In a double…leaf illustration from a Book of Victories found in the quarters of
a young prince; which showed the funeral ceremonies of Sultan Süleyman the
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Magnificent who’d died during the siege of Szegetvar; we first examined the
chestnut horse with a white blaze; the gazelle…eyed gray pulling the funeral
carriage and the other melancholy horses fitted with spectacular saddle
blankets and gold embroidered saddles。 Butterfly; Olive and Stork had
illustrated all these horses。 Whether the horses were pulling the large…wheeled
funeral carriage or standing at attention with watery eyes trained on their
master’s body covered with a red cloth; all stood with the same elegant stance
borrowed from the old masters of Herat; that is; with one foreleg proudly
extended and the other firmly planted on the ground beside it。 All their necks
were long and curved; their tails bound up and their manes trimmed and
bed; but none of the noses had the peculiarity we sought。 Neither was this
peculiarity evident in any of the hundreds of horses that bore manders;
scholars and hojas; who’d participated in the funeral ceremony and now
stood at attention on the surrounding hilltops in honor of the late Sultan
Süleyman。
Something of the sadness of this melancholy funeral passed to us as well。 It
upset us to see that this illustrated manuscript; upon which Master Osman
and his miniaturists labored so much; had been ill…treated; and that women of
the harem; playing games with princes; had scribbled and marked various
places on the pages。 Beside a tree under which Our Sultan’s grandfather
hunted; written in a bad hand were the words; “My Exalted Effendi; I love you
and am waiting for you with the patience of this tree。” So; it was with our
hearts full of defeat and sorrow that we pored over the legendary books;
whose creation I’d heard about; but none of which I’d ever seen。
In the second volume of the Book of Skills; which had seen the brush strokes
of all three master miniaturists; we saw; behind the roaring cannon and the
foot soldiers; hundreds of horses of every hue including chestnuts; grays and
blues; clattering along in mail and full panoply; bearing their glorious
scimitar…wielding spahi cavalrymen; as they crossed over pink hilltops in an
orderly advance; but none of their noses was flawed。 “And what is a flaw after
all!” Master Osman said later; while examining a page in the same book;
which depicted the Royal Outer Gate and the parade ground where we
happened to be at that very moment。 We also failed to discover the mark we
were searching for on the noses of the horses of various hues mounted by
guards; heralds and Secretaries of the Divan Council of State in this