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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第11章

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“You made your way back here alone?” asked my grandfather。 “Your older 
brother  ought  to  have  acpanied  you。”  Then  he  said  to  Black:  “There’s  a 
binder  friend  of  mine  with  whom  they  work  twice  a  week  after  their  Koran 
school。 They serve as his apprentices; learning the art of binding。” 
“Do you like to make illustrations like your grandfather?” asked Black。 
I gave him no answer。 
“All right then;” said my grandfather。 “Leave us be; now。” 
31 
 
The heat from the open brazier that warmed the room was so nice that I 
didn’t want to leave。 Smelling the paint and glue; I stood still for a moment。 I 
could also smell coffee。 
“Yet  does  illustrating  in  a  new  way  signify  a  new  way  of  seeing?”  my 
grandfather began。 “This is the reason why they’ve murdered that poor gilder 
despite the fact that he worked in the old style。 I’m not even certain he’s been 
killed;  only  that  he’s  missing。  They’re  illustrating  a  memorative  story  in 
verse;  a  Book  of  Festivities;  for  Our  Sultan  by  order  of  the  Head  Illuminator 
Master  Osman。  Each  of  the  miniaturists  works  at  his  own  home。  Master 
Osman; however; occupies himself at the palace book…arts workshop。 To begin 
with; I want you to go there and observe everything。 I worry that the others; 
that  is;  the  miniaturists;  have  ended  up  falling  out  with  and  slaying  one 
another。  They  go  by  the  workshop  names  that  Head  Illuminator  Master 
Osman  gave  them  years  ago: ”Butterfly;“  ”Olive;“  ”Stork‘…You’re  also  to  go 
and observe them as they work in their homes。“ 
Instead  of  heading  downstairs;  I  spun  around。  There  was  a  noise  ing 
from  the  next  room  with  the  built…in  closet  where  Hayriye  slept。  I  went  in。 
Inside there was no Hayriye; just my mother。 She was embarrassed to see me。 
She stood half in the closet。 
“Where have you been?” she asked。 
But she knew where I’d been。 In the back of the closet there was a peephole 
through which you could see my grandfather’s workshop; and if its door were 
open; the wide hallway and my grandfather’s bedroom across the hall by the 
staircase—if; of course; his bedroom door were open。 
“I was with grandfather;” I said。 “Mother; what are you doing in here?” 
“Didn’t I tell you that your grandfather had a guest and that you weren’t to 
bother them?” She scolded me; but not very loud; because she didn’t want the 
guest to hear。 “What were they doing?” she asked afterward; in a sweet voice。 
“They  were  seated。  Not  with  the  paints  though。  Grandfather  spoke;  the 
other listened。” 
“In what manner was he seated?” 
I  dropped  to  the  floor  and  imitated  the  guest:  “I’m  a  very  serious  man 
now; Mother; look。 I’m listening to my grandfather with knit eyebrows; as if I 
were  listening  to  the  birth  epic  being  recited。  I’m  nodding  my  head  in  time 
now; very seriously like that guest。” 
“Go downstairs;” my mother said; “call for Hayriye at once。” 
32 
 
She sat down and began writing on a small piece of paper on the writing 
board she’d taken up。 
“Mother; what are you writing?” 
“Be quick; now。 Didn’t I tell you to go downstairs and call for Hayriye?” 
I went down to the kitchen。 My brother; Shevket; was back。 Hayriye had put 
before him a plate of the pilaf meant for the guest。 
“Traitor;” my brother said。 “You just went off and left me with the Master。 I 
did all the folding for the bindings myself。 My fingers are bruised purple。” 
“Hayriye; my mother wants to see you。” 
“When I’m done here; I’m going to give you such a beating;” my brother 
said。 “You’ll pay for your laziness and treachery。” 
When Hayriye left; my brother stood and came after me threateningly; even 
before he’d finished his pilaf。 I couldn’t get away in time。 He grabbed my arm 
at the wrist and began twisting it。 
“Stop; Shevket; don’t; you’re hurting me。” 
“Are you ever going to shirk your duties again and leave?” 
“No; I won’t ever leave。” 
“Swear to it。” 
“I swear。” 
“Swear on the Koran。” 
“…on the Koran。” 
He didn’t let go of my arm。 He dragged me to the large copper tray that we 
used as a table for eating and forced me to my knees。 He was strong enough to 
eat his pilaf as he continued to twist my arm。 
“Quit torturing your brother; tyrant;” said Hayriye。 She covered herself and 
was heading outside。 “Leave him be。” 
“Mind your own affairs; slave girl;” my brother said。 He was still twisting 
my arm。 “Where are you off to?” 
“To buy lemons;” Hayriye said。 
“You’re a liar;” my brother said。 “The cupboard is full of lemons。” 
As he had eased up on my arm; I was suddenly able to free myself。 I kicked 
him  and  grabbed  a  candleholder  by  its  base;  but  he  pounced  on  me; 
33 
 
smothering  me。  He  knocked  the  candleholder  away;  and  the  copper  tray  fell 
over。 
“You two scourges of God!” my mother said。 She kept her voice lowered so 
the  guest  wouldn’t  hear。  How  had  she  passed  before  the  open  door  of  the 
workshop; through the hallway; and e downstairs without being seen by 
Black? 
She separated us。 “You two just continue to disgrace me; don’t you?” 
“Orhan lied to the master binder;” Shevket said。 “He left me there to do all 
the work。” 
“Hush!” my mother said; slapping him。 
She’d  hit  him  softly。  My  brother  didn’t  cry。  “I  want  my  father;”  he  said。 
“When he returns he’s going to take up Uncle Hasan’s ruby…handled sword; 
and we’re going to move back with Uncle Hasan。” 
“Shut  up!”  said  my  mother。  She  suddenly  became  so  angry  that  she 
grabbed Shevket by the arm and dragged him through the kitchen; passed the 
stairs  to  the  room  that  faced  the  far  shady  side  of  the  courtyard。  I  followed 
them。 My mother opened the door。 When she saw me; she said; “Inside; the 
both of you。” 
“But I haven’t done anything;” I said。 I entered anyway。 Mother closed the 
door behind us。 Though it wasn’t pitch…black inside—a faint light fell through 
the space between the shutters facing the pomegranate tree in the courtyard—
I was scared。 
“Open the door; Mother;” I said。 “I’m cold。” 
“Quit  whimpering;  you  coward;”  Shevket  said。  “She’ll  open  it  soon 
enough。” 
Mother opened the door。 “Are you going to behave until the visitor leaves?” 
she said。 “All right then; you’ll sit in the kitchen by the stove until Black takes 
his leave; and you’re not to go upstairs; do you understand?” 
“We’ll get bored in there;” Shevket said。 “Where has Hayriye gone?” 
“Quit butting into everyone’s affairs;” my mother said。 
We heard a soft whinnying from one of the horses in the stable。 The horse 
whinnied  again。  It  wasn’t  our  grandfather’s  horse;  but  Black’s。  We  were 
overe  with  mirth;  as  if  it  were  a  fair  day。  Mother  smiled;  wanting  us  to 
smile as well。 Taking two steps forward; she opened the stable door that faced 
us off the stairwell outside the kitchen。 
34 
 
“Drrsss;” she said into the stable。 
She
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