.

But had he not fled into the forest, following the river, Azemet wouldn't have chanced upon the family of three. A boy was struggling to keep his mother afloat as the two of them gasped for air, desperately trying to keep their heads above the water. Her heavy coats were weighing them down, threatening to drag them both underwater. The boy had tried his best, but it just wasn't enough.

Azemet didn't think twice before jumping into the water. It was freezing, but he didn't care.

The woman began to panic, flailing her arms around. She was pushing her son under the surface in a desperate attempt to keep herself afloat. Azemet knew if he didn't do something the both of them would drown.

He felt bad for it, but he punched the woman in the face, stunning her momentarily. It was enough for him to scoop her arm over her shoulder as he brought her to the bank. Her son was an able swimmer, and once he had managed to free himself from his mother's deathly grasp he swam next to Azemet, holding on to his shoulder.

"My brother!" the boy screamed as they lay the coughing woman on the stony banks. "My brother's still in there!"

Azemet turned around, intent on diving back into the river. Instead, he saw the little boy floating face down, slowly carried off by the waters. He knew it was too late, the boy was gone.

He knew they were still not safe, with the Russians still hot on their trails. The boy and his mother were still alive. The boy in the river, and Azemet's entire family however, wasn't.

"I don't see him," Azemet lied. "Maybe he's safe."

"We have to look for him," the boy begged him. "We have to!"

"There's no time!" Azemet said, slinging the coughing woman over his shoulders. "We have to go!"

The boy didn't want to listen. He looked like he was about to jump into the river again. Azemet had no other choice, he grabbed the boy's arm and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He never stopped think about that day, how he lied to the boy. But at least he saved the two of them.

Azemet couldn't help but feel like it was a chance to atone for himself abandoning his family. He couldn't save them, but at least he managed to save a little boy and his mother.

A little boy called Murad.

Murad was brave, and he, a coward.

"What are you waiting for?" Murad said after he finished getting ready, shaking Azemet out of his thoughts. "Fatima's not going to come up and fetch us, you know?"

Azemet only smiled at him. He was all grown up now. To him, he still saw the brave little boy in the river trying to save his mother. The boy who wanted to jump back inside those freezing waters to look for his little brother. The boy who would risk his life for the ones he loved.

The two men headed downstairs, right into the wedding feast.

"Elhamdülillah!" Mustafa Effendi rejoiced at the sight of his soon-to-be son-in-law entering the room. "He is awake at last!"

Murad smiled at the guests.

"I'm very sorry for what happened earlier," he announced. "I didn't have enough rest. But I am fine now, and I want to thank you all for your prayers."

The guests all murmured differing responses telling him that it was alright, or not to worry about it. Their smiles and nods were enough to tell Murad that everything was going to be fine.

There was only one person left that he had to speak to – Muhsine.

She was seated on the divan in the centre of the room, her hands daintily on her lap. She stood up as Murad approached, with Azemet closely following behind him. The bridegroom gave a slight bow to his veiled bride.

"I'm terribly sorry about earlier," he said. "I didn't mean to shame you in front of everyone."

"There is no shame to that," Muhsine replied. "If God has willed for you to faint at your wedding, then there is nothing that we can do about it."

Her voice was gentle and soothing. Murad felt his lips curl into a smile. At least she wasn't a monster. Monsters couldn't possibly sound so angelic.

"I'm going to head out to the foundation to deliver the food," Murad said. "God willing, I'll be back in the evening."

"Allah razı olsun," Muhsine replied. "God has blessed me with a man with a heart so kind."

Murad felt his cheeks grew hot, and only shyly nodded at her praise. Muhsine turned to Azemet.

"Do look out for him," she said. "I trust you would be able to bring him back safe and sound."

"Of course," Azemet replied, trying his best to hide his irritation.

"I'll be awaiting your return," she said to Murad.

The two men left the room, Murad smiling meekly at guests who congratulated him as walked past. Azemet couldn't wait to leave.

Who did she think she is? What did she think he was doing for the past fifteen years? Azemet had always looked out for his little brother. Azemet wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Especially not the bride's rogue brother who made a scene and humiliated poor Murad in front of everyone. Had he not been busy trying to catch Murad, he would've chased that rascal down at landed a few punches on his face.

Azemet shook those thoughts out of his head. She probably didn't intend to sound condescending. It was his own insecurity and fear that fed him such thoughts. Muhsine was a nice girl. She was probably speaking out of concern for her groom.

Azemet ushered Murad through the kitchen protectively, until they reached the side entrance. The carriage was waiting for them, while the servants were busy loading the carts with entire basins of food. Ismail Celebi made sure that the poor enjoyed the same food his esteemed guests had – pilaf, stuffed eggplants, chicken cooked in honey. The desserts were just as impressive, trays full of baklava and lokum, accompanied with platters of künefe.

Fatima was waiting for them by the carriage, her white veil fluttering in the wind. She had put on a silk blue overcoat with lace trimmings. Though her face was covered her eyes were bright and beautiful. Azemet could tell how she was smiling just by how her eyes squinted at the edges

"We've been waiting for you!" she said in her sing song voice. "The prince took his time getting ready."

Murad only smiled at her.

"Is everything ready?" he asked.

"More or less."

"I'll go have a look," Murad said, his eyes flashing with excitement.

Before Azemet could say anything, Murad was off, leaving him alone by the carriage with Fatima. She turned to face him, and their eyes met. Azemet felt his heart thump in his chest. He could only hope his beard hid how red his cheeks must've been. The last thing he needed right then was Fatima discovering how madly in love he was with her.

"He's all grown up," Fatima said. "I still can't believe he's going to be a husband."

"Me too," Azemet replied curtly.

Whenever he was with Fatima he was at a loss for words.

"I'm sure you'll find yourself a good wife one day," Fatima said, as Azemet tried to avert his gaze. "Father will make sure of it. You're a good man, and I'm sure there's a right woman for you here somewhere on this earth."

He only blushed as he stayed silent, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And she is standing right beside me.