I AM CALLED BLACK
Shekureshutherselfintotheroomwiththechildren,andIlistelengthtothesoundswithinthehouseandtoitsincessantcreaking.Shekureabeganwhisperingtoeachotherandsheanxiouslyquietedthemwithanabrupt“shush!”Iheardarattlingingfromthestone-pavedareahewell,butitdidn’tlast.Later,myattentionwascaughtbyasquawkingseagullthathadalightedontheroof.Thenit,too,fellsilentalongwitheverythingelse.Afterward,Iheardalowmoanfromtheothersideofthehallway:Hayriyewasginhersleep.Hermoansdissolvedintocoughingwhidedassuddenlyasithadbegun,givingwayonceagaintothatdeep,dreadfulsilence.Awhilelater,IimagihatanintruderwasroamingaroundtheroomwheremydeadEnishtelay,andIfroze
pletely.
Duringeachspanofsilence,Iexamihepicturesbeforeme,platinghowthepassionateOlive,thebeautifulButterflyandthedeceasedgilderhaddabbedpaintontothepage.Ihadtheurgetofronteachoftheimagesbyshouting“Satan!”or“Death!”asmyEnishteusedtodosomenights,butfearrestrainedme.Besides,theseillustrationshadvexedmeplentybecauseIcouldn’twriteanappropriatestorytoapanythemdespitemyEnishte’sinsistence.SinceIwasslowlygrowiainthathisdeathwasliheseimages,Ifeltfretfulandimpatient.I’dalreadyscrutiheillustrationsendlesslywhilelisteningtoEnishte’sstories,allforacetobenearShekure.Nowthatshewasmylawfullyweddedwife,whyshouldIpreoccupymyselfwiththem?Amercilessinnervoiswered:“Becauseevenafterherchildrenhavefallenasleep,Shekurerefusestoleaveherbedandjoinyou.”Iwaitedforalongwhilegazingatthepicturesbydlelight,hopingthatmyblack-eyedbeautywouldetome.
Inthem,stirredfrommysleepbyHayriye’sshrieks,Igrabbedthedle-holderandrushedintothehallway.IthoughtHasanhadraidedthehousewithhismen,andIsideredhidingtheillustrations,butquicklyrealizedthatHayriyehadbegunscreaminguponShekure’sand,asawaytoannounishteEffendi’sdeathtothechildrenandneighbors.
WheShekureinthehall,weembracedfondly.Thechildren,who’dleaptoutofbedwhenthey’dheardHayriye’sshouts,stoodmotionless.
“Yrandfatherhasdied,”Shekuresaidtothem.“Idon’twantyoutoehatroomanymoreunderanycircumstances.”
Shefreedherselffrommyarmsand,goingtoherfather’sside,begantoweep.
Iherdedthechildrenbatotheirroom.“geoutofyourbedclothes,you’llcatchcold,”Isaidandsatontheedgeofthebed.
“Grandfatherdidn’tdiethism.Hediedlastnight,”Shevketsaid.
AlongloosestrandofShekure’sgeoushairhadcoiledintoanArabicscript“vav”onherpillow.Herwarmthhaddissipatedfrombehequilt.WecouldhearhersobbingandwailingalongwithHayriye.HerabilitytoshriekasthoughherfatherhadactuallydieduedlywassoshoglydisingenuousthatIfeltasifIdidn’tknowShekureatall,likeshe’dbeenpossessedbyastrangejinn.
“I’mfrightened,”saidOrhanwithaglawasalsoarequestforpermissiontocry.
“Don’tbeafraid,”Isaid.“Yourmotherisgsotheneighborswillknowofyrandfather’sdeathandpaytheirrespects.”
“Whatdifferencedoesitmakeiftheye?”Shevketasked.
“Iftheye,they’llbesadandmournwithusoverhisdeath.Thatwaywesharetheburdenofourpain.”
“Didyoukillmygrandfather?”shoutedShevket.
“Ifyoingtoupsetyourmother,don’texpeyaffefromme!”Ishoutedback.
Wedidn’tshoutateachotherlikestepfatherandstepson,butliketwomentalkingbythebanksofaloudrushingriver.Shekuresteppedoutintothehallwayandwasfthewoodenslatsofthewindtothrowopeterssohershoutscouldbebetterheardthroughouttheneighborhood.
Ilefttheroomtojoinher.Webothtriedtoforcethewindow.Withafinalbinedeffort,theshutterscamelooseandfellintothecourtyard.Sunlightandcoldstruckourfadwewerestunnedmomentarily.Shekurescreamed,gherheartout.
EnishteEffendi’sdeath,onouncedbyhercries,turoamuchmidagonizingpaihersincerened,mywife’sgtormentedme.Uedly,Ibegantoweep.Ididn’tevenknowifIwasgsincerelyoutofgrieforwasmerelypretendingforfearofbeingheldresponsibleformyEnishte’sdeath.
“He’sgone,gone,gone,mydearfather’sgone!”criedShekure.
Mysobsandlamentsmimickedhers,thoughIdidlyknowwhatIwassaying.IwasworriedabouthowIlookedtotheneighborsstaringatusfromtheirhouses,frombehindcrackeddoorsaweenshutterslats,andwonderedhowfittingmybehaviorwas.AsIcried,Ifeltpurgedofdoubtsaboutwhethermyagonywasgenuine,ofapprehensionsaboutbeingaccusedofmurderandofthefearofHasanandhismen.
ShekurewasmineanditwasasifIwerecelebratingwithshoutsandtears.Idrewmysobbingwifeclosetome,andwithoutpayingahetearfulchildrenapproagus,Ilovinglykissedhercheekandihestofthealmondtreesofouryouth.
Togetherwiththechildren,wewalkedbacktowherethebodylay.Isaid,“Lailaheillallah,thereisnoGodbutAllah”asthoughaddressingnotareekingtwo-day-oldcorpsebutadyingmanwhomIwaoreaffirmthewordsofwitness;IwantedmyEnishtetogotoHeavenwiththesewordsonhislips.Wepretehathe’drepeatedthem,andsmiledforamomentaswegazedathisnearlydestroyedfadbatteredhead.IopenedmypalmstoHeavenaedfromthe“YaSin”chapterwhiletheotherslistenedquietly.WithapieceofgauzethatShekurebroughtintotheroom,wecarefullyboundmyEnishte’smouthshut,tenderlyclosedhisravagedeyesalyrolledhimoveronthtside,
arranginghisheadsoitfacedMecca.Shekurespreadawhitesheetoverherfather.
Ileasedthatthechildregeverythingsointenselyandbythequietthatfollowedthewailing.Ifeltlikesomebodywitharealwifeandchildren,withahearthandhome.
Onebyone,Icollectedthepicturesintoaportfolio,donnedmyheavycaftanandhastilyfledthehouse.Iheadeddirectlyfortheneighborhoodmosque,pretendingnottoseeoheneighbors—anelderlywomanwithasnot-nosedgrandchildwhowasclearlyjubilantaboutallthesuddenactivity:They’dheardourcriesandhadeagerlyetoenjoyourpain.
Thetinyholeinthewallthatthepreachercalledhis“house”wasembarrassinglysmallotheostentatiousstructurewithitsenormousdomesandexpansivecourtyard,typicalofthemosquesthatwerebeingstructedlately.Thepreacher,inwhatI’dobservedasaofincreasingfrequency,wasextendingtheboundariesofhiscold,littleratholeofa“home,”andhadusurpedtheentiremosque,withouttheleastoverthefadedanddingywashhiswifehadhuweentwochestnuttreesattheedgeofthecourtyard.Weavoidedtheattacksoftwobrutishdogsthathadclaimedthecourtyard,justliketheImamEffendiandhisfamily,andafterthepreacher’ssonschasedthebeastsawaywithstidexcusedthemselves,thepreacherairedtoaprivateer.
Afteryesterday’sdivorceproceedings,andinlightofthefactthatwehadn’taskedhimtoperformtheweddingceremony,whichIwascertainhadupsethim,Icouldreada“Foodnesssake,whatbringsyouherenow?”uponhisface.
“EnishteEffendipassedawaythism.”
“MayGodhavemer.MayhefindahomeinHeaven!”hesaidbenevolently.WhyhadIsenselesslyimplicatedmyselfbytagthewords“thism”ontomystatement?Idroppedanoldpietohishand,identicaltotheonesI’dgivenhimyesterday.Irequestedthatherecitethedeathprayerbeforetheazanandappointhisbrotherascriertogoaroundannoungthedeathtotheentireneighborhood.
“Mybrotherhasadearfriendwhoishalfblind;together,weareexpertatcarryingoutthefinalablutionsofthedeceased,”hesaid.
Whatcouldbemoresuitablethanhavingablindmanandahalf-witwashEnishteEffendi’sbody?Iexplaiohimthattheritualfuneralprayerwouldbeperformediernoonandthatnotablesandcrowdsfromthepalace,theguildsandtheologicalschoolswouldbeattending.Ididn’tattempttoexplaieofEnishteEffendi’sfadbatteredhead,havinglongdecidedthatthematterobeaddressedatahigherlevel.
SinceOurSultarustedthebalahefundsforthebookthatHe’dissionedfrommyEnishtetotheHeadTreasurer,Ihadtoreportthedeathtohimbeforeanyoneelse.Tothisend,Isought
outanupholsterer,arelativeonmylatefather’sside,who’dworkediailors’workstallsoppositeColdfountainGateeversinceIwasachild.WhenIfoundhim,IkissedhismottledhandandexplainedimpllythatIoseetheHeadTreasurer.Hehadmewaitamonghisbaldingapprenticeswhoweresewingcurtains,doubledoverthemulticoloredsilkspreadovertheirlaps;then,hehadmefollowaheadtailor’sassistantwho,Ilearned,wasgoingtothepalacetotakemeasurements.WhenweclimbeduptotheParadeSquarethroughColdfountainGateIknewI’dbeabletoavoidpassingtheworkshopoppositetheHagiaSophia;andthus,Iaredfromannoungthecrimetotheotherminiaturists.
TheParadeSquareseemedabustlenow,whereasitusuallyseemedemptytome.Thoughtherewasn’tasinglepersonatthePetitiate,beforewhichpetitionerswouldlineupondayswhentheDivanvened,noraheviityofthegrawasasifIcouldhearatinuousdinemanatingfromthewindowsofthesickhouse,fromthecarpenters’workshop,thebakery,thestables,thegroomswiththeirhorsesbeforetheSedGate(whosespiresIlookeduponwithawe)andfromamongthecypresses.IattributedmysenseofalarmtothefearofpassingthroughtheGateofSalutation,orSedGate,whichIwouldsoonbedoingforthefirsttimeinmylife.
Atthegate,Icouldherfocusmyattentionowheretheexecutionersweresaidtobeeverattheready,norcouldIhidemyagitationfromthekeepersofthegatewhoglanquiringlyattheboltofupholsteryclothIcarriedasapropsoonlookerswouldassumeIwasassistingmytailor-cum-guide.
AssooeredtheDivanSquare,adeepsilenvelopedus.Ifeltmyheartpoundiheveinsofmyforeheadahisarea,sooftendescribedbymyEnishteandotherswhovisitedthepalace,laybeforemelikeaheavenlygardenofunequaledbeauty.Yet,Ididheelationofamanwho’denteredHeaven,justtrepidationandpiousreverence;IfeltmyselftobeasimpleservantofOurSultan,who,asInowthhlyuood,wasihefoundationofthisworldlyrealm.IstaredatthepeacoingthroughthegreehegoldcupsedtosplashingfountainsandtheGrandVizier’sheraldsrobedinsilk(whoseemedtomoveaboutwithouttougtheground),ahethrillmySn.TherewasnodoubtthatIwouldpleteOurSultabook,whoseunfinishedillustrationsIcarriedundermyarm.WithoutknowilywhatIwasdoing,Itrailedbehiailor,myeyesfixedontheDivanTower,spellboundbyfearmorethanawenowatitsproximity.
Apaniedbyaroyalpagewho’dattachedhimselftous,wefearfullyandsilently,asinadream,passedtheDivanbuildingareasury;IfeltthatI’dseenthisplacebeforeawell.
WeehroughawidedoorintoaroomthatwasreferredtoastheOldDivanChamber.Behitshugedome,Isawmasterartisansholdingcloth,piecesofleather,silverscabbardsandmother-of-pearlinlaidchests.IinferredthatthesemenwerefromOurSultan’scraftsmen’sguilds:macemakers,bootmakers,silversmiths,mastervelvetmakers,ivravers,andluthiers.TheywereallwaitingoutsidetheHeadTreasurer’sdoorwithvariouspetitionsingpayments,theacquisitionofmaterialsandrequeststoeheSultan’sforbiddenprivatequarterstotakemeasurements.Ileasedtodiscovernoilluminatorsamongthem.
Wewithdrewtoonesideaowaitaswell.Occasionally,weheardtheraisedvoiceofthetreasurer’sclerk,suspeganerrorinats,requestclarification;thiswouldbemetbyapoliteresponse,fromalocksmith,forexample.Voicesrarelyroseaboveawhisper;theflutterofthecourtyardpigeonseginthedomeaboveuswerelouderthayrequestsofthehumbleartisans.
Whenmyturncame,IeheHeadTreasurer’ssmalldomedchambertofinditoccupiedbyasingleclerk.IquicklyexplaihatthereortantmattertobesubmittedtotheHeadTreasurer’sattention:AbookprojectthatOurSultanhadissionedandthatwasofutmostimportaoHim.IntriguedbywhatIwasholding,theclerkraisedhiseyes.IshowedhimtheillustrationsfrommyEnishte’sbook.Inoticedthatthepeculiarityofthepictures,theirstrikingetricity,boggledhismind.IhasteoinformhimofmyEnishte’sname,hissobriquetandhisvocation,addingthathe’ddiedonatofthesepictures.Ispokequickly,wellawarethatifIreturnedfromthepalacewithoutreagOurSultan,I’dbeaccusedofhavingputEnishteintothatdreadfulstatemyself.
WhentheclerklefttoapprisetheHeadTreasurer,Ibrokeintoacoldsweat.WouldtheHeadTreasurer,who,asmyEnishteonformedme,neverleftOurSultan’sside,whoonoccasionevenspreadoutHisprayerrugforHim,andwhowasfrequentlyHisfidant—wouldheeverleavetherestrictedEnderunquartersofthepalae?Thefactthatamessengerhadbeendispatchedtotheheartofthepalaybehalfwasunbelievableenough.IwonderedwhereOurExcellencytheSultanHimselfmightbe:HadHeretiredtoohekiosksheshore?WasHeintheharem?WastheHeadTreasurerinHispany?
Muchlater,Iwassummoned.Letmeputitthisway:IwastakensounawaresIhadnotimetobeafraid.Evenso,IpanickedwhenIsawtherespedastonishmentintheexpressionofthemastervelvetmakerstandingatthedoor.Isteppedinsideandwasatoerrified;IthoughtI’dbeuospeak.HeworethegoldembroideredheaddressthatoheGrandVizierswore;yes,IwasinthepreseheHeadTreasurer.Hewasgazingupontheillustrationsthatrestedonareadingtablewheretheclerkhadplacedthemaftertakingthemfromme.IfeltasifIweretheonewho’dmadethepaintings.Ikissedthehemofhisrobe.
“Mydearchild,”hesaid.“Ihaven’tmisuood,haveI,yourEnishtehaspassedaway?”
Icouldn’taofexcitement,orperhapsguilt,andsimplythesametimethepletelyuedhappeherebeforethesympathetidsurprisedgazeoftheHeadTreasurer,ateardropslideversoslowlydownmycheek.Iwasataloss;Iwasoddlyaffectedbybeinginthepalace,bytheHeadTreasurerhavingtakenleaveofOurSultantospeaktomeandbybeingsooHim.Tearsbegantostreamfrommyeyes,butIdidheslightesttingeofembarrassment.
“Crytoyourheart’stent,mydearson,”saidtheHeadTreasurer.
Isobbedandwhimpered.ThoughI’dassumedthepasttwelveyearshadmaturedme,beingthisclosetotheSultan,totheheartoftheEmpire,orealizesheisbutachild.Icarednotwhetherthe
silversmithsamakersoutsideheardmysobbing.IknewI’dfesstotheHeadTreasurer.
Yes,Itoldhimall,justasitcametome.AsIonceagainsawmydeadEnishte,mymarriagetoShekure,Hasan’sthreats,thedifficultiesrelatingmyEnishte’sbookandthesecretsborheillustrations,Iregainedmyposure.IfeltcertainthattheonlywaytoextricatemyselffromthetrapI’dfallenintoutmyselfatthemercyoftheinfiidaffeofOurSultan,RefugeoftheWorld,andsoIwithheldnothing.BefestingallthatIsaidandhandingmeovertothetorturersaioners,wouldtheHeadTreasurerveymystorydirectlytoOurSultan?
“LetEnishteEffendi’sdeathbeannouheworkshopwithoutdelay,”saidtheHeadTreasurer.“Iwaireartists’guildtoattendhisfuneral.”
HelookedatmetoascertaiherImighthaveanyobjes.Emboldenedbyhisi,Iexpressedmysabouttheculprit,andthepossiblemotivebehihsofmyEnishteandthegilderElegantEffendi.IhihatthefollowersofthepreacherfromErzurumandthosewhoweretargetingdervishhouseswheremusiclayedandmendancedmightbeinvolved.WhenIsawthedoubtfulexpressionoftheHeadTreasurer,Ieagerlysharedmyothersuspis:IinformedhimthatthemoaryrewardsandhonorinvolvedinbeingioillustrateandilluminateEnishteEffendi’sbookhadlikelyledtounavoidablepetitionandjealousyamoers.Thesecrecyoftheprojectalonecouldverywellhaveinstigatedthesehatreds,grudgesandintrigues.Asthewordsleftmymouth,IsensednervouslythattheHeadTreasurerhadsomehowgrownsuspiciousofme—thewayyouhaveaswell.MydearAllah,letjusticebedohatisallIask,nothingmore.
WithintheensuingsileheHeadTreasurercasthisglanceawayfromme,asifembarrassedonmybehalfformywordsandmydestiny,andfixedhisattentionouresrestingonthefoldingtable.
“Thereareeshere,”hesaid.“Thearrahadbeenforabookwithtenillustrations.EnishteEffenditooldleaffromusthanhasbeenusedhere.”
“Thatmurderiicmusthavestoleillustration,uponwhichmuchofthegoldlied,”Isaid.
“Youhaven’ttolduswhothecalligrapher-scribemightbe.”
“MylateEnishtehadpletedthebook’stext.Hewasanticipatingmyhelpinitspletion.”
“Mydearchild,you’vejustexplainedhowyou’renewlyarrivedinIstanbul.”
“It’sbeenoneweek.IarrivedthreedaysafterElegantEffendiwaskilled.”
“YoumeantosaythatyourEnishteEffendihasbeenillustratinganunwritten—aent—manuscriptforaireyear?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Hadhe,then,revealedtoyouwhatthebookwastoret?”
“PreciselywhatOurSultanstatedHewanted:AbookthatdepictedthethousandthyearoftheMuslimdar,whichwouldstriketerrorintotheheartoftheVeianDogebyshowingthemilitarystrengthandprideofIslam,togetherwiththepowerahoftheExaltedHouseofOsman.Thiswasinteobeabookretingaivaluable,mostvitalaspectsofourrealm;andjustaswiththeTreatisesonPhysiognomy,aportraitofOurSultanwouldbesituatedattheheartofthebook.Furthermore,siheillustrationsweremadeintheFrankishstyleusingFrankishmethods,theywouldarousetheaweoftheVeianDogeandhisdesireforfriendship.”
“I’mawareofallthat,butarethesedogsahemostvaluableandvitalaspectsoftheExaltedHouseofOsman?”hesaid,gesturingwildlyattheillustrations.
“MyEnishte,mayherestinpeasistedthatthebookshownotOurSultahaloHisspiritualandmoralstrengthalongwithHishiddensorrows.”
“AndOurSultan’sportrait?”
“Ihave.It’sprobablywhereverthathereticmurdererhashiddenit.Whoknows,it’sprobablyinhishouseatthisverymoment.”
MylateEnishtehadbeendimihestatusofamanwho’dissionedamenagerieofoddpicturesthattheHeadTreasurerdeemedworthless,ratherthanonewho’dstruggledtopleteabookworthyofthegoldhe’dbeenpaid.WastheHeadTreasurerthinkingI’dmurderedaanduntrustworthymaniomarryEnishte’sdaughter,orforsomeotherreason—perhapstoselloffthegoldleaf?Fromhisglances,Ireadthatmycasewasabouttobeclosed,sospeakingnervouslyandwiththelastofmystrength,ItriedtoclearmyoldhimthatmyEnishtehadfidedtomethatohemasterminiaturistshehiredmight’vemurderedpantEffendi.KeepingmydeclaratiooldhimhowmyEnishtesuspectedOlive,StorkorButterfly.Iherhadmuchproofmuchself-fideerward,IsehattheHeadTreasurersideredmenothingbutabaseslandererandafoolishgossip.
Finally,IwaselatedwhentheHeadTreasurersaidwemustcealthedetailsofEnishte’smysteriousdeathfromtheworkshop;Itookthisasasignthathebelievedmystory.ThepicturesremaihtheHeadTreasurerandIpassedthroughtheGateofSalutation—whichhadearlierfeltliketheGateofHeaven.Afterexitinguhescrutinyoftheguards,Iimmediatelyrelaxed,likeasoldierreturnedhomeafteranabsenanyyears.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
pletely.
Duringeachspanofsilence,Iexamihepicturesbeforeme,platinghowthepassionateOlive,thebeautifulButterflyandthedeceasedgilderhaddabbedpaintontothepage.Ihadtheurgetofronteachoftheimagesbyshouting“Satan!”or“Death!”asmyEnishteusedtodosomenights,butfearrestrainedme.Besides,theseillustrationshadvexedmeplentybecauseIcouldn’twriteanappropriatestorytoapanythemdespitemyEnishte’sinsistence.SinceIwasslowlygrowiainthathisdeathwasliheseimages,Ifeltfretfulandimpatient.I’dalreadyscrutiheillustrationsendlesslywhilelisteningtoEnishte’sstories,allforacetobenearShekure.Nowthatshewasmylawfullyweddedwife,whyshouldIpreoccupymyselfwiththem?Amercilessinnervoiswered:“Becauseevenafterherchildrenhavefallenasleep,Shekurerefusestoleaveherbedandjoinyou.”Iwaitedforalongwhilegazingatthepicturesbydlelight,hopingthatmyblack-eyedbeautywouldetome.
Inthem,stirredfrommysleepbyHayriye’sshrieks,Igrabbedthedle-holderandrushedintothehallway.IthoughtHasanhadraidedthehousewithhismen,andIsideredhidingtheillustrations,butquicklyrealizedthatHayriyehadbegunscreaminguponShekure’sand,asawaytoannounishteEffendi’sdeathtothechildrenandneighbors.
WheShekureinthehall,weembracedfondly.Thechildren,who’dleaptoutofbedwhenthey’dheardHayriye’sshouts,stoodmotionless.
“Yrandfatherhasdied,”Shekuresaidtothem.“Idon’twantyoutoehatroomanymoreunderanycircumstances.”
Shefreedherselffrommyarmsand,goingtoherfather’sside,begantoweep.
Iherdedthechildrenbatotheirroom.“geoutofyourbedclothes,you’llcatchcold,”Isaidandsatontheedgeofthebed.
“Grandfatherdidn’tdiethism.Hediedlastnight,”Shevketsaid.
AlongloosestrandofShekure’sgeoushairhadcoiledintoanArabicscript“vav”onherpillow.Herwarmthhaddissipatedfrombehequilt.WecouldhearhersobbingandwailingalongwithHayriye.HerabilitytoshriekasthoughherfatherhadactuallydieduedlywassoshoglydisingenuousthatIfeltasifIdidn’tknowShekureatall,likeshe’dbeenpossessedbyastrangejinn.
“I’mfrightened,”saidOrhanwithaglawasalsoarequestforpermissiontocry.
“Don’tbeafraid,”Isaid.“Yourmotherisgsotheneighborswillknowofyrandfather’sdeathandpaytheirrespects.”
“Whatdifferencedoesitmakeiftheye?”Shevketasked.
“Iftheye,they’llbesadandmournwithusoverhisdeath.Thatwaywesharetheburdenofourpain.”
“Didyoukillmygrandfather?”shoutedShevket.
“Ifyoingtoupsetyourmother,don’texpeyaffefromme!”Ishoutedback.
Wedidn’tshoutateachotherlikestepfatherandstepson,butliketwomentalkingbythebanksofaloudrushingriver.Shekuresteppedoutintothehallwayandwasfthewoodenslatsofthewindtothrowopeterssohershoutscouldbebetterheardthroughouttheneighborhood.
Ilefttheroomtojoinher.Webothtriedtoforcethewindow.Withafinalbinedeffort,theshutterscamelooseandfellintothecourtyard.Sunlightandcoldstruckourfadwewerestunnedmomentarily.Shekurescreamed,gherheartout.
EnishteEffendi’sdeath,onouncedbyhercries,turoamuchmidagonizingpaihersincerened,mywife’sgtormentedme.Uedly,Ibegantoweep.Ididn’tevenknowifIwasgsincerelyoutofgrieforwasmerelypretendingforfearofbeingheldresponsibleformyEnishte’sdeath.
“He’sgone,gone,gone,mydearfather’sgone!”criedShekure.
Mysobsandlamentsmimickedhers,thoughIdidlyknowwhatIwassaying.IwasworriedabouthowIlookedtotheneighborsstaringatusfromtheirhouses,frombehindcrackeddoorsaweenshutterslats,andwonderedhowfittingmybehaviorwas.AsIcried,Ifeltpurgedofdoubtsaboutwhethermyagonywasgenuine,ofapprehensionsaboutbeingaccusedofmurderandofthefearofHasanandhismen.
ShekurewasmineanditwasasifIwerecelebratingwithshoutsandtears.Idrewmysobbingwifeclosetome,andwithoutpayingahetearfulchildrenapproagus,Ilovinglykissedhercheekandihestofthealmondtreesofouryouth.
Togetherwiththechildren,wewalkedbacktowherethebodylay.Isaid,“Lailaheillallah,thereisnoGodbutAllah”asthoughaddressingnotareekingtwo-day-oldcorpsebutadyingmanwhomIwaoreaffirmthewordsofwitness;IwantedmyEnishtetogotoHeavenwiththesewordsonhislips.Wepretehathe’drepeatedthem,andsmiledforamomentaswegazedathisnearlydestroyedfadbatteredhead.IopenedmypalmstoHeavenaedfromthe“YaSin”chapterwhiletheotherslistenedquietly.WithapieceofgauzethatShekurebroughtintotheroom,wecarefullyboundmyEnishte’smouthshut,tenderlyclosedhisravagedeyesalyrolledhimoveronthtside,
arranginghisheadsoitfacedMecca.Shekurespreadawhitesheetoverherfather.
Ileasedthatthechildregeverythingsointenselyandbythequietthatfollowedthewailing.Ifeltlikesomebodywitharealwifeandchildren,withahearthandhome.
Onebyone,Icollectedthepicturesintoaportfolio,donnedmyheavycaftanandhastilyfledthehouse.Iheadeddirectlyfortheneighborhoodmosque,pretendingnottoseeoheneighbors—anelderlywomanwithasnot-nosedgrandchildwhowasclearlyjubilantaboutallthesuddenactivity:They’dheardourcriesandhadeagerlyetoenjoyourpain.
Thetinyholeinthewallthatthepreachercalledhis“house”wasembarrassinglysmallotheostentatiousstructurewithitsenormousdomesandexpansivecourtyard,typicalofthemosquesthatwerebeingstructedlately.Thepreacher,inwhatI’dobservedasaofincreasingfrequency,wasextendingtheboundariesofhiscold,littleratholeofa“home,”andhadusurpedtheentiremosque,withouttheleastoverthefadedanddingywashhiswifehadhuweentwochestnuttreesattheedgeofthecourtyard.Weavoidedtheattacksoftwobrutishdogsthathadclaimedthecourtyard,justliketheImamEffendiandhisfamily,andafterthepreacher’ssonschasedthebeastsawaywithstidexcusedthemselves,thepreacherairedtoaprivateer.
Afteryesterday’sdivorceproceedings,andinlightofthefactthatwehadn’taskedhimtoperformtheweddingceremony,whichIwascertainhadupsethim,Icouldreada“Foodnesssake,whatbringsyouherenow?”uponhisface.
“EnishteEffendipassedawaythism.”
“MayGodhavemer.MayhefindahomeinHeaven!”hesaidbenevolently.WhyhadIsenselesslyimplicatedmyselfbytagthewords“thism”ontomystatement?Idroppedanoldpietohishand,identicaltotheonesI’dgivenhimyesterday.Irequestedthatherecitethedeathprayerbeforetheazanandappointhisbrotherascriertogoaroundannoungthedeathtotheentireneighborhood.
“Mybrotherhasadearfriendwhoishalfblind;together,weareexpertatcarryingoutthefinalablutionsofthedeceased,”hesaid.
Whatcouldbemoresuitablethanhavingablindmanandahalf-witwashEnishteEffendi’sbody?Iexplaiohimthattheritualfuneralprayerwouldbeperformediernoonandthatnotablesandcrowdsfromthepalace,theguildsandtheologicalschoolswouldbeattending.Ididn’tattempttoexplaieofEnishteEffendi’sfadbatteredhead,havinglongdecidedthatthematterobeaddressedatahigherlevel.
SinceOurSultarustedthebalahefundsforthebookthatHe’dissionedfrommyEnishtetotheHeadTreasurer,Ihadtoreportthedeathtohimbeforeanyoneelse.Tothisend,Isought
outanupholsterer,arelativeonmylatefather’sside,who’dworkediailors’workstallsoppositeColdfountainGateeversinceIwasachild.WhenIfoundhim,IkissedhismottledhandandexplainedimpllythatIoseetheHeadTreasurer.Hehadmewaitamonghisbaldingapprenticeswhoweresewingcurtains,doubledoverthemulticoloredsilkspreadovertheirlaps;then,hehadmefollowaheadtailor’sassistantwho,Ilearned,wasgoingtothepalacetotakemeasurements.WhenweclimbeduptotheParadeSquarethroughColdfountainGateIknewI’dbeabletoavoidpassingtheworkshopoppositetheHagiaSophia;andthus,Iaredfromannoungthecrimetotheotherminiaturists.
TheParadeSquareseemedabustlenow,whereasitusuallyseemedemptytome.Thoughtherewasn’tasinglepersonatthePetitiate,beforewhichpetitionerswouldlineupondayswhentheDivanvened,noraheviityofthegrawasasifIcouldhearatinuousdinemanatingfromthewindowsofthesickhouse,fromthecarpenters’workshop,thebakery,thestables,thegroomswiththeirhorsesbeforetheSedGate(whosespiresIlookeduponwithawe)andfromamongthecypresses.IattributedmysenseofalarmtothefearofpassingthroughtheGateofSalutation,orSedGate,whichIwouldsoonbedoingforthefirsttimeinmylife.
Atthegate,Icouldherfocusmyattentionowheretheexecutionersweresaidtobeeverattheready,norcouldIhidemyagitationfromthekeepersofthegatewhoglanquiringlyattheboltofupholsteryclothIcarriedasapropsoonlookerswouldassumeIwasassistingmytailor-cum-guide.
AssooeredtheDivanSquare,adeepsilenvelopedus.Ifeltmyheartpoundiheveinsofmyforeheadahisarea,sooftendescribedbymyEnishteandotherswhovisitedthepalace,laybeforemelikeaheavenlygardenofunequaledbeauty.Yet,Ididheelationofamanwho’denteredHeaven,justtrepidationandpiousreverence;IfeltmyselftobeasimpleservantofOurSultan,who,asInowthhlyuood,wasihefoundationofthisworldlyrealm.IstaredatthepeacoingthroughthegreehegoldcupsedtosplashingfountainsandtheGrandVizier’sheraldsrobedinsilk(whoseemedtomoveaboutwithouttougtheground),ahethrillmySn.TherewasnodoubtthatIwouldpleteOurSultabook,whoseunfinishedillustrationsIcarriedundermyarm.WithoutknowilywhatIwasdoing,Itrailedbehiailor,myeyesfixedontheDivanTower,spellboundbyfearmorethanawenowatitsproximity.
Apaniedbyaroyalpagewho’dattachedhimselftous,wefearfullyandsilently,asinadream,passedtheDivanbuildingareasury;IfeltthatI’dseenthisplacebeforeawell.
WeehroughawidedoorintoaroomthatwasreferredtoastheOldDivanChamber.Behitshugedome,Isawmasterartisansholdingcloth,piecesofleather,silverscabbardsandmother-of-pearlinlaidchests.IinferredthatthesemenwerefromOurSultan’scraftsmen’sguilds:macemakers,bootmakers,silversmiths,mastervelvetmakers,ivravers,andluthiers.TheywereallwaitingoutsidetheHeadTreasurer’sdoorwithvariouspetitionsingpayments,theacquisitionofmaterialsandrequeststoeheSultan’sforbiddenprivatequarterstotakemeasurements.Ileasedtodiscovernoilluminatorsamongthem.
Wewithdrewtoonesideaowaitaswell.Occasionally,weheardtheraisedvoiceofthetreasurer’sclerk,suspeganerrorinats,requestclarification;thiswouldbemetbyapoliteresponse,fromalocksmith,forexample.Voicesrarelyroseaboveawhisper;theflutterofthecourtyardpigeonseginthedomeaboveuswerelouderthayrequestsofthehumbleartisans.
Whenmyturncame,IeheHeadTreasurer’ssmalldomedchambertofinditoccupiedbyasingleclerk.IquicklyexplaihatthereortantmattertobesubmittedtotheHeadTreasurer’sattention:AbookprojectthatOurSultanhadissionedandthatwasofutmostimportaoHim.IntriguedbywhatIwasholding,theclerkraisedhiseyes.IshowedhimtheillustrationsfrommyEnishte’sbook.Inoticedthatthepeculiarityofthepictures,theirstrikingetricity,boggledhismind.IhasteoinformhimofmyEnishte’sname,hissobriquetandhisvocation,addingthathe’ddiedonatofthesepictures.Ispokequickly,wellawarethatifIreturnedfromthepalacewithoutreagOurSultan,I’dbeaccusedofhavingputEnishteintothatdreadfulstatemyself.
WhentheclerklefttoapprisetheHeadTreasurer,Ibrokeintoacoldsweat.WouldtheHeadTreasurer,who,asmyEnishteonformedme,neverleftOurSultan’sside,whoonoccasionevenspreadoutHisprayerrugforHim,andwhowasfrequentlyHisfidant—wouldheeverleavetherestrictedEnderunquartersofthepalae?Thefactthatamessengerhadbeendispatchedtotheheartofthepalaybehalfwasunbelievableenough.IwonderedwhereOurExcellencytheSultanHimselfmightbe:HadHeretiredtoohekiosksheshore?WasHeintheharem?WastheHeadTreasurerinHispany?
Muchlater,Iwassummoned.Letmeputitthisway:IwastakensounawaresIhadnotimetobeafraid.Evenso,IpanickedwhenIsawtherespedastonishmentintheexpressionofthemastervelvetmakerstandingatthedoor.Isteppedinsideandwasatoerrified;IthoughtI’dbeuospeak.HeworethegoldembroideredheaddressthatoheGrandVizierswore;yes,IwasinthepreseheHeadTreasurer.Hewasgazingupontheillustrationsthatrestedonareadingtablewheretheclerkhadplacedthemaftertakingthemfromme.IfeltasifIweretheonewho’dmadethepaintings.Ikissedthehemofhisrobe.
“Mydearchild,”hesaid.“Ihaven’tmisuood,haveI,yourEnishtehaspassedaway?”
Icouldn’taofexcitement,orperhapsguilt,andsimplythesametimethepletelyuedhappeherebeforethesympathetidsurprisedgazeoftheHeadTreasurer,ateardropslideversoslowlydownmycheek.Iwasataloss;Iwasoddlyaffectedbybeinginthepalace,bytheHeadTreasurerhavingtakenleaveofOurSultantospeaktomeandbybeingsooHim.Tearsbegantostreamfrommyeyes,butIdidheslightesttingeofembarrassment.
“Crytoyourheart’stent,mydearson,”saidtheHeadTreasurer.
Isobbedandwhimpered.ThoughI’dassumedthepasttwelveyearshadmaturedme,beingthisclosetotheSultan,totheheartoftheEmpire,orealizesheisbutachild.Icarednotwhetherthe
silversmithsamakersoutsideheardmysobbing.IknewI’dfesstotheHeadTreasurer.
Yes,Itoldhimall,justasitcametome.AsIonceagainsawmydeadEnishte,mymarriagetoShekure,Hasan’sthreats,thedifficultiesrelatingmyEnishte’sbookandthesecretsborheillustrations,Iregainedmyposure.IfeltcertainthattheonlywaytoextricatemyselffromthetrapI’dfallenintoutmyselfatthemercyoftheinfiidaffeofOurSultan,RefugeoftheWorld,andsoIwithheldnothing.BefestingallthatIsaidandhandingmeovertothetorturersaioners,wouldtheHeadTreasurerveymystorydirectlytoOurSultan?
“LetEnishteEffendi’sdeathbeannouheworkshopwithoutdelay,”saidtheHeadTreasurer.“Iwaireartists’guildtoattendhisfuneral.”
HelookedatmetoascertaiherImighthaveanyobjes.Emboldenedbyhisi,Iexpressedmysabouttheculprit,andthepossiblemotivebehihsofmyEnishteandthegilderElegantEffendi.IhihatthefollowersofthepreacherfromErzurumandthosewhoweretargetingdervishhouseswheremusiclayedandmendancedmightbeinvolved.WhenIsawthedoubtfulexpressionoftheHeadTreasurer,Ieagerlysharedmyothersuspis:IinformedhimthatthemoaryrewardsandhonorinvolvedinbeingioillustrateandilluminateEnishteEffendi’sbookhadlikelyledtounavoidablepetitionandjealousyamoers.Thesecrecyoftheprojectalonecouldverywellhaveinstigatedthesehatreds,grudgesandintrigues.Asthewordsleftmymouth,IsensednervouslythattheHeadTreasurerhadsomehowgrownsuspiciousofme—thewayyouhaveaswell.MydearAllah,letjusticebedohatisallIask,nothingmore.
WithintheensuingsileheHeadTreasurercasthisglanceawayfromme,asifembarrassedonmybehalfformywordsandmydestiny,andfixedhisattentionouresrestingonthefoldingtable.
“Thereareeshere,”hesaid.“Thearrahadbeenforabookwithtenillustrations.EnishteEffenditooldleaffromusthanhasbeenusedhere.”
“Thatmurderiicmusthavestoleillustration,uponwhichmuchofthegoldlied,”Isaid.
“Youhaven’ttolduswhothecalligrapher-scribemightbe.”
“MylateEnishtehadpletedthebook’stext.Hewasanticipatingmyhelpinitspletion.”
“Mydearchild,you’vejustexplainedhowyou’renewlyarrivedinIstanbul.”
“It’sbeenoneweek.IarrivedthreedaysafterElegantEffendiwaskilled.”
“YoumeantosaythatyourEnishteEffendihasbeenillustratinganunwritten—aent—manuscriptforaireyear?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Hadhe,then,revealedtoyouwhatthebookwastoret?”
“PreciselywhatOurSultanstatedHewanted:AbookthatdepictedthethousandthyearoftheMuslimdar,whichwouldstriketerrorintotheheartoftheVeianDogebyshowingthemilitarystrengthandprideofIslam,togetherwiththepowerahoftheExaltedHouseofOsman.Thiswasinteobeabookretingaivaluable,mostvitalaspectsofourrealm;andjustaswiththeTreatisesonPhysiognomy,aportraitofOurSultanwouldbesituatedattheheartofthebook.Furthermore,siheillustrationsweremadeintheFrankishstyleusingFrankishmethods,theywouldarousetheaweoftheVeianDogeandhisdesireforfriendship.”
“I’mawareofallthat,butarethesedogsahemostvaluableandvitalaspectsoftheExaltedHouseofOsman?”hesaid,gesturingwildlyattheillustrations.
“MyEnishte,mayherestinpeasistedthatthebookshownotOurSultahaloHisspiritualandmoralstrengthalongwithHishiddensorrows.”
“AndOurSultan’sportrait?”
“Ihave.It’sprobablywhereverthathereticmurdererhashiddenit.Whoknows,it’sprobablyinhishouseatthisverymoment.”
MylateEnishtehadbeendimihestatusofamanwho’dissionedamenagerieofoddpicturesthattheHeadTreasurerdeemedworthless,ratherthanonewho’dstruggledtopleteabookworthyofthegoldhe’dbeenpaid.WastheHeadTreasurerthinkingI’dmurderedaanduntrustworthymaniomarryEnishte’sdaughter,orforsomeotherreason—perhapstoselloffthegoldleaf?Fromhisglances,Ireadthatmycasewasabouttobeclosed,sospeakingnervouslyandwiththelastofmystrength,ItriedtoclearmyoldhimthatmyEnishtehadfidedtomethatohemasterminiaturistshehiredmight’vemurderedpantEffendi.KeepingmydeclaratiooldhimhowmyEnishtesuspectedOlive,StorkorButterfly.Iherhadmuchproofmuchself-fideerward,IsehattheHeadTreasurersideredmenothingbutabaseslandererandafoolishgossip.
Finally,IwaselatedwhentheHeadTreasurersaidwemustcealthedetailsofEnishte’smysteriousdeathfromtheworkshop;Itookthisasasignthathebelievedmystory.ThepicturesremaihtheHeadTreasurerandIpassedthroughtheGateofSalutation—whichhadearlierfeltliketheGateofHeaven.Afterexitinguhescrutinyoftheguards,Iimmediatelyrelaxed,likeasoldierreturnedhomeafteranabsenanyyears.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
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