Elvan was ready to meet the rooftop cats. Pushing past his remaining indecision, he got up and set off, down from the western hills of Beyoğlu and on towards Galata Bridge. Whilst walking he fell back on the subjects which had most often occupied his mind since the conference. He checked the list diligently, peering into each item as he went.
The preparations for war had begun. Yesterday Kadir had announced the reopening of the sports facility in Yildiz Park. Enrollment for the first classes had commenced. Elvan was pleased. Really, it was the perfect way to recruit the most willing and able to fight, and whilst not exactly a secret, it had the air of weakness about it that Elvan was keen to establish in regards to their readiness as a tribe for war.
In a few days, and then increasingly over time, he would understand more of their real strength. Away from the public glare of the conference, he was sure that many cats would come forwards. His rationale, which he was sure to see spread amongst the gutter cats, was that it would do no harm to keep themselves fit and healthy. If war came to them, at least they would be in good physical condition. The question was how many. How many would come now? If too few then what else would need to be done to see that they had the volume he was counting on.
Over recent days he had become almost obsessed in consideration of the strategic strengths and weaknesses of his tribe. Volume, being the more numerous force, was a strength that he simply had to realise. They outnumbered the alley cats and the rooftop cats at a ratio of ten to one. If half of the able-bodied came out he would have an advantage that might be overwhelming in its own right. Now they were learning to fight. In Kadir he was sure he had a warrior that was second to none. It was true, both the alley cat enforcers and the rooftop knights were formidable forces but true heroes were few amongst their ranks. There were many exceptional cats out there that might choose to side with one party or another, when the time came, but most true heroes would never lower themselves to fight for Longshanks or the alley cats. In the end, by the time war came, he at least might be equal in skill.
Weapons were a real worry. Beyond the official guard, they had been banned for many years now, but his gut told him that all the alley cats were bound to have them, even if left over from the old days, and for the rooftop cats it was certain. It was an open point in his mind. For the time being he could not see what to do. He could not go looking for them, he did not know who to ask but the alley cats, and doing that would be akin to declaring war there and then. Later perhaps, when things were clear, an opportunity would present itself. Zeynep might know someone, he would ask her when she came back…
Then his mind returned to his main weakness, the main reason for his trip to see the rooftop cats, the position of his troops, that they lived out in the open, in the gutter, and held neither the height of the rooftops nor the darkness of the alleys. It was the relation of these places that most concerned him. The difficulty of confronting either from the gutter was worrying enough in itself. In his gloomiest moments he envisaged a terrible rain of innocent cats falling from the skies as they were knocked back from the rooftops. Equally sickening, the vision of his forces crushing in upon themselves as they tried to penetrate the narrow entrances to the alley lairs. Worse still, the idea of dealing with them both at once. The alleys might come at his rear as they tried to scale the walls. The rooftops might attack from above as they pushed their way into the alleys. The possibility of fighting on two fronts opened up a whole range of scenarios and sequences that he could not get a grip on.
So to the rooftops. It was a prospect that had to be tried for whatever potential it might yield. That one lord or lady might reveal something of Longshanks' thinking; that they might hint at dissent; the doors that stood to be unlocked from the slightest success… The only problem was that it was so important, and such a singular chance. As such he had felt obliged to prepare.
He thought back on the sordid but pleasurable night he had just spent with Jezabel, the famous courtesan that moved between the cat tribes in Istanbul as the custom called for. Had it been worthwhile? Certainly he had learnt a lot, but he was not clear on how to make use of any of it. She had the attitude of an appreciative lover and not a potential ally in war. All male cats were the same she assured him, although some were less boring than others, for it was their egos that led to their undoing. The inexperience of youth might be masked as enthusiasm; the impotence of age as relative virtuosity (how one lord leered at his own superiority in lust); how the arrogance of nobility slipped so easily into the sumptuous. What his weakness was she did not yet know, but how willing she was to find out. While most lords, in spite of the love of their line, hated their fathers, they mourned for the absence of their mothers - but of course they could never admit it…
He pulled himself out of his imagination. He had not the time for such thinking. It would corrupt him. And the idea of his parents…
He found himself at the bridge. He began to steel himself for the coming interview. He would at least be polite. He would respect them. He would be as honest as he could. He was not sure who he would find first, up there on the rooftops, but they were unlikely to be stupid…
Having crossed the Golden Horn, Elvan looked about to get his bearings and decide which rooftop to try. The area around the Hagia Sophia and the palace was the central stronghold of Longshanks and so always heavily guarded. Turning to his right he glanced upwards and gazed towards the Blue Mosque, one of the highest points in Istanbul. A beautiful perspective, it was just the sort of place that rooftop lords and ladies might like to relax. Skirting around the Grand Bazaar, the headquarters of the alley cats, he made his way up the hills and slopes and then jumped onto a wall, then a ledge, and then a deserted rooftop. He would have to be careful to avoid the knights, who were always looking for a cat to knock down a step or two.
After a few more hops and leaps upwards, he checked the outline of the Blue Mosque again for signs of a cat - a silhouette perhaps or the line of a lingering tail. What luck! Looking down on him, staring straight at him, was a cat he knew - it was Lord Wellington. Wellington had once been the commander of the rooftop armies. In recent years, ever since the death of King Richard, their ranks had been broken up into ever smaller units, each with its own supervisor, all of whom apparently reported into another layer of management, unidentified in public, who then in turn reported into Longshanks. Wellington then might just be exactly the sort of cat that Elvan was looking for, knowledgeable and powerful, but surely disenchanted.
Elvan looked up at Wellington with a supplicating aspect. It had to be clear that he had come in peace, seeking their help. Wellington stepped back from the edge of the rooftop he was on and disappeared out of view. Looking as calm and humble as possible, Elvan continued with his ascent.
Reaching the top he turned back for a second to admire the view - is this not what cats normally did? Besides, he could barely resist it - it had been such a long time since he had had the opportunity. Istanbul had never looked more grand. His eye caught a breath-taking span of bright white city and deep blue water, and with it his heart trembled with the poignance of the moment - as if everything he cared about had been swept up into the opportunity before him.
Regaining hold of his mind and enforcing composure, he returned to his targets, smiling submissively. To the left of Wellington he recognized Lord Churchill, and to the right Lord Salisbury. It was as good a catch as he could have hoped for.
'Elvan!' cried Wellington, 'welcome back to the rooftops! How long has it been? It feels as if I have not seen you since you were a kitten racing through the skies without a care in the world. And haven't times changed… But in truth, please sit, for we have been expecting you…'
A cold shiver slipped down Elvan's spine. What could it possibly mean? He had told no one. Immediately his position felt weaker. The potential of the prospect began to evaporate before his eyes. The rooftop cats now looked again like the hard overlords he had always thought them, and he felt mean and cynical.
'Lord Wellington, Lord Churchill, Lord Salisbury, thank you' he replied. 'Indeed I was looking to talk to you, I am in need of your help, but tell me, what news of my visit? I had thought to come in private and consult you in confidence.'
Wellington smiled thinly while Churchill and Salisbury each cast him just the edge of an eye, apparently entirely disinterested.
'Yes, expecting you we were' Wellington repeated. 'It was only yesterday that Serkan came to see us. He hasn't told you I deduce?'
Serkan! Elvan's mind almost exploded. He had betrayed him! How could he be so stupid? To undermine their only chance before they had even started! Scenes from their last meeting raced into his mind, each recollection raking through his nerves. He had warned him! He had told him not to do precisely this! But then he thought, perhaps he had not betrayed him after all, perhaps he had done as he had asked and conveyed that it was the intention of the gutters to be patient and remain peaceful.
Steadying himself he asked, 'He told me he intended to see you and I him - I trust you enjoyed your meeting?'
'And you did not want to come together?' Wellington asked, apparently addressing the question to some unseen observer that looked on, complicit in his own wry wisdom.
Elvan flinched and said nothing.
'Well enough of that' continued Wellington, losing interest in his toy, his dominance now secure. 'I will pay you the same respect that he paid us and be very frank with you. He explained to us how bitterly you had taken the recent injustices suffered by your tribe - the restrictions on your rights, the arrests and the provocative rumours of saviour that went hand in hand with the arrests. He said that whilst Zara had gone off chasing this false prophecy with two kittens, you were preparing the gutters for war, although whether with a view to fighting us, or the alley cats, or both, he could not be sure. Elvan I tell you I could barely believe my ears. And let me tell you something else, do not expect to get any help here!'
'Of course we agree' he continued, contemptuously, looking from side to side to indicate the agreement of his companions, 'there is much wrong with the world today, but do not think for a second that you fool us with your request for help. We have seen it all before, and trust me, if you succeed with your plan you will end up just the same as Mr Respectable. It amounts to the same thing - you want to change the world to suit your perspective and he his - but you are both confronted with the same problem, the rest of us do not agree!'
Wellington looked to the other lords so that they might confirm his opinion.
Salisbury looked at Elvan sternly. 'Another Respectable indeed!' he confirmed, 'yet worse still! A Napoleon! Have you considered the impossibility of what you desire? You want nothing less than to change the natural order of life! Think about it. First you must turn the gutter cats into a military force - no small feat in itself - and then you must force both the alley cats and ourselves into permanent submission. Finally, inconceivably, once free from contradiction, you must remodel the world to suit yourself. But there are good reasons for why things should be as they have always been, this world did not happen by accident, it is not arbitrarily so that we live on the rooftop and you in the gutter. We have ruled civilisation since the beginning of time because it is in our nature to govern. It is not the same for the gutter cats because they have neither the inclination nor the capacity to do so. And I don't think there is anything wrong with that!'
Apparently much satisfied with his speech, Salisbury turned to Churchill with an air of expectation that suggested the imminence of a decisive blow to Elvan's application.
'I for one am prepared to help you as much as it is in my interest to do so' he said, stately and serene. 'What exactly is it that you want?'
Salisbury and Wellington both smiled at Churchill, delighted with how clever he was.
'Information' Elvan stuttered, his mind reeling, 'simply to understand.'
He drew breath, desperate to regain some ground. 'It is true' he continued, 'I cannot stand to see so many cats suffer, and I am prepared to defend my home and my tribe, as no doubt you would be if in my position. But it is not true that I am planning to attack either alley or rooftop. It is just that I expect war to come. I see that if we do not stand up for ourselves we will soon be crushed. What would you have me do?'
'Nothing!' roared Salisbury. 'Absolutely nothing is what I would recommend, you will find that things will work themselves out perfectly well without your interference, whether revolution or resistance.'
'Information?' asked Churchill. 'What information do you require?'
Elvan felt ever so grateful to be given a chance. He could not have imagined for a moment that things would go so badly. Quickly he tried to order his mind.
'As I said, to understand, and you have already brought me some reassurance. I wanted to know whether you really believed in this prophecy, for I am sure it is just an excuse to abuse us. I wanted to see if Longshanks had the support of his lords and ladies. I know you of old and couldn't think you would want us to suffer so.'
'Make of it what you will' sneered Salisbury.
'Of course' said Churchill, 'we want the best for this world, there has been no change there, and we will stand in the way of evil where we find it, but let us be clear with you Elvan, this rift in our society is no common failing. We, the lords and ladies of Istanbul, that still seek to preserve our ancient freedoms and virtues, are left with little support and much to understand. The good loses power by the day. If we do nothing, all will be lost and yet we are at a loss of what to do. Longshanks has the loyalty of the knights, they obey his every whim, and yet increasingly he is losing control of his own mind. Here with his express consent, there without his knowledge, the alley cats grow in influence with every devious act of evil. I would not be surprised if soon Mr Security is given command of the rooftop armies, the way he bosses our forces about! Even graver, Mr Respectable has been given the hand of Izabel in marriage, who, much to her credit, has fled Istanbul to avoid such a terrible fate. Now we hear that you are stoking the fires of anger and resentment in the gutter, and Zara is fuelling the fervour of revolution by searching for a world-beating saviour. The worst of it, Longshanks will not heed our warnings. With every cloud that gathers he loses yet more sight of what is really at stake. What would I have you do? Only you can decide Elvan, but when you choose who to fight and what to defend, consider the consequences of winning and losing. What I have learnt, after many years of hard experience, is that one crisis only leads onto the next. Your allies in one war are merely the sown seeds of your enemies in the next. Trust me, the fight never ends, whatever happens now will only set the scene for what happens after!'
Churchill concluded and turned aside puffily.
Wellington smiled at Elvan with the comfort of an assured superior. 'Are you satisfied?' he asked.
'I have much to think on' replied Elvan, truthfully. 'Thank you, I wish you well.'
With that Elvan turned around and began his descent back to the gutter, his heart in turmoil and in his mind the spark of fury. How could Serkan have done that to him?