Chapter 8
Francis spent a wonderful morning with the handsome stranger, sitting on plump cushions inside a beautiful white, open pavilion in the gardens, its pillars lined with pink roses.
He had dozens upon dozens of tiny fluffy kittens climbing all over them, mewling and playing, sleeping and scampering, and it was wonderful.
Francis had never seen so many kittens in his life. He discovered their claws were indeed sharp, but they meant no harm, they were merely curious and enjoyed clambering over Francis.
The stranger gave Francis a thick brocade blanket to cover his lap with, to protect his skin from their pinprick claws.
Francis ended up with four kittens snuggled into his lap, two fast asleep, two purring, and a fifth trying to clamber in.
“They are darling,” Francis said, for probably the third time. He could not get over how tiny they were.
The blue-eyed beauty inside the stranger’s robes watched with interest, occasionally nosing a hello to any kitten that climbed up to investigate.
They weren’t alone in the pavilion. Several children of varying ages were also playing with the kittens or making cuddle piles in the heaps of multi-coloured cushions.
A couple of young women flitted in and out periodically, silent on bare feet, bringing trays of snacks and tea for the children, and plates of food for the older kittens.
Everyone appeared well cared for.
The stranger noticed Francis watching them.
“Orphans,” he said. “And children of one parent on their own. They have jobs here now. To look after the cats.”
Francis nodded. That seemed like a wonderful job. “A capital idea,” he replied.
“We have more,” the stranger said. “In the city. Houses. Not like this.” He gestured at the rosy pavilion. “More rooms. Anyone can work and live with the cats there. Some houses for dogs also, in a different part of the city.”
“Sounds very innovative,” Francis said. “I must say, I’m most impressed by what I’ve seen and heard of Istanbul. The tram is very clever.”
The stranger beamed happily.
“I was told there is air ventilation for the city, those tall towers?” Francis went on. “Very impressive.”
“Oh, but those have stood for centuries.” The stranger laughed. “My generation has no credit for that. But the tram…Come. Let me show you where it started.”
He showed Francis to another part of the garden where, hidden behind fragrant orange and lemon trees, lay an ornamental rock garden complete with train tracks winding through the rocks and shrubs, and plenty of cats lounging about.
Francis gasped when he realised what it was. “A little tram for the cats?”
The stranger smiled. “Come. We can watch it come in.”
He led Francis to a wrought iron bench padded with satin cushions, and they sat together.
The rock garden was serene, with plenty of plants and miniature statues for the cats to sniff and keep them occupied.
Nearby, two women in pastel robes and bare feet were watering the flowerbeds.
“Where does the tram go?” Francis inquired.
“Through the south garden,” the stranger explained. “Half circle. Stop, then come back.”
“Do the cats ride it?” Francis asked. He really hoped the cats rode the tram.
“Yes, most times. Although.” The stranger snickered. “Sometimes they attack. Knock the tram off its tracks.”
“Oh, dear.”
The stranger waved one hand, still cradling his kitten in the other. “We have helpers. They will put it back on.”
“Oh, good.”
They waited a few moments more, and then Francis heard the soft whir of the tram arriving.
“I hear it!” he said excitedly, rising to his feet. “There it is!”
He was elated to see the small tram appear through the flowers, with its carriages a perfect miniature replica of the beautiful tram he had ridden on, except with some open top carriages the perfect size for a cat.
And, most wonderfully, there were indeed cats riding on this tram. Francis watched, overjoyed, as the tram came into the station platform beside the rock garden, and two little cats hopped off.
One cat, a tabby, elected to stay on.
“That is Kede,” the stranger explained. “She sits on the tram all the time.”
“I dare say she has the right idea,” Francis said, sitting back down.
The tabby regarded them calmly as the tram stayed in its station for a few minutes, then slowly set off again.
Francis watched a couple of the younger cats run along beside the tram for a while, enjoying the game of chase.
“This was the prototype?” Francis asked. “The first tram?”
“No, no.” The stranger made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Small. Small. Later, for cats.”
He seemed to struggle sometimes with finding the words in German, but Francis understood his meaning.
“Marvellous,” he said, smiling at his new friend. “A very splendid invention. I can see the cats enjoy it.”
A shrug, a wry smile. “The cats did not care. Cats do as they please. Several years, this was ignored.” He pointed to the retreating tram and its feline passenger. “Several years, nothing. Then, cats take interest.”
“Oh, I see.” Francis smiled. “Cats are their own masters.”
His friend nodded. “Always. Always.”
“That does sound rather nice,” Francis mused.
* * * *
Archie was making the most of his downtime, eating whatever delicious food was available in the spectators’ tent, and chatting to all manner of interesting people.
Which was lucky, because the tournament was in a boring phase: all the king’s suitors were painting a still life picture of some fruit.
Christian was off sketching somewhere, and Archie hadn’t seen Maddie or Gustav all morning. He assumed they were with Francis.
Archie was on his second pomegranate and date tart, and his third cup of chai, when Maddie appeared, bustling up to him and dragged him away from the food table.
“Archie,” she whispered. “Have you seen Francis?”
“Isn’t he in the art lesson?” Archie replied. “Maddie, you’ll never guess what! I was talking to this fellow who says he has two wives here, and one of his wives has a lover, and apparently this is all rather normal. Fancy that, eh?”
“Never mind that, Archie,” Maddie whispered. “Francis is missing!”
“Missing?” Archie wasn’t all that surprised. Francis often gave his minders the slip. “Well, where was he last seen?”
“Nobody’s seen him all day,” Maddie explained. “Supper will be served with the king’s family after this, and Francis will miss it.”
“I’m sure he hasn’t gone far,” Archie said. “Have they got a library? He’s probably in there, hiding in a corner with a book.”
“There’s five libraries in this palace alone,” Maddie hissed. “I already checked one of them.”
“So that leaves four,” Archie said. “Find Christian and Gustav, and we’ll search one each. He’s bound to be in one of them.”
“And if he isn’t?” she demanded.
“Then we’ll keep looking,” Archie assured her.
* * * *
Francis was enjoying himself so much, he lost all track of time.
He was far more interested in the tram tracks, getting down on his hands and knees to investigate the miniature version before him.
“How does it run?” he asked his new friend, standing somewhere behind Francis.
“Heat,” he replied. “Sun.”
“More solar power?” Francis sat up and turned to find the stranger’s eyes on him. Francis hadn’t meant to put himself on display like that but found he didn’t mind being admired either.
The stranger offered Francis his hand, pulling him easily to his feet.
He was strong, and firm. Two things Francis rather liked in a man.
The stranger smiled at him, then released his hand when Francis would have rather held on for longer.
“You have no sun in your country?” he asked.
“In summer, we do,” Francis answered.
The stranger shrugged. “So, use it for the energy. Wind also.”
“I’m afraid nobody has been clever enough to work that out yet,” Francis said. “Beyond using wind to sail ships, I don’t believe it is used for anything else. How exactly is energy collected from the sun?”
“Mmmm.” The stranger hummed, turning away to pet his kitten.
He seemed reluctant to stay on the topic, Francis realised. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to share state secrets.
He didn’t know who Francis was, after all.
Francis knew Granny would’ve liked him to use an opportunity such as this to ply the man for information, that he might bring them home for Stormburg engineers to work from.
But Francis found he wasn’t in the mood to deceive his new friend more than he already was. He had concealed his identity only to afford himself some reprieve, not for spying purposes.
“I really must thank you for showing me all your cats and gardens,” Francis told him. “I know we haven’t been properly introduced, but might I know your name?”
The stranger turned back to him, looking at Francis with an open expression.
“Hasim,” he said, offering Francis a shy smile. “My family calls me Hasim.”
“Hasim,” Francis said. “That’s nice. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The smile faded from Hasim’s face. “You are leaving?”
“I fear I probably should,” Francis said. “Though, I do not want to.”
“Then stay.” Hasim shrugged, the kitten bobbing gently with the motion. “Eat with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude upon your time,” Francis said, only to be polite. He very much wanted to stay and intrude.
“Intrude?”
“Er, that is, to take up your time,” Francis explained.
“Ah.”
Hasim smiled, then casually looped his free arm through Francis’s arm, and began to lead him away.
“Let us take time together.”
* * * *
Francis was treated to a rather intimate meal with his new friend, Hasim.
There was no dinner table, no chairs, and no fancy cutlery to worry about. They reclined on silk cushions in the shelter of a blossom laden pavilion, eating with their hands from plates balanced in laps, watching the beautiful sunset over the gardens.
A few cats came to investigate what they were eating, which was a delightful entertainment all its own.