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Even so; we were able to maintain a persistent excitement in the face of the
weariness and melancholy that descended upon us: A couple of times we
forgot about the horse and lost ourselves to the beauty of a picture; to colors
that forced a momentary surrender。 Master Osman always looked at the
pictures—most of which he himself had created; supervised or ornamented—
more out of nostalgic enthusiasm than wonder。 “These are by Kas?m from the
Kas?m Pasha district!” he said once; pointing out the little purple flowers at
the base of the red war tent of Our Sultan’s grandfather Sultan Süleyman。 “He
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was by no means a master; but for forty years he filled the dead space of
pictures with these five…leaf; single…blossom flowers; before he unexpectedly
died two years ago。 I always assigned him to draw this small flower because he
could do it better than anyone。” He fell silent for a moment; then exclaimed;
“It’s a pity; a pity!” With all my soul; I sensed that these words signified the
end of an era。
Darkness had nearly overtaken us; when a light flooded the room。 There
was a motion。 My heart; which had begun to beat like a drum;
prehended immediately: The Ruler of the World; His Excellency Our
Sultan had abruptly entered。 I threw myself at His feet。 I kissed the hem of His
robe。 My head spun。 I couldn’t look Him in the eye。
He’d long since begun speaking with Head Illuminator Master Osman
anyway。 It filled me with fiery pride to witness Him speak to the man with
whom I’d only moments ago been sitting knee to knee looking at pictures。
Unbelievable; His Excellency Our Sultan was now sitting where I’d been earlier
and He was listening attentively to what my master was explaining; as I had
done。 The Head Treasurer; who was at his side and the Agha of the Falconers
and a few others whose identities I couldn’t make out were keeping close
guard over Him and gazing at the open pages of books with rapt attention。 I
gathered all my courage and looked at length at the face and eyes of the
Sovereign Ruler of the World; albeit with a sidelong glance。 How handsome He
was! How upright and proper! My heart no longer beat excitedly。 At that
moment; our eyes met。
“How much I loved your Enishte; may he rest in peace;” He said。 Yes; He
was speaking to me。 In my excitement; I missed some of what He was saying。
“…I was quite aggrieved。 Hofort to see that each of
these pictures he made is a masterpiece。 When the Veian giaour sees these;
he will be stunned and fear my wisdom。 You shall determine who the accursed
miniaturist is by this horse’s nose。 Otherwise; however merciless; it’ll be
necessary to torture all the master miniaturists。”
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