The Architect's Apprentice Part 25

'Maybe they are only having a discussion,' said Nikola, not ready to abandon his customary sanguineness.

Takiyuddin had brought along one of his acolytes a young star-gazer with a pockmarked face and the thinnest beard the colour of sunset. When he joined them, the apprentices began to badger him, asking what was happening. Though he tried to evade their questions, he soon laid everything bare. 'My master observed a comet in Sagittarius.'

Jahan cast a glance at the others. Nikola seemed confused; Davud suspicious; there was no way to tell what was on Sancha's mind, since her eyes were fixed on the floor. a.s.suming he was not the only ignorant one around, he asked, 'What's that?'

The star-gazer sighed. 'Long-haired star. Huge. It's coming our way.'

'What will it do?' Davud inquired.

'My master will say.'

'Surely you must know something about this,' Davud insisted.

'Some comets have caused floods. In one kingdom all the women with child miscarried. Another time three-legged frogs rained from the sky.'

The apprentices listened aghast. Spurred on by his own voice, the man recounted one calamity after another. 'Another comet brought a dry spell that lasted for seven years. Winds so strong that all the saplings were uprooted. Locusts devoured any plant that was left.'

'Sssh, they're coming,' Nikola said, even though there was no way they could be heard from the outside.

Embarra.s.sed, not unlike badly behaved children, they went into the garden to welcome the two masters. Whatever it was that troubled Takiyuddin seemed to have blighted Sinan's mood, like a canker that pa.s.ses from one tree to the next.

'Look at them,' Takiyuddin said, pointing at the apprentices.

'Gossip flies faster than a comet,' said Sinan in the waggish voice he reserved for fatherly reproach.

'Particularly if someone can't hold their tongue,' Takiyuddin chided, his stare resting on his own acolyte, who instantly lowered his head, colour rising to his cheeks. Quietly the astronomer added, 'It's fine. The entire city will learn about it anyhow.'

Encouraged by this, Jahan demanded, 'What does it all mean?'

'Allah is great and so are His omens,' Takiyuddin said. 'We mortals might not see it that way, but in the end it always is.'

Jahan stared at the court astronomer, tongue-tied. His answer, which offered scant comfort, had weighed him down. He wasn't the only one. Until that moment the apprentices had been more preoccupied with inventing menaces where they saw none. Now they felt threatened by a force they had neither the wisdom to grasp nor the might to defeat.

Sinan was correct about the speed of gossip. In the ensuing days Istanbulites talked about nothing else. Fearful whispers and dark foreboding seeped into the cracks in the walls, filled in the gaps in the cobbles, pa.s.sed through the holes in the locks, flew down the sewers, sullied the very air. Soon after, the Sultan declared he would hold a conclave of notables, viziers and members of the ulema. An impromptu council where Takiyuddin would give an account of things. Jahan's excitement soared when he heard that Sinan, too, had been asked to come and offer his opinion.

'Please take me with you,' Jahan pleaded.

Sinan threw him a burning look. 'Why, just because you are curious?'

'If not me, take another one of us. We built this observatory '

He didn't need to go on. Sinan yielded. 'Go, get ready.'

After the midday prayer the master and the mahout reached the palace. Like the others they were ushered into the Audience Chamber. There were about forty dignitaries, some of them with their attendants, lined up on both sides of the vast room. Sitting on a golden throne in the heart of everything was Sultan Murad.

Takiyuddin was brought in. Jahan watched him kneel and kiss the Sultan's hem, bow again, salute the members of the diwan and wait demurely, his hands clasped, his gaze on his feet. In that moment no one wanted to be in his place.

'Chief Royal Astronomer, you are here to tell our benevolent Sultan what the comet promises to bring,' said the Grand Vizier Sokollu.

'If your Highness permits,' Takiyuddin said and took out a scroll from the inside of his robe. He began to read it aloud: 'I, Takiyuddin ibn Ma'ruf, in my capacity as the Chief Royal Astronomer, have seen a comet in Sagittarius. After consulting my zij and making use of my turquet, as the great Nasir al-Din al-Tusi had once done, I found its longitude to be at 26 Sagittarius and its lat.i.tude at 22 degrees north. In my measurements I have taken three major stars as my reference points: Aldebaran, the bull's eye; Algorab, the raven; and Altayr, the flying vulture. For days on end I have observed the motion of the comet to understand its temperament. The details of its progression I have written down at length for young astronomers to study after my soul departs this world of shadows.'

Here Takiyuddin paused. Not a single sound could be heard in the chamber.

'I slept little for the next seven nights. My apprentices and I took turns, studying '

'Spare us what you have done,' said Sokollu. 'Tell us what the star will do.'

Takiyuddin drew breath, as if imbibing this moment, this room; he took it in, the faces of friends and foes watching his every move, and perhaps he felt as lonely as the comet he had been tracking. Placing his finger on the scroll, he skipped to the end: 'I've found that the comet is attracted by Venus, its tail stretches eastwards, its motion is from north to south. By studying the const.i.tution of the comet and the temperament of the planet it is drawn to, I have come to the conclusion that, unlike the comets that have visited our skies in days of old, this one has a benevolent nature. It does not wish us harm.'

A quiet rumble of relief rose. Into this the Sultan, speaking for the first time, said with a bob of his head, 'That's good. Tell us more.'

'It shall bring rainclouds aplenty; the harvest will overflow,' said Takiyuddin.

'What about on the battlefield?' asked the Shadow of G.o.d on Earth.

'Our troops shall gain a major victory, your Majesty.'

Another wave of excitement rippled through the room. Eyes grew wide, glittering with delight. With that, the meeting was concluded.

None of it came to pa.s.s, however. The war with Iran did not go as expected. Even though the Ottoman Army was triumphant, the losses were too enormous to fool anyone. A drought followed. For months on end pantries remained empty, children went to bed hungry. Worse was the earthquake that left entire neighbourhoods in ruins. Afterwards the plague hit again. People died en ma.s.se and were buried en ma.s.se. Wherever one turned there was poverty and grief.

The comet had brought misery. But to none more than to Takiyuddin. The ulema started to scheme about him. Having waited for an opportune moment to strike at the court astronomer, the new Shayh al-Islam, Ahmed Shamseddin Effendi, attacked with all his might. It is because of the observatory that this calamity has fallen on the city. Who were they to watch G.o.d? It had to be the other way round: G.o.d should watch them. Human beings ought to have their eyes on the ground, not pointed towards the vault of heaven.

The Sultan ordered the observatory to be demolished.

The morning they heard the news the apprentices ran to the master's house. Hardly able to speak, they looked past one another as though they were walking in a dream.

Meanwhile Sinan spent the rest of the day sitting in the pavilion alone, perhaps remembering another time when he and Takiyuddin had been there, hopeful and faithful. After the evening prayer he came out and said in a voice so soft and mellow it belied the hardness underneath, 'You made it; you should raze it.'

'But master ' Nikola tried to protest.

Jahan's self-control broke. Since Olev's death there had been much anger in his heart and now it exploded. He said, 'Is this why you let us build it? You didn't do it yourself because you knew this was bound to happen.'

The others gaped at him. It was the kind of thing they had all thought on the quiet, but they were astonished that he had had the discourtesy to say it out loud. Sinan said, 'I wasn't aware. If I had known I'd not have asked you to do it.'

But once he began Jahan couldn't stop. He insisted, 'Then why don't you defend our observatory? How can you let this happen?'

Sinan smiled sadly, the lines around his eyes deepening. 'There are things that are in my hands and things that are not. I cannot prevent people from destroying. All I can do is keep building.'

The evening before the demolition, they retreated to their own corners, avoiding conversation. The master was upstairs in the haremlik with his family; Nikola in the workshop; Davud nowhere to be seen; Sancha in her room at the back of Sinan's house; and Jahan cloistered in the barn. The poor kahya, unable to convince them to sup together, had to send everyone their food on separate trays.

Jahan missed spending time alone with the elephant and attending to his every need, so tonight he chased away the young helper. In his heart of hearts, he believed that no one could look after the animal the way he did. Just as in the olden days, he washed the urine off the floor, shovelled the dung, topped up the water in the barrel, renewed the leaves in the trough. He scoured Chota's feet the big, round front and the smaller, oval hind careful not to hurt the doughy footpads underneath. He pored over his toenails, all eighteen of them, which he then trimmed, cleaned and rubbed with balm one by one. Drudging at construction sites and trudging up steep hills, year after year, had eventually taken its toll. Four of his toenails had split and one was about to fall off.

Jahan inspected the animal's trunk for warts, pleased to find none, and his tail for fleas and mites. He examined the soft tissue behind his ears for elephant lice, which were the worst. It was odd to see a beast this huge utterly helpless in the face of the most infinitesimal creature. But the truth was one louse could ruin an elephant's temper. Though he found a few tiny brown lumps, thankfully there was nothing alarming. After washing him Jahan checked his back for wounds and abscesses. Where his skin was dry he applied ointment. While he did this, Chota waited patiently, basking in the attention. Jahan, too, enjoyed the effort. It helped him to forget his despair, even though he knew it wouldn't be long before he remembered it again. When he was done, Chota swung his trunk as if to ask him how he looked.

'There, handsome as gold,' Jahan said.

It was then that he heard footsteps behind the slightly open gate.

'Down here,' he yelled, expecting to see a houseboy with his meal. To his astonishment, it was Sinan. Wiping his hands on a greasy rag, Jahan scurried over to him. 'Master, welcome.' It didn't sound right to invite him into a barn, so he added hastily, 'You want me to come out?'

'Let's talk here. Better.'

Jahan spread Chota's mantle on a mound of hay, making an odd chair, half velvet, half straw.

'I never thought there'd come a day when I'd ask you what I'm about to ask now,' Sinan said after settling down.

'What is it?' Jahan said, though he was not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

'I need your skills. Not as a draughtsman. Your earlier skills, if one may call them such.'

Seeing Jahan draw a blank, he explained, slowly, 'Back when you used to help yourself to other people's belongings, I mean. I know you don't do it any more.'

Shame. Horror. So the master knew all about his pilfering. A rush of guilt ran down to his fingertips. Still, he did not deny it. 'Yes, right ... but ... I don't understand.'

'I need you to steal a few things for me, son.'

Jahan stared at him.

'Tomorrow, as you know, the buildings shall be razed. The instruments. The books. It happened so fast Takiyuddin did not have time to save much. The doors are locked and no one can get in.'

Jahan nodded, finally beginning to see what he was suggesting.

'If we could get at least a few books, it'd be some consolation to our friend.'

'It would indeed, master.'

'You don't have to accept, of course,' Sinan said, dropping his voice to a whisper. 'It could be a bad idea.'

'I think it's an excellent idea.'

'It could be dangerous, son.'

'Stealing always is, master, if you pardon my saying so.'

Sinan regarded his apprentice with a wistful smile, his head c.o.c.ked to one side, as if the very sight of him both hurt and restored his spirit.

'This has to remain a secret between us,' Sinan said after a pause.

'And Chota,' Jahan said. 'He can walk more quietly than a horse. And he can carry more things.'

'All right. We'll take him with us.'

'We? You mean you're coming with me?'

'Certainly. I cannot send you on your own.'

Jahan thought about this for a moment. If he were caught, he would be taken for an ordinary thief. If Sinan were caught, he would lose his reputation, even his position in the court. His workers, his family, his students, each of whom looked up to him as a father figure, would be devastated. He said, 'I cannot work with someone else beside me. It's against my nature.'

The master objected. The apprentice resisted. Sinan said he was calling the whole thing off. Jahan said it was too late, now that he had heard about it he would do it anyway. It was a bizarre war of words. They quarrelled without quarrelling.

'Fine,' said Sinan, conceding in the end with a perfunctory wave of his hand, which Jahan took as less a gesture of defeat than a sign of trust.

Afterwards the master handed Jahan a pouch of coins. If he were to run into the night watchman, he should try to bribe him. It might work. It might fail. It depended on the man's disposition and what Providence had in store for Jahan.

At the sound of an approaching footfall they both flinched. A boy appeared, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup, bread, water and baklava. They waited until he had served the food and left.

'Eat,' the master said. 'It'll be a long night.'

Jahan tore a piece of bread, dumped it into the soup and swallowed it down, scalding his tongue, as a thought occurred to him. He said, 'Is there anything in particular you want me to carry off?'

'Well,' Sinan replied, raising an eyebrow, expecting to be asked this. 'Not the instruments; they are too big. The books should be saved, as many as possible. If you can, find his zij; you know how he exerted himself on it.'

The map of the moon, the sun, the stars and the celestial bodies. Years and years of work. Why hadn't the Chief Royal Astronomer taken it away with him?

As if reading his mind, Sinan said, 'Takiyuddin kept his valuable things in the observatory. That was his home.'

Jahan had a few spoonfuls of soup; then he popped another piece of bread into his mouth and put the rest into his sash. 'I'm ready to go.'

There was a full moon glowing over the city, a bonfire from a bygone age. Amid shadows, Jahan rode Chota towards Tophane.

Against the leaden sky the buildings resembled two sorrowful giants hugging each other. A stab of pain went through Jahan as he realized that by this time tomorrow they would be gone. He jumped down and listened to the night to make sure there was no one around. Quietly, he told Chota to wait for him there, rewarding him with pears and nuts, which the beast instantly gobbled up. Jahan had brought large sacks to carry the books. After grabbing them and kissing Chota's trunk three times for good luck, he made straight for the observatory.

First he tried the main entrance. There was a rusty padlock dangling from it. He fiddled a bit, making use of the blade and the spike he had brought with him in his sash. It would not be too hard to prise it open, he judged; yet he would be unable to put the thing back together in one piece. Tomorrow morning everyone would know someone had broken in.

He crept behind the walls and checked the back doors on both sides. Since there was a pa.s.sage between the buildings, it made no difference which door he went through so long as he found a way. Then he saw what he needed: a round window on the ground floor. He recalled that this winter it had come loose and never been fully repaired. Takiyuddin had complained, saying the labourer had done a mediocre job. Then he had forgotten all about it. So had everyone else.

The next moment Jahan was there, prodding. In a little while, the hinge gave way with a click. Pushing the window open, he slipped in. It was so dark inside, and he was so unprepared for this, that his knees buckled under him. He waited till his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, after which he began to identify things. He climbed up the spiral stairs and reached the library; a powerful smell of paper, vellum, ink and leather hit him in the face. Each shelf was an open wound bleeding into the night. Staggering, he glanced left and right. There were thousands of books, maps and ma.n.u.scripts. How was he to know which ones were more precious than others? How could he judge? By their age? By their author? By their theme?

Jahan scampered from row to row, picking up the books at random, sniffed and touched them, then brought them near the window, where a wedge of moonlight shimmered. Words in Latin, Arabic, Ottoman, Hebrew, Greek, Armenian, Persian rained on him. He gasped. Suddenly, he was furious at himself. He was losing precious time with his doubts. Panicking, he took out the sacks he had brought and began to fill them with whichever books he could lay his hands on. Since he could not choose, he would not. He would save them all.

In went the first shelf, then the second and the third. One sack was full already. The second sack swallowed the next three shelves. That was it. He took a step forward, doddering like a drunken man. It was too heavy. He had to remove some of the tomes, his hands trembling, his teeth chattering as though he had been left in a cold shaft of air.

'I'll be back,' he whispered.

He went out, found Chota, unloaded the books up into his howdah and returned, running, panting. He cursed himself for not having thought of bringing a wheelbarrow. That would have been smarter. Again he filled the sacks, five more shelves, and again he dashed out. He could not count how many times he was able to make this return trip. He was puffing so hard he feared someone would hear him and it all would come to naught.

Swallowing with a dry mouth, he tried to recover his composure. Outside the window the dawn was breaking. He told himself this had to be the final trip. This was it. Whatever he could save, he saved; whatever he could not, he let go. That was when something happened, something he would never reveal to anyone even years later as an old man. The books and ma.n.u.scripts and maps and charts started to call his name: first in muted, then in increasingly shrill tones, begging him to take them with him. Jahan could see their mouths of ripped paper, their tears of ink. They threw themselves off the shelves, stepped on each other, blocked his way, their eyes wide with horror. Jahan felt like a man in a boat searching for a dozen to save in a storm while hundreds were drowning around him.

His eyes watered. He filled three more sacks and left quickly, as though being chased by an invisible force. How he mounted Chota, how he reached Sinan's home, he would not remember afterwards. He gave all the books to his master and refused to get anywhere near them for fear they would talk to him again.

'Indian apprentice, you've saved so many,' Sinan said.

'I abandoned many more,' Jahan said dourly.

A line of worry furrowing his forehead, Sinan emptied the sacks, wiped the books and hid them in his library. Later on he would inform Jahan that he had rescued 489 books.

Only when Jahan returned to his room and put his head on his mattress and managed to calm his breathing did he realize that he had not, in his haste, remembered to look for Takiyuddin's zij. In the end the court astronomer had not been able to stave off what he most despised. Knowledge and wisdom had to be c.u.mulative, an uninterrupted flow from one generation to the next; and yet the young astronomers who would come after him would have to start from the beginning all over again.