axe。 I watched for a while; thinking it wouldn’t last; but the Tatar was wailing。
I ran over and pulled the beggar away before they killed him。
371
“He cursed my mother;” said the apprentice。
“He says that Hasan isn’t home;” Black said。 “Can we trust what this blind
man says?” He handed me a note that he’d quickly written。 “Take this; bring it
to the house; give it to Hasan; and if he’s not there; give it to his father;” he
said。
“Haven’t you written anything for Shekure?” I asked as I took the note。
“If I send her a separate note; it’ll incite the men of the house even more;”
Black said。 “Tell her I’ve found her father’s vile murderer。”
“Is this true?”
“Just tell her。”
Chastising the Tatar; who was still crying and plaining; I quieted him
down。 “Don’t forget what I’ve done for you;” I said; ing to the realization
that I’d drawn out the incident so I wouldn’t have to leave。
Why had I stuck my nose into this affair? Two years ago in the Edirne Gate
neighborhood they’d killed a clothes peddlar—after cutting off her ears—
because the maiden she’d promised to one man married another。 My
grandmother used to tell me that Turks would often kill a man for no reason。 I
longed to be with my dearest Nesim; at home having lentil soup。 Even though
my feet resisted; I thought about how Shekure would be there; and walked to
the house。 Curiosity was eating at me。
“Clothierrr! I have new Chinese silks for holiday outfits。”
I sensed the orangish light filtering out between the shutters move。 The
door opened。 Hasan’s polite father invited me inside。 The house was warm;
like the houses of the rich。 When Shekure; who was seated at a low dining
table with her boys saw me; she rose to her feet。
“Shekure;” I said; “your husband’s here。”
“Which one?”
“The newer;” I said。 “He’s surrounded the house with his band of armed
men。 They’re prepared to fight Hasan。”
“Hasan isn’t here;” said the polit