《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第170章

division head who always intimidated us with a ruler。 In consolation； my　
dearly　departed　mother　advised　me　that　there　were　two　types　of　people　in　the　
world：　those　who　were　cowed　and　crushed　by　their　childhood　beatings；　forever　
downtrodden；　she　said；　because　the　beatings　had　the　desired　effect　of　killing　
the　inner　devils；　and　those　fortunate　ones　for　whom　the　beatings　frightened　
and　tamed　the　devil　within　without　killing　him　off。　Though　the　latter　group　
would　never　forget　these　painful　childhood　memories—she’d　warned　me　not　
to　tell　this　to　anybody—the　beatings　would　in　time　enable　them　to　develop　
cunning； to fathom the unknown； to make friends； to identify enemies； to　
sense plots being hatched behind their backs and； let me hasten to add； to　
paint　better　than　anyone　else。　Because　I　wasn’t　able　to　draw　the　branches　of　a　
tree harmoniously； Master Osman would slap me so hard that； amid bitter　
tears；　forests　would　burgeon　before　me。　After　angrily　striking　me　in　the　head　
408　
because　I　couldn’t　see　the　errors　at　the　bottoms　of　pages；　he　lovingly　took　up　a　
mirror　and　placed　it　before　the　page　so　I　could　see　the　work　as　if　for　the　first　
time。　Then　pressing　his　cheek　to　mine；　he　so　lovingly　identified　the　mistakes　
that　magically　appeared　in　the　mirror　image　of　the　picture　that　I　never　forgot　
either　the　love　or　the　ritual。　The　morning　after　a　night　spent　weeping　in　my　
bed；　my　pride　violated　because　he　chastised　me　with　a　ruler　before　everyone；　
he　came　and　kissed　my　arms　so　tenderly　that　I　passionately　knew　I’d　one　day　
bee　a　legendary　miniaturist。　Nay；　it　was　not　I　who　drew　that　horse。”　
“We；” Black was referring to Stork and himself； “will search the dervish　
house for the last picture which was stolen by the accursed man who　
murdered　my　Enishte。　Did　you　ever　see　that　last　picture？”　
“It is nothing that could be accepted by Our Sultan； illuminators like us　
bound　to　the　old　masters　or　by　Muslims　bound　to　their　faith；”　I　said　and　fell　
silent。　
My　statement　made　him　more　eager。　He　and　Stork　began　their　search　of　the　
premises；　turning　the　whole　place　upside　down。　A　few　times；　simply　to　make　
their work easier； I went to them。 In one of the dervish cells with a leaky　
ceiling； I pointed out the hole in the floor so they wouldn’t fall and could　
search it if they so desired。 I gave them the large key to the small room in　
which the sheikh lived thirty years ago； before the adherents of this lodge　
joined up with the Bektashis and dispersed。 They entered eagerly； but when　
they　saw　that　an　entire　wall　was　missing　and　the　room　was　open　to　the　rain；　
they　didn’t　even　bother　to　search　it。　
It　pleased　me　that　Butterfly　wasn’t　with　them；　but　if　evidence　implicating　
me　were　found；　he；　too；　would　join　their　ranks。　Stork　was　of　the　same　mind　as　
Black；　who　was　afraid　that　Master　Osman　would　turn　us　over　to　the　torturers；　
and maintained that we must support one another and must be united in　
confronting　the　Head　Treasurer。　I　sensed　Black　was　not　only　motivated　by　the　
desire to give Shekure a genuine wedding present by finding his Enisthe’s　
murderer； he also intended to set Ottoman miniaturists on the path of　
European　masters　by　paying　them　with　the　Sultan’s　money　in　order　to　finish　
his　Enishte’s　book　in　imitation　of　the　Franks　（which　was　not　only　sacrilegious；　
but　ridiculous）。　I　also　understood；　with　some　certainty；　that　at　the　root　of　this　
scheme　was　Stork’s　desire　to　be　rid　of　us　and　even　of　Master　Osman；　for　he　
dreamt of being Head Illuminator and （since everyone guessed that Master　
Osman preferred Butterfly） he was prepared to try anything to increase his　
chances。 I was momentarily confused。 Listening to the rain； I deliberated at　
length。　Next；　like　a　man　who　breaks　away　from　the　crowd　and　struggles　to　give　
409　
his　petition　to　the　sovereign　and　grand　vizier　as　they　pass　on　horseback；　I　had　
the sudden inspiration to endear myself to Stork and Black。 Leading them　
through a dark hallway and large portal； I took them to a frightening room　
that　was　once　the　kitchen。　I　asked　them　if　they　were　able　to　find　anything　here　
among　the　ruins。　Of　course；　they　hadn’t。　There　was　no　trace　of　the　kettles；　the　
pots and pans and the bellows that were once used to prepare food for the　
forsaken　and　the　poor。　I　never　even　attempted　to　clean　up　this　ghastly　room　
covered　in　cobwebs；　dust；　mud；　debris　and　the　excrement　of　dogs　and　cats。　As　
always； a strong wind； rising up as if out of nowhere； dimmed the lamp—
making　our　shadows　now　lighter；　now　darker。　
“You searched and searched but you couldn’t find my hidden treasure；” I　
said。　
Out of habit； I used the back of my hand as a broom to sweep away the　
ashes　in　what　used　to　be　a　hearth　and　when　an　old　stove　emerged；　I　lifted　up　
its　iron　lid　with　a　creak。　I　held　the　lamp　to　the　small　mouth　of　the　stove。　I　shall　
never　forget　how　Stork　leapt　forward　and　greedily　grabbed　the　leather　pouches　
within　before　Black　could　act。　He　was　about　to　open　the　pouches　right　there　in　
the　mouth　of　the　oven；　but　as　I　had　returned　to　the　large　salon；　followed　by　
Black who was afraid of remaining here； Stork bounded after us on his long　
thin　legs。　
When　they　saw　that　one　pouch　contained　a　pair　of　clean　woolen　socks；　my　
drawstring　trousers；　my　red　underwear；　the　nicest　of　my　undershirts；　my　silk　
shirt； my straight razor； my b and other belongings； they were　
momentarily　at　a　loss。　Out　of　the　other　pouch；　which　Black　opened；　emerged　
fifty…three Veian gold coins； pieces of gold leaf that I’d stolen from the　
workshop in recent years； my sketchbook of model forms which I concealed　
from everybody； more stolen gold leaf hidden between the pages； indecent　
pictures—some　of　which　I’d　drawn　myself　and　some　I’d　collected—a　keepsake　
ag