The Topkapi Beggar

By Deslee Campbell

"The Topkapi beggar, is an historical novel set in Turkey during World War I. The narrative features the intertwined lives of two Armenian families, one of which had previously converted to Islam and so survived intact. The other family remained loyal to its cultural heritage and religion."--Publisher.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deslee Campbell
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224124084

Deslee Campbell

Deslee Campbell, a former teacher of modern history, who worked in the field of educational psychology and counselling. She has a Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of New South Wales, a Diploma in Education from the University of Sydney, and a Graduate Diploma in School Counselling from U.W.S/Nepean. She was has a Masters degree fromMacquarie University in early Christian Studies and a Phd from Sydney University. Deslee has visited Israel nine times, the first being in January 1970.  During Passover 1990 Deslee was one of three Australians to visit the U.S.S.R.  Since 1988 Deslee, and her late husband John, .they lived with their three sons and their adopted daughter in Sydney   and attend a local Anglican Church in Sydney,  Now widowed, Deslee has four children and three grandchildren. Her published works include the sequel novel, Love is a Journey, which follows Karen Evan's career as a nurse. With her son, Rev. Justin Campbell, she has co-authored a major 2-volume work in the mini-series Synagogue and Church and her YouTube presentations can be viewed via the web address http://www.synagogueandchurch.com

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Akars: Generations of Professional Beggars

The men of twenty-one year old Urfan Akar’s family had been beggars as far back as anyone could remember. In his grandfather’s day they had been wealthy (as far as beggars go) because he had occupied the prized position outside the marble outer gate, the Imperial Gate, of the Topkapi Palace, in front of the left pillar which supported the open, central archway. In those days the Topkapi Palace had been the residence of the Sultan and the administrative centre of the entire Ottoman Empire, which stretched across North Africa, the Levant, the Arab Hejaz and well into Europe, via Turkey. By 1876 the Sultan had begun to reside more and in the more modern residence along the Bosphorus, the Dolmabahce Palace. In recent decades, however, the Empire’s territory had been gradually whittled away as Turkey lost one war after another – and beggars, like everyone, became poorer and poorer.

Originally, there were six beggars around the imperial gate, contending for business, but the others had moved on to greener pastures, leaving Urfan to the meagre pickings of the old palace. His friend, the blind beggar Memet Elkan, occupied a position beside the nearby Kiosk or Fountain of Ahmet III, which was set within a large square and a few metres in front of the Imperial Gate. It was still visited by many people seeking water from its four fountains, which was good for Memet’s business.

In the old days everyone who passed through the gate had carried money on their person. Even the scullery maids, who scrubbed the pots and pans in the voluminous palace kitchens, could spare a coin or two for the disabled. Since August 1876, when the last cabinet meeting had been held in the Council Chambers, things had been different for Urfan’s father, Edan Akar. Each morning the Akar menfolk had placed their beggar’s cushion at their usual post, more out of habit than anything. At least it was a short walk home. All of the most lucrative places for begging were already taken before the Akars realised what was happening – that the magnificent but outdated Topkapi Palace would only be used on religious and ceremonial occasions like diplomatic receptions, and such special events as funerals of Sultans, the accession of sultans (most recently that of Mehmed V in 1909 who replaced his brother Abdul Hamid II during a coup). It was also used for the Procession of the Mantle of Felicity, a very holy and splendid occasion which Urfan didn’t really understand as he was not raised as a Muslim, despite his parent’s conversion.

Not that the Topkapi Palace was deserted. Guards constantly occupied the sentry boxes at each gate and lived in the guardrooms upstairs, within the gate’s structure. Their presence provided the beggars, Urfan and Memet Elkan, with a sense of security. Cleaners and gardeners kept the hundred of rooms and the courtyard gardens immaculate and the library, mint and treasury remained on site. Whenever an event was planned cooks, maids and officials appeared and swung into action, serving up to one thousand meals a day. On these rare occasions beggars fared better and were given a basket of food if they hung around the gate late enough. After Turkey had been coerced into supporting the German and Austro-Hungarian war the previous November, however, everyday visitors would were few and far between. 

At the nearest men’s Turkish bath Ekrem the masseur, a muscular giant, had been surprised to see Urfan and his father, Edan, again because they had patronised his hamam the day before. Through clouds of steam in the caldarium he asked,

"Did you rob a goldsmith or come into money overnight? His question was ignored so he continued, you would never guess who came in this very morning. He left here barely fifteen minutes ago? It was the great Enver Pasha, head of the ruling triumvirate of the parliament. Said he was getting ready for a big day. Something’s afoot but I don’t know what it is. The air is filled with fear and danger. Can’t you feel it?"

"It always seems dangerous to us, responded Edan, we can’t hide away from the dangers that lurk in the streets and there are bad guys everywhere: bad police, bad officials and bad criminals. Soon there will be bad soldiers: the word on the streets is that bad British and their bad allies might reach our beautiful city. Their ships have already attacked our blockade of the Dardanelles," res[onded Ekrem.

"It’s got to be Enver Pasha’s business that Russian ports were bombarded. He is the Minister for War, even if our Sultan tried hard to avoid another crippling military conflict," said Ekrem, rippling his muscles in a belligerent way.

"Take care what you say, Ekrem, even the walls have ears these days. Talat Pasha, the Interior Minister, and his henchmen in the secret Committee of Union and Progress of the parliament have their spies anywhere, warned Edan, in a whisper. But how is the war progressing?"

"It’s hard to know, given the level of press censorship, but our Fourth Army in Syria and our Sixth Army in Mesopotamia are taking the worst of things. This week the Armenian partisans have defeated the Ottoman Third Army at Van, after dozens of Armenian villages around Lake Van were burnt down. They have probably given the city to the Russians, even though our Third Army was better equipped with a canon and artillery. The Armenians, however, have acquired stocks of C-96 Mauser machine pistols that fire up to six shots at a time. Very nifty. One can hardly blame the Armenians of Van for waging guerrilla warfare as, in early April, Enver Pasha, the War Minister (as I said), decreed that the entire Armenian population of the Lake Van area must be deported and dispersed. They certainly don’t want to fight Turkey’s war"

"It’s hard to know, given the level of press censorship, but our Fourth Army in Syria and our Sixth Army in Mesopotamia are taking the worst of things. This week the Armenian partisans have defeated the Ottoman Third Army at Van, after dozens of Armenian villages around Lake Van were burnt down. They have probably given the city to the Russians, even though our Third Army was better equipped with a canon and artillery. The Armenians, however, have acquired stocks of C-96 Mauser machine pistols that fire up to six shots at a time. Very nifty. One can hardly blame the Armenians of Van for waging guerrilla warfare as, in early April, Enver Pasha, the War Minister (as I said), decreed that the entire Armenian population of the Lake Van area must be deported and dispersed. They certainly don’t want to fight Turkey’s war"

Urfan and Edan felt a tight knot in the pits of their stomachs. They said nothing but both were painfully aware that the family was Armenian by origin and still felt for their fellow Armenians, who were being squeezed economically, and harassed and persecuted. Back when Turkey made its first attempts at being a fledgling democracy a number of the many Christian minority communities had been allocated seats in parliament and now were thought to be gaining an influence that flew in the face of the motto Turkey for the Turks. 

"Who do you think will bring us the worst of things, the Grand Visier or the three pashas?" whispered Eren.

"Much of a muchness, Ekem supposed, but all of the new guard have to watch their backs. For years Muslim extremists, led by the theological students, have been up in arms and wanting to reintroduce sharia law. There have been assassinations of liberals in broad daylight and there is a lot of anti-Western sentiment. Parliaments, democracy and Islam don’t sleep very well in the same bed."

Ekrem had been right, the beggars could not afford another bath so soon so they exchanged a few polite words and decided to leave. Ekrem, a big man with a loud voice was already speaking too loudly, as he found whispering quite a challenge. "No charge for a bath, Ekrem croaked, the boy can rub your back and I will see that he does it well".

24th April, 1915.

Chapter 2

Deportation Day

Ceren Akar lay on her iron bed staring at the ceiling. With a nudge of her elbow she had woken her husband, Edan, and suggested that he and young Urfan, go to the hamam before dawn. Edan had been willing to comply, even though both he and his son had bathed there twice in recent days: so his wife was enjoying a rare moment of reverie. Despite their advancing years and yet another war, life was continuing as it had ever since their daughter married and left for far away places: just the old couple and their disabled son, the beggar Urfan, in their one-roomed dwelling in the old Sultanahmet of Constantinople. But normal life was about to change. These were strange times. Old Edan told Urfan as much as their padded home-made slippers moved noiselessly through the narrow alleyways of the Sultanahmet, the ancient centre of Constantinople, with centuries-old origins. The city’s importance dated back to Roman time when the Emperor Constantine I made Byzantium his capital and re-named it Constantinople, in his own honour and its centrepiece was once the scene of chariot races and its heart was the famed Agia Sophia, that dated back to the 6th century.

Turkey had been at war with Russia and her allies, France and Britain for almost six months. Ceren remembered that, in October 1914, three Russian Black Sea ports, Odessa, Theodosia and Sevastopol, with their oil and wheat storages, had been bombarded by Turkish warships and gunboats, a much admired fete. But food would become scarce as Russian grain ships were holed up in the Black Sea because Turkey had mined the waters, including the exit route through the Dardanelles and a Turkish pilot was required to guide ships, such as the three-year-old German dreadnought the SMS Goeben, safely through the minefield. The Goeben, and its support cruiser the SMS Breslau, were to be safely anchored in Constantinople where they were much admired, especially by the young boys, although they would be grossly inadequate against the British fleet, backed by the French. The Russians, however, could not leave their Black Sea home-ports of Odessa and the various Crimean ports because of the minefields in the Narrows, West of the Sea of Marmara. When, in March, 1915, the British and French had entered with sixteen vessels with such names as Triumph, Majestic, Swiftsure, Vengence and Irresistible, one, the Ocean, was sunk and two more were damaged by mines so that the fleet withdrew. At least we have Germany and Austria to protect us, she had thought.

Everyone in Turkey was unaware that this conflict would be much worse than any of the almost continuous wars of the previous century, including Turkey’s war with Iran (in 1821-23), the Turko-Russian War in Thrace (in 1877-78), or the Tripolitana War (of 1911-12) in North Africa, or the two very recent Turko-Balkan Wars (of 1912-13). Turkey, and her military, had been reduced to near penury by war against Italy in North Africa in 1912, and had not recovered. Altogether, a century of war had virtually bankrupted the Ottoman Empire and resulted in the Ottoman Empire’s loss of swathes of territory in Europe, North Africa and Eastern Anatolia. The Balkan War had created, or extended, a number of comparatively small but ambitious states on the north-western borders of the Ottoman Empire, notably Serbia, Albania, and Bulgaria, while Greece continued to oppose Turkey in Thrace even though its population was only one eighth the size of the Ottoman Empire’s (although it did have a naval force).

With heavy press censorship, the truth about Turkey’s poor state of military preparedness and economic weakness was also hidden. For example, that barefooted soldiers had fought the Russians in mountains at Sarikamis, near the Caspian Sea, on 29th December, 1914, so that, the next day, thirty-seven thousand men had been found frozen to death, or that, from Beersheva to Suez, through the cruel sands of Palestine Ottoman soldiers had no shoes to wear when they attacked the Suez Canal in mid-January, 1915. There were shortages of rifles, heavy artillery, medical equipment, pack animals, food and virtually everything necessary to pursue a war.

Everyone in Turkey had known that the country needed a powerful patron from among the Great Powers and the crafty Abdul Hamid II had cultivated Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm II’s friendship so that, in