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my mind。
In the first scene； the miniaturist ought to depict us amid mustachioed and
muscled oarsmen； forging our way across the blue Bosphorus toward üsküdar
in the four…oared red longboat we’d boarded in Unkapan？。 The preacher and
his skinny dark…plexioned brother； pleased with the surprise voyage； are
engaging the oarsmen in friendly chatter。 Meanwhile； amid blithe dreams of
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marriage that play ceaselessly before my eyes； I stare deep into the waters of
the Bosphorus； flowing clearer than usual on this sunny winter morning； on
guard for an ominous sign within its currents。 I’m afraid； for example； that I
might see the wreck of a pirate ship below。 Thus； no matter how joyously the
miniaturist colors the sea and clouds； he ought to include something
equivalent to the darkness of my fears and as intense as my dreams of
happiness—a terrifying…looking fish； for example—in the depths of the water
so the reader of my adventure won’t assume all is rosy。
Our second picture ought to show the palaces of sultans； the meetings of
the Divan Council of State； the reception of European ambassadors； and
detailed and carefully posed crowded interiors of a subtlety worthy of
Bihzad； that is； the picture ought to partake of playful tricks and irony。
Thereby； while the Kadi Effendi apparently makes an open…handed “halt”
gesture indicating “never” or “no” to my bribe； with his other hand he ought
to be shown obligingly pocketing my Veian gold coins； and the ultimate
result of this bribe should be depicted in the same picture： Shahap Effendi； the
Shafü proxy presiding in place of the üsküdar judge。 The simultaneous
depiction of sequential events could only be achieved through an intelligent
miniaturist’s cunning facility in page position。 Thus； when the observer；
who first sees me giving a bribe； notices elsewhere in the painting that the
man sitting cross…legged on the judge’s cushion is the proxy； he’ll realize； even
if he hasn’t read the story； that the honorable judge has temporarily given up
his office so his proxy might grant Shekure a divorce。
The third illustration should show the same scene； but this time the wall
ornamentation should be darker and rendered in the Chinese style； the curly
branches being more intricate and dense； and colorful clouds should appear
above the judge’s proxy so the chicanery in the story might be apparent。
Though the Imam Effendi and his brother have actually testified separately
before the judge’s proxy； in the illustration they are shown together explaining
how the husband of anguished Shekure hasn’t returned from war for four
years； how she is in a state of destitution without a husband to look after her；
how her two fatherless children are perpetually in tears and hungry； how there
is no prospect for remarriage because she’s still considered married； and how
in this state she can’t even receive a loan without permission from her
husband。 They’re so convincing that even a man as deaf as a stone would grant
her a divorce through a cascade of tears。 The heartless proxy； however； having
none of it； asks about Shekure’s legal guardian。 After a moment of hesitation； I
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immediately interrupt； declaring that her esteemed father； who has served as
herald and ambassador for Our Sultan； is still alive。
“Until he testifies in court； I’ll never grant her a divorce！” said the proxy。
Thereupon； thoroughly flustered； I explained how my Enishte Effendi was
ill； bed…ridden and struggling for his life； how his last wish to God was to see
his daughter divorced； and how I was his representative。
“What does she want with a divorce？” asked the proxy。 “Why would a
dying man want to see his daughter divorced from her husband who’s long
vanished at war anyway？ Listen； I’d understand if there were a good；
trustworthy candidate for son…in…law； because then he wouldn’t pass away
with his wish unfulfilled。”
“There is a prospect； sir；” I said。
“Who might that be？”
“It is I！”
“e now！ You’re the guardian’s representative！” said the judge’s proxy。
“What line of work are you in？”
“In the eastern provinces； I served as secretary； chief secretary and assistant
treasurer to various pashas。 I pleted a history of the Persian wars that I
intend to present to Our Sultan。 I’m a connoisseur of illustrating and
decoration。 I’ve been burning with love for this woman for twenty years。”
“Are you a relative of hers？”
I was so embarrassed at having fallen so abruptly and unexpectedly into
groveling meekness before the judge’s proxy； at having bared my life like some
dull object devoid of any mystery； that I fell pletely silent。
“Instead of turning beet red； give me an answer； young man； lest I refuse to
grant her a divorce。”
“She’s the daughter of my maternal aunt。”
“Hmmm； I see。 Will you be able to make her happy？”
When he asked the question he made a vulgar hand gesture。 The
miniaturist should omit this indelicacy。 It’d be enough for him to show how
much I blushed。
“I make a decent living。”
“As I belong to the Shafü sect； there is nothing contrary to the Holy Book or
my creed in my granting the divorce of this unfortunate Shekure； whose
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husband has been missing at the front for four years；” said the Proxy Effendi。
“I grant the divorce。 And I rule that her husband no longer has any
superceding rights should he return。”
The subsequent illustration； that is； the fourth； ought to depict the proxy
recording the divorce in the ledger； unleashing obedient armies of black…ink
letters； before presenting me with the document declaring that my Shekure is
now a widow and there is no obstacle to her immediate remarriage。 Neither
by painting the walls of the courtroom red； nor by situating the picture within
bloodred borders could the blissful inner radiance I felt at that moment be
expressed。 Running back through the crowd of false witnesses and other men
gathering before the judge’s door seeking divorces for their sisters； daughters
or even aunts； I set out on my return journey。
After I crossed the Bosphorus and headed directly to the Yakutlar
neighborhood； I dismissed both the considerate Imam Effendi； who wanted to
perform the marriage ceremony； and his brother。 Since I suspected everyone I
saw on the street of hatching some mischief out of jealousy over the incredible
happiness I was on the verge of attaining； I ran straight to Shekure’s street。
How had the ominous crows divined the presence of a body in the house and
taken to hopping around excitedly on the terra…cotta shingles？ I was overe
by guilt because I hadn’t been able to grieve for my Enishte or even shed a
single tear； even s