Kader Abdolah - The King

Dazed, he drank two glasses of water from a pitcher on a nearby table. Then he pulled the curtain aside. It was still dark. Slowly he realised that he should not have had his brothers hung, that this act would unleash waves of hostility in the land and that God would punish him severely. He should have listened to the vizier.

The shah picked up the lantern. Followed by his curious cat he left the palace through the back door and entered the garden of the living quarters where his favourite daughter slept, pushing the door open with great care. The old servant woke immediately.

‘Is she asleep?’ he whispered. ‘That’s fine then. Let her sleep. I’m going to rest here.’

Straightaway the woman placed a mattress on the floor beside the girl’s bed. The shah lay down and his cat nestled at his feet. The old woman pulled a blanket over him and bolted the door.

Early in the morning she gently wakened the girl.

‘The king is sleeping here,’ she said.

The girl smiled, got out of bed and crept under the blanket with the shah. ‘ Bonjour, monsieur ,’ she whispered in his ear.

The shah opened his eyes and threw his arm round her. ‘ Bonjour, madame. Comment ça va, ma fille ?’

‘Very well, Father.’

‘Have you been working hard on your French?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘And your English?’

‘Not very hard, Shah-my-Father.’

‘Why not?’

‘Your doctor speaks to me in French whenever he sees me and it’s funny. But I don’t like English.’

‘Like it or not — learn their language; you’re going to need it.’

‘But it’s so difficult,’ she complained.

‘Enough. Come and massage my back,’ he said, rolling over on his stomach.

The girl stood on his back and massaged his shoulders with her feet.

‘How delightful to have such a daughter,’ sighed the shah.

‘But you have so many daughters,’ she said with a smile.

‘That’s not true. They are the daughters of our wives. I have just one daughter and that is you. The other girls are not mine.’

‘Why not?’ asked Taj Olsultan with surprise.

‘Because you are the only one I love,’ said the shah.

‘Why?’

‘You are my own flesh and blood, and my firstborn. Let me tell you a secret. I want to revise the law so that later you can become the shah.’

‘The shah?’

‘You will succeed me.’

‘But that’s impossible. I’m a girl.’

‘Catherine, the queen of Russia, was also a girl, but she became one of the most powerful women ever. I want you to become just as powerful.’

‘What do you have to know to be shah?’

‘We will teach you everything.’ The shah was already looking forward to the lessons.

‘But I don’t want to be a queen. Why don’t you ask my mother?’

‘Your mother? We have no need of her.’

‘And my grandmother? She’s already queen.’

‘But she will be dead before I die.’

‘You mustn’t speak of my mother and your own mother that way,’ protested the girl.

The shah fell silent. It pleased him that this young girl made no attempt to disguise her opinions or to curry favour with him.

‘It’s light outside,’ the old woman told the shah.

The shah kissed his daughter and went out to the garden, much relieved. With a stick in his hand he walked past the tall trees and returned to his own room, where the chamberlain had his breakfast waiting for him.

The matter of the hanging of the half-brothers had jolted the vizier awake. Mahdolia’s influence over the shah was still considerable. The vizier had been able to calm the popular unrest after the execution, but now he had to be on his guard against the shah’s unpredictable behaviour. The desire to retake Herat was still smouldering beneath the surface.

The vizier had instructed the shah in the ways of the world, but he had enough experience to know that some of a child’s traits cannot be corrected by lessons. The shah was his father’s son: weak. But he was also his mother’s son: vindictive, hungry for power, obstinate and headstrong. And he was his grandfather’s grandson: a valiant fighter, a hard man whose will was law. The shah was a mixture of his father, his mother, his grandfather and his tutor.

The vizier had to be able to cope with all these contradictions, not for the sake of the shah, nor for his own sake, but for the sake of the country, even though he knew he would probably have to sacrifice his life for his ideals.

In the meantime the shah had put his troubles behind him for the time being. He took pleasure in life and he was going hunting. He had his own cannon, a cannon that Napoleon had given as a gift for the crown prince just after his birth, and he liked to shoot it.

The French emperor had once written to the father of the shah.

Bonaparte, the Emperor of the people of France, writes to the King of Persia:

Greetings. Je vous salue .

You are the king of a noble land that God has blessed with his devotion and his mercy.

The inhabitants of Persia are magnanimous, clever and courageous, and they are worthy of good kings, but we know that the kings before you forsook their people and ignored the needs of the country.

I am sending you one of my best advisors, who will personally convey to you my views and feelings with regard to your country. You may also tell him anything you wish. He is the most trustworthy man on our staff.

May God help Persia.

Napoleon Bonaparte

What the British and the Russians wanted was nothing new. Napoleon Bonaparte already wanted to get to India by way of Persia, and he tried to form an alliance with the father of the shah behind the backs of the Russians and the British. The late king had hoped that with Napoleon on his side he would be able to attack Russia and to free Azerbaijan from Russian hands. But Napoleon was forced to give up his dream. He did not keep his promises, and in failing to do so he abandoned the Persians. Russia punished the shah and took possession of part of the country.

Napoleon was now a page in the annals of history, but he had left a tangible part of himself behind in Persia. During his Russian campaign he had sent Persia a cannon, a special gift for the young crown prince. The design of the cannon was new — it had two wheels — and Napoleon had arranged for the name of the crown prince and the royal coat of arms to be engraved on it in gold. It was clear from the elaborate ornamentation that this was a princely cannon.

When he went to Tabriz as crown prince, Naser brought the cannon with him. After his father died, the cannon came along in the move to Tehran. It was kept in well-oiled readiness at Golestan Palace. The king never left the palace without it.

‘Sharmin?’ called the shah.

The cat sprang from the chair.

‘We’re going for a little ride over the hills.’ When he reached the top of the outer stairs he took a deep breath and said, ‘Magnificent! You can smell the trees. What a fragrance!’

Three servants took care of the cat. They placed her in a basket covered with a sheer white cloth and carefully put the basket in a coach that was furnished just for her.

The shah climbed into his saddle and looked to make sure his cannon was ready. With great poise he rode to the gate, followed by a number of guards. His cannon was mounted on a decorated cart, which was pulled by two horses. The shah looked excited and happy.

No sooner had he left the palace than the drummers and the trumpeter announced to the city that the shah was approaching. It was the first time in a long time that the shah had let himself be seen by his people. He had been afraid there would be disturbances after the execution of his brothers, but except for a few minor scuffles it had remained peaceful. This led the shah to believe that his subjects agreed with his decision. Now he was going hunting in the hills outside the city, but he had mapped out a route through a number of busy streets.