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