through intermediates。 He found the opportunity to appear before me as I was
returning from the public baths。 His eyes were as brilliant as fire; and I
immediately fell in love。 He was a dark…haired; fair…skinned; green…eyed man
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with strong arms; but at heart; he was innocent and quiet like a sleepy child。
Nevertheless; it seemed; to me at least; that he also had the tang of blood
about him; perhaps because he expended all his strength slaying men in battle
and amassing booty; even though at home he was as gentle and quiet as a lady。
This man—whom my father looked upon as a penniless soldier; and hence;
disapproved of—was later allowed to marry me because I threatened to kill
myself otherwise。 And after they gave him a military fief worth ten thousand
silver coins; a reward for his heroism in battle after battle wherein he
performed the greatest acts of bravery; truly; everyone envied us。
Four years ago when he failed to return with the rest of the army from
warring against the Safavids I wasn’t worried at first。 For the more experience
he had on the battlefield; the more adept and clever he became in creating
opportunities for himself; in bringing home greater spoils; in winning larger
fiefs; and in enlisting more soldiers of his own。 There were witnesses who said
he fled to the mountains with his own men after he became separated from a
division of the army。 In the beginning; I suspected a scheme and hoped he’d
return; but after two years; I slowly grew accustomed to his absence; and when
I realized how many lonely women like me with missing soldier…husbands
there were in Istanbul; I resigned myself to my fate。
At night; in our beds; we’d hug our children and mope and cry。 To quiet
their tears; I’d tell them hopeful lies; for example; that so…and…so had proof
their father would return before spring。 Afterward; when my lie would
circulate; changing and spreading until it found its way back to me; I’d be the
first to believe the good news。
When the main support of the household vanished; we fell upon hard
times。 We were living in a rented house in Charsh?kap? with my husband’s
gentlemanly Abkhazian father; who’d never lived an easy life; and his brother;
who had green eyes as well。 My father…in…law; who left his mirror…making
business after his oldest son made his fortune soldiering; returned to take up
his trade at a late age。 Hasan; my husband’s bachelor brother; worked in
customs; and as he prospered he made plans to assume the role of “man of
the house。” One winter; fearing they wouldn’t be able to pay rent; they hastily
took the slave who saw to the household chores to the slave market and sold
her; after which they wanted me to do the kitchen work; wash the clothes and