Kader Abdolah - The King

What could this mean? Who would write such a thing? What should he beware of? Was it a warning, a threat or a joke? Who dared to use his cat as a messenger? He put the slip of paper in his coat on the coat rack and went back to bed.

‘Sharmin, who did this? A friend? An enemy?’ he asked. ‘Was it one of the women in the harem? Someone who is jealous of you because you sleep with me every night? Could it be that Foruq wants to take revenge on me because I no longer want to share my bed with her? Perhaps I will never find out. But whoever it was, I will see that she is thrown from the roof.

‘We are surrounded by enemies,’ he went on. ‘We are not safe. The piece of paper round your neck is proof. There is nothing to be done. A king is always in danger. He will never sleep peacefully.’

The shah woke early. His breakfast was waiting for him. A servant brought the cat’s breakfast in on a large silver tray. It was fresh milk in a little porcelain bowl, roast mutton on a gilt-edged plate, a few small pieces of fresh bread spread with butter and a dish of water.

The shah looked to see whether his cat was eating her breakfast, and at the same time he kept his eye on the servant. Someone in the palace must have hung that piece of paper round the cat’s neck.

After breakfast the chamberlain brought in comfortable clothing that he had selected with great care. The chamberlain did not know about the secret appointment with the Russians. ‘No, it has to be more formal,’ said the shah.

‘But if the shah intends to partake of albaloos later on, perhaps it’s better …’ suggested the man cautiously.

‘Formal clothing,’ said the shah firmly without looking at him.

A short while later the chamberlain returned with a suit. He showed it to the shah with some hesitation.

‘That’s good,’ said the shah.

He held the suit in front of him, looked in the mirror and said, ‘This is excellent. We’re going to get dressed.’

Meanwhile Sheikh Aqasi’s country house had been made ready for the arrival of the shah and the women of his harem. It was quite warm in Tehran, but at the foot of the Alborz Mountains the temperature was pleasant. In Sheikh Aqasi’s garden the branches of the albaloo trees were drooping under the weight of the ripe, red, full fruit, which gave off a delightful fragrance. As a child the shah had taken great pleasure in plucking albaloos. He never used his hands, but would stand under the hanging branches and pluck them with his lips.

Sheikh Aqasi knew how to please the shah. He had asked the old baker from the bazaar to make the albaloos even more delicious by adding sugar and fragrant ingredients. Sheikh Aqasi had ordered large carpets to be rolled out in the garden and the couches to be covered with colourful cushions so the shah and his harem would feel completely at home.

The shah was on his way. Behind him rode seventy-five women from the harem who had been selected especially for this outing. The women were veiled and covered in niqabs, and each of them wore a pair of binoculars round her neck, a gift of the English consul in Tabriz to the wives of the crown prince (as the shah was at the time).

The binoculars had been packed in a wooden box and inscribed with the English text, ‘From the princesses of the British royal house to the princesses of Persia. Warm greetings.’ It was the text more than the binoculars that had so delighted the shah. When he went out with his wives he had them bring their binoculars so they would have something to keep them occupied along the way.

The women who were selected to travel with the shah always had the time of their lives. These were their happiest moments, away from the seclusion of the harem. The father of the shah had never bothered to take his wives anywhere, for it required a great deal of organisation.

The shah rode in front. Remarkably he had left Sharmin at home. The women noticed he was peevish and kept their distance to avoid any angry outbursts.

‘Something is bothering him,’ whispered the women.

‘Perhaps he misses his favourite cat.’

‘Why did he leave her at home?’

‘She probably doesn’t feel very well,’ said one of the women with a laugh.

‘She gets a lot of fatty meat.’

‘If she were sick, His Majesty would never go anywhere. She’s not sick. I saw her on the roof this morning. She enjoys being with the wild cats when he’s gone.’

‘So it’s something else,’ whispered another woman.

‘Didn’t you notice? The shah has brought along a lot of extra balls for his cannon.’

The women held up their binoculars to look at the cannon.

‘He’s taking us to the front,’ one of them giggled.

Once outside Tehran, when there was little chance that they would be meeting any strange men, the women took off their niqabs and enjoyed the warm wind blowing around their heads. This was how they rode to Sheikh Aqasi’s country house. They all knew him. And because they didn’t like the queen mother, they didn’t like the sheikh either.

‘She’s got something going with him.’

‘He’s always with her.’

‘She seems to need a great deal of his advice,’ someone said with a wink.

‘Come, advise me,’ said another, imitating the queen mother. ‘Come, read me my future, show me the stars.’

Sheikh Aqasi stood at the gate to welcome the shah. He was wearing a long, light summer coat, and his beard, which went all the way down to his chest, was neatly combed. He rushed up to the shah, who was still seated on his horse, and pressed a kiss against his right boot of light brown leather. The shah got down from his horse and the sheikh took the reins.

The women of the harem had put their niqabs back on and were waiting for a sign from the shah.

‘The Russians will arrive in the afternoon,’ said Sheikh Aqasi. ‘Your Majesty has plenty of time to rest with his harem in the garden. The weather is splendid and everything is ready for you and your company. If Your Majesty agrees I will escort you to the garden.’

The shah nodded and motioned to his wives to dismount.

Sheikh Aqasi opened the great gate of his country house and said, ‘Please come in and bless your subject’s garden.’

The shah was impressed. The trees groaned under the weight of the glorious red albaloos, and the branches were bent over so far that if the shah raised himself up on his toes he could, with a little effort, pluck the albaloos with his mouth. The ground was covered with elegant carpets, and beneath the trees lay large colourful cushions and small rugs. Big parasols cast shadows across long tables that were covered with a vast array of dishes, fruit juices, fresh vegetables and other delicacies. An unusually delightful fragrance filled the air.

‘It is good,’ said the shah to Sheikh Aqasi.

‘Your subject grants Your Majesty his rest,’ responded Sheikh Aqasi. ‘The harem may make themselves completely at home. There are no strangers here, and later I will go inside. Should you require anything I will see to your needs without delay.’ He bowed and retreated into the building.

As soon as he left the women began walking round the garden, full of amazement. They did not touch the fruits or foods until the shah gave them permission to have something to eat or drink. But the shah’s thoughts were with the Russians and he forgot the women. One of them ventured to draw the shah’s attention to the magnificent albaloos.

The shah looked at the waiting women and the albaloos. He put his hands behind his back and stood beneath the branches, searching for the largest one. It hung defiantly high. Standing on tiptoe he tried to reach it with his mouth but was unsuccessful. On the second try his lips touched the fruit. The women encouraged him light-heartedly. He tried once more and stretched himself out to his full length. You could see his legs tremble with the strain. The fat red albaloo was almost in his mouth when his tall hat fell to the ground.