《my name is red-我的名字叫红》我的名字叫红-第181章

my gold pieces； my notebook of forms； and put my illustrations into my　
portfolio。 I considered how I might kill each of them one by one with the　
dagger；　whose　point　I　held　at　Black’s　throat；　but　I　felt　nothing　but　affection　for　
my　boyhood　friends—including　Stork；　who’d　stuck　the　plume　needle　into　my　
eyes。　
I　screamed　at　Butterfly；　who　had　stood　up；　and　thus　scared　him　into　sitting　
back　down。　Now；　confident　I’d　be　able　to　escape　the　lodge　safely；　I　hastened　
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toward　the　door；　and　at　the　threshold；　I　impatiently　uttered　the　momentous　
words　I’d　been　planning　to　say：　
“My flight from Istanbul shall resemble Ibn Shakir’s flight from Baghdad　
under　Mongol　occupation。”　
“In　that　case；　you　must　head　West　instead　of　East；”　said　jealous　Stork。　
“To　God　belongs　the　East　and　the　West；”　I　said　in　Arabic　like　the　late　Enishte。　
“But　East　is　east　and　West　is　west；”　said　Black。　
“An　artist　should　never　succumb　to　hubris　of　any　kind；”　said　Butterfly；　“he　
should simply paint the way he sees fit rather than troubling over East or　
West。”　
“So　very　true；”　I　said　to　beloved　Butterfly。　“Accept　my　kiss。”　
I’d　hardly　taken　two　steps　toward　him　when　Black　dutifully　pounced　upon　
me。　In　one　hand　I　held　my　satchel　containing　my　clothes　and　gold　coins；　and　
under　my　other　arm；　the　portfolio　filled　with　pictures。　Taking　care　to　protect　
my　belongings；　I　failed　to　protect　myself。　I　couldn’t　prevent　him　from　grabbing　
the forearm of the hand that held the dagger。 But luck did not shine upon　
him；　either；　he　tripped　slightly　over　a　low　worktable　and　momentarily　lost　his　
balance。 Instead of taking control of my arm； he ended up hanging by it。　
Kicking him with all my might and biting his fingers； I freed myself。 He　
howled； fearing for his life。 Then； I stepped on the same hand； causing him　
great　pain。　Brandishing　the　dagger　before　the　other　two；　I　shouted：　
“Halt！”　
They　stayed　seated　where　they　were。　I　stuck　the　point　of　the　dagger　into　one　
of　Black’s　nostrils；　the　way　Keykavus　had　done　in　the　legend。　When　it　began　to　
bleed；　bitter　tears　flowed　from　his　imploring　eyes。　
“Now；　tell　me　then；”　I　said；　“shall　I　go　blind？”　
“According　to　legend；　blood　clots　in　the　eyes　of　some　and　not　in　others。　If　
Allah　is　pleased　with　your　artistry；　he’ll　bestow　His　own　magnificent　blackness　
upon　you　and　take　you　under　His　care。　In　that　case；　you　shall　behold　not　this　
wretched　world；　but　the　exquisite　vistas　that　He　sees。　If　He　is　displeased；　you　
shall　continue　to　see　the　world　the　way　you　now　do。”　
“I　shall　practice　genuine　artistry　in　Hindustan；”　I　said。　“I’ve　yet　to　make　the　
picture　Allah　will　judge　me　by。”　
“Don’t nourish the illusion over much that you’ll be able to escape　
Frankish　methods；”　said　Black。　“Did　you　know　that　Akbar　Khan　encourages　all　
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his　artists　to　sign　their　work？　The　Jesuit　priests　of　Portugal　long　ago　introduced　
European　painting　and　methods　there。　They　are　everywhere　now。”　
“There’s always work for the artist who wants to remain pure； there’s　
always　a　place　to　find　shelter；”　I　said。　
“Aye；”　said　Stork；　“going　blind　and　fleeing　to　nonexistent　countries。”　
“Why　is　it　that　you　want　to　remain　pure？”　said　Black。　“Stay　here　with　us。”　
“For　the　rest　of　your　lives　you’ll　do　nothing　but　emulate　the　Franks　for　the　
sake of an individual style；” I said。 “But precisely because you emulate the　
Franks　you’ll　never　attain　individual　style。”　
“There’s　nothing　else　left　to　do；”　said　Black　dishonorably。　
Of　course；　it　wasn’t　artistry　but　beautiful　Shekure　that　was　his　sole　source　
of happiness。 I removed the bloodstained dagger from Black’s bleeding nose　
and raised it over his head like the sword of an executioner preparing to　
behead　a　condemned　man。　
“If　I　so　desired；　I　could　cut　off　your　head　this　instant；”　I　said；　announcing　
what was already apparent。 “But I’m prepared to spare you for the sake of　
Shekure’s children and her happiness。 Be good to her and don’t act crudely　
and　ignorantly　toward　her。　Promise　me！”　
“I　give　my　word；”　he　said。　
“I　hereby　grant　you　Shekure；”　I　said。　
Yet my arm acted of its own accord； heedless of my words。 I drove the　
dagger　down　upon　Black　with　all　my　might。　
At the last moment； both because Black moved and because I altered the　
path of my blow； the dagger struck his shoulder； not his neck。 I watched in　
terror；　the　deed　enacted　by　my　arm　alone。　Once　I　removed　the　dagger；　sunk　to　
its　handle　in　Black’s　flesh；　the　spot　bloomed　a　pure　red。　What　I’d　done　both　
frightened and shamed me。 But if I went blind on the ship； perhaps on the　
Arabian seas； I knew that I could not then take revenge upon any of my　
miniaturist　brethren。　
Stork； afraid that his turn had e； and justifiably so； fled into the　
blackened　rooms　within。　Holding　the　lamp　aloft；　I　went　after　him；　but　soon　
grew frightened and turned back。 My last gesture was to kiss Butterfly； and　
saying farewell； to take my leave of him。 Since the tang of blood had e　
between us； I couldn’t kiss him to my heart’s content。 But he noticed that　
tears　flowed　from　my　eyes。　
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I left the lodge within a kind of deathly silence punctuated by Black’s　
moaning。 Nearly running； I fled the wet and muddy garden； the dark　
neighborhood。　The　ship　that　was　to　take　me　to　Akbar　Khan’s　workshop　would　
depart　after　the　morning　azan；　at　that　hour　the　last　rowboat　would　leave　for　
the　ship　from　Galleon　Harbor。　As　I　ran；　tears　poured　from　my　eyes。　
As　I　passed　through　Aksaray　like　a　thief；　I　could　faintly　make　out　the　first　
light of day on the horizon。 Opposite the first neighborhood fountain I　
encountered；　among　the　side　streets；　narrow　passages　and　walls；　was　the　stone　
house　in　which　I’d　spent　the　night　of　my　first　day　in　Istanbul　twenty…five　years　
ago。　There；