eagerly shared my other suspicions： I informed him that the moary rewards
and honor involved in being invited to illustrate and illuminate Enishte
Effendi’s book had likely led to unavoidable petition and jealousy among
the masters。 The secrecy of the project alone could very well have instigated
these hatreds； grudges and intrigues。 As the words left my mouth； I sensed
nervously that the Head Treasurer had somehow grown suspicious of me—the
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way you have as well。 My dear Allah； let justice be done； that is all I ask；
nothing more。
Within the ensuing silence； the Head Treasurer cast his glance away from
me； as if embarrassed on my behalf for my words and my destiny； and fixed his
attention on the pictures resting on the folding table。
“There are nine plates here；” he said。 “The arrangement had been for a book
with ten illustrations。 Enishte Effendi took more gold leaf from us than has
been used here。”
“That murdering heretic must have stolen the last illustration； upon which
much of the gold was applied；” I said。
“You haven’t told us who the calligrapher…scribe might be。”
“My late Enishte hadn’t yet pleted the book’s text。 He was anticipating
my help in its pletion。”
“My dear child； you’ve just explained how you’re newly arrived in
Istanbul。”
“It’s been one week。 I arrived three days after Elegant Effendi was killed。”
“You mean to say that your Enishte Effendi has been illustrating an
unwritten—a nonexistent—manuscript for an entire year？”
“Yes； sir。”
“Had he； then； revealed to you what the book was to recount？”
“Precisely what Our Sultan stated He wanted： A book that depicted the
thousandth year of the Muslim calendar； which would strike terror into the
heart of the Veian Doge by showing the military strength and pride of
Islam； together with the power and wealth of the Exalted House of Osman。
This was intended to be a book recounting and depicting the most valuable；
most vital aspects of our realm； and just as with the Treatises on Physiognomy； a
portrait of Our Sultan would be situated at the heart of the book。
Furthermore； since the illustrations were made in the Frankish style using
Frankish methods； they would arouse the awe of the Veian Doge and his
desire for friendship。”
“I’m aware of all that； but are these dogs and trees the most valuable and
vital aspects of the Exalted House of Osman？” he said； gesturing wildly at the
illustrations。
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“My Enishte； may he rest in peace； insisted that the book show not Our
Sultan’s wealth alone； but His spiritual and moral strength along with His
hidden sorrows。”
“And Our Sultan’s portrait？”
“I haven’t seen it。 It’s probably wherever that heretic murderer has hidden
it。 Who knows； it’s probably in his house at this very moment。”
My late Enishte had been diminished to the status of a man who’d
missioned a menagerie of odd pictures that the Head Treasurer deemed
worthless； rather than one who’d struggled to plete a book worthy of the
gold he’d been paid。 Was the Head Treasurer thinking I’d murdered an inept
and untrustworthy man in order to marry Enishte’s daughter； or for some
other reason—perhaps to sell off the gold leaf？ From his glances； I read that
my case was about to be closed； so speaking nervously and with the last of my
strength； I tried to clear my name： I told him that my Enishte had confided to
me that one of the master miniaturists he hired might’ve murdered poor
Elegant Effendi。 Keeping my declaration brief； I told him how my Enishte
suspected Olive； Stork or Butterfly。 I neither had much proof nor felt much
self…confidence。 Afterward； I sensed that the Head Treasurer considered me
nothing but a base slanderer and a foolish gossip。
Finally； I was elated when the Head Treasurer said we must conceal the
details of Enishte’s mysterious death from the workshop； I took this as a sign
that he believed my story。 The pictures remained with the Head Treasurer and I
passed through the Gate of Salutation—which had earlier felt like the Gate of
Heaven。 After exiting under the scrutiny of the guards； I immediately relaxed；
like a soldier returned home after an absence of many years。
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I AM YOUR BELOVED UNCLE
My funeral was splendid； exactly as I’d wanted。 It made me proud that
everybody I’d wished would attend came。 Of the viziers who were in Istanbul
at the time of my death； Haji Hüseyin Pasha of Cyprus and Baki Pasha the
Lame loyally remembered that I’d rendered extensive services to them at one
time or another。 The presence of the Minister of Accounts； Red Melek Pasha；
who； at the time of my death was both in high favor and much criticized；
enlivened the humble courtyard of our neighborhood mosque。 Had I lived and
continued an active political life； I would’ve been promoted to the same rank
as Mustafa Agha； the Sultan’s Chief Herald； whose presence especially
delighted me。 The mourners constituted a large； dignified and impressive
group that included the Divan Secretary Kemalettin Effendi； Chief Secretary
Salim Effendi the Austere； the heralds of the Divan—each of whom was either
a dear friend or an archenemy—a group of former Divan councillors who’d
resigned early from active political life； my school friends； others who’d
somehow learned of my death—I cannot imagine how or where—and various
other relatives； in…laws and youths。
I also took pride in the congregation； its seriousness and its grief。 The
presence of the Head Treasurer Haz？m Agha and the mander of the
Imperial Guard made clear to all in attendance that His Excellency Our Sultan
was sincerely aggrieved by my untimely death。 I was； indeed； very pleased by
this。 I don’t know whether the sorrow of Our Glorious Sultan means great
efforts will be made to catch my rogue murderer； including the mobilization of
torturers； but I do know this： that accursed man is now in the courtyard；
among the other miniaturists and calligraphers； wearing a dignified and
exceedingly tormented expression as he gazes at my coffin。
Pray； don’t think that I’m infuriated by my murderer or that I’m set on a
path of revenge； or even that my soul is restless because I’ve been treacherously
and cruelly slain。 I am； at present； on a pletely different plane of being；
and my soul is quite at peace； having returned to its former glory after years of
suffering on Earth。
My soul temporarily quitted my body； which was writhing in pain as it lay
covered in blood from the blows of the inkpot； and quivered for a while within
an intense light； afterward； two beautiful and smiling angels with faces bright
as the sun—such as I’d read about countless times in the Book of the Soul—
slowly approached me within this ethereal brilliance； grabbed me by my arms；
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as if I were still a body； and began their ascent。 Ever so serenely and gently； ever
so quickly we ascended as if in a blissful dream！ We passed through forests of
fire； forded rivers of light and forged dark seas and mountains of snow and ice。
Each crossing took us thousands of years； though it seemed no more than the
blink of an eye。
We ascended through the seven Heavens； passing varieties of gatherings；
peculiar creatures； marshes and clouds swarming with an infinite variety of
insects and birds。 At each level of Heaven； the angel who led the way would
knock on a portal； and when the question； “Who goes there？” came from
beyond； the angel would describe me including all my names and attributes；
summing up by saying； “An obedient servant of Exalted Allah！”—which would
bring tears of joy to my eyes。 I knew； however； that there were yet thousands
of years before the Day of Judgment when those destined for Heaven would be
separated from those destined for Hell。
My ascension； except for a few minor differences； happened just the way
Gazzali； El Jevziyye and other legendary scholars described in their passages on
death。 Eternal puzzles and dark enigmas that only the dead might understand
were now being revealed and illuminated； bursting forth brilliantly one by one
in thousands of colors。
Oh； how might I adequately describe the hues I saw during this exquisite
journey？ The whole world was made up of color； everything was color。 Just as I
sensed that the force separating me from all other beings and objects consisted
of color； I now knew that it was color itself that had affectionately embraced
me and bound me to the world。 I saw orange…hued skies； beautiful leaf…green
bodies； brown eggs and legendary sky…blue horses。 The world was faithful to
the