《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第168章

Olive； who couldn’t be found at home； was hiding away in the deserted　
Kalenderi　dervish　house　near　the　Phanar　Gate。　This　dervish　lodge　was　closed　
during the reign of Our Sultan’s grandfather； not because it was a den of　
degradation and immorality； but rather； as a result of the endless wars with　
the　Persians；　and；　I　added；　there　was　even　a　time　when　Olive　boasted　that　he　
was　keeping　guard　over　the　forbidden　dervish　lodge。　If　they　didn’t　trust　me；　
suspecting some ruse behind my words； the dagger was in their hands； they　
were　free　to　mete　out　my　punishment　then　and　there。　
Butterfly landed two more heavy blows of the dagger that most armor　
could　not　have　withstood。　He　turned　to　Black；　who　believed　what　I　told　them；　
and　screamed　at　him　childishly。　I　came　up　from　behind；　put　my　armor…plated　
arm　around　Butterfly’s　neck　and　drew　him　toward　me。　Bending　his　other　arm　
back with my free hand； I made him drop the dagger。 We weren’t quite　
struggling； nor were we entirely playing。 I recounted a similar； little…known　
scene　in　the　Book　of　Kings。　
“On　the　third　day　of　a　confrontation　between　Persian　and　Turanian　armies　
fully equipped in armor and weaponry and arrayed at the foot of Mount　
Hamaran； the Turanians sent the wily Shengil into the field to learn the　
identity　of　a　mysterious　Persian　who’d　killed　a　great　Turanian　warrior　on　each　
of　the　previous　two　days；”　I　began。　“Shengil　challenged　the　mysterious　warrior；　
403　
and　he　accepted。　The　armies；　their　armor　glimmering　brightly　in　the　afternoon　
sun； watched with bated breath。 The armored horses of the two warriors　
engaged　each　other　with　such　speed　that　sparks　flying　from　the　clash　of　metal　
singed　the　hides　of　the　horses　which　gave　off　smoke。　The　fight　was　a　lengthy　
one。 The Turanian shot arrows； the Persian maneuvered his sword and horse　
skillfully；　and　finally；　the　mysterious　Persian　felled　the　Turanian　after　catching　
him　by　the　tail　of　his　steed。　He　then　chased　after　Shengil　who　was　trying　to　
escape；　and　grabbed　him　by　his　armor　from　behind　before　taking　him　by　the　
neck。　As　he　accepted　his　defeat；　the　Turanian；　still　curious　about　the　identity　of　
the　mysterious　warrior；　asked　without　hope　what　everybody　had　wondered　for　
days；　”Who　are　you？“　”To　you；“　replied　the　mysterious　warrior；　”my　name　is　
Death。“　Tell　me　then；　my　friends；　who　was　he？”　
“The　legendary　Rüstem；”　said　Butterfly　with　childlike　glee。　
I kissed him on the neck。 “We’ve all betrayed Master Osman；” I said。　
“Before　he　metes　out　his　punishment；　we　must　find　Olive；　rid　ourselves　of　this　
venom　in　our　midst　and　e　to　an　agreement　so　we　can　stand　strong　against　
the　eternal　enemies　of　art　and　those　who　long　to　send　us　directly　to　dungeons　
of　torture。　Perhaps；　when　we　arrive　at　Olive’s　abandoned　dervish　house；　we’ll　
learn　that　the　cruel　murderer　isn’t　even　one　of　our　lot。”　
Poor　Butterfly　uttered　not　a　sound。　Regardless　of　how　talented；　confident　
or well supported he might be； just like all illuminators who sought one　
another’s pany depite their mutual loathing and envy； he was deathly　
afraid　of　being　left　alone　in　this　world　and　of　going　to　Hell。　
On　the　route　to　the　Phanar　Gate；　there　was　an　eerie　greenish…yellow　light　
above us； but it wasn’t the light of the moon。 In this light； the old； faithful　
nighttime appearance of Istanbul prised of cypress trees； leaden domes；　
stone walls； wooden houses and tracts ravaged by fire was overtaken by an　
unfamiliarity　such　as　might　be　caused　by　an　enemy　fortress。　As　we　ascended　
the hill； in the distance we saw the fire that burned somewhere beyond the　
Bayazid　Mosque。　
In　the　heavy　darkness；　we　came　across　an　oxcart　half…loaded　with　sacks　of　
flour heading toward the city walls； and parting with two silver coins； we　
procured　a　ride。　Black　had　the　pictures　with　him；　and　he　sat　down　carefully。　As　
I　lay　back　and　watched　the　low　clouds　glow　from　the　fire；　two　raindrops　fell　
upon　my　helmet。　
After a long journey； as we searched for the deserted dervish lodge we　
roused all the dogs in the neighborhood which； in the middle of the night；　
404　
seemed　to　be　abandoned。　Although　we　saw　that　lamps　were　now　burning　in　a　
few　stone　houses　in　response　to　our　clamor；　it　was　only　the　fourth　door　we　
knocked　upon　that　opened　to　us；　and　a　man　in　skullcap；　gaping　at　us　by　the　
light of his lamp as if we were the living dead； gave us directions to the　
deserted　dervish　lodge　without　even　sticking　his　nose　out　into　the　quickening　
rain—merrily adding that once there； we’d have no peace from the evils of　
jinns；　demons　and　ghosts。　
In the garden of the dervish lodge we were greeted by the calm of proud　
cypresses；　indifferent　to　the　rain　and　the　stench　of　rotting　leaves。　I　brought　my　
eye　up　to　one　of　the　cracks　between　the　wooden　planks　of　the　dervish…lodge　
walls；　and　later；　to　the　shutter　of　a　small　window；　whereupon；　by　the　light　of　
an　oil　lamp；　I　saw　the　menacing　shadow　of　a　man　performing　his　prayers—or　
perhaps；　a　man　pretending；　for　our　sake；　to　pray。　
405　
I　AM　CALLED　“OLIVE”　
Was　it　more　fitting　for　me　to　abandon　my　prayers；　spring　to　my　feet　and　open　
the door for them or to keep them waiting in the rain until I’d finished？　
When I realized they were watching me； I pleted my prayers in a　
somewhat　distracted　state。　I　opened　the　door；　and　there　they　were—Butterfly；　
Stork　and　Black。　I　gave　a　cry　of　joy　and　embraced　Butterfly。　
“Alas；　what　we’ve　had　to　bear　of　late！”　I　lamented；　burying　my　head　into　
his　shoulder。　“What　do　they　want　from　us？　Why　are　they　killing　us？”　
Each　of　them　displayed　the　panic　of　being　separated　from　the　herd；　which　
I’d　seen　from　time　to　time　in　every　master　painter　over　the　span　of　my　life。　
Even　here　in　the　lodge；　they　were　loath　to　separate　from　one　another。　
“We　can　safely　take