carriages full of elderly harem women chattering about the extravagances of
days bygone。 But Shekure’s wedding lacked even the four pole bearers to hold
aloft the red silk canopy that ordinarily protected rich maidens from prying
eyes； for that matter； there wasn’t even one servant to lead the procession
bearing large wedding candles and tree…shaped decorations ornamented with
fruit； gold； silver leaf and polished stones。 More than embarrassment； I felt a
sadness that threatened to fill my eyes with tears each time the disrespectful
hand…drum and zurna players simply stopped playing when our procession got
swallowed up in crowds of market…goers or servants fetching water from the
fountain in the square because we had no one clearing the way with shouts of
“Here es the bride。” As we were nearing the house； I mustered the courage
to turn in my saddle and gaze at her； and was relieved that beneath her pink
bride’s tinsel and red veil； far from being saddened by all these pitiful
shortings； she seemed heartened to know that we’d concluded our
procession and our journey with neither accident nor mishap。 So； like all
grooms； I lowered my beautiful bride； whom I would shortly wed； from her
horse； took her by the arm； and handful by handful； slowly emptied a bag of
silver coins over her head before the gleeful crowd。 While the children who’d
followed behind our meager parade scrambled for the coins； Shekure and I
entered the courtyard and crossed the stone walkway； and as soon as we
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entered the house； we were struck not only by the heat； but the horror of the
heavy smell of decay。
While the throng from the procession was making itself fortable in the
house； Shekure and the crowd of elders； women and children （Orhan was
glaring suspiciously at me from the corner） carried on as if nothing were
amiss； and momentarily I doubted my senses； but I knew how corpses left
under the sun after battle； their clothes tattered； boots and belts stolen； and
their faces； their eyes and lips ravaged by wolves and birds smelled。 It was a
stench that had so often filled my mouth and lungs to the point of suffocation
that I could not mistake it。
Downstairs in the kitchen； I asked Hayriye about Enishte Effendi’s body；
aware that I was speaking to her for the first time as master of the house。
“As you asked； we laid out his mattress； dressed him in his nightclothes；
dre and placed bottles of syrup beside him。 If he’s giving
off an unpleasant smell； it’s probably due to the heat from the brazier in the
room；” the woman said through tears。
One or two of her tears fell； sizzling into the pot she was using to fry the
mutton。 From the way she was crying； I supposed that Enishte Effendi had
been taking her into his bed at night。 Esther； who was quietly and proudly
sitting in a corner of the kitchen； swallowed what she was chewing and stood。
“Make her happiness your foremost concern；” she said。 “Recognize her
worth。”
In my thoughts I heard the lute I’d heard on the street the first day I’d
e to Istanbul。 More than sadness； there was vigor in its melody。 I heard the
melody of that music again later； in the half…darkened room where my Enishte
lay in his white nightgown； as the Imam Effendi married us。
Because Hayriye had furtively aired out the room beforehand and placed
the oil lamp in a corner so its light was dimmed； one could scarcely tell that
my Enishte was sick let alone dead。 Thus； he served as Shekure’s legal guardian
during the ceremony。 My friend the barber； along with a know…it…all
neighborhood elder； served as witnesses。 Before the ceremony ended with the
hopeful blessings and advice of the preacher and the prayers of all in
attendance； a nosy old man； concerned about the state of my Enishte’s health；
was about to lower his skeptical head toward the deceased； but as soon as the
preacher pleted the ceremony； I leapt from my spot； grabbed my Enishte’s
rigid hand and shouted at the top of my voice：
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“Put your worries to rest； my sir； my dear Enishte。 I’ll do everything within
my power to care for Shekure and her children； to see they’re well clothed and
well fed； loved and untroubled。”
Next； to suggest that my Enishte was trying to whisper to me from his
sickbed； I carefully and respectfully pressed my ear to his mouth； pretending to
listen to him intently and wide…eyed； as young men do when an elder they
respect offers one or two words of advice distilled from an entire lifetime；
which they then imbibe like some magic elixir。 The Imam Effendi and the
neighborhood elder appeared to appreciate and approve of the loyalty and
eternal devotion I showed my father…in…law。 I hope that nobody still thinks I
had a hand in his murder。
I announced to the wedding guests still in the room that the afflicted man
wished to be left alone。 They abruptly began to leave； passing into the next
room where the men had gathered to feast on Hayriye’s pilaf and mutton （at
this point I could scarcely distinguish the smell of the corpse from the aroma
of thyme； cumin and frying lamb）。 I stepped into the wide hallway； and like
some morose patriarch roaming absentmindedly and wistfully through his
own house； I opened the door to Hayriye’s room； paying no mind to the
women who were horrified to have a man in their midst； and gazing sweetly at
Shekure； whose eyes beamed with bliss to see me； said：
“Your father’s calling for you； Shekure。 We’re married now； you’re to kiss
his hand。”
The handful of neighborhood women to whom Shekure had sent last…
minute invitations and the young maidens I assumed were relatives motioned
to collect themselves and cover their faces； all the while scrutinizing me to
their heart’s content。
Not long after the evening call to prayer the wedding guests dispersed；
having heartily partaken of the walnuts； almonds； dried fruit leather； fits
and clove candy。 In the women’s quarters； Shekure’s incessant crying and the
bickering of the unruly children had dampened the festivity。 Among the men；
my stony…faced silence in response to the mirthful wedding…night gibes of the
neighbors was attributed to my preoccupation with my father…in…law’s illness。
Amid all the distress； the scene most clearly ingrained in my memory was my
leading Shekure to Enishte’s room before dinner。 We were alone at last。 After
both of us kissed the dead man’s cold and rigid hand with sincere respect； we
withdrew to a dark corner of the room and kissed each other as if slaking a
great thirst。 Upon my wife’s fiery tongue； which I’d successfully taken into my
mouth； I could taste the hard candies that the children greedily ate。
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I； SHEKURE
The last guests of our woeful wedding vei