could no longer walk back through the door； which was being battered to the breaking point。 Actually； I was afraid of both what would happen if they broke down the door and came through and what would happen if they didn’t； I kept thinking that Black’s men； who trusted in me； were worried about going too far and might retreat at any moment； which would； in turn； embolden the father…in…law。 When he went to Shekure’s side； I knew he’d begun to cry fake tears； but what’s worse； he was trembling in a way that couldn’t be feigned。 Stepping toward the door； I screamed with all my strength； “Stop； that’s enough！” The motion outside and the wailing inside ended in a heartbeat。 “Mother； have Orhan open the door；” I said in a moment of inspiration and in a sweet voice； as if I were speaking to the boy。 “He wants to go home； no one will take issue with that。” The words had hardly left my mouth when Orhan freed himself from his mother’s loosening arms； and like somebody who’d lived here for years； slid 377 open the bolt； lifted the wooden bar； then unfastened the latch； and moved backward two steps。 The cold from outside entered as the door yawned open。 There was such a silence that all of us heard a lazy dog bark off in the distance。 Shekure kissed Orhan； who was back in his mother’s lap； and Shevket said； “I’m going to tell Uncle Hasan。” I saw Shekure stand； take up her cloak and prepare her bundle to leave； and I was so greatly relieved； I was afraid I might laugh。 I seated myself and had two more spoonfuls of the lentil soup。 Black was intelligent enough not to e anywhere near the door of the house。 For a time； Shevket locked himself in his late father’s room； and even though we called for Black’s help； neither he nor his men came。 After Shekure agreed to let Shevket take along his Uncle Hasan’s ruby…handled dagger； the boy was willing to leave the house with us。 “Be afraid of Hasan and his red sword；” said the father…in…law with genuine worry rather than an air of defeat and vengeance。 He kissed each of his grandchildren； sniffing their heads。 He also whispered into Shekure’s ear。 When I saw Shekure gazing one last time at the door； walls and stove of the house； I remembered once again how this was where she spent the happiest years of her life with her first husband。 But could she also tell that this same house was the refuge of two miserable and lonely men； and that it bore the stench of death？ I didn’t walk with her on the way back for she had broken my heart by ing back here。 It wasn’t the cold and blackness of the night that brought together the two fatherless children and three women—one servant； one Jewess and one widow—it was the strange neighborhoods； the nearly impassable streets and the fear of Hasan。 Our crowded pany was under the protection of Black’s men； and just like a caravan carrying treasure； we walked over out…of…the…way roads； backstreets and solitary； seldom…visited neighborhoods； so as to avoid running into guards； Janissaries； curious neighborhood thugs； thieves or Hasan。 At times； through blackness in which you couldn’t see your hand before your face； we groped our way； perpetually bumping against each other and the walls。 We walked clinging to one another； overe by the sensation that the living dead； jinns and demons would surely emerge from underground and abduct us into the night。 Just behind the walls and closed shutters； which we felt blindly with our hands； we heard the snoring and coughing of people in the nighttime cold as well as the lowing of beasts in their stables。 378 Even Esther； no stranger to the poorest and worst districts； who’d walked all the streets of Istanbul—that is excluding those neighborhoods wherein migrants and the members of various unfortunate munities congregated—occasionally felt that we would vanish on these streets； which twisted and turned without end through an endless blackness。 Yet I could still make out certain street corners that I’d patiently passed in the daytime toting my satchel； for example； I recognized the walls of Head Tailor’s Street； the sharp smell of manure—which for some reason reminded me of cinnamon— ing from the stable adjacent to Nurullah Hoja’s property； the fire…ravaged sites on Acrobats Street and the Falconers Arcade that led into the square with the Blind Haji Fountain； and thus I knew we weren’t heading toward the house of Shekure’s late father at all； but to some other； mysterious destination。 There was no telling what Hasan would do if angered； and I knew Black had found another place to hide his family from him—and from that devil of a murderer。 If I could’ve made out where that place was； I would tell you； now； and Hasan tomorrow morning—not out of spite； but because I’m convinced that Shekure will again want to have Hasan’s interest。 But Black； intelligent as he was； no longer trusted me。 We were walking down a dark street behind the slave market when a motion of cries and wails erupted at the far end of the street。 We heard the sounds of a scuffle； and I recognized with fear the clamorous start of a fight： the clash of axes； swords and sticks and the bellow of bitter pain。 Black handed his own large sword to one of his most trusted men； forcibly took the dagger from Shevket； causing the boy to cry； and had the barber’s apprentice and two other men move Shekure； Hayriye and the children a safe distance away。 The theology student told me he’d take me home by way of a shortcut； that is； he didn’t let me stay with the others。 Was this a twist of fate or some cunning attempt to keep secret the whereabouts of their hideout？ There was a shop； which I understood to be a coffeehouse； a