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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 

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