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第64章

my name is red-我的名字叫红-第64章

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“My  older  brother’s  still  alive;”  Hasan  said  with  conviction。  “There  are 
witnesses who have seen him。” 
“This  morning;  based  on  the  fact  that  he  hasn’t  returned  after  four  years 
campaigning; the üsküdar judge granted Shekure a divorce。 If he is alive; have 
your witnesses tell him that he’s now a divorced man。” 
“Shekure   is   restricted   from   remarrying   for   a   month;”   said   Hasan。 
“Otherwise it’s a sacrilege contrary to the Koran。 How could Shekure’s father 
consent to such disgraceful nonsense?” 
“Enishte Effendi;” Black said; “is very sick。 He’s on his death bed…and the 
judge sanctified our marriage。” 
“Did you work together to poison your Enishte?” said Hasan。 “Did you plan 
this out with Hayriye?” 
“My  father…in…law  is  deeply  distressed  by  what  you’ve  done  to  Shekure。 
Your  brother;  if  he’s  really  still  alive;  could  also  call  you  to  account  for  your 
dishonor。” 
“These are all lies; each one!” said Hasan。 “These are only excuses cooked up 
by Shekure so she could leave us。” 
233 
 
There  came  a  cry  from  within  the  house;  it  was  Hayriye  who’d  screamed。 
Next;  Shevket  screamed。  They  shouted  to  each  other。  Unwitting  and  afraid; 
without  being  able  to  restrain  myself;  I  shouted  too  and  ran  into  the  house 
without knowing what I was doing。 
Shevket ran down the stairs and fled out into the courtyard。 
“My grandfather is as cold as ice;” he cried。 “My grandfather has died。” 
We hugged each other。 I lifted him up。 Hayriye was still shouting。 Black and 
Hasan heard the shouts and everything that was said。 
“Mother; they’ve killed grandfather;” Shevket said this time。 
Everyone heard this; too。 Had Hasan heard? I squeezed Shevket tightly; and 
calmly  walked  with  him  back  inside。  At  the  top  of  the  stairs;  Hayriye  was 
wondering how the child had awoken and sneaked out。 
“You promised you wouldn’t leave us;” said Shevket; who began to cry。 
My  mind  was  preoccupied  now  with  Black。  Because  he  was  busy  with 
Hasan; he didn’t think to close the gate。 I kissed Shevket on either cheek and 
hugged him even tighter; taking in the scent of his neck; consoling him and; 
finally handing him over to Hayriye; I whispered; “You two go upstairs。” 
They  went  upstairs。  I  returned  and  stood  a  few  steps  behind  the  gate。  I 
assumed Hasan couldn’t see me。 Had he changed his position in the darkened 
garden across the way; perhaps moving behind the trees that lined the street? 
As it happened; however; he could see me; and as he spoke he addressed me; 
too。  It  was  unnerving  to  convene  in  the  dark  with  somebody  whose  face  I 
couldn’t see; but it was even worse; as Hasan accused me; accused us; to realize 
deep  down  that  he  was  justified。  With  him;  as  with  my  father;  I  always  felt 
guilty; always in the wrong。 And now; moreover; I knew with great sadness that 
I  was  in  love  with  the  man  who  was  incriminating  me。  My  beloved  Allah 
please help me。 Love isn’t suffering for the sake of suffering; but a means to 
reach You; is it not? 
Hasan claimed that I’d killed my father in league with Black。 He said he’d 
heard what Shevket had said; adding that everything had been laid bare and 
that we’d mitted an unpardonable sin deserving of the torments of Hell。 
e  morning  he’d  go  to  the  judge  to  explain  it  all。  If  I  were  found  to  be 
innocent; if my hands weren’t red with my father’s blood; he swore to have 
me and the children returned to his house where he’d serve as father until his 
older  brother  came  back。  If;  however;  I  were  found  guilty;  a  woman  like  me; 
who’d  mercilessly  abandoned  her  husband—a  man  willing  to  make  the 
234 
 
highest sort of sacrifice—for her no punishment was too severe。 We patiently 
listened  to  his  fury;  then  noticed  that  there  was  an  abrupt  silence  amid  the 
trees。 
“If  you  return  of  your  own  free  will  to  the  home  of  your  true  husband; 
now;” said Hasan; assuming a pletely different tone; “if you silently pitter…
patter  back  with  your  children  without  being  seen  by  anyone;  I’ll  forget  the 
fake wedding ploy; the crimes you’ve mitted; all of it; I’ll forgive it all。 And; 
we’ll  wait  together;  Shekure;  year  after  year;  patiently;  for  my  brother’s 
return。” 
Was he drunk? There was something so infantile in his voice and what he 
was now proposing to me in front of my husband that I feared it might cost 
him his life。 
“Do you understand?” he called out from among the trees。 
I couldn’t determine exactly where he was in the blackness。 My dear God; 
e to our aid; to us; Your sinning servants。 
“Because you won’t be able to live under the same roof with the man who 
killed your father; Shekure。 This I know。” 
I momentarily thought that he could’ve been the one who killed my father; 
and that he was now mocking us; perhaps。 This Hasan was the Devil incarnate。 
But I couldn’t be certain of anything。 
“Listen to me; Hasan Effendi;” Black called out to the darkness。 “My father…
in…law  was  murdered;  this  much  is  true。  The  most  despicable  of  men  killed 
him。” 
“He’d been murdered before the wedding; isn’t that so?” said Hasan。 “You 
two killed him because he opposed this marriage sham; this fake divorce; the 
false witnesses and all your deceits。 If he’d considered Black to be appropriate; 
he’d have given his daughter to him years ago。” 
Having lived for years with my late husband; with us; Hasan knew our past 
as  well  as  we  ourselves  did。  And  with  the  passion  of  a  spurned  lover;  he 
remembered every last detail of everything I’d discussed with my husband at 
home;  but  had  subsequently  forgotten;  or  now  wanted  to  forget。  Over  the 
years; we’d shared so many memories—he; his brother and I—that I worried 
how strange; new and distant Black would seem to me if Hasan were to begin 
recounting the past。 
“We suspect that you were the one who killed him;” Black said。 
235 
 
“On the contrary; you were the ones who killed him so you could marry。 
This is evident。 As for me; I have no motive。” 
“You  killed  him  so  we  wouldn’t  get  married;”  said  Black。  “When  you 
learned that he’d permitted Shekure’s divorce and our marriage; you lost your 
mind。 Besides; you were furious with Enishte Effendi because he’d encouraged 
Shekure to return home to live with him。 You wanted revenge。 As long as he 
remained alive; you knew you’d never get your hands on Shekure。” 
“Be done with your stalling;” Hasan said decisively。 “I refuse to listen to this 
prattle。 It’s very cold here。 I froze out here trying to get your attention with 
the rocks—didn’t you hear them?” 
“Black had lost himself in my father’s illustrations;” I said。 
Had I done wrong in saying this? 
Hasan spoke in precisely the same false tone that I sometimes resorted to 
with Black: “Shekure; as you are my brother’s wife; your best course of action 
is to return now with your children to the house of the hero spahi cavalryman 
to whom you’re still wed according to the Koran。” 
“I refuse;” I said; as if hissing into the heart of the night。 “I refuse; Hasan。 
No。” 
“Then; my responsibility and devotion to my brother forces me to alert the 
judge  first  thing  tomorrow  morning  of  what  I’ve  heard  here。  Otherwise; 
they’ll call me to account。” 
“They’re  going  to  call  you  to  account  anyway;”  said  Black。  “The  moment 
you go to the judge; I’ll reveal that you’re the one who murdered Our Sultan’s 
cherished servant; Enishte Effendi。 This very morning。” 
“Very well;” said Hasan calmly。 “Make that revelation。” 
I  shrieked。  “They’ll  torture  the  both  of  you!”  I  shouted。  “Don’t  go  to  the 
judge。 Wait。 Everything will bee clear。” 
“I  have  no  fear  of  torture;”  Hasan  said。  “I’ve  been  tortured  twice  before; 
and  both  times  I  understood  it  was  the  only  way  the  guilty  could  be  culled 
from the innocent。 Let the slanderers fear torture。 I’m going to tell the judge; 
the captain of the Janissaries; the Sheikhulislam; everybody about poor Enishte 
Effendi’s   book   and   its   illustrations。   Everybody   is   talking   about   those 
illustrations。 What is it about them? What’s in those pictures?” 
“There’s nothing in them;” Black said。 
“Which means you examined them at the first opportunity。” 
236 
 
“Enishte Effendi wants me to finish the book。” 
“Very well。 I hope; God willing; that they’ll torture the both of us。” 
The two of them fell silent。 Next; Black and I heard footsteps in the empty 
yard。  Were  they  leaving  or  approaching  us?  We  could  neither  see  Hasan  nor 
tell what he was doing。 It would’ve been senseless for him to push through the 
thorns;  shrubs  and  brambles  lining  the  far  end  of  the  garden  in  the  pitch…
blackness。 He could’ve easily left without being seen; had he passed through 
the  trees  and  wound  his  way  before  us;  but  we  did

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