Chapter 18
After being formally received by the royal family in a happy blur of greetings, warm embraces, and many kisses bestowed upon his cheeks, Francis was glad to be swept away by Hasim in a small, private boat.
They crossed the water in a ferry, just the two of them plus two royal guards, and the boat crew. The ferry had space enough that they were afforded some privacy, sitting together upon plump cushions nestled in the bow as the slim boat cut through the water.
Francis thought it resembled a gondola from Venice, though without anyone punting them along. Instead, this ferry appeared to move by a rumbling noise below, churning out frothy bubbles behind them as they sped across the strait.
Hasim was explaining the sights and buildings on each side of the water, but noticed Francis distracted by the boat. “Let me guess,” he said with a smile. “You wish to know how it works?”
Francis smiled back. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“No, it can wait,” Hasim insisted. “I was only saying we are approaching the Asian side of the city. And we can do so within minutes, even against the current. Look.” He pointed in front of them, and for a moment Francis thought he was indicating the looming mountains, green forests and grand buildings on the other side of the strait, before he realised Hasim pointed to their boat itself. “This canopy? Solar power.”
What Francis had assumed was merely the small ferry’s canopy for the crew to shelter in, was actually made of sturdier material than cloth. The covering was shiny like silver, catching the light and glimmering in the same way the panels at the solar factory did.
“Fascinating,” Francis said. “And how are they making the boat move?”
“There is a small generator below deck,” Hasim explained. “It powers a turbine, similar to what you saw yourself, and the energy is converted to a propeller under the boat. Like a wheel with blades. That is what pushes us forward.”
“Extraordinary,” Francis marvelled. “Does it work on bigger boats?”
Hasim grinned. “This is what my engineers are working on. But see! Now we are here.”
Their boat steered in alongside a flat, open quay, the water lapping gently at its lowest steps.
Several cats sat and lounged on the flat surface, soaking up the sunshine.
Francis didn’t have to inquire how the cats had gotten there, as there was a grand, golden gate behind them, with one side open.
Francis caught a glimpse of green gardens, and a cream coloured, French style pavilion.
“Oh, this is the splendid palace we spotted on our first journey in,” Francis said.
Their ferry docked, and the boat crew hopped out to secure it to the quay. Cats came to meet them, receiving pets from the crew.
“It was an Ottoman hunting lodge,” Hasim said, offering Francis his hand as they stepped off the boat. “I outlawed hunting for sport. This building was used as more of a summer palace, so I converted it for the cats on the Asian side. Now it is their palace.”
“I can’t wait to meet them all,” Francis said, grinning. “Are there a thousand here as well?”
Hasim smiled back. “You can try to count them if you like. It may take you some time.”
The royal guards followed them through the gate but kept a discreet distance. Inside the walls, the garden felt protected, sheltered from the wind. Francis spotted several cats playing peek-a-boo in the flower beds, and even more lounging in the grass or upon wooden benches.
Outside on the pavilion’s steps, more cats were busy playing with three young women dressed in pretty pink silks.
The cat helpers, Francis assumed, same as Hasim’s palace on the other side.
Everyone looked content, and what a beautiful home for the cats here.
The building had two floors, large windows, and balconies; a perfect palace for cats.
Francis thought they were going to this building, but when he went to walk that way, Hasim tugged gently on his hand.
“Are we not…?” Francis looked back at the king.
“I will give you a tour another time,” Hasim said with a sly grin. “First, let me show you your pavilion.”
“My what?”
“Your pavilion.”
Francis was at a loss for words. Hasim held his hand and led him down a winding path through the garden, past a gorgeous apple tree in late blossom, and birds singing in its branches.
A few of the cats materialised from the bushes and escorted them, trotting alongside them on the path, or galloping ahead with their tails raised high.
“What do you mean, my pavilion?” Francis asked.
“I built it just for you,” Hasim said proudly.
“For me?” Francis was stunned. “Hasim, I was only gone a few weeks.”
“And I had my designers begin construction right away,” Hasim said. “I wanted it to be ready for you. For us.”
Francis looked ahead. Leafy trees obscured a smaller building in the distance, set in a quiet spot on the lawn, with the path leading straight to it.
He saw tantalising glimpses of a petite, circular pavilion up ahead, with a domed roof topped by a golden statue of a cat.
Indeed, with its hot pink walls and golden decor, this mini pavilion looked like a beautiful cake.
“Oh, Hasim!” Francis exclaimed. “This is marvellous.”
“Do you like it?” Hasim asked eagerly.
“Like it?” Francis drank in the sight before him as they approached, the attention to detail; the front porch was wide and open, with several cats already making themselves at home on the cushions laid out there.
Golden palm trees were in place of standard pillars, and lining the front steps were golden statues of cats. “Hasim, I love it,” Francis declared.
Hasim grinned proudly. “Good.”
Four servants, dressed in gold and purple silks with matching turbans and slippers, were lined up at the front steps awaiting them with smiles, bearing trays of refreshments.
“Oh, I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Francis said, eyeing the glass cups on offer. “Anything cold?”
“Yes, the lemonade,” Hasim said, leading Francis to the appropriate tray of drinks. “Kashkab,” he indicated the pale-yellow drink, “lemon, mint, pepper, and citron. Or, qatarmizat,” he indicated another yellow drink, “is sweeter. Or,” he added with a smile, “my favourite. Lemon and strawberry.”
“That sounds good,” Francis said. “Why doesn’t that one have a name?”
“Well, the other ones are recipes from Egypt.” Hasim selected two glasses of pale pink liquid and handed one to Francis. “My own kitchens perfected this recipe themselves, because I found lemonade on its own too tart.”
“Ah, quite right.” Francis took the glass, raising it to toast. “Your health, my king.”
“And yours, my prince.”
They drank together, and Francis found he enjoyed the unique flavour of lemon and strawberry together. “Perfect. Curious flavour but works rather well.”
The servants, all eagerly watching the pair of them with barely concealed grins, bowed their heads. The one with the tray of pink drinks offered Francis more when he’d finished his.
“Oh, no, that was enough for me, thank you,” he said, setting down his empty glass.
Hasim did the same, then told the servants something in Turkish. The four of them bowed their heads, then withdrew.
“Come,” he said to Francis. “Let me show you the inside.”
They ascended the front steps, where Hasim presented Francis with a thick, golden key. “For you,” he said, and glanced down at the lounging cats on the porch. “Don’t let the cats in. We’ll get no peace.”
Francis chuckled. “No cats. Right. You guard the door while I open it.”
The cats watched them with passing interest but were content to lounge on the cushions outside in the heat. Francis and Hasim managed to get through the door without any cats following them, and shut it softly behind them.
Inside was blessedly cool, with a faint breeze piped in. In fact, with the combination of dark pink walls and soft lighting, it was like stepping into another world; a fairy tale palace.
Hasim gestured for Francis to go first, letting him take it all in in his own time.
They entered a long gallery, with bright blue murals of stylised vines and peacocks standing out against the pink walls.
Due to the pavilion’s shape, this gallery rounded a bend, and Francis fancied it was akin to exploring a fantasy forest.
He glanced up at the ceiling, noting the jewelled lanterns sparkling, casting shapes of colourful diamonds here and there.
Solar powered, he supposed. No flame, but the illusion of it, making the atmosphere cosy.
Cherubs and birds of paradise were painted on the ceiling itself, so lifelike and bright in colour.
The gallery continued round in a winding circle, and the leafy murals gave way to murals of cats, then hung paintings in ornate frames.
Not paintings of people or places, but German quotes in fine calligraphy.
The quotes were all declarations of love, and Francis paused to read each one before embracing Hasim.
“This is all so lovely,” he said against Hasim’s shoulder. “I fear I’m quite overcome.”
“I missed you,” Hasim replied softly. “Come, we are nearly at the centre. I have a gift for you there. You will love it.”
Arm in arm, they followed the gallery around until they finally reached the end and came upon a sumptuous bed chamber.
Nestled in the centre of the pavilion, cocooned by the winding gallery, here was their own little den of privacy.
A silk lined bedroom adorned with a circular bed, fine throws, pillows, and cushions galore, all rich colours in pink, gold, emerald-green and purple.
Incense burned from somewhere, a sweet, spicy fragrance.
Low rise tables boasted bowls of exotic fruit, piles of sweets, and nuts.
They stepped out of their slippers and knelt on the plump bed, positioned close to the floor. “This is your gift,” Hasim said, picking up an ornate, golden box from the table. He offered it to Francis.