Script

On November 11, 1822, Grand Vizier Haci Salih Pasha was sitting at his desk, deep in thought.  He was working from his home that morning, pondering the many problems that beset the Ottoman empire.  Suddenly, a hard knock at the door interrupted his attention.  The blows against the wood were so sharp and loud that he knew immediately it wasn’t a neighbor, or any casual visitor at his home. He held his breath as he heard one of his servants opening the door.  Immediately, he heard the murmur of voices, some strident, with the cadence and sharpness that were indicative that the visitors were soldiers.

Moments later, there was an urgent knock outside office and his door opened slowly and respectfully.  The servant who managed his household entered.  He carried himself regretfully…carrying a message that he didn’t want to share with his master.

As the message from the soldiers spilled out, Haci Salih Pasha felt like he knew the words even before they were spoken.  Janissaries from the palace were downstairs.  Ten of them.  Their orders required they escort Salih Pasha to the palace.  The sultan demanded his presence.  Immediately.

Salih Pasha gathered himself.  He was already dressed for the day in a formal tunic that would allow him to receive visitors and would be appropriate for the Sultan.

He stood, composed himself, smoothed his clothing, and walked to meet the Janissaries.

The captain of the squad did not speak to him, but simply nodded as Salih Pasha left his home through the front door, the Janissaries moved quickly to follow him.  Salih would treat them with respect, but he would not be walked to the Palace under guard.  He walked briskly, and the Janissaries, not willing to risk a confrontation, marched slightly behind him. 

For Sahil Pasha, these might be his last moments of life, and he would live them as a free man.

Hi, I'm MF Thomas, and welcome to My Dark Path. In every episode, I explore the obscure corners of history as well as conspiracies and the unexplained. Check us out on Youtube for full video episodes.  We’re also on X and Instagram. To share your thoughts, you can email me at explore@mydarkpath.com. I’d also like to thank our Patreon supporters. Check out our Patreon, where subscribers will have access to exclusive full episodes starting with our special miniseries, a My Dark Path tour of history, science, and the paranormal in Cold War Moscow that we call "Secrets of the Soviets."  And if you’d like to buy one of my four novels, you can find them on amazon or in the show notes.

And so, let’s get started with season 5, episode 72, the Death Race in the Sultan’s Garden

Part 1

Haci Salih Pasha now stood alone in the main hall of Topkapi palace in Istanbul.  He was alone even as Janissaries and other Palace staff moved around him, demonstrating the deference that was normally expected of them in the presence of a Grand Vizier. 

Until this moment, Salih Pasha had been a powerful man. As the Grand Vizier, he was second only to the Sultan in the Ottoman empire.  He was intimately familiar with the empire’s long history – founded over 500 years earlier, around 1299 by Osman I and Osman’s successors expanded the empire, conquering Byzantine and in 1453, Mehmed II captured Constantinople, renaming it Istanbul and making it the empire’s capital.  In the 16th century, the Ottomans expanded into Hungary, North Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and Mesopotamia, reaching the gates of Vienna in 1529.  Early in the 19th century, it was still a major global power as the Ottoman navy dominated the Mediterranean, and Islamic arts, architecture, and legal reforms flourished.

But now, this history, this great empire that Salih Pasha managed by the grace of the Sultan, faded from his focus.  His usual concerns of war, economics, and even palace intrigue were now laid aside. He now had a single, narrow focus. His survival.  His future would be decided in the next 15 minutes – if it hadn’t already been determined.  At this moment, he had less control over his own destiny than did the street urchins he had passed while being brought to the Palace that morning. 

Salih Pasha’s rise to his position of power and influence was extraordinarily unlikely.  Perhaps it was because of his unusual background that the details of his life are less well known to us, 2 centuries later.  The histories of some of the Grand Viziers that preceded and followed him are much better documented.

Salih Pashawa had been born around 1760 in İzmir, an important port city on the west coast of modern day Turkey and about 150 miles across the Aegean sea from Athens.  At this time, Izmir was a thriving, multicultural port city in the Ottoman Empire. Known as the “Pearl of the Aegean,” it was a bustling trade hub where Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and European merchants lived side by side. Its port connected the Ottoman world to Venice, France, and England, making it a hotspot for commerce.

Its markets and bazaars were full of silk, cotton, dried fruits, and spices, while coffeehouses buzzed with merchants and intellectuals discussing business and politics. The city’s architecture blended Ottoman, Greek, and European influences, and the harbor was always teeming with ships.  Despite its prosperity, life in Izmir had its challenges—plague outbreaks, piracy, and fires were frequent threats. The city was governed by an Ottoman governor and Islamic courts, but powerful merchants and European traders held significant influence. This was the world that Salih Pasha had grown up in.

But Salih Pasha’s world was much, much narrower now. He waited inside the 3rd courtyard of the palace – the Sultan’s private domain.  Only the fourth courtyard held more secrets as the Sultan’s residence and where he kept his harem.

As he stood quietly, Janissaries who surrounded him continued their courteous, if superficial respect They were looking at him through different eyes – knowing that he might be dead within the hour. 

While the Janissaries were the elite troops of the Ottoman empire, in many ways, they were similar to him.  Through the Devshirme system that operated from the 14th to the 17th centuries, many Janissaries were young men from Christian nations who had been enslaved by the Ottoman Empire.  They had been forced to convert to Islam before being trained to serve the Sultan either as soldiers or as administrators.

At some point as a young man, Salih Pasha had migrated from Izmir to Istanbul and converted to the Muslim faith.  He had not been taken as a slave but his conversion was a requirement before he could take any meaningful role in the Ottoman Empire.  Spotty records of his life – either deliberately scrubbed or just out of disinterest – don’t show him converting while in Istanbul, making it likely he adopted his new faith before moving to the city. 

For a moment, Salih Pasha pondered the palace’s interior – perhaps for the last time.  At least this diverted his attention for a few moments.  His boss, the Sultan Mahmud II, was actively modernizing the empire in many ways, but that effort had not yet reached Topkapi Palace.  It still retained its traditional Ottoman style in contrast to other palaces the Sultan built that adopted a more European-style design and décor. Nevertheless, Salih Pasha admired the traditional Ottoman architecture, richly decorated rooms with Iznik tiles, marble, and mother-of-pearl inlays, along with luxurious silk and velvet furnishings.  Painted ceilings, often with gold leaf, added to the opulence, particularly in the Sultan's apartments and the Harem. 

The beauty of the palace made him wish that he had enjoyed the fruits of his labor more, appreciated the benefits of his rise to the highest position in the empire that one could have if you weren’t of royal blood.

Once arriving in Istanbul, he began his career in a modest role as the master of the barley, responsible for feeding the army and the royal horses. He progressed to become the minister of powdermills, overseeing gunpowder production, and later served as deputy grand vizier, a high-ranking position close to the Grand Vizier. These roles allowed him to demonstrate his administrative capabilities to his superiors in the empire.

As he continued to wait – he pondered the most recent, and likely last chapter of his life.  He had been appointed Grand Vizier just 18 months earlier.  And these past 18 months had been a whirlwind of change. 

Sultan Mahmud II was a transformative figure in Ottoman history, obtaining the throne after a period of intense bloodshed as he deposed and executed his predecessor, Mustafa IV. Mustafa himself had ascended to the throne in 1807 after a Janissary-led rebellion deposed the prior sultan Selim III. Once in control, Mustafa IV fearing opposition, ordered the execution of both Selim III and his cousin, Mahmud II, to eliminate any claimants to the throne. However, in 1808, military leader Alemdar Mustafa Pasha launched a coup to restore Selim III. Before Alemdar’s forces could reach Topkapi Palace, Mustafa IV had Selim III murdered, but Mahmud II escaped assassination by hiding among the palace servants. When Alemdar’s troops stormed the palace, they found Mahmud alive and deposed Mustafa IV, declaring Mahmud the new Sultan on July 28, 1808. To secure his rule, Mahmud II executed Mustafa IV on November 17, 1808.

The entire, violent chapter revealed Mahmud’s resilience, a characteristic he’d need later as empire became increasingly unstable, accelerated by the Empire’s losses to Russia in the 1806–1812 war. Still, the Sultan Mahmud II led sweeping reforms, modernizing the bureaucracy, curbing corruption, and simplifying governance.  Socially, Mahmud was adaptable, relaxing Islamic norms like allowing drinking among his ministers and fostering a more open court.  But for all his openness to change, his rule had a ruthless edge as he suppressed of revolts with the bloodlust typical of the Ottoman empire.  For example, in the conquest of Hungary in 1526, the Ottomans had slaughtered thousands of civilians after their military victory before enslaving ten thousand Hungarians and sending them to the Ottoman slave markets.  Now, the Sultan dealt with the crisis of the Greek War of Independence with equal brutality.

And it was this duality defined the Sultan: he was a modernizer who introduced European institutions and culture, yet a pragmatist unafraid to wield force. 

Which Sultan would Salih Pasha see this afternoon?  As he waited, he was afraid that he already knew the answer.

But it was of no matter – whether the Sultan appeared or not, there was only one person he now waited to see – the man Salih Pasha knew as the chief gardener, who, despite the mundane title, was also the chief executioner.  In essence, the man had responsibility for the Palace grounds and security.

And soon the Chief Gardener would arrive with a small covered dish.  And it was this object that cemented Salih Pasha’s fear – he had observed this ritual before.  When a sultan wasn’t happy with the Grand Vizier, he called him to the palace and had his Chief Gardener give the Grand Vizer a cup of sherbet.

With the sherbet cup in hand, the Grand Vizier would know his fate momentarily.  If the sherbet inside was white, it was a simple refreshment and the Grand Vizer would know his life was spared.  But the color of red?  Red was the color of death. 

And now, the Chief Gardener arrived…and Salih Pasha’s heart started to pound in fear as he accepted the covered sherbet cup.

His hand went to the lid that covered his sherbet, knowing in a moment the color would reveal his fate.

At best, Salih Pasha’s 18 month tenure as Grand Vizer had been tumultuous.  Just as he was appointed to the role of Grand Vizier, the Greek War of Independence or Greek Revolution, began in 1821 when Greek rebels, inspired to escape centuries of cruel Ottoman rule, launched uprisings against the empire. In that same year, the rebels captured key cities like Kalamata and Tripolitsa, but also suffered setbacks, such as the Ottoman victory at Alamana.  It was there that the Greek revolutionary leader Diakos was captured.  The Ottoman’s offered to spare his life if he converted to Islam.  Diakos refused and the Ottomans executed him, his martyrdom sealing his recognition as one of the fathers of Greek independence. By the end of 1822, the war remained unresolved, with both sides scoring victories even though the Ottoman atrocities boosted European support for the Greeks. 

Salhi Pasha didn’t know it at the time but the fighting would continue for another seven years until 1829, officially ending in 1832 when Greek independence would be recognized internationally.

Salih Pasha knew Sultan Mahmud II was angry with the empire’s losses in the war.  Although he couldn’t see the color of the sherbet, he knew, just knew what awaited him. His eyes would simply confirm the color.  The same color of the blood that had flowed so freely during the last year, including the at the island of Chios that already felt like the turning point of the Greek rebellion.

Following Greek successes in 1821, Chios, a prosperous island that had not initially joined the rebellion, was targeted by Ottoman forces under Admiral Kara Ali. After a Greek raid from Samos in March 1822 provoked the Ottomans, they landed troops, killed between 20,000 to 25,000 civilians and enslaved up to 45,000.  The survivors of the original population of about 110,000 fled the island.  The Sultan was accustomed to ruthless bloodshed, but the massacre shocked Europe, boosting sympathy for the Greek cause.  And then, just months later, his beloved flagship was destroyed off the island of Chios on June 18, 1822.

With his heart still pounding, Salih Pasha could delay no longer as he placed his hand on the lid covering the sherbet.

As his hand removed the lid, it revealed the blood red sherbert in the bowl.  Now a cold chill flushed through his body – the effect of shock and fear.  He knew his life was over.

Part 2

But was it?  Deep in his heart…. a single glimmer of hope flickered.  For most of the victims summoned to the palace, the death sentence was carried out immediately after the serving of the fatal sherbet by a group of five muscular young janissaries.  Their beheadings were swift.  But senior officials and other members of the royal family were suffocated due to the Islamic beliefs that discouraged the shedding of royal blood, especially members of the Sultan’s family.

His chance of avoiding this fate was so remote, so improbable that he almost didn’t even dare to think of it, as if the mere thought would allow it to be wisked away from him, like a leaf in the palace garden blown away in the fall winds. 

Even now, he expected to feel the silk rope suddenly loop around his neck as the Chief Gardener would tighten it, and tighten it, until life left his body and it was tossed into the Bosphorus, the natural isthmus of water that cut Istanbul in half as well as separated the continents of Asia and Europe. 

But yet, he knew, he knew he had one last chance, one last hope.  You see, for a grand vizier, there was an out-clause.  For as soon as the death sentence was passed, the condemned grand vizier would be allowed to run the death race.

The “Death Race” was a unique and dramatic execution ritual, reserved for Grand Viziers who had fallen out of favor with the Sultan. If a condemned grand vizier could outrun the executioner, reach the Fish Market Gate in Topkapı Palace first, he would be spared, his sentence limited to exile. 

As quickly as Salih Pasha grasped at this last hope, he also realized that the race was more symbolic than real…he only knew of stories where the condemned grand viziers had lost the race and immediately lost their life.  Some Grand Viziers had been spared execution, but none by virtue of running the race successfully…every example he knew of had resulted in the Grand Viziers death, some in even more horrific ways.

In 1536, Pargalı Ibrahim Pasha, once the closest friend and advisor to Suleiman the Magnificent, was accused of arrogance and treason. He was given the chance to run but was captured and slaughtered before reaching the gate.  And the most famous case Salih Pasha knew was that of Kara Mustafa Pasha in 1683, the Grand Vizier responsible for the failed Siege of Vienna. Following the disastrous defeat, Sultan Mehmed IV ordered his execution. Kara Mustafa was given the customary chance to flee, but as expected, he lost the race and was strangled.

The death race simply a false hope, existing perhaps simply to extend the pleasure of the Sultan as he murdered yet another Grand Vizier.

The race was simple – the condemned and the chief gardener would run from the main gate 300 yards through the gardens down to the Fish Market Gate on the southern side of the palace complex that overlooked the Bosphorus.

If the condemned arrived at the Fish Market Gate first, he would live, but be exiled from the court.  But should the Chief Gardener beat him, the Vizier would be executed immediately by strangulation.

Sahil Pasha’s sandaled feet shuffled in the dirt that covered the paving stones.  He was wearing his long ceremonial tunic that reached to his ankles.  He was ill dressed for the race that would decide his life.  Plus, as he was in his early 50s, he no longer had the athleticism that had marked his younger self.  The Chief Gardener was a relatively young man, physically in his prime as he led a group of 3,000 gardener-soldiers that tended the gardens and protected the Sultan and palace. 

The Death Race was more of a cruel joke than a real opportunity for survival.

But the Death Race would be run, just as it had for centuries. 

And as the Chief Gardener started the count down, Salih Pasha prepared to run the race that would decide his life.

Part 3

We don’t know the specifics of the foot race that day – but Salhi Pasha must have run with all the energy he could muster – sprinting headlong down the slope to the Fish gate finish line.  When I visited the Topkapi palace in my My Dark Path research trip, I could only imagine his terror as Sahli Pasha ran for his life.    

Given the differences in physical capabilities of the Grand Vizier and the Chief Gardener – I can’t imagine that Sahli Pasha was a formidable competitor in this short race.

But it’s clear from history that his life didn’t end that day in November of 1822.  By all accounts, Sahli Pasha as the last vizier to ever win the Death Race.  This was obviously the result that the Sultan wanted.  The death race was designed to be virtually unwinnable…unless the Sultan wanted the Grand Vizier removed from office without killing him.  The Sultan wanted a new Grand Vizier to conduct the war against the Greek rebellion yet he must have told his Chief Gardener to spare Salhi Pasha’s life and let him win the death race.  

And therefore, Salih Pasha’s life was spared.

We know Salih Pasha won the race as he served as governor of Damascus twice after this date, administering the important province of the Ottoman Empire. 

While he outran death that day in 1822, death did finally overtake Salhi Pasha in 1828.  Salhi Pasha was buried in Adana, a city near the modern day border with Syria. 

As with Salhi Pasha, we all run this race of life with an unfounded hope that we can outrun mortality.  This race is certainly one we will each lose.  Still, we run.  But we to run knowing the inevitable loss is temporary as our spirits return to God, and ultimately will be restored to perfect form through the resurrection. 

This is My Dark Path and I’m MF Thomas.  Thank you, dear friends, for walking the Dark Paths of the world with me.  Until next time, good night.