《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第178章

Elegant　Effendi　to　this　dervish　lodge　in　the　middle　of　the　night！　I　brought　him　
here with the excuse that we’d nearly frozen walking the streets so long。 In　
actuality；　it　pleased　me　to　show　him　I　was　a　free…thinking　Kalenderi　throwback；　
or　worse　yet；　that　I　aspired　to　be　a　Kalenderi。　When　Elegant　understood　I　was　
the last of the followers of a dervish order based on pederasty； hashish　
consumption； vagrancy and all manner of aberrant behavior； I thought he’d　
fear and respect me even more； and in turn； be intimidated into silence。 As　
fate would have it； the exact opposite happened。 Our dim…witted boyhood　
friend disliked it here； and he quickly decided the accusations of blasphemy　
he’d learned from your Enishte ark。 So； our beloved　
apprenticeship panion； who’d at first implored； ”Help me； convince me　
that　we　won’t　go　to　Hell　so　I　might　sleep　in　peace　tonight；“　in　a　newfound；　
threatening　tone；　began　to　insist　that　”this　will　end　in　nothing　but　evil。“　He　
was　convinced　the　preacher　hoja　from　Erzurum　would　hear　the　rumors　that　in　
the final picture we’d veered from the orders of Our Sultan； who’d never　
forgive this transgression。 Convincing him everything was clear skies and　
sunshine was nearly impossible。 He’d tell all to the preacher’s dull　
congregation； exaggerating Enishte’s absurdities； the anxieties about affronts　
to the religion and rendering the Devil in a favorable light； and they’d　
naturally　believe　every　slanderous　word。　I　don’t　have　to　tell　you　how；　not　only　
the　artisans；　but　the　entire　society　of　craftsmen　have　grown　jealous　of　us　since　
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we’ve bee the intense focus of Our Sultan’s attention。 Now all of them　
will gleefully declare in unison ”the miniaturists are mired in heresy。“　
Furthermore； the cooperation between Enishte and Elegant Effendi would　
prove this slander true。 I say ”slander‘ because I don’t believe in what my　
brother　Elegant　said　about　the　book　and　the　last　picture。　Even　then；　I　would　
hear　nothing　against　your　late　Enishte。　I　found　it　quite　appropriate　that　Our　
Sultan turn his favors from Master Osman to Enishte Effendi； and I even　
believed； if not to the same degree； what Enishte described to me at length　
about　the　Frankish　masters　and　their　artistry。　I　used　to　believe　quite　sincerely　
that　we　Ottoman　artists　could　fortably　take　from　this　or　that　aspect　of　the　
Frankish　methods　as　much　as　our　hearts　desired　or　as　much　as　could　be　seen　
during　a　visit　abroad—without　bartering　with　the　Devil　or　bringing　any　great　
harm　upon　us。　Life　was　easy；　your　Enishte；　may　he　rest　in　peace；　had　succeeded　
Master　Osman；　and　was　a　new　father　to　me　in　this　new　life。“　
“Let’s not discuss that point yet；” said Black。 “First describe how you　
murdered　Elegant。”　
“This deed；” I said； recognizing that I couldn’t use the word “murder；” “I　
mitted　this　deed　not　only　for　us；　to　save　us；　but　for　the　salvation　of　the　
entire　workshop。　Elegant　Effendi　knew　he　posed　a　powerful　threat。　I　prayed　to　
Almighty　God；　begging　him　to　give　me　a　sign　showing　me　how　despicable　this　
scoundrel　really　was。　My　prayers　were　answered　when　I　offered　Elegant　money。　
God had shown me how wretched he really was。 These gold pieces came to　
mind；　but　by　divine　inspiration；　I　lied。　I　said　the　gold　pieces　weren’t　here　in　
the　lodge；　but　I’d　hidden　them　elsewhere。　We　went　out。　I　walked　him　through　
empty streets and out…of…the…way neighborhoods without any consideration　
for　where　we　were　going。　I　had　no　idea　what　I　would　do；　and　in　short；　I　was　
afraid。　At　the　end　of　our　wandering；　after　we’d　e　to　a　street　we’d　passed　
earlier； our brother Elegant Effendi the gilder； who devoted his entire life to　
form　and　repetition；　grew　suspicious。　But　God　provided　me　with　an　empty　lot　
ravaged　by　fire；　and　nearby；　a　dry　well。”　
At　this　point　I　knew　I　couldn’t　go　on　and　I　told　them　so。　“If　you　were　in　my　
shoes；　you　would’ve　considered　the　salvation　of　your　artist　brethren　and　done　
the　same　thing；”　I　said　confidently。　
When　I　heard　them　agree　with　me；　I　felt　like　crying。　I　was　going　to　say　it　
was　because　their　passion；　which　I　hardly　deserved；　softened　my　heart；　but　
no。　I　was　going　to　say　it　was　because　I　again　heard　the　thud　of　his　body　hitting　
the　bottom　of　the　well　wherein　I　dropped　him　after　killing　him；　but　no。　I　was　
going　to　say　it　was　because　I　remembered　how　happy　I　was　before　being　a　
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murderer；　how　I’d　been　like　everybody　else；　but　no。　The　blind　man　who　used　
to pass through our neighborhood in my childhood appeared in my mind’s　
eye：　He’d　take　a　dirty　metal　water　dipper　out　of　his　even　dirtier　clothes；　and　
would call out to us neighborhood kids who watched him from a distance；　
there by the local water fountain； “My children； which of you will fill this　
blind　old　man’s　drinking　cup　with　water　from　the　fountain？”　When　no　one　
went　to　his　aid；　he’d　say；　“It’d　be　a　good　turn；　my　children；　a　pious　deed！”　The　
color　of　his　irises　had　faded　and　they　were　nearly　the　same　color　as　the　whites　
of　his　eyes。　
Agitated　by　the　thought　of　resembling　that　blind　old　man；　I　confessed　how　
I did away with Enishte Effendi hurriedly； without savoring any of it。 I was　
neither too honest nor too insincere with them： I found a medium　
consistency； such that the story wouldn’t trouble my heart too much； and　
they’d　be　assured　I　hadn’t　gone　to　Enishte’s　house　to　murder　him。　I　wanted　
to make clear that it wasn’t a premeditated murder； which intent they　
gathered when I reminded them of the following while trying to absolve　
myself：　“Without　harboring　bad　intentions；　one　never　goes　to　Hell。”　
“After surrendering Elegant Effendi to the Angels of Allah；” I said　
thoughtfully；　“what　the　dearly　departed　expressed　t