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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第78章

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carriages  full  of  elderly  harem  women  chattering  about  the  extravagances  of 
days bygone。 But Shekure’s wedding lacked even the four pole bearers to hold 
aloft  the  red  silk  canopy  that  ordinarily  protected  rich  maidens  from  prying 
eyes;  for  that  matter;  there  wasn’t  even  one  servant  to  lead  the  procession 
bearing large wedding candles and tree…shaped decorations ornamented with 
fruit; gold; silver leaf and polished stones。 More than embarrassment; I felt a 
sadness that threatened to fill my eyes with tears each time the disrespectful 
hand…drum and zurna players simply stopped playing when our procession got 
swallowed up in crowds of market…goers or servants fetching water from the 
fountain in the square because we had no one clearing the way with shouts of 
“Here es the bride。” As we were nearing the house; I mustered the courage 
to turn in my saddle and gaze at her; and was relieved that beneath her pink 
bride’s  tinsel  and  red  veil;  far  from  being  saddened  by  all  these  pitiful 
shortings;  she  seemed  heartened  to  know  that  we’d  concluded  our 
procession  and  our  journey  with  neither  accident  nor  mishap。  So;  like  all 
grooms;  I  lowered  my  beautiful  bride;  whom  I  would  shortly  wed;  from  her 
horse; took her by the arm; and handful by handful; slowly emptied a bag of 
silver coins over her head before the gleeful crowd。 While the children who’d 
followed  behind  our  meager  parade  scrambled  for  the  coins;  Shekure  and  I 
entered  the  courtyard  and  crossed  the  stone  walkway;  and  as  soon  as  we 
222 
 
entered the house; we were struck not only by the heat; but the horror of the 
heavy smell of decay。 
While the throng from the procession was making itself fortable in the 
house;  Shekure  and  the  crowd  of  elders;  women  and  children  (Orhan  was 
glaring  suspiciously  at  me  from  the  corner)  carried  on  as  if  nothing  were 
amiss;  and  momentarily  I  doubted  my  senses;  but  I  knew  how  corpses  left 
under the sun after battle; their clothes tattered; boots and belts stolen; and 
their  faces;  their  eyes  and  lips  ravaged  by  wolves  and  birds  smelled。  It  was  a 
stench that had so often filled my mouth and lungs to the point of suffocation 
that I could not mistake it。 
Downstairs  in  the  kitchen;  I  asked  Hayriye  about  Enishte  Effendi’s  body; 
aware that I was speaking to her for the first time as master of the house。 
“As  you  asked;  we  laid  out  his  mattress;  dressed  him  in  his  nightclothes; 
dre and placed bottles of syrup beside him。 If he’s giving 
off an unpleasant smell; it’s probably due to the heat from the brazier in the 
room;” the woman said through tears。 
One or two of her tears fell; sizzling into the pot she was using to fry the 
mutton。  From  the  way  she  was  crying;  I  supposed  that  Enishte  Effendi  had 
been  taking  her  into  his  bed  at  night。  Esther;  who  was  quietly  and  proudly 
sitting in a corner of the kitchen; swallowed what she was chewing and stood。 
“Make  her  happiness  your  foremost  concern;”  she  said。  “Recognize  her 
worth。” 
In  my  thoughts  I  heard  the  lute  I’d  heard  on  the  street  the  first  day  I’d 
e to Istanbul。 More than sadness; there was vigor in its melody。 I heard the 
melody of that music again later; in the half…darkened room where my Enishte 
lay in his white nightgown; as the Imam Effendi married us。 
Because  Hayriye  had  furtively  aired  out  the  room  beforehand  and  placed 
the oil lamp in a corner so its light was dimmed; one could scarcely tell that 
my Enishte was sick let alone dead。 Thus; he served as Shekure’s legal guardian 
during  the  ceremony。  My  friend  the  barber;  along  with  a  know…it…all 
neighborhood elder; served as witnesses。 Before the ceremony ended with the 
hopeful  blessings  and  advice  of  the  preacher  and  the  prayers  of  all  in 
attendance; a nosy old man; concerned about the state of my Enishte’s health; 
was about to lower his skeptical head toward the deceased; but as soon as the 
preacher pleted the ceremony; I leapt from my spot; grabbed my Enishte’s 
rigid hand and shouted at the top of my voice: 
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“Put your worries to rest; my sir; my dear Enishte。 I’ll do everything within 
my power to care for Shekure and her children; to see they’re well clothed and 
well fed; loved and untroubled。” 
Next;  to  suggest  that  my  Enishte  was  trying  to  whisper  to  me  from  his 
sickbed; I carefully and respectfully pressed my ear to his mouth; pretending to 
listen  to  him  intently  and  wide…eyed;  as  young  men  do  when  an  elder  they 
respect  offers  one  or  two  words  of  advice  distilled  from  an  entire  lifetime; 
which  they  then  imbibe  like  some  magic  elixir。  The  Imam  Effendi  and  the 
neighborhood  elder  appeared  to  appreciate  and  approve  of  the  loyalty  and 
eternal devotion I showed my father…in…law。 I hope that nobody still thinks I 
had a hand in his murder。 
I announced to the wedding guests still in the room that the afflicted man 
wished  to  be  left  alone。  They  abruptly  began  to  leave;  passing  into  the  next 
room where the men had gathered to feast on Hayriye’s pilaf and mutton (at 
this point I could scarcely distinguish the smell of the corpse from the aroma 
of thyme; cumin and frying lamb)。 I stepped into the wide hallway; and like 
some  morose  patriarch  roaming  absentmindedly  and  wistfully  through  his 
own  house;  I  opened  the  door  to  Hayriye’s  room;  paying  no  mind  to  the 
women who were horrified to have a man in their midst; and gazing sweetly at 
Shekure; whose eyes beamed with bliss to see me; said: 
“Your father’s calling for you; Shekure。 We’re married now; you’re to kiss 
his hand。” 
The  handful  of  neighborhood  women  to  whom  Shekure  had  sent  last…
minute invitations and the young maidens I assumed were relatives motioned 
to  collect  themselves  and  cover  their  faces;  all  the  while  scrutinizing  me  to 
their heart’s content。 
Not  long  after  the  evening  call  to  prayer  the  wedding  guests  dispersed; 
having heartily partaken of the walnuts; almonds; dried fruit leather; fits 
and clove candy。 In the women’s quarters; Shekure’s incessant crying and the 
bickering of the unruly children had dampened the festivity。 Among the men; 
my stony…faced silence in response to the mirthful wedding…night gibes of the 
neighbors was attributed to my preoccupation with my father…in…law’s illness。 
Amid all the distress; the scene most clearly ingrained in my memory was my 
leading Shekure to Enishte’s room before dinner。 We were alone at last。 After 
both of us kissed the dead man’s cold and rigid hand with sincere respect; we 
withdrew to a dark corner of the room and kissed each other as if slaking a 
great thirst。 Upon my wife’s fiery tongue; which I’d successfully taken into my 
mouth; I could taste the hard candies that the children greedily ate。 
224 
 
I; SHEKURE 
 
The last guests of our woeful wedding vei
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