Hamam Balkania. Vladislav Bajac

and reputation’, as the charming interpreter of Byron’s work, Zoran Paunović, would say.

      I would add that this is indeed a case of the sustainable transformation of mathematics into literature. It should be noticed that this is one of the rare examples of that transformation that runs opposite to the normal way.

      Oh, yes! I almost forgot (like those famous historians): at approximately the same time as the loss of the above-mentioned money in England, in the Balkans, the Serbs and Turks were losing their lives. The Second Serbian Uprising was being prepared, which is referred to in the west as the ‘Second Serbian Revolution’. Dead capital in the west, dead people in the east. Some people were buying the freedom to read with money, and others the freedom to live – with their lives.

      Good old Europe, in both cases, was liberating some from slavery and turning others into slaves.

      All of this melding of mathematics into history, the overflow of calculations into literature, is actually a preparation for observing the life strategy of nations and states that also see their temporal survival through the prism of attack and defence. It is likewise an introduction to the topic of turning defeat into victory.

      I was completely sure that using certain Turkish-Serbian examples from the history of the two peoples, the two states, the two empires – Orhan Pamuk and I could reach some kind of possible truth. And if not a truth, then at least a few new claims or a justifiable presupposition. I felt an irresistible desire for that.

      Pamuk won my heart with a sentence that begins rather light-heartedly, but becomes very serious,

      “You are persistent with these numbers and the art of writing. I will give you an example, in truth someone else’s, of how literature is turned into history, how fiction turns into fact.”

      Then he quoted Voltaire who, on the occasion of the famous naval battle at Lepanto/Inebahta in 1571 between the Ottoman armada and the united Christian navy, wrote the following sentence which is a prime example of the absurdity of the relationship between truth and its background: “It seemed that the Turks were those who won the battle of Lepanto.” (emphasis mine)

      I admit, this quotation was doubly important to me in terms of the credibility of the event, because it entailed one of the rare and undoubtedly drastic military defeats of the Ottoman Empire, and at a time when it was at the peak of its power.

      I asked Pamuk what he found wrong with this defeat.

      “Usually you’d say, one defeat or another, what’s the difference? But, in this case, the defeat was not unavoidable. It was stupid to let it happen and, of course, it was absolutely unnecessary. However, the scale was tipped by Ottoman imperial conceit and exaggerated certainty based on previous victories, based especially on the conquering of Cyprus.”

      “Meaning that the decision-makers were not in agreement.”

      “That’s right. There were careful, wise and experienced men there who opposed an impetuous entry into open battle.”

      “Who took which side?” I asked.

      “The Supreme Commander of the Sultan’s navy, Ali-pasha Muezzinzade, managed to get the assent of almost all the members of the viziers’ council for the attack, by enthusiastically inflating the greatness and strength of the previous conquests. In addition to all that, he had the support of the Grand Mufti.”

      “Who was careful, who was wise and who was experienced?” I insisted, knowing very well how adroit Pamuk is in the use of epithets.

      “The second vizier of the empire, Pertev Mehmed-pasha, who held the position of senior strategic advisor in the army, was not sure about the information on the strength of the enemy army, especially when united in such a diverse corps. The union was put together in 1571 by the Christian leader Pope Pious V (this time successfully) and it united the Venetian Republic, Spain, Malta and the Italian cities. But Ali-pasha was certain that the infidels would once again be disunited as they had several times before, becoming individually weak, and he did not give in to the caution of Pertev pasha. Grand Vizier Mehmed-pasha Sokolović tried to get the battle put off for a year. Wisdom urged him to wait until the fleet was better equipped. He had experience with such situations: he was the one who, once upon a time, replaced the legendary Hayreddin Barbarossa in 1546 as the admiral of the Ottoman fleet. Primarily because the man had died, otherwise he never would have dared to even try to be his replacement. However, Sultan Suleiman the Legislator⁴ published a decree that was not to be contested. And once he had given in, then he emulated the deeds or pronouncements of his great predecessor in the reasonable rethinking of each of his own decisions. One of them was: never rush, not even into victory!”

      “And experienced, who was experienced?” I enticed him further.

      “Uluj Ali, the famous pirate, to whom the Sultan had entrusted command over parts of the navy on the basis of his slavish loyalty that had lasted for over fifty years. This brave man had destroyed European vessels for decades in the Mediterranean with exceptional success. But he had two bad sides. One was his strong language (which was sometimes forgiven in the light of his profound experience). This time he said the following (overly) poisonous sentences to Ali-pasha Muezzinzade, and that at the moment when he realised that the latter was not backing away from his ill-fated decision: ‘Istanbul Turks cannot even begin to imagine the strength of the Christian fleet. To such sheep (let there be no confusion, that’s what he called them – the Turks of the capital, not the Europeans! – Pamuk said aside) you have to embellish the news about the numbers and strength of our European enemy so that the truth will get into their heads at least that way!’

      “Muezzinzade Ali-pasha, a proud and brave man, was offended by these words and he retorted in kind: ‘You want to save the Christians because you were one in your youth! You want to save your Italian homeland!’

      “This insult in return had an effect: Uluj Ali fell silent, not wanting his loyalty and courage to fall in to doubt. (His Christian background, besides his sharp tongue, was his other bad side).”

      I thought about how clever Ali-pasha was. With these words he insulted both the Grand Vizier and the second vizier at the same time, and in a situation like this one, it seems that this could go unchallenged. Neither Mehmed-pasha Sokolović nor Pertev Mehmed-pasha reacted to this comment, out of sheer precaution. Had they done so, Serbs by background, together with the already challenged Uluj Ali, they would have seemed like undeniable defenders of their former Christian faith. Ali-pasha was thus shrewd to the point of impudence, depending precisely on such a reaction. As Pamuk went on, this was only confirmed.

      “With their silence Sultan Selim made his decision, removing the turban from his head and saying: ‘If this turban can cover three heads, then too shall the infidels join forces against me...’”

      Pamuk’s quote from the Sultan himself made me think about how his charming but comfortable eloquence would cost the empire greatly. The fact that the decision was not made unanimously or easily is hardly any comfort. Although it does, after all, say something about the existence of quite reasonable, stable people at the top of government who preferred all-encompassing forethought.

      Unfortunately, and to the detriment of the Ottoman Empire, ‘the infidels joined forces’. Going into battle at the Bay of Lepanto, where the Turkish armada had taken refuge to await the enemy, with an incidental plundering of Corfu, Ali-pasha got an additional moral wind under his wings, though just before the beginning of the clash of the two armies, the real wind turned in favour of the Christians.

      Pamuk laid out the pre-battle troop-strengths for me:

      “Ali-pasha Muezzinzade led a flotilla of 210 galleys, 66 galliots,⁵ with about 50,000 oarsmen and sailors, and some 25,000 troops on board. Don Juan de Austria entered the battle with a fleet of 236 galleys and 6 galleasses.⁶ On board there were 44,000 oarsmen and sailors, and about 28,000 soldiers. Although they had smaller numbers of vessels and combatants, the Christian army was twice as well armed, both with heavy cannons and with all other sorts of firearms. That’s what decided the battle.”

      “Now