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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第9章

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master  Bihzad  was  better  able  to  convey  Mejnun’s  loneliness  by  portraying 
him  walking  among  groups  of  women  cooking;  attempting  to  ignite  logs  by 
blowing on them or walking between tents。 I remarked how absurd it was that 
most  of  the  illustrators  who  depicted  the  moment  when  Hüsrev  spied  the 
naked Shirin bathing in a lake at midnight had whimsically colored the lovers’ 
horses and clothes without having read Nizami’s poem; my point being that a 
miniaturist who took up a brush without the care and diligence to read the 
text he was illustrating was motivated by nothing more than greed。 
I’m delighted now to see that Black has acquired another essential virtue: 
To  avoid  disappointment  in  art;  one  mustn’t  treat  it  as  a  career。  Despite 
whatever great artistic sense and talent a man might possess; he ought to seek 
money and power elsewhere to avoid forsaking his art when he fails to receive 
proper pensation for his gifts and efforts。 
Black recounted how he’d met one by one all of the master illustrators and 
calligraphers  of  Tabriz  by  making  books  for  pashas;  wealthy  Istanbulites  and 
patrons  in  the  provinces。  All  these  artists;  I  learned;  were  impoverished  and 
overe by the futility of their lot。 Not only in Tabriz; but in Mashhad and 
Aleppo;  many  miniaturists  had  abandoned  working  on  books  and  begun 
making  odd  single…leaf  pictures—curiosities  that  would  please  European 
travelers—even   obscene   drawings。   Rumor   has   it   that   the   illuminated 
manuscript Shah Abbas presented to Our Sultan during the Tabriz peace treaty 
has  already  been  taken  apart  so  its  pages  could  be  used  for  another  book。 
Supposedly; the Emperor of Hindustan; Akbar; was throwing so much money 
around  for  a  large  new  book  that  the  most  gifted  illustrators  of  Tabriz  and 
Kazvin quit what they were doing and flocked to his palace。 
As he told me all of this; he pleasantly interjected other stories as well; for 
example; he described with a smile the entertaining story of a Mehdi forgery 
or  the  frenzy  that  erupted  among  the  Uzbeks  when  the  idiot  prince  sent  to 
them by the Safavids as a hostage to peace fell feverishly ill and dropped dead 
within three days。 Even so; I could tell from the shadow that fell across his face 
that the dilemma to which neither of us referred; but which troubled us both; 
had yet to be resolved。 
Naturally; Black; like every young man who frequented our house or heard 
what others had to say about us; or who knew about my beautiful daughter; 
Shekure; from hearsay; had fallen in love with her。 Perhaps I didn’t consider it 
26 
 
dangerous  enough  to  warrant  my  attention  back  then;  but  everyone—
including many who’d never laid eyes on her—fell in love with my daughter; 
that belle of belles。 Black’s affliction was the overwhelming passion of an ill…
fated youth who had free access to our house; who was accepted and well liked 
in our home and who had the opportunity actually to see Shekure。 He did not 
bury  his  love;  as  I  hoped  he  would;  but  made  the  mistake  of  revealing  his 
extreme passion to my daughter。 
As a result; he pletely。 
I  assumed  that  Black  now  also  knew  how  three  years  after  he’d  left 
Istanbul;  my  daughter  married  a  spahi  cavalryman;  at  the  height  of  her 
loveliness; and that this soldier; having fathered two boys but still bereft of any 
mon sense; had gone off on a campaign never to return again。 No one had 
heard from the cavalryman in four years。 I gathered he was aware of this; not 
only  because  such  gossip  spreads  fast  in  Istanbul;  but  because  during  the 
silences that passed between us; I felt he’d learned the whole story long ago; 
judging by the way he looked into my eyes。 Even at this moment; as he casts 
an  eye  at  the  Book  of  the  Soul;  which  stands  open  on  the  folding  X…shaped 
reading  stand;  I  know  he’s  listening  for  the  sounds  of  her  children  running 
through the house; I know he’s aware that my daughter has returned here to 
her father’s house with her two sons。 
I’ve  neglected  to  mention  the  new  house  I  had  built  in  Black’s  absence。 
Most  likely;  Black;  like  any  young  fellow  who’d  set  his  mind  to  being  a 
man of wealth and prestige; considered it quite discourteous to broach such a 
subject。  Still;  when  we  entered;  I  told  him  on  the  staircase  that  the  second 
floor was always less humid; and that moving upstairs had served to ease the 
pains in my joints。 When I said “the second floor;” I felt oddly embarrassed; 
but  let  me  tell  you:  Men  with  much  less  money  than  I;  even  simple  spahi 
cavalrymen  with  tiny  military  fiefs;  will  soon  be  able  to  build  two…story 
houses。 
We  were  in  the  room  with  the  blue  door  that  I  used  as  the  painting 
workshop in winter; and I sensed that Black was aware of Shekure’s presence 
in the adjacent room。 I at once disclosed to him the matter that inspired the 
letter I’d sent to Tabriz; inviting him to Istanbul。 
“Just as you did in concert with the calligraphers and miniaturists of Tabriz; 
I; too; have been preparing an illustrated manuscript;” I said。 “My client is; in 
fact;  His  Excellency  Our  Sultan;  the  Foundation  of  the  World。  Because  this 
book is a secret; Our Sultan has disbursed payment to me under cover of the 
27 
 
Head Treasurer。 And I have e to an understanding with each of the most 
talented  and  acplished  artists  of  Our  Sultan’s  atelier。  I  have  been  in  the 
process  of  missioning  one  of  them  to  illustrate  a  dog;  another  a  tree;  a 
third I’ve charged with making border designs and clouds on the horizon; and 
yet  another  is  responsible  for  the  horses。  I  wanted  the  things  I  depicted  to 
represent  Our  Sultan’s  entire  world;  just  as  in  the  paintings  of  the  Veian 
masters。 But unlike the Veians; my work would not merely depict material 
objects;  but  naturally  the  inner  riches;  the  joys  and  fears  of  the  realm  over 
which Our Sultan rules。 If I ended up including the picture of a gold coin; it 
was  to  belittle  money;  I  included  Death  and  Satan  because  we  fear  them。  I 
don’t  know  what  the  rumors  are  about。  I  wanted  the  immortality  of  a  tree; 
the weariness of a horse and the vulgarity of a dog to represent His Excellency 
Our  Sultan  and  His  worldly  realm。  I  also  wanted  my  cadre  of  illustrators; 
nicknamed  ”Stork;“  ”Olive;“  ”Elegant‘  and  “Butterfly;”  to  select  subjects  of 
their  own  choosing。  On  even  the  coldest;  most  forbidding  winter  evenings; 
one  of  my  Sultan’s  illustrators  would  secretly  visit  to  show  me  what  he’d 
prepared for the book。 
“What kind of pictures were we making? Why were we illustrating them in 
that way? I can’t really answer you at present。 Not because I’m withholding a 
secret from you; and not because I won’t eventually tell you。 It’s as though I 
myself don’t quite know wha
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