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my name is red-我的名字叫红-第68节

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eagerly shared my other suspicions: I informed him that the moary rewards 
and  honor  involved  in  being  invited  to  illustrate  and  illuminate  Enishte 
Effendi’s book had likely led to unavoidable petition and jealousy among 
the  masters。  The  secrecy  of  the  project  alone  could  very  well  have  instigated 
these  hatreds;  grudges  and  intrigues。  As  the  words  left  my  mouth;  I  sensed 
nervously that the Head Treasurer had somehow grown suspicious of me—the 
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way  you  have  as  well。  My  dear  Allah;  let  justice  be  done;  that  is  all  I  ask; 
nothing more。 
Within  the  ensuing  silence;  the  Head  Treasurer  cast  his  glance  away  from 
me; as if embarrassed on my behalf for my words and my destiny; and fixed his 
attention on the pictures resting on the folding table。 
“There are nine plates here;” he said。 “The arrangement had been for a book 
with  ten  illustrations。  Enishte  Effendi  took  more  gold  leaf  from  us  than  has 
been used here。” 
“That murdering heretic must have stolen the last illustration; upon which 
much of the gold was applied;” I said。 
“You haven’t told us who the calligrapher…scribe might be。” 
“My late Enishte hadn’t yet pleted the book’s text。 He was anticipating 
my help in its pletion。” 
“My  dear  child;  you’ve  just  explained  how  you’re  newly  arrived  in 
Istanbul。” 
“It’s been one week。 I arrived three days after Elegant Effendi was killed。” 
“You  mean  to  say  that  your  Enishte  Effendi  has  been  illustrating  an 
unwritten—a nonexistent—manuscript for an entire year?” 
“Yes; sir。” 
“Had he; then; revealed to you what the book was to recount?” 
“Precisely  what  Our  Sultan  stated  He  wanted:  A  book  that  depicted  the 
thousandth  year  of  the  Muslim  calendar;  which  would  strike  terror  into  the 
heart  of  the  Veian  Doge  by  showing  the  military  strength  and  pride  of 
Islam;  together  with  the  power  and  wealth  of  the  Exalted  House  of  Osman。 
This was intended to be a book recounting and depicting the most valuable; 
most vital aspects of our realm; and just as with the Treatises on Physiognomy; a 
portrait   of   Our   Sultan   would   be   situated   at   the   heart   of   the   book。 
Furthermore;  since  the  illustrations  were  made  in  the  Frankish  style  using 
Frankish  methods;  they  would  arouse  the  awe  of  the  Veian  Doge  and  his 
desire for friendship。” 
“I’m aware of all that; but are these dogs and trees the most valuable and 
vital aspects of the Exalted House of Osman?” he said; gesturing wildly at the 
illustrations。 
248 
 
“My  Enishte;  may  he  rest  in  peace;  insisted  that  the  book  show  not  Our 
Sultan’s  wealth  alone;  but  His  spiritual  and  moral  strength  along  with  His 
hidden sorrows。” 
“And Our Sultan’s portrait?” 
“I haven’t seen it。 It’s probably wherever that heretic murderer has hidden 
it。 Who knows; it’s probably in his house at this very moment。” 
My  late  Enishte  had  been  diminished  to  the  status  of  a  man  who’d 
missioned  a  menagerie  of  odd  pictures  that  the  Head  Treasurer  deemed 
worthless; rather than one who’d struggled to plete a book worthy of the 
gold he’d been paid。 Was the Head Treasurer thinking I’d murdered an inept 
and  untrustworthy  man  in  order  to  marry  Enishte’s  daughter;  or  for  some 
other reason—perhaps to sell off the gold leaf? From his glances; I read that 
my case was about to be closed; so speaking nervously and with the last of my 
strength; I tried to clear my name: I told him that my Enishte had confided to 
me  that  one  of  the  master  miniaturists  he  hired  might’ve  murdered  poor 
Elegant  Effendi。  Keeping  my  declaration  brief;  I  told  him  how  my  Enishte 
suspected  Olive;  Stork  or  Butterfly。  I  neither  had  much  proof  nor  felt  much 
self…confidence。  Afterward;  I  sensed  that  the  Head  Treasurer  considered  me 
nothing but a base slanderer and a foolish gossip。 
Finally;  I  was  elated  when  the  Head  Treasurer  said  we  must  conceal  the 
details of Enishte’s mysterious death from the workshop; I took this as a sign 
that he believed my story。 The pictures remained with the Head Treasurer and I 
passed through the Gate of Salutation—which had earlier felt like the Gate of 
Heaven。 After exiting under the scrutiny of the guards; I immediately relaxed; 
like a soldier returned home after an absence of many years。 
 
 
   
249 
 
I AM YOUR BELOVED UNCLE 
 
My  funeral  was  splendid;  exactly  as  I’d  wanted。  It  made  me  proud  that 
everybody I’d wished would attend came。 Of the viziers who were in Istanbul 
at  the  time  of  my  death;  Haji  Hüseyin  Pasha  of  Cyprus  and  Baki  Pasha  the 
Lame loyally remembered that I’d rendered extensive services to them at one 
time or another。 The presence of the Minister of Accounts; Red Melek Pasha; 
who;  at  the  time  of  my  death  was  both  in  high  favor  and  much  criticized; 
enlivened the humble courtyard of our neighborhood mosque。 Had I lived and 
continued an active political life; I would’ve been promoted to the same rank 
as  Mustafa  Agha;  the  Sultan’s  Chief  Herald;  whose  presence  especially 
delighted  me。  The  mourners  constituted  a  large;  dignified  and  impressive 
group  that  included  the  Divan  Secretary  Kemalettin  Effendi;  Chief  Secretary 
Salim Effendi the Austere; the heralds of the Divan—each of whom was either 
a  dear  friend  or  an  archenemy—a  group  of  former  Divan  councillors  who’d 
resigned  early  from  active  political  life;  my  school  friends;  others  who’d 
somehow learned of my death—I cannot imagine how or where—and various 
other relatives; in…laws and youths。 
I  also  took  pride  in  the  congregation;  its  seriousness  and  its  grief。  The 
presence  of  the  Head  Treasurer  Haz?m  Agha  and  the  mander  of  the 
Imperial Guard made clear to all in attendance that His Excellency Our Sultan 
was sincerely aggrieved by my untimely death。 I was; indeed; very pleased by 
this。  I  don’t  know  whether  the  sorrow  of  Our  Glorious  Sultan  means  great 
efforts will be made to catch my rogue murderer; including the mobilization of 
torturers;  but  I  do  know  this:  that  accursed  man  is  now  in  the  courtyard; 
among  the  other  miniaturists  and  calligraphers;  wearing  a  dignified  and 
exceedingly tormented expression as he gazes at my coffin。 
Pray; don’t think that I’m infuriated by my murderer or that I’m set on a 
path of revenge; or even that my soul is restless because I’ve been treacherously 
and  cruelly  slain。  I  am;  at  present;  on  a  pletely  different  plane  of  being; 
and my soul is quite at peace; having returned to its former glory after years of 
suffering on Earth。 
My soul temporarily quitted my body; which was writhing in pain as it lay 
covered in blood from the blows of the inkpot; and quivered for a while within 
an intense light; afterward; two beautiful and smiling angels with faces bright 
as the sun—such as I’d read about countless times in the Book of the Soul—
slowly approached me within this ethereal brilliance; grabbed me by my arms; 
250 
 
as if I were still a body; and began their ascent。 Ever so serenely and gently; ever 
so quickly we ascended as if in a blissful dream! We passed through forests of 
fire; forded rivers of light and forged dark seas and mountains of snow and ice。 
Each crossing took us thousands of years; though it seemed no more than the 
blink of an eye。 
We  ascended  through  the  seven  Heavens;  passing  varieties  of  gatherings; 
peculiar  creatures;  marshes  and  clouds  swarming  with  an  infinite  variety  of 
insects  and  birds。  At  each  level  of  Heaven;  the  angel  who  led  the  way  would 
knock  on  a  portal;  and  when  the  question;  “Who  goes  there?”  came  from 
beyond; the angel would describe me including all my names and attributes; 
summing up by saying; “An obedient servant of Exalted Allah!”—which would 
bring tears of joy to my eyes。 I knew; however; that there were yet thousands 
of years before the Day of Judgment when those destined for Heaven would be 
separated from those destined for Hell。 
My  ascension;  except  for  a  few  minor  differences;  happened  just  the  way 
Gazzali; El Jevziyye and other legendary scholars described in their passages on 
death。 Eternal puzzles and dark enigmas that only the dead might understand 
were now being revealed and illuminated; bursting forth brilliantly one by one 
in thousands of colors。 
Oh; how might I adequately describe the hues I saw during this exquisite 
journey? The whole world was made up of color; everything was color。 Just as I 
sensed that the force separating me from all other beings and objects consisted 
of color; I now knew that it was color itself that had affectionately embraced 
me and bound me to the world。 I saw orange…hued skies; beautiful leaf…green 
bodies;  brown  eggs  and  legendary  sky…blue  horses。  The  world  was  faithful  to 
the 

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