Red Tulips

God bless the golden years, when half the world was under the palms of his hands, glory was the synonym of his empire, and magnificent, his last name. I clearly recall the delight of the people when the news of victory spread around the region. Loud cheers and prayers requesting long life for the Sultan were repeated incessantly; gifts were bestowed upon the residents of the region, and all lived in abundance. For the last nineteen years, the people of Anatolia have not experienced poverty, hunger, or thirst. Ever since I started to call the palace my home, I have witnessed the ruling of a just and courageous leader, who through his strong faith and discipline, was determined to expand his empire's boundaries and eminently honour his homeland.

But continuous bliss always precedes calamity in the life of the world. As the winter months approached and all the trees and grass in the courtyard were soon covered in white, death decided to visit the people of Anatolia. In the short period of two full moons, nearly half of all its inhabitants had been afflicted with the plague. The more the cold wind blew, the more terrified people became. The disease stealthily took away the colour of one's flushed cheeks, their strength to walk, and ability to breath. It was cruel; after such symptoms, it did not allow its victims to even say farewell to their loved ones. It did not distinguish between the young or the elderly; it brutally took away lives in the hundreds. Families lost their children, corpses were scattered, and physicians desperately tried to save lives as the velvet white of the snow was replaced by a warm, blood-red colour. In the palace, desperation was cast upon the supreme council. The gates of the palace were shut and guards were given directions to prevent any entry or exit. Terror brutally stole the peace of its residents, and their loud cries of desperation could be heard in the deep silence by looking into their eyes. I would have never wished such calamity even on the worst of enemies; but it seemed like they did not think the same.

After being informed of the ferocity of the plague and its possible time of duration, the greatest enemy of the sultan decided to proclaim war. Anatolia had always been envied for its fertile land and vast fields decorated with fruits and greenery of all kinds; its proximity to the sea provided its people with sustenance and an advantage for trading with nearby countries. It was highly sought after, which made the land even more loved and honoured by its people. The plague had taken away the lives of thousands of soldiers at that time, and fighting this battle against its worst enemy in such a moment of crisis was an immense risk. Although the Sultan hesitated at first, the Grand Vizier insisted that they must fight. He remarked that although now in a smaller number, the empire's army was the most disciplined and powerful in their time, and which was, with no doubt, the reason for the longevity of the dominion and the honour of the Sultan. The enemy had taken advantage of the empire's weakest and most vulnerable state it had ever experienced. At that time, the people of Anatolia were already trying to win the bloody battle against the heartless enemy that had invaded their homes accompanied by the cold winter breeze. I deeply disbelieved that they could survive another attack. But the Sultan soon announced his decision: they were going to war.

I vividly recall the mornings I would wake up to see his bright eyes staring at mine, and speaking in a language I alone could understand. The sound of the horses' gallops and the image of him on his stallion passing through the gates of the palace, followed by his thousands of soldiers are forever carved in my memory.

"I am departing tomorrow at dawn. Promise that you will take care of yourself for me. You are my companion, my beloved, my heaven and my joy." He said as he kissed my forehead. He then continued:

"Your ethereal face and emerald eyes are my greatest source of strength. Only the Lord of the Worlds knows how dear you are to me."

"May He be with you, and grant you victory", I said while I tried to draw a smile on my face, and could not resist the sorrow that slowly took over my heart.

He then held my right hand and gently guided me to the large window that faced the palace's main garden.

"Do you see those tulips?" He said as he pointed at the garden through the glass. "By the time you are able to see the bright red colour of the open bulbs, I will be back."

Those were the last words I heard him say.

Ever since he had left, the Sun shone less brightly and my vision constantly betrayed me by showing me his reflection on the water of the fountain. But each time I tried to reach for him, his reflection vanished. Time never felt the same again; the days were terribly long, and the nights, short. As soon as darkness fell, I asked the Moon if it knew where his round, hazel eyes whose luminance was similar to it could be seen. I constantly begged sleep to guide me to the world of dreams; the only place where I could feel the warmth of the Sultan's hands against mine once again. The flute played in the evenings at the palace, whose melody once created delight in my heart, now casted melancholy upon me. The fruits of the fertile lands of Anatolia had lost their taste, and the bright-coloured tulips that once embellished the vast lands of the region now had faded hues. For days, I watched the soft snow fall while I sat at the veranda and waited feverishly for the messenger to bring good news of victory and inform me that my Sultan was well. But the news never came, and none of the letters delivered to the palace had his signature on them. I spent long nights praying to be reunited with him; I wrote him innumerous letters, and when ink was scarce, I wrote with the tears that flowed from my eyes. I tried to live everyday with the hope that I would one day wake up to the sound of the horses' gallops announcing the sultan's arrival, and realise that the tulips have bloomed. But finding the strength to continue was my greatest battle; solitude had become my closest friend, and silence, the most beautiful melody.

The day I prayed for had finally arrived. At the breaking of the dawn, I awoke to the sound of the horse's gallops and the warm salutations to the soldiers as they approached the main gate. At first I thought I was hallucinating, but it couldn't have been more real. My joy was so great that I couldn't speak; my speech was paralyzed and my eyes spoke on behalf of my lips, shedding the few tears that were left from the many nights of grief. I swiftly walked across the room and realized that the snow on the garden was embellished by a beautiful red color: the tulips had finally bloomed. I unconsciously hurried across the room and down the long stairs that lead to the main entrance to the palace. Everyone was bewildered to hear the news and gathered together at the windows and open doors to welcome the Sultan and his brave soldiers. Nobody believed their eyes; although victory always belonged to the empire in all previous battles, they all secretly believed that this time it was too vulnerable to such a powerful enemy, and were prepared to hear news of defeat. The security guards were then given direction to open the gates. I held my heart in my hands, and my eyes betrayed me by refusing to hold back my tears. The gates opened slowly, and soon I was able to see what they concealed. I watched the Grand Vizier on his stallion and about a hundred soldiers positioned farther back moving closer. But I did not see the Sultan. I wiped my tears and moved closer in order to see clearer. I justified that he must have been behind them, but even after some time, I still was not able to see his face.

"Many thanks to the Merciful Lord for your safe return, sir. Please be kind enough to inform me of the war's occurrences, and to enlighten me of when the great Sultan will return." I said calmly to the Grand Vizier, as I lowered my eyes to conceal my restlessness.

"We are back from the war with the news of victory in one hand, and blood in another. I am deeply sorry to inform that the Sultan will not return to the palace. His majesty now has a new home closer to the Lord; may He have mercy upon his soul."

Upon hearing his words, all of my five senses became numb; and my grief, indescribable. The old legend my mother used to tell me when I was only a little girl now made perfect sense. Legend has it that the red tulips that bloom every winter are nourished by the blood of the brave men that devoted their lives to honour their land. The Sultan had promised he would come back to me; and he did. I felt his presence every sunrise as I drew the curtains open and looked out at the vast garden. I wondered if he could sense the heartwarming joy that embraced me as I discovered that my womb was home to the child of the fairest ruler to walk this Earth. Of one thing I was certain: the splendour of my Sultan's empire would be eternal.