Chapter 9
Francis awoke the next morning in a much brighter mood.
He lounged in bed for a little while, content in the knowledge that Archie and his friends were taking over his place in the tournament. He needn’t rush to get up.
Thanks to his long hot soak in the tub last night, and the massage afterwards, Francis felt almost back to his normal self, no stiffness of limb lingering.
The attendants had kindly put some sort of gooey, clay substance onto his face during his bath.
It smelled herbal, and cooled his sore, sunburnt skin.
After washing it off last night, his face had felt some relief.
This morning it was still sore and pink, but less so.
And better yet, Francis had the whole day to himself.
Of course, he was keen to seek out his new friend, Hasim. Francis couldn’t stop thinking about him and his smile, his kind eyes, and his gentleness with the cats. He’d been so relaxed, so at ease, and showing affection so easily. Francis was enchanted.
Mind made up, he got out of bed and dressed himself.
Each day, the attendants brought in different clothes, so there was plenty to choose from.
Francis selected a similar outfit to yesterday, in mostly white linens to reflect the sun, and a turban with a veil attached if he needed to keep the sun off. Very practical, in his opinion.
He picked out a blue waistcoat to match his blue slippers and grabbed a red apple from the fruit bowl on his way out.
He had to scale down the window trellis again, but that wasn’t a problem.
Francis wanted to repeat everything he’d done yesterday in order to find Hasim.
He didn’t want to accidentally get lost and find himself in the midst of the tournament and all those rival suitors. No, thank you.
Archie would handle things just fine.
* * * *
Francis walked through the beautiful, fragrant gardens, trying to remember which way he’d gone yesterday so he could retrace his steps. Luckily, a little white cat appeared underneath an orange tree, like a guide, and Francis followed her.
He came upon the same oblong shaped fishpond, surrounded by cats, and spotted Hasim immediately.
He hadn’t noticed Francis yet, as he was busy feeding the cats, so Francis had a moment to watch and admire.
Hasim carried a silver tray in one hand, suspended by chains from one silver handle, like a miniature chandelier.
Francis had seen the same trays being used to carry the cups of chai around the palace.
Hasim’s tray had small dishes of meat cuts on it, not chai.
He was bent at the waist as he distributed the dishes to the cats swarming his bare feet and ankles, and he spoke softly to them in Turkish.
Francis smiled.
When Hasim straightened up and noticed Francis watching him, Francis raised his hand in a small wave. Hasim broke into a bright smile, and beckoned Francis with his free hand to join him.
“Good morning,” Francis greeted, as he approached, hoping for a warm welcome.
Hasim didn’t disappoint, and immediately drew Francis into a one-armed hug, then kissed both his cheeks.
Francis felt his face flushing hot, and his grin was so wide it hurt his sunburnt cheeks.
Hasim pulled back and frowned slightly, assessing Francis’s face. “Yes, cover,” he said, hand touching Francis’s turban, fingers trailing down the scarf attached. “No more sun for you.”
Francis chuckled. “I shall endeavour to avoid it.” He glanced down at Hasim’s chest, expecting to see a kitten nestled in there, but today there was no kitten. “Where’s your little friend?”
Hasim laughed. “Eating. Kittens eat together. Later, I will see.”
“Do you need a hand feeding the cats?” Francis asked him.
“Yes, yes,” Hasim said easily. “Gel. Come.”
He led Francis through the gardens, to a small pavilion he hadn’t seen before.
Inside its open pillars were three women in pink and purple robes, and several older children in white linens and little waistcoats, everyone either barefoot or wearing silk slippers.
All of them were crowded around a big pot of cooked meat, set on an ornate wheeled cart.
One of the women ladled the food out onto china dishes, and handed them off to the next woman, who would set them onto the silver trays. The trays were then given to the children, who shot off through the bushes and disappeared from view, no doubt to distribute the food in different areas.
There were several cats sitting and waiting, tails swishing, near the big pot, but as soon as they saw the children with trays of their breakfast, they trotted after them.
“My, this is quite the production line!” Francis said in admiration. “How may I help?”
Hasim guided him where to stand and await a tray.
He handed his empty tray to one of the women, who looked between him and Francis.
She asked Hasim something in Turkish, and Hasim replied.
It must’ve been a question about him, as Hasim turned to him and asked in German, “All is well with your prince now?”
“Oh, yes,” Francis said, and cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you. Everything is back under control, he is performing his duties, and I hope not to hear another peep out of him for the rest of the day at least. Hopefully not until tomorrow!”
Hasim nodded and smiled. “Good, good.”
They were both given trays loaded with full dishes, and Hasim beckoned Francis to follow him. “First is breakfast, then play, then they sleep,” he said.
“That sounds nice,” Francis replied. “What a lovely life they have.”
“Yes, yes.” Hasim chuckled. “Nice for them.”
They walked through the sweet-smelling orange trees, and back to the fishpond to distribute more food for the cats.
Hasim explained in sometimes faltering German that the kittens were always fed separately, and these adult cats were fed here.
They had plenty of helpers, he said. Sometimes he struggled to find the right word in German and would make an action with his hands to explain non-verbally, sometimes adding the right word in his own language.
Despite the language barrier at times, Francis understood him.
After the cat breakfast was done, they had to collect all the dishes and send them back on more ornate carts, while the children played with the cats who wanted to play. The cats who wanted to sit and observe did just that.
All of the adults had their hands full setting dishes and plates onto carts and pulling them away. When Francis asked where they went, Hasim began to explain then stopped and said, “Come, come.”
They followed the carts to another section of the garden, which at first Francis thought to be an ornamental pond with very large goldfish swimming in narrow trenches.
Hasim beckoned him to come right up to the edge to watch as the helpers tossed the bits and scraps into the water trench, crouching down to wash the dishes while the fish ate the food waste.
“My, that is clever,” Francis said, astonished. He’d never seen anything like it.
“This, new,” Hasim explained, gesturing to the area with his hand. “Five year. Engineers come from Japan. These…uh, carp, Japan.”
“Oh, yes, I see now,” Francis said. “They look like those Koi carp, but larger. Very large.”
“Yes, large.” Hasim chuckled. “Too large for cats.”
“Do the cats try to catch the fish?” Francis asked.
“Well…” Hasim tilted his head, which probably meant yes. “We have the top, here.” He pointed to the very beautifully made, ornate iron bars sitting up on a hinge.
Francis had assumed it was a trellis, but now realised it must act as a gate over the water to prevent cats jumping in.
“Ingenious,” he said. “I must say, Hasim, everything looks very beautiful here. Even the most practical of things is made to look beautiful. It’s rather wonderful.”
Hasim smiled. He seemed pleased.
Francis realised this must have been what Hasim was in the middle of doing yesterday morning, when Francis had first stumbled across him, and he had interrupted the schedule. To make up for that blunder, Francis was determined to be useful today.
“May I help?” he asked, stooping to pick up some dirty dishes. “I’d like to help.”
Hasim nodded, gesturing for Francis to go ahead.
Francis looked for a vacant spot on the bank and copied what the women were doing; some crouched down, some knelt. Francis was still a bit sore, so he opted to kneel on the very clean, sun warmed stone bank, and gently dunked his first dirty dish into the water.
The women either side of him quickly leaned in and tugged his linen sleeves up so they wouldn’t get wet, murmuring in Turkish as they did so.
“Thank you,” Francis said. “I probably should’ve done that first.”
The women smiled, eyes flicking up to Hasim to gauge his reaction.
Perhaps he was the head caretaker, Francis thought.
What a fabulous job. He watched the woman on his left, wearing robes of yellow and soft pink, as she carefully washed the dish without hitting any of the enormous orange and white mottled Koi. Francis copied her.
The woman on his right got up, having washed her dishes, and Hasim knelt in her place. When he picked up one of the dirties to wash, the other women down the line stopped what they were doing to stare.
Francis noticed. “Is something the matter?” he asked Hasim.
“No, no.” Hasim shook his head, then said something in Turkish to the women and they got back to work. There were a few shared giggles and whispers.
Francis wondered if Hasim didn’t usually wash the dishes. Had he blundered again?
But Hasim seemed content beside him, so Francis didn’t say anything. He was transfixed by the Koi, they were mesmerizing with their big mouths slurping up stray crumbs of food, and their fins waving back and forth.
Hasim said that the engineers for this water system came from Japan, which meant Türkiye must’ve done some trade or exchange. Granny would want to know. Francis knew he should probably ask, ply Hasim for information, or one of the women.
He should…but he found he didn’t want to.
At least for one day, he didn’t want to think about states and trade, and all of that. He didn’t want to be that person today; he wanted to enjoy good company and maybe pet some more cats.