Kader Abdolah - The King

The Afghan soldiers no longer knew whether they should be fighting against the Persians or with them. Herat was a city in which tribes of both Afghan and Persian origin had always dwelt, and many mixed marriages had taken place over the centuries. So the population awaited the outcome of the invasion with considerable tension.

Once the Anglo-Indian troops were driven out of the city, the Afghan soldiers were ordered by their own leaders to withdraw into the hills until further notice. And thus the Persian sharpshooters captured the city. Beyond the walls, however, the battle raged. There the British inflicted great damage on the Persian army, destroying their French and Russian cannons. The Persian army was shattered, with countless dead and wounded.

The British got ready to drive the sharpshooters from Herat. They had asked the Afghan tribal leaders to attack the city from all sides. But suddenly, to everyone’s astonishment, the British colonel was told to pull his army out of Herat and retreat to Indian territory without delay. The British officers were furious. They could make neither head nor tail of the order, but apparently London had something else in mind.

One of the British officers had noticed that there were Russians fighting with the Persians. He sent his soldiers to look for Russians among the dead. The soldiers returned with three Russian bodies. These were placed on a cart, and with this booty the British army withdrew from Herat.

The report of the victory soon reached the shah. Surrounded by Persian officers he entered the city like Xerxes. The Persian inhabitants of Herat came out of their houses to admire their king. The shah, perched high on his horse, waved at his subjects, and he thought of Xerxes and how happy he must have felt to first set foot on European soil.

Reports of the victory had reached Tehran. The joy was enormous. Town criers spread the happy news. The city was festively decorated by order of Mahdolia, the mother of the shah, and army musicians played merrily in the streets. Merchants had huge torches lit in the bazaar, and great pans were placed on fires in the bazaar square so food could be shared with the poor.

Mahdolia’s retinue wished the queen happiness with this turn of events. The triumph was seen as a firm slap in the face of the vizier. Sheikh Aqasi’s prestige rose, and he was treated like the new vizier by all and sundry. No one doubted that upon his return the shah would be transferring all responsibility from the current vizier to the sheikh.

In a speech at the victory celebration that the sheikh had organised on behalf of the shah, he went to great lengths to praise the shah’s courage in the presence of all the princes, politicians and great merchants of Tehran. He explained how the Persian cavalry had forced the gate of Herat and taken the city. He announced that the shah would remain in Herat until the city’s governing structure was restored and to enjoy his beloved city.

Sheikh Aqasi visited Tehran’s Jameh mosque the next day, where the ayatollah of the city prayed for the health of the shah in the presence of thousands of believers.

Celebrations were held throughout the country for ten days and ten nights. Trees were decorated and flags fluttered above the government buildings.

The shah took up lodgings in a castle in the centre of Herat where, until quite recently, the British commander had lived. He assumed personal responsibility for the running of the city. Now that he had so much to do he felt vital and energetic. In his own palace he had been bored, but in Herat he felt like a king of consequence. Every day he rode through the city, inspected the barracks and stood on the high tower, gazing through his binoculars at the Indian border where the British army was stationed.

Everything was going according to plan, except that it was suspiciously quiet on the Russian side. The shah knew the Russians could not stomach the fact that the British had taken the bodies of some of their officers back to India. It was also surprising that, one week after the victory, the Russians had returned to their own country and hadn’t been heard from since. The shah tried to reassure himself with the thought that the Russians were preparing to march into Afghanistan to prevent a possible attack by the British. Or perhaps they wanted to see how London was going to react to the defeat.

Yet his sense of unease remained. For although the Persian army had done extremely well in Herat, the shah also realised that if the British had wanted to they could have stopped the Persian troops and beaten them. Had he walked into a trap whose scale was greater than he could imagine?

Then came the report that an attempt had been made on the tsar’s life in Moscow. The tsar was unhurt, but the incident made the shah wary. His flush of victory vanished and was replaced by anxious nights. The shah sensed that something was about to happen.

Finally the Russians made contact. The Russian embassy in Tehran sent a third-class civil servant to the shah’s mother to tell her that the tsar was in good health, that the Russians were pleased with the victory in Herat, that the tsar sent his greetings to the shah and that Moscow was ready to meet any military response from London. The ambassador also wanted Mahdolia to know that if the British were to attack Herat again, the Russians would immediately deploy their troops across the northern Afghan border.

It was a curious way of sending a message. Although it could be interpreted as an insult, the shah was reassured and found he could sleep again.

A few days later the shah received news from one of his spies that filled him with happiness. The Indian soldiers along the border had risen up in revolt and were refusing to fight the Persians. The report was of such significance to the shah that he wanted to meet the messenger personally. The messenger was promptly brought to the castle. The man, who looked more Indian than Persian, stood trembling at the door, terrified at the sight of the shah standing in the middle of the room with a stick in his hand.

‘ Farsi baladi ?’ asked the shah.

‘Yes, I speak Persian,’ answered the man shyly.

‘But you are Indian?’

‘No. Yes. I am an Indian, but I am Parsi,’ answered the man.

‘Funny. You speak Persian with an Indian accent.’

The man was a descendant of Persians who had fled to India thirteen hundred years earlier as followers of Zarathustra when the Arabs invaded the Persian Empire. These Indian Persians were called Parsi.

‘We have heard the report of the protests of the Indian soldiers, but we would like to hear it once again from your own lips. Listen carefully to what we say. If you are lying, if you utter one false word, we will have you hung. Do you understand?’ asked the shah coolly.

‘Your Majesty, I don’t dare say anything. I’m afraid I’ll say something wrong,’ said the terrified man.

‘Don’t be such a baby. Tell us from whom you heard this report!’

‘From an Indian soldier who himself is stationed in the barracks,’ said the man.

‘Did the Indian soldier tell you this personally?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘That’s good. That’s clear. Tell us then, word for word,’ said the shah.

‘The Indian soldier said, “We were in the barracks cleaning and oiling our rifles when more and more of the men began to feel uncomfortable about fighting the Persians. The rumour spread that the oil we were using to oil our rifles was made of cow fat. Everyone was shocked. Later came the rumour that the oil we spread between our buttocks and toes to prevent blisters was made of British pig fat.”’

‘Fantastic,’ said the shah, laughing. ‘Keep going, tell us more.’