《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第163章

I　fell　quiet　and　from　distant　streets　we　could　hear　the　Erzurumis　screaming　
as　they　ran。　The　terror　outside　at　once　brought　the　two　of　us；　lying　one　on　top　
of　the　other；　closer。　
“But　in　all　those　pictures；”　I　added；　pulling　harder　on　Black’s　hair；　“one　can　
sense　the　difficulty　of　elegantly　drawing　two　men　who　despise　each　other　yet　
whose　bodies；　like　ours；　have　bee　as　one。　It’s　as　if　the　chaos　of　treachery；　
envy　and　battle　that　es　just　before　the　magical　and　magnificent　moment　
of　beheading　has　too　fully　permeated　those　pictures。　Even　the　greatest　masters　
of　Kazvin　would　have　difficulty　drawing　two　men　on　top　of　each　other；　they’d　
confuse　everything。　Whereas　you　and　I；　see　for　yourself；　we’re　much　more　tidy　
and　elegant。”　
“The　blade　is　cutting；”　he　whimpered。　
“I’m　much　obliged　for　your　polite　words；　my　dear　man；　but　it’s　doing　no　
such　thing。　I’m　being　quite　careful。　I　wouldn’t　do　anything　to　ruin　the　beauty　
of　our　pose。　In　the　scenes　of　love；　death　and　war；　wherein　the　great　masters　of　
old rendered intertwined bodies as if they were one； they were able to elicit　
only　our　tears。　See　for　yourself：　My　head　rests　upon　the　nape　of　your　neck　as　if　
it　were　a　part　of　your　body。　I　can　smell　your　hair　and　the　scent　of　your　neck。　
My　legs；　on　either　side　of　yours；　are　stretched　out　in　such　harmony　with　yours；　
that an onlooker might mistake us for an elegant four…legged beast。 Do you　
feel the balance of my weight on your back and buttocks？” Another silence；　
but I didn’t press the sword upward； because it would indeed have cut his　
throat。　“If　you’re　not　going　to　speak；　I　might　be　provoked　to　bite　your　ear；”　I　
said；　whispering　into　that　very　ear。　
When　I　noticed　in　his　eyes　that　he　was　prepared　to　speak；　I　asked　the　same　
question　again：　“Do　you　feel　the　balance　of　my　weight　upon　your　body？”　
“Aye。”　
“Do　you　like　it？”　I　said。　“Are　we　beautiful？”　I　asked。　“Are　we　as　beautiful　as　
the legendary heroes who slay each other with such elegance in the　
masterpieces　of　the　old　masters？”　
“I　don’t　know；”　said　Black；　“I　can’t　see　us　in　the　mirror。”　
When　I　imagined　how　my　wife　saw　us　from　the　other　room　in　the　light　cast　
by　the　coffeehouse’s　oil　lamp　resting　on　the　floor　only　a　short　distance　away；　I　
thought　I　might　actually　bite　Black’s　ear　out　of　excitement。　
392　
“Black Effendi； you； who have forced your way into my home and have　
disturbed　my　privacy；　dagger　in　hand；　in　order　to　interrogate　me；”　I　said；　“do　
you　now　feel　my　strength？”　
“Yes；　I　also　sense　that　you’re　truly　in　the　right。”　
“Then　proceed；　once　again；　to　ask　me　what　you　want　to　know。”　
“Describe　how　Master　Osman　would　caress　you。”　
“As　an　apprentice；　I　was　much　more　lithe；　delicate　and　beautiful　than　I　am　
now；　and　he　would　mount　me　then　the　way　I　have　mounted　you。　He　would　
caress　my　arms；　at　times　he　would　even　hurt　me；　but　because　I　was　in　awe　of　
his knowledge； his talent and strength； what he did pleased me； and I never　
harbored　any　ill　will　toward　him；　because　I　loved　him。　Loving　Master　Osman　
enabled　me　to　love　art；　colors；　paper；　the　beauty　of　painting　and　illumination　
and　everything　that　was　painted；　and　thereby　to　love　the　world　itself　and　God。　
Master　Osman　is　more　than　a　father　to　me。”　
“Would　he　beat　you　often？”　he　asked。　
“In　the　role　of　a　father；　he　beat　me　with　an　appropriate　sense　of　justice；　as　a　
master； he beat me painfully so that I might learn from the punishment。　
Thanks　to　the　pain　and　the　fear　of　a　ruler　whacking　my　fingernails　I　learned　
many　things　better　and　faster　than　I　would’ve　alone。　So　he　wouldn’t　grab　me　
by　my　hair　and　bang　my　head　against　the　wall　when　I　was　an　apprentice；　I’d　
never spill paint； never waste his gold orize； for　
example； the curve of a horse’s foreleg； cover up the mistakes of the master　
limner； clean my brushes regularly and focus my attention and spirit on the　
page　before　me。　Since　I　owe　my　talent　and　mastery　to　the　beatings　I　received；　I；　
in　turn；　beat　my　own　apprentices　without　a　guilty　conscience。　What’s　more；　I　
know　that　even　a　beating　given　without　just　cause；　if　it　doesn’t　break　the　spirit　
of　the　apprentice；　will　ultimately　benefit　him。”　
“Even so； you understand that while drubbing a handsome…faced； sweet…
eyed； angelic apprentice； now and then； you get carried away by the sheer　
pleasure of it； and you know that Master Osman probably experienced the　
same　sensation　with　you；　don’t　you？”　
“Sometimes　he’d　take　a　marble　burnishing　stone　and　strike　me　with　such　
force　behind　the　ear　that　my　ear　would　ring　for　days；　and　I’d　walk　around　half　
stunned。 Sometimes he’d slap me so hard that for weeks my cheek would　
ache；　enough　to　bring　continual　tears　to　my　eyes。　I　shall　never　forget；　yet　I　still　
love　my　mentor。”　
393　
“Nay；” said Black； “you were furious with him。 You took revenge for the　
anger that silently accumulated deep within you by making illustrations for　
my　Enishte’s　Frankish…imitation　book。”　
“The　opposite　is　true。　The　beatings　that　a　young　miniaturist　receives　from　
his　master　bind　him　to　his　master　with　a　profound　respect　until　the　day　he　
dies。”　
“The　cruel　and　treacherous　cutting　of　the　throats　of　Iraj　and　Siyavush　from　
behind；　as　you　are　doing　to　me；　arose　out　of　sibling　rivalry；　and　sibling　rivalry；　
as　in　the　Book　of　Kings；　is　always　provoked　by　an　unjust　father。”　
“True。”　
“The　unjust　father　of　you　master　miniaturists；　the　one　who　set　you　at　each　
other’s　throats；　is　now　preparing　to　betray　you；”　he　said　brazenly。　“Ahh；　I　beg　
of　you；　it　is　cutting；”　he　whimpered。　He　cried　in　agony　a　bit　longer。　Then　he　
went　on；　“True；　cutting　my　throat　and　spilling　my　blood　like　a　sacrificial　lamb　
would　be　but　the　work　of　an　instant；　but　if　you　do　this　without　listening　to　
what I’m about to explain—I don’t think you’ll do it anyway； ahh； please；　
enough—you’ll　forever　wonder　what　I　was　going　t