Kader Abdolah - The King

The girl poured out a glass of water and handed it to him.

‘I don’t need water,’ said the shah. ‘Taj, listen, you are my only hope. You must give me an heir. I must find you a suitable husband.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Taj, clearly startled. ‘I’m only a girl.’

‘Your mother was also a girl. She was about fourteen when she gave birth to you. How old are you now? Almost fourteen, surely?’

‘No, far from it,’ said Taj.

‘You’ll soon be thirteen, and thirteen is the same as fourteen. You must watch what you eat. The older and prettier you become the more likely they are to poison you. They’ve taken Sharmin from me and with you they’ll do exactly the same,’ he said, and he left the bedroom.

‘Where are you going, Father?’

‘To the harem. Whoever harms Sharmin will die. You! Go to your own room. Watch what you eat. And keep the door firmly bolted when you sleep. I’ll have them hung if they so much as point a finger at you,’ he said.

It was deep in the night. Khwajeh Bashi, the harem overseer, was asleep. The shah kicked the door so hard that the man awoke with a start. Only the shah would ever do such a thing. Khwajeh Bashi unbolted the door. The shah probably had need of a woman.

‘Your Majesty!’

The shah ignored him and walked on. The air of the harem was heavy with the smell of tobacco.

‘Sharmin!’ the shah bellowed.

Khwajeh Bashi’s heart was in his mouth. He had heard that the shah’s cat was missing. He knew the shah was capable of murder if he didn’t calm down, but Khwajeh Bashi dared not open his mouth for fear that he would be the first victim. He followed him at a safe distance.

‘Sharmin! Sharmin!’ called the shah.

He stumbled over a chair and a bucket in the dark. Then he knocked over a hookah. Blind with rage, he kicked the pipe against the wall and it shattered noisily. Grumbling sounds could be heard from the rooms. The women had woken up and locked their doors from the inside, afraid the angry shah would come in.

Khwajeh Bashi, who thought there was a good chance that the women were behind the cat’s disappearance, went to get help. The women fell silent.

‘Where are you, Sharmin?’ called the shah.

Suddenly the terrified whine of a cat could be heard and the creature tore past the shah’s leg. The shah thought he had seen from which room the cat had been tossed, and he threw his full weight against the door.

‘Stop, Shah-my-Father! Stop!’

Khwajeh Bashi had rushed to get Taj and warn her. The girl took the shah by the arm and led him out of the harem.

Mahdolia was back. After a day of rest she received the shah in her palace. She wanted to keep their conversation beyond the knowledge of the vizier. The Russians had expressed negative opinions about him.

‘Mother, how was your journey? How did they receive you?’

‘Far beyond my expectations. I was accepted with open arms — just like a blood relation — by the tsar’s wife, his mother, his sisters and his daughters. The atmosphere was one of trust. The tsar said he knew we had nothing to do with the attack on the embassy.’

‘You make us happy, Mother,’ said the shah.

‘The visit to Moscow was another unforgettable experience. The majestic churches and the impressive historic buildings all underscore human mortality. Everything, from the streets and bridges to the theatres, is so completely different from what we have in Tehran. There were a few times that I found myself silently weeping in the streets of Moscow.’

‘Why, Mother?’

‘For you, my son. It wasn’t until I reached the palace of the tsar that I realised the kind of misery in which my son, the shah of Persia, is living. That was when I became fully aware of what history has done to us, and especially to you. Once we had magnificent cities and palaces that made Moscow look like a simple village. Now my son has become the king of a land of ruins.’

The shah offered her a handkerchief.

‘But in the presence of the tsar I behaved as if I were the mother of the mightiest shah in the world.’

‘We are grateful to you for that,’ said the shah. ‘What did you discuss with the Russians?’

‘Sheikh Aqasi has all the documents. Tomorrow he is coming to hand everything over to you. It all comes down to the following: the Russians are prepared to withdraw from the occupied regions of Azerbaijan, but under certain conditions.’

‘I’m listening,’ said the shah guardedly.

‘They want access to the Persian part of the Caspian Sea, so they can freely sail there.’

‘That’s impossible,’ answered the shah. ‘We ourselves have no ships. Must we fully surrender our northern waters to the Russians? Must we stand aside and admire the Russian warships? No, never.’

‘Son, if we have no ships, what do we need that sea for?’

‘Mother!’

‘Listen. The Russians are prepared to withdraw, but in exchange they want us to give up our authority over the islands in the Caspian Sea and the steppe above Afghanistan for a period of fifty years. We wouldn’t be giving anything away; only lending.’

‘I beg your pardon, Mother, but this is utter madness!’

‘Madness? Of what use to us is that wild, uninhabited steppe above Afghanistan? Even the Mongolian donkeys detest it. And then that handful of islands. Has one single Persian even set foot on them since the creation of the world?’

‘What do the Russians want with them, then? They’ll be colonising our land. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’

‘Why? I’m doing everything I can to keep our land intact,’ said Mahdolia defensively. ‘I know what our tribe has sacrificed to serve this people. I have seen the bodies of so many of our brave men who were killed in the wars or murdered by the spies of foreign powers. You act as if I were betraying our nation. I want to protect you. I’m tired. I think you should go. Tomorrow I’ll share the tsar’s most important message with you,’ said the queen mother, and she stood up.

‘No. Sit down, Mother.’

‘Only if you sit down too, and stop speaking to me from such a great height, like your father.’

The shah sat down beside her.

‘You know the Russians want access to the Indian Ocean?’ she continued.

‘Let them dream. We’re not giving them our land.’

‘The tsar has made the following proposal: if the shah wants to free Herat from the hands of the British he can count on us.’

A light flickered in the shah’s eyes. ‘How do they think they’re going to do that?’

‘If we agree to their plans, they will withdraw from the occupied regions. The tsar will then provide us with cannons and rifles. If the shah requests it the Russian officers will assist our warlords and fight alongside them in our army uniforms.’

‘Did the tsar really propose this?’ asked the shah.

‘He promised me this personally and no one else knows about it, not even Sheikh Aqasi. Listen, my son, if you can give our beloved Herat back to the nation you will go down in history as a hero.’

‘But the Russians cannot be trusted,’ said the shah.

‘Son, what have we got to lose?’

‘The vizier will never agree to it.’

‘You are the shah. And by the way the tsar hasn’t got a single good thing to say about the vizier.’

‘What did he say?’

‘The tsar told me in confidence that according to the report of the Russian embassy, a possible takeover by the vizier should be taken into account.’

The shah sank in his chair.

‘But don’t worry,’ said Mahdolia. ‘The Russians have agreed that if your throne is in danger they will step in and take action.’