Chapter 611: The Three Paintings
"I arrived at length at Cairo, mother of cities and seat of Pharaoh the tyrant, mistress of broad regions and fruitful lands, boundless in multitude of buildings, peerless in beauty and splendour, the meeting-place of comer and goer, the halting-place of feeble and mighty, whose throngs surge as the waves of the sea, and can scarce be contained in her for all her size and capacity."
- Abu Abdullah Muhammad Ibn Battuta
"Khalid! Do you speak Ottoman Turkish!"
"Yes, your Majesty." Khalid dropped his brush and answered, fidgeting his fingers. "But..."
"Great, pack up! We got work to do, leave your horse to your steward!"
...
Two hours later, the three men along with a horse and cart appeared at the gates of the New Adrianople. They presented themselves to the city guards as merchants from Serres, claiming to have brought small merchandise to sell and hopefully turn a decent profit. The city guards, under the command of general Julian, didn’t bother to scrutinize the cart or the men. Standing under the hot summer sun was already punishment enough, making many of them lag off from their designated work. They allowed Antonius and his company to pass without following any standard procedure—a lapse that Antonius took careful note of for future reference, for the discipline of the army.
However, the three men were clearly unpractised in their disguises. Antonius posed as a merchant, Khalid as a scribe, and Cerberus as a guard. They meandered aimlessly through the city, looking lost amongst the streets. Unlike typical merchants who’d rush to the market, this trio strangely gravitated towards prominent buildings and military establishments. They pointed and gestured here and there, perfectly embodying the demeanour of clueless merchants and, quite unintentionally, attracting the attention of passerby.
An old Ottoman man, who has been sitting around the gate for all day long, with wrinkles webbing across his forehead, approached them near the western gate. "I take it that the three guests that we have over here are relatively new to our city?" he asked.
Antonius shared a quick glance with his companions before replying with a straight face, "Indeed, honourable elder. We are here to trade some of our merchandise from Serres."
"I see," the old man replied, his smirk conveying his lack of interest in their goods. "Our three guests here seems to be quite intrigued by our city. Why don’t you let me, an old man, who has nothing better to do, show you the good will of an Ottoman by guiding you around and explaining anything you wish to know?"
After a moment’s hesitation, Antonius agreed. "Of course, honourable elder. If you wish to."
The old man led them to a memorial monument located next to a smaller mosque—seemingly a private mosque for Ottoman nobles’ ceremonial purposes. The structure was elegant, with a rounded rooftop standing almost twenty meters tall that offered a strategic vantage point over the entire market area of the city. All the gold plating had been stripped, and precious artifacts like porcelain and icons had been removed for obvious reasons, not by the Romans of course, but by the inhabitants of the city who took advantage of the chaos.
What remained were the murals painted on the walls, telling tales of history and religion.
"Let’s begin with this painting..." The old man gestured towards an imposing piece of artwork displayed prominently on the wall. It depicted what appeared to be a traditional Ottoman Turkish wedding between tribes, but upon closer inspection, one could notice hidden details: maidens clutching concealed blades, an armoured castle at the left hand corner and cavalries stationed discreetly in corners. A regal figure sat at the heart of the scene. "We start our journey with Ghazi Osman I, the man who started the entire Ottoman legacy from scratch."
"This particular illustration portrays a wedding, yet it’s no ordinary celebration. It’s a scene that’s intricately woven into the tapestry of Ottoman history," the elder continued. "The local tekfurs lords of Bilecik and Yarhisar planned to ensnare Osman in a treacherous ambush during a wedding outside the fortress of Bilecik . A close friend from Rumelia warned Osman of this death trap. Furious of the betrayal by the two lords, Osman decided to attend the wedding, nonetheless. He cleverly insisted on depositing his and his servants’ belongings first. This cunning ruse gave them the opportunity to catch the fortress guards off guard and seize control. They then stormed the wedding and claimed the daughter of the conspiring lord. This woman later became Nilüfer Hatun, wife to the subsequent Sultan."
"I see," Caesar replied, maintaining a thoughtful posture with his hands neatly folded. He absorbed every ounce of historical knowledge the old man shared; his attention unwavering. Behind him, Khalid muttered to himself, struggling to comprehend how a mere handful of men could overtake a fortress. Meanwhile, Cerberus, posted at the side, continually surveyed their surroundings, performing his duty as a guard. It was evident that the old man’s tale did not hold his interest.
The old man turned to the next painting that occupied almost half of the room, which showed a group of Ottoman cavalries, under the leadership of a knight with one hoof of his mount raised up, entering a city with a line of brownish red walls. Beside the walls lies multiple fallen soldiers in Roman armour, and countless Romans coming out of the city kneeling down to the supposed new sovereign.
"Cough... Cough... This second painting, depicts the scene when the Ottomans finally successfully captured the city of Bursa after a decade long siege. The very first city that the Ottomans have captured, marking the beginning of a greater era of Ottoman conquest. But what many people did not know, is that the Rumelian inhabitants lived a rather bitter and oppressed live under the rule of Constantinople, with an incredibly high taxation rate and a forced labour in order to support their pitiful civil war between the two Rumelian royals... It is only when we Ottomans arrived, and freed them from the slavery of their own people... After that, Ghazi Orhan made Bursa his capital, building the city into what it is today, while the Rumelians and Ottomans lived peacefully side by side, interbreeding for a hundred plus years."
"I see." Antonius nodded, it is no doubt that the old man over here has beautified the process and outcomes of the Ottoman conquest, but at the same time he knows that it is a fact that the Roman population did live a much better life when peace is reinstated by the Ottomans.
"Then we have this..." The old man turned to the third and last painting of the room, where it shows a bunch of Ottoman Janissaries grouping up, each of them looking distinctively Roman like, wearing their distinctive tall, pointed hat known as a "börk, with the century long tunic and a bright red yelek vest making them stand out as compared to the other ordinary troopers, and the insignia of the white horses being hanged on every single place of the illustration.
"This piece of art demonstrates the creation of the Yeniçeri... You Romans love to call them the Janissaries, by then already declared Sultan Orhan, and his faithful Grand Vizier Alaeddin Pasha. Since the day of the Janissary’s creation, it constantly recruited children from rural Christian Rumelian families, giving them a chance to get educated, learn how to read and write, how to fight, serve the Sultan, and gradually climb the ranks becoming nobles through their contributions to the state, thus integrating their families into the Ottoman system, a thing that these Rumelians did not have when they were still under the rule of Constantinople."
"I see." Antonius regarded the old man, a hint of perplexity clouding his eyes. "But why share these tales with me, honourable elder? Remember, I am a Roman myself."
Instead of answering directly, the old man suddenly fell to his knees, his forehead touching the cold stone floor. "Please, forgive me for exploiting your disguise to bring you here, noble Rumelian Lord. I am but an old man who has been seated by the gate for the past forty years..."
Antonius exhaled deeply, glancing up towards the ornate ceiling. Meanwhile, Cerberus already had his hand on his blade’s hilt, his eyes fiercely focused on the prostrated man. Khalid, on the other hand, had drawn his blade and was keeping watch on the room’s entrance, ready in case this was a trap.
"Then, explain your words and actions," Antonius commanded, his voice calm yet imposing.
"The essence of what I’m trying to impart, noble lord, is that after more than a hundred years of coexistence, many of us Ottomans in the old Rumelian lands are now indistinguishable from the Rumelians! We didn’t bring only warfare, but also development, progress, security, and freedom to everyone under the Sultan’s protection! There’s always a Sultan, just called different names and the throne of the Sultanate that once belonged to the House of Osman has now been passed to the De’Ricci. Please, noble lord..." the elder’s voice trailed off, heavy with emotion.
Antonius remained silent, his face an inscrutable mask.
"Please, if you can, convey my plea to the Caesar. We Ottomans of Edirne... Adrianople pose no threat to this ’Greater Romanian’ ideology! We are already one entity, so I beseech you, heed the words of a dying old man, treat my fellow Ottomans, the new Romans, with kindness. Spare us a path to continue our way of life, as past Sultans have demonstrated is possible, please..."
A faint, mysterious smile graced Antonius’ face.
