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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 complaining, I quieted him

down. “Don’t forget what I’ve done for you,” I said, coming 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 polite father-in-law.

“How fortunate. Take a look at this,” I said, giving him Black’s note like a

proud ambassador of the Sultan executing His merciless will.

As the gentlemanly father-in-law read the note, Shekure said, “Esther, come

and let me pour you a bowl of lentil soup to warm you up.”

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“I don’t like lentil soup,” I said at first. I didn’t like the way she spoke as if

she were mistress of the house. But when I understood that she wanted to be

alone with me, I grabbed the spoon and rushed after her.

“Tell Black that it’s all because of Shevket,” she whispered. “Last night I

waited all night alone with Orhan deathly afraid of the murderer. Orhan

trembled with fright until morning. My children had been separated! What

kind of mother could remain apart from her child? When Black failed to come

back, they told me that Our Sultan’s torturers had made him talk and that

he’d a hand in my father’s death.”

“Wasn’t Black with you when your father was being killed?”

“Esther,” she said, opening her beautiful black eyes wide, “I beg of you, help

me.”

“Then tell me why you’ve come back here so I might understand and help.”

“Do you think I know why I’ve returned?” she said. She seemed on the

verge of tears. “Black was rough with my poor Shevket,” she said. “And when

Hasan said that the children’s real father had returned, I believed him.”

But I could tell from her eyes that she was lying, and she knew I could tell.

“I was duped by Hasan!” she whispered, and I sensed that she wanted me to

infer from this that she loved Hasan. But did Shekure realize that she was

thinking more and more about Hasan because she had married Black?

The door opened and Hayriye entered carrying freshly baked bread whose

aroma was irresistible. When she caught sight of me, I could tell from her

expression of displeasure that after the death of Enishte Effendi, the poor

thing—she couldn’t be sold, couldn’t be dismissed—had become a legacy of

misery for Shekure. The scent of fresh bread filled the room, and I understood

the truth of the matter as Shekure faced the children: Whether it be their real

father, Hasan or Black, her problem wasn’t finding a husband she could love,

her challenge was to find a father who would love these boys, both of whom

were wide-eyed with fear. Shekure was ready, with the best of intentions, to

love any good husband.

“You’re seeking what you want with your heart,” I said unthinkingly,

“whereas you need to be making decisions with your mind.”

“I’m prepared to go back to Black immediately with the children,” she said,

“but I have certain conditions!” She fell quiet. “He must treat Shevket and

Orhan well. He shan’t inquire about my reasons for coming here. Above all, he

must abide by our original conditions of marriage—he’ll know what I’m

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talking about. He left me all alone to fend for myself last night against

murderers, thieves and Hasan.”

“He hasn’t yet found your father’s murderer, but he told me to tell you he

has.”

“Should I go to him?”

Before I could answer, the former father-in-law, who’d long since finished

reading the note, said, “Tell Black Effendi I can’t take the responsibility of

handing over my daughter-in-law without my son being present.”

“Which son?” I said for the sake of being shrewish, but softly.

“Hasan,” he said. Since he was a man of etiquette, he blushed. “My oldest

son is on his way back from Persia; there are witnesses.”

“Where’s Hasan?” I asked. I ate two spoonfuls of the soup Shekure had

offered me.

“He went to gather the clerks, porters and other men of the Customs

Office,” he said in the childish manner of decent yet dull men who cannot lie.

“After what the Erzurumis did yesterday, the Janissaries are certain to be on

the streets tonight.”

“We didn’t see anything of the sort,” I said as I walked toward the door. “Is

this all you have to say?”

I asked this question of the father-in-law to intimidate him, but Shekure

knew full well that I was really addressing her. Was her head truly this

befuddled or was she hiding something; for example, was she awaiting the

return of Hasan and his men? Oddly, I sensed that I liked her indecisiveness.

“We don’t want Black,” Shevket said confidently. “And make this your last

visit, fat lady.”

“But then who’ll bring around the lace tablecloths, the handkerchiefs

embroidered with flowers and birds that your pretty mother likes, and your

favorite red shirt cloth?” I said, leaving my bundle in the middle of the room.

“Until I return, you can open it up and take a look, try on, alter and sew

whatever you like.”

I was saddened as I left. I’d never seen Shekure’s eyes so wet with tears. As

soon as I adjusted to the cold outside, Black stopped me on the muddy road,

sword in hand.

“Hasan’s not home,” I said. “Perhaps he’s gone to the market to buy wine

to celebrate Shekure’s return. Perhaps he’ll soon be back with his men. In that

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case you’ll come to blows, because he’s crazy. And if he takes up that red

sword of his, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“What did Shekure say?”

“The father-in-law said absolutely not, I won’t give up my daughter-in-law,

but if I were you I wouldn’t worry about him, worry about Shekure. Your wife

is confused. If you ask me, she took refuge here two days after her father

perished for fear of the murderer, because of Hasan’s threats and your

disappearance without a word. She knew she couldn’t spend another night in

that same house plagued by the same fears. They also told her that you had a

hand in her father’s death. But her first husband hasn’t come back or

anything like that. Shevket, and it seems the father-in-law, believed Hasan’s lie.

She wants to return to you, but she has certain conditions.”

Staring directly into Black’s eyes, I listed her conditions. He accepted at

once with an official air as if he were speaking with a genuine ambassador.

“I, too, have a condition,” I said. “I’m heading back into the house again.” I

pointed out the shutters of the window behind which the father-in-law sat.

“In a little while attack from there and the front door. When I scream, that’ll

be the signal for you to stop. If Hasan arrives, don’t hesitate to attack him.”

My words, of course, did not befit an ambassador, to whom no harm

should come, but I let myself get carried away, you see. This time, as soon as I

yelled “Clothierrr,” the door opened. I went directly to the father-in-law.

“The entire neighborhood, and the judge who presides over these parts,

that is everyone, knows that Shekure has long been divorced and properly

remarried in keeping with the dictates of the Koran,” I said. “Even if your son,

who has long since passed away, came back to life and returned here to you

from Heaven in the company of the Prophet Moses, it’d be of no use for he’s

divorced from Shekure. You’ve abducted a married woman and are holding

her here against her will. Black requested that I tell you he and his men will see

to your punishment for this crime before the judge can.”

“Then he will have made a grave mistake,” said the father-in-law delicately.

“We didn’t abduct Shekure at all! I’m the grandfather of these children, praise

be to God. Hasan is their uncle. When Shekure was left all alone, what choice

did she have but to seek shelter here? If she wants, she can leave now and take

her children with her. But never forget that this is her first home, where she

gave birth to her children and happily raised them.”

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“Shekure,” I said unthinkingly, “do you want to return to your father’s

house?”

She’d begun to cry on account of the “happy hearth” speech. “I have no

father,” she said, or was that how I heard it? Her children first embraced her

legs, then sat her down and hugged her; the three of them hugged one another

in a large ball and wept. But Esther is no idiot: I knew full well that Shekure’s

tears were meant to appease both sides without her having to make a decision.

But I also knew they were genuine tears, because they moved me to cry, too. A

while later, I noticed that Hayriye, that snake, was also crying.

As if to pay back the green-eyed father-in-law for being the sole person in

the room who wasn’t crying, Black and his men began their attack on the

house that very moment by banging on the shutters and forcing the door. Two

men were at the front door with a battering ram whose blows sounded like

cannonfire through the house.

“You’re an experienced and dignified man,” I said, encouraged by my own

tears, “open the door and tell those rabid mongrels out there that Shekure is

on her way.”

“Would you send an unprotected woman, your daughter-in-law no less,

who’d taken refuge in your house, out onto the streets with those dogs?”

“She herself wants to go,” I said. With my purple handkerchief I wiped my

nose, which had stuffed up from crying.

“In that case she’s free to open the door and leave,” he said.

I sat down beside Shekure and her children. At each new blow, the

terrifying noise made by the men forcing the door became yet another excuse

for yet more tears, the children began to cry louder, which in turn increased

Shekure’s wailing and mine as well. Still, even taking into account the

threatening cries from outside and the blows of the battering ram that seemed

on the verge of destroying the house, both of us knew we were crying to gain

time.

“My beautiful Shekure,” I said, “your father-in-law has given you

permission and your husband Black has accepted all of your terms, he’s

waiting for you lovingly, you no longer have any business in this house. Put on

your cloak, don your veil, take your belongings and your children, and open

the door so we can go quietly back to your house.”

This statement of mine made the children wail even more, and caused

Shekure to open her eyes in shock.

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“I’m afraid of Hasan,” she said, “his revenge will be horrible. He’s wild.

Remember, I came here on my own.”

“This doesn’t cancel out your new marriage,” I said. “You were left helpless,

of course you were going to take refuge somewhere. Your husband’s forgiven

you, he’s prepared to take you back. As for Hasan, we’ll deal with him the way

we have for years.” I smiled.

“But I’m not going to open the door,” she said, “because then I’ll have

returned to him of my own free will.”

“My dearest Shekure, I cannot open the door either,” I said. “You know as

well as I that this would mean I’ve meddled in your affairs. They’d bitterly

avenge such meddling.”

I could see from her eyes that she understood. “Then no one will open the

door,” she said. “Let’s wait for them to break it down and take us by force.”

I knew at once this would be the best alternative for Shekure and her

children, and I was afraid. “But that means blood will be spilled,” I said. “If the

judge isn’t involved in this affair, blood will flow, and a blood feud will last for

years. No honorable man could stand by and watch as his house was broken

into and raided to abduct a woman residing there.”

I once again understood regretfully how deceptive and calculating this

Shekure was as she embraced her two boys and wailed with all her being

rather than answer. A voice was telling me to forget everything and leave, but I

could no longer walk back through the door, which was being battered to the

breaking point. Actually, I was afraid of both what would happen if they broke

down the door and came through and what would happen if they didn’t; I

kept thinking that Black’s men, who trusted in me, were worried about going

too far and might retreat at any moment, which would, in turn, embolden the

father-in-law. When he went to Shekure’s side, I knew he’d begun to cry fake

tears, but what’s worse, he was trembling in a way that couldn’t be feigned.