1921, December 2nd, Friday.
The first Friday of December found Sultan Murad VII wrestling with a decision of monumental significance, one that could irrevocably alter the trajectory of his reign and the fate of the Ottoman Empire. Hacı Shukri Efendi's proposal from Ankara – a secret, unofficial meeting in Konya with a trusted representative of the Sultan – was a perilous olive branch extended across a battlefield still wet with fraternal blood. To accept was to risk betrayal, exposure, and the potential fury of both Allied occupiers and hardline factions on both sides. To refuse was to let that "very small crack of light" be swallowed by darkness, perhaps forever.
Before the city fully awoke, Murad convened his most intimate and trusted council in the deepest secrecy of his private study at Yıldız Palace. Grand Vizier Tevfik Pasha, his aged face etched with a lifetime of political wisdom; Kolağası Esad Bey, the young, intense master of his nascent intelligence service; Ferik Fevzi Pasha, the stoic Minister of War; and Sheikh-ul-Islam Nuri Efendi, whose spiritual counsel Murad valued immensely. Murad laid out the entirety of Hacı Shukri Efendi's message, including the offer to meet at Rumi's tomb in Konya within ten days. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice low and grave, "this is perhaps the most critical decision we have yet faced. The potential rewards of even a successful preliminary dialogue with elements in Ankara are immense: an end to this ruinous internal division, a united front against foreign aggression, the salvation of Anatolia. But the risks… the risks are equally colossal. If this is a trap, or if our intentions are misconstrued or betrayed, the consequences could be catastrophic."
Tevfik Pasha spoke first, his voice raspy with emotion. "Your Imperial Majesty, since the dark days of the Armistice, the greatest wound upon this Empire has been its internal fissure. If there is even a sliver of a chance to begin healing that wound, to find common ground with our Turkish brethren in Anatolia, however estranged they may be, then I believe we are morally obligated to explore it, with every possible precaution." Nuri Efendi, the Sheikh-ul-Islam, added, "Hacı Shukri Efendi of Konya is known, at least by reputation in learned circles, as a man of profound piety and genuine concern for the Ummah. His willingness to act as an intermediary, and to propose a meeting at such a sacred site as Mevlana Rumi's tomb, suggests a sincerity of purpose. It is a call to dialogue that resonates with the deepest Islamic principles of reconciliation and brotherhood." Fevzi Pasha, the soldier, focused on the practicalities and dangers. "Konya lies deep within nationalist-controlled territory, Your Majesty. Any envoy we send would be entirely at their mercy once beyond our limited reach. Their security, and the secrecy of the mission, would be paramount. If word of such a meeting leaked prematurely, it could be disastrous – the Allies would see it as collusion, hardliners in Ankara might see it as treason from their side, and our own internal enemies, like Kara Davud's faction, would undoubtedly exploit it."
"The risks are undeniable, Fevzi Pasha," Murad acknowledged. "But the risk of inaction, of allowing this chasm to remain unbridged while our enemies consolidate their hold over our lands, is perhaps even greater." He looked at Esad Bey. "If we accept, can you ensure a message of acceptance reaches Hacı Shukri Efendi swiftly and securely, and can you even begin to conceive of a plan to get our envoy to Konya and back, alive and in secret?" Esad Bey's face was a mask of intense concentration. "Conveying the message of acceptance, Your Majesty, is feasible through Sheikh Saffet Efendi's established network, using the same trusted courier who just returned. As for the envoy's journey… it would be exceptionally perilous. Konya is hundreds of kilometers from any territory we even nominally control. It would require meticulous planning, multiple changes of identity and transport, a chain of discreet safe houses that my directorate is only just beginning to establish, and a very small, highly skilled, and utterly loyal covert escort. The chances of detection would be high."
The most critical question remained: who would be the envoy? "This representative," Murad mused, "must be someone of unimpeachable integrity and loyalty to our vision of a revived, unified Ottoman state. They must possess wisdom, patience, diplomatic skill, and the ability to listen profoundly, to understand the nuances of the Ankara perspective without compromising our core principles. They must also be someone whose absence from Constantinople for, say, two weeks would not cause undue alarm or suspicion." Several names were discussed. Tevfik Pasha himself, despite his age and wisdom, was too high-profile, his absence too noticeable. Reşid Akif Pasha, the Foreign Minister, was similarly too visible and too closely associated with official government policy. Esad Bey, while possessing the necessary discretion and courage, was an intelligence chief; sending him might signal espionage rather than genuine outreach. Nuri Efendi or Sheikh Saffet Efendi, while possessing the religious credentials that might resonate with Hacı Shukri, perhaps lacked the hard political acumen for such a delicate initial probing. It was Tevfik Pasha who finally suggested a name that struck a chord. "Your Majesty, there is Behram Rıza Bey. He served as a respected jurist and scholar at the Medreset-ul-Kudat (Judges' School) before the war. He is a man of profound Islamic learning, known for his quiet wisdom, his impeccable character, and his deep, non-factional patriotism. He is not currently in any official government post, preferring a life of scholarship since his disillusionment with the later CUP regime. He is perhaps in his late fifties, in good health, and his discretion is legendary. He also, I believe, has some distant family connections in the Konya region, which might provide a plausible cover for a 'private journey.' He would be seen as a man of faith and learning, not a politician or a soldier." Murad considered this. A man of faith and learning, untainted by current political embroilments, might indeed be the perfect choice to meet Hacı Shukri Efendi on the spiritual ground of Rumi's tomb. "An excellent suggestion, Tevfik Pasha. Esad Bey, do you know of this Behram Rıza Bey?" "I do, Your Majesty, by reputation," Esad confirmed. "He is widely respected for his integrity. He has never been involved in any political intrigue. He would be a… surprising, and perhaps therefore, effective choice." "Then summon Behram Rıza Bey to a private audience with me this afternoon," Murad decided. "I will assess him myself. If he is the man you describe, and if he is willing to undertake this perilous mission for the sake of our Empire and our faith, then he shall be our envoy."
Later that day, Murad attended Jumu'ah prayer, this time at the historic Eyüp Sultan Mosque, a site of immense spiritual significance where Ottoman Sultans were traditionally girded with the Sword of Osman. His presence, so soon after the Port Authority victory and amidst the ongoing tensions, was a powerful statement. Sheikh-ul-Islam Nuri Efendi, who accompanied him, delivered a deeply moving khutbah, speaking of the Islamic duty to seek reconciliation among believers, to mend breaches, to forgive past wrongs for the sake of future unity, and the immense blessings that Allah bestows upon those who strive for peace and understanding in sincerity, even when the path is fraught with danger. The sermon, though not explicitly mentioning Ankara, resonated deeply with the undercurrents of hope and anxiety that filled the city.
The council reconvened in the afternoon. Behram Rıza Bey, a man with a gentle, scholarly face and eyes that held a deep, calm wisdom, had indeed accepted the extraordinary mission after a long, private conversation with Murad, moved by the young Sultan's sincerity and his desperate desire to heal the nation. The reply to Hacı Shukri Efendi was then finalized. It expressed Murad's profound gratitude for his courage and his proposal. It confirmed acceptance of the secret meeting in Konya. It stated that Murad's envoy would be "Behram Rıza, a humble scholar and servant of Allah, carrying our full trust and our sincerest hopes for a fraternal exchange of views." It proposed a date seven days hence, allowing time for Behram Rıza's perilous journey. And it outlined a simple recognition signal for the two men to identify each other at the vast complex of Rumi's tomb. The message was encoded and given to Esad Bey for immediate dispatch via the returning courier. Fevzi Pasha and Esad Bey then presented their initial, highly secret plan for Behram Rıza's journey. It would involve him traveling disguised as a minor merchant accompanying a small, genuine trade caravan towards central Anatolia, then separating from it with a tiny, near-invisible escort of Esad's most skilled operatives (themselves disguised as dervishes or itinerant craftsmen) for the final approach to Konya. Every contingency, every safe house, every potential danger point was meticulously considered. It was a plan that relied on skill, courage, and a great deal of luck.
While these momentous preparations for the Ankara outreach were underway, the daily business of governance continued. Cavit Bey reported that the first session of the Joint Commission of Inquiry for the Port, after his initial presentation of evidence, had forced the Allied representatives to agree, however reluctantly, to grant his team access to the primary disbursement ledgers for the past two years. "They are still attempting to delay and obfuscate at every turn, Your Majesty, particularly Colonel Hughes," Cavit said. "But the documented proof is hard for even him to deny. We are slowly, painstakingly, peeling back the layers of their corruption. The process will be long, but we will prevail." Fevzi Pasha confirmed that the Hassa Ordusu now numbered over two thousand fully armed and equipped men, training intensively at Davutpaşa, whose initial refurbishment was proceeding apace. "Their discipline and morale are superb, Your Majesty. They are a force that will make any internal or external enemy think twice." Esad Bey also reported that his surveillance of the Galata warehouse linked to General Harington's staff had yielded further evidence of illicit activities, including photographs of crates matching those known to have been looted from Anatolian archaeological sites being loaded onto a ship under a neutral flag. "The net around some very highly placed Allied officials is tightening, Your Majesty, though the risk of exposing this information prematurely remains great." He also noted that Kara Davud's reactionary group was becoming more adept at spreading its anti-Murad propaganda in certain conservative madrasas and coffee houses, a threat that required careful counter-messaging from Nuri Efendi's Ulema network.
As Friday, December second, drew to its close, Murad felt the immense, almost crushing, weight of the intersecting paths he had chosen. The reply to Ankara was dispatched, carrying with it the potential for either historic reconciliation or devastating failure. The mission to Konya was being set in motion, an act of faith into the heart of nationalist territory. His government was solidifying its grip, fighting corruption, rebuilding its strength, but enemies still lurked both within and without. He had set in motion a bridge of whispers, hoping it might one day bear the weight of a reunited nation. The coming days, filled with the perilous journey of his envoy and the anxious wait for news from Konya, would be a severe test of his nerve, his faith, and his statesmanship. The fate of the Ottoman Empire increasingly seemed to hinge on these secret dialogues, these cautious steps into the unknown, as much as on any overt display of power.