Kader Abdolah - The King

To avoid humiliation Sheikh Aqasi sent soldiers to the tents dressed in civilian clothes, and he also invited the shah and his entire harem.

At about noon the shah rode to the Russian embassy dressed in black. His wives, in black chadors and black niqabs, followed in silence. A group of soldiers led the procession with flags at half mast, and a Persian dirge was played. When the shah came to a halt at the embassy gate the vizier rode up.

The vizier inclined his head towards the shah and said quietly, ‘The Russians have invaded the country.’

Without a moment’s hesitation the shah left his wives behind and rode to the barracks in silence with the vizier. Once in the war room the shah asked, ‘Have the Russians officially declared war?’

‘No, certainly not,’ answered the vizier. ‘They have seized part of Azerbaijan. We’ve been waging war over that region for centuries. Usually we win, sometimes we lose. But this time it’s different.’

‘What’s different about it?’

‘Russia isn’t Russia any more. They have one of the mightiest armies in the world. Our army would be obliterated by so much power.’

‘But the French have reformed our army, haven’t they?’ responded the shah.

‘We’re inexperienced, and we can’t win a war with a few hundred French cannons. Battles are not decided by guns and bullets but by the health of the country and the mentality of its army. Our land has financial problems, the politicians are corrupt, the imams are open to bribery and the population is enfeebled. We’re standing on the brink of the abyss.’

‘Has the vizier brought us here to share this bit of information?’ asked the shah.

‘Such truths can only be uttered in the war room,’ answered the vizier, ‘because war is not the answer. We will have to find a political solution to this problem. The most prudent option is to send a high-level delegation to Moscow to explain the situation and to prove our innocence in the affair. If Your Majesty approves I will begin selecting a delegation without delay. Later I have a meeting with the ministers and the warlords, and I will inform you of their advice as soon as possible.’

‘The vizier has already made the decision,’ answered the shah without looking at him.

‘No, absolutely not, Your Majesty. You decide.’

‘We’re going to think this over,’ said the shah. So he rode back to the palace surrounded by his guards.

In the palace the queen mother was waiting for him. She had made every effort behind the scenes to reach out to the Russians, but the Russians had slammed all the doors shut. They felt she had betrayed them. There was no question in their minds that she had walked into the trap with her eyes wide open, which is why they did not respond to the report Mahdolia sent. Even the shah did not want to speak with her. She had repeatedly asked for permission to come and see him, but to no avail.

Mahdolia had heard about the Russian invasion in Azerbaijan, and she knew that the vizier had discussed it with the shah in the war room. Now she was here to speak to him. The shah ignored her, but she followed him into the hall of mirrors.

‘I can see the shah is upset,’ said Mahdolia with concern. ‘Speak with me. Ease your distress.’

‘According to the vizier we’ve lost the war before we start. He thinks we ought to send a delegation to Moscow. Emergency talks are being held right now between the ministers and the warlords.’

‘The vizier is right,’ said Mahdolia. ‘We cannot win a war with Russia. Sending a delegation is a wise decision, but the shah must take charge.’

‘What do you propose? Travelling personally to Moscow to offer our apologies?’

‘That will not be necessary. I will go in the shah’s place.’

Her proposal surprised him.

‘You are partly to blame for all this trouble,’ answered the shah irritably.

‘It does not become the shah to speak to us in this manner,’ said his mother sternly. ‘I am your mother, you are my flesh and blood. What I do, I do instinctively for the happiness of my child. No one can blame me for causing this disaster. Whatever I have done was in the shah’s interest.’

‘What interest? What happiness?’ cried the shah. ‘Your palace is a breeding ground of informers. Everyone around you has let himself be bought by the British.’

‘The British are everywhere. That is a fact. Even here in the palace of the shah. We must learn to live with this reality. Send me to Moscow. We’ll keep it between you and me, and the British will never get word of it.’

The shah sat down and tried to put his thoughts in order. Mahdolia knelt beside his chair, took his hand and said gently, ‘Listen to me. I know the Russian royal house. My mother met Catherine once. I went there as a child. If anyone can exercise influence it is I. If the vizier were to go to Moscow and persuade the Russians to withdraw from the borders, you would be turning him into a hero. I will bring royal gifts for the tsar, his wife, his mother and his daughters, and I will solve this problem.’

‘Royal gifts?’ asked the shah suspiciously.

‘Indian rings and necklaces from the cellar, and a bejewelled sword.’

‘Out of the question! The Indian jewels belong here. It is our inheritance, and it is our duty to preserve them.’

‘I know that. But this is a matter of life and death. You are trading gold for our land. And there’s something else, something important that you and the vizier have lost sight of,’ Mahdolia continued.

She stood up. ‘The Russians wanted to speak with the shah, which is why they sent a messenger to Tehran. The messenger is dead, but the message is still alive. The Russian tsar wanted to tell the shah something important. Send me as your messenger to Moscow. I will listen to the tsar.’

The shah rose from his chair. The queen mother smiled, kissed him on the shoulder and whispered, ‘I am always here beside you.’

The shah was hoping to keep his mother’s journey to Moscow a secret from the vizier. But since nothing escaped Mirza Kabir’s notice the shah was finally forced to inform him of Mahdolia’s mission.

The vizier did everything he could to convince the shah that it was not Mahdolia’s job to negotiate with the Russians over such complex political matters. In the consultations he had conducted with the ministers and the warlords he was the one they had appointed to sit down with the Russians at the bargaining table.

‘The decision has been made. Besides, our mother is not going alone. We have sent Sheikh Aqasi to accompany her. Only the vizier is aware of this. Should Mahdolia come back empty-handed the vizier will then be sent, but not before.’

With these words the shah put an end to the discussion.

Outside the palace the vizier met a messenger who had just arrived in the city. His head and shoulders were covered with dust. He led his horse up to the vizier and whispered, ‘The Báb has risen up in revolt,’ and he gave him a sealed envelope.

The Báb was a young mystical leader in Shiraz, a city in the southern part of the country about a thousand kilometres from Tehran. At one time Shiraz had been the capital of the Zandieh dynasty, until the Afghan ruler Mahmud swept in and destroyed everything. Shiraz had produced two great poets: Hafez and Saadi. Both were buried there.

It was a city filled with the most beautiful houses, built by wealthy merchants and the elite. These houses looked more like dreams of heaven than places to live in. They had turned the centre of Shiraz into a holy site where Islamic architecture was shown in all its glory and power.

A revolt led by the Báb could be even more dangerous for the country than an attack by foreign forces because religious resistance would wreck the country from within.