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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第123章

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rudely。 
I  caressed  Black’s  hand;  which  rested  within  my  own;  as  if  respectfully 
stroking  the  tiny  hand  of  a  young  apprentice  who  might  one  day  indeed 
illustrate   masterpieces。   Quietly   and   reverently   we   looked   at   Bihzad’s 
masterpiece for a time。 Later; Black withdrew his hand from mine。 
“We passed quickly over the chestnut horses on the previous page without 
examining their noses;” he said。 
“There’s nothing to them;” I said; and turned back to the previous page so 
he might see for himself: There was nothing extraordinary about the nostrils of 
the horses。 
344 
 
“When  shall  we  find  the  horses  with  peculiar  noses?”  Black  asked  like  a 
child。 
But;  in  the  middle  of  the  night;  toward  morning;  when  we  found  Shah 
Tahmasp’s  legendary  Book  of  Kings  in  an  iron  chest  beneath  piles  of  various 
shades of green watered silk and drew it forth; Black was curled up fast asleep 
on  a  red  Ushak  carpet;  with  his  well…formed  head  lying  on  a  velvet  pillow 
embroidered with pearls。 Meanwhile; as soon as I laid eyes upon the legendary 
tome  again  after  so  many  years;  I  quickly  understood  that  the  day  had  only 
just begun for me。 
The legendary volume I’d seen only from afar twenty…five years ago was so 
large  and  heavy  that  Jezmi  Agha  and  I  had  difficulty  lifting  and  carrying  it。 
When  I  touched  the  binding;  I  knew  there  was  wood  within  the  leather。 
Twenty…five  years  ago;  upon  the  death  of  Sultan  Süleyman  the  Magnificent; 
Shah  Tahmasp  was  so  elated  to  be  finally  rid  of  this  sultan  who’d  occupied 
Tabriz three times; that along with the gift…laden camels he sent to Süleyman’s 
successor; Sultan Selim; he included a spectacular Koran and this volume; the 
most  beautiful  of  the  books  in  his  treasury。  First;  a  Persian  ambassadorial 
delegation  three  hundred  strong  took  the  tome  to  Edirne  where  the  new 
sultan  spent  the  winter  hunting;  after  it  arrived  here  in  Istanbul  along  with 
the other presents carried on camels and mules; Head Illuminator Black Memi 
and we three young masters went to see the book before it was locked up in 
the  Treasury。  Just  like  the  Istanbulites  who  would  rush  to  see  an  elephant 
brought  from  Hindustan  or  a  giraffe  from  Africa;  we  hurried  to  the  palace 
where I learned from Master Black Memi that the great Master Bihzad; who’d 
left  Herat  for  Tabriz  in  his  old  age;  hadn’t  contributed  to  this  book  because 
he’d gone blind。 
For Ottoman miniaturists like us who were astonished by ordinary books 
with   seven   or   eight   illustrations;   looking   through   this   volume;   which 
contained 250 large illustrations; was like roaming through an exquisite palace 
while its inhabitants slept。 We stared at the incredibly rich pages with a quiet 
pious  reverence  as  if  beholding  the  Gardens  of  Paradise  that  had  appeared 
miraculously for a fleeting moment。 And for the following twenty…five years we 
discussed this book which remained locked in the Treasury。 
I silently opened the thick cover of the Book of Kings as if opening a huge 
palace door。 As I turned the pages; each of which made a pleasant rustle; I was 
overe by melancholy more than awe。 
 
345 
 
1。  Mindful  of  the  stories  suggesting  that  all  the  master  miniaturists  of 
Istanbul had stolen images from the pages of this book; I couldn’t give my full 
attention to the pictures。 
2。  Thinking  that  I  might  chance  upon  a  hand  drawn  by  Bihzad  in  some 
corner;  I  couldn’t  devote  myself  wholeheartedly  to  the  masterpieces  that 
appeared  in  one  of  every  five  or  six  pictures  (how  decisively  and  with  what 
grace did Tahmuras lower his mace upon the heads of the demons and giants; 
who later; in a time of peace; would teach him the alphabet; Greek and various 
other languages!)。 
3。 The noses of horses and the presence of Black and the dwarf prevented 
me from surrendering myself to what I saw。 
 
Naturally; I was disappointed to find myself observing more with my mind 
than with my heart; despite the great luck of having Allah; in His munificence; 
grant me the chance to have my fill of this legendary book before the velvet 
curtain of darkness descended over my eyes—the divine grace bestowed upon 
all  great  miniaturists。  By  the  time  the  light  of  dawn  reached  the  Treasury; 
which had gradually begun to resemble an icy tomb; I’d gazed upon each of 
the 259 pictures in this superlative book。 Since I looked with my mind; allow 
me  once  more  to  categorize;  as  if  I  were  an  Arab  scholar  interested  only  in 
reasoning: 
 
1。  Nowhere  could  I  locate  a  horse  with  nostrils  that  resembled  what  the 
wretched murderer had drawn: Not among the variously colored horses that 
Rüstem  encountered  while  pursuing  horse  thieves  in  Turan;  not  among 
Feridun  Shah’s  extraordinary  horses  which  swam  the  Tigris  after  the  Arab 
Sultan  had  denied  him  permission  to  do  so;  not  among  the  gray  horses 
sorrowfully watching Tur’s treachery in beheading his younger brother Iraj; of 
whom he was jealous because their father; while doling out his territory; gave 
the  best  country;  Persia;  and  far  away  China  to  Iraj;  while  leaving  only  the 
western lands to Tur; not among the horses of the heroic armies of Alexander 
that included Khazars; Egyptians; Berbers and Arabs; all equipped with armor; 
iron  shields;  indestructible  swords  and  glimmering  helmets;  not  the  fabled 
horse that killed Shah Yazdgird—whose nose bled perpetually as a result of the 
divine punishment for rebelling against God’s fate—by trampling him on the 
shores of the green lake whose restorative waters eased his affliction; and not 
among the hundreds of mythical and perfect horses all drawn by six or seven 
346 
 
miniaturists。  Yet;  there  was  still  more  than  one  entire  day  ahead  of  me  in 
which to examine the other books in the Treasury。 
 
2。 There’s a claim that has been a persistent topic of gossip among master 
illuminators for the last twenty…five years: With the express permission of the 
Sultan;  an  illustrator  entered  this  forbidden  Treasury;  found  this  spectacular 
book; opened it and by candlelight copied into his sketchbook examples of a 
number of exquisite horses; trees; clouds; flowers; birds; gardens and scenes of 
war and love for later use in his work…Whenever an artist created an amazing 
and  exceptional  piece;  jealousy  prompted  such  gossip  from  the  others;  who 
sought  to  belittle  the  picture  as  nothing  but  Persian  work  from  Tabriz。  Back 
then;  Tabriz  was  not  Ottoman  territory。  When  such  slander  was  directed  at 
me;  I  felt  justifiably  angry;  yet  secretly  proud;  but  when  I  heard  the  same 
accusation  about  others;  I  believed  it。  Now;  I  sadly  realized  that  in  some 
strange  way  the  four  of  us  miniaturists  who’d  looked  at  this  book  once 
twenty…five years a
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