Kader Abdolah - The King

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It is the nineteenth century and the kingdom of Persia is at a turning point. When a young King, Shah Naser, takes to the throne he inherits a medieval, enchanted world. But beyond the court, the greater forces of colonisation and industrialisation close in. The Shah's grand vizier sees only one solution — to open up to the outside world, and to bring Persia into modernity. But the Shah's mother fiercely opposes the vizier's reforms and sets about poisoning her son's mind against his advisor. With bloody battles, intrigue and extraordinary characters, The King brings a historical moment brilliantly to life. Reading as fairy tale and shedding light on a pivotal period in history, The King confirms Kader Abdolah as one of the world's most engaging storytellers.

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Jamal Khan no longer operated alone. He worked with a core of six loyal men. Fath Ali Akhondzadeh was one of them. He had lived in London and had immersed himself in the English language. He was the first to write a book on the grammar of the Persian language, and in the spirit of the former vizier he preached that all the children of the country should be given the chance to learn to read and write.

Yusef Mostashar Aldoleh had worked for a number of years in the Persian embassy in Paris, but he was dismissed because he had criticised the homeland’s ruling system as corrupt. He swapped Paris for Istanbul, where he published a Persian newspaper that he arranged to have smuggled into the homeland.

Zeinolabedin Maraghei was the third man, an artist who had lived in Bombay and then in Rome and had immersed himself in painting. Maraghei spoke Italian and became involved in the polemics contained in the Italian newspapers. He too returned to the homeland to awaken his countrymen.

The fourth was Haj Abdolrahim Talebof, a man from Tabriz who had always lived across the border in Russia and had studied in St Petersburg. Talebof was in close contact with the leaders of the uprisings in Moscow.

The fifth man in the group was Mirza Reza Kermani, a remarkable personality. He was the son of an ayatollah of the city of Kerman, and his father had sent him to Iraq to be trained as an imam. There he came in contact with a group of Egyptians who were struggling against the British colonial power. He travelled to Egypt, where he met Jamal Khan. The two kept in touch and met again in Tehran. Mirza Reza had replaced his turban with a cap, which was being worn at the time by the intellectuals of the Middle East.

The last of the group was Amir Nezam, who years later would become prime minister of the country. Everyone knew him as the young engineer who had served as the vizier’s right-hand man. It was Amir who had rescued the vizier’s wife and two young daughters after the murder, hiding them in a farm cart and fleeing with them from Tehran. After that he had laid low for a while. His new beard and moustache now rendered him unrecognisable. He returned to Tehran as a repairman, where he met Jamal Khan and began working with him.

The two men always travelled separately, as if they had nothing to do with each other. They came together at various locations and secretly formed a committee that was opposed to the regime.

Six months after the soup incident Jamal Khan gave a speech at the temple of the holy Abdoldawood that was of crucial importance. The speech had been planned for a special place and a special day, when thousands of pilgrims would be coming to the temple to celebrate the birth of the holy messiah Mahdi. Rumours began circulating that Jamal Khan was going to give an important address. This was undoubtedly the best place to stage such an event before a large crowd, since the inner courtyard of the shrine was off-limits to the police. According to tradition everyone within the walls of the shrine was safe — even criminals.

The six confederates had set up a podium for Jamal Khan inside the shrine of Abdoldawood. Those who had heard the rumour tried to stand as close to the podium as they could. The crowd waited impatiently for his arrival. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement. Wearing a green scarf Jamal Khan climbed onto the podium.

A green scarf was only worn by descendants of the Prophet Muhammad. It was the first time Jamal Khan had ever appeared in public wearing it. As soon as the people saw the green scarf they began shouting, ‘ Salalah ala Muhammad wa ale Muhammad. Hail Muhammad and his descendants.’ The tension mounted. There wasn’t a single empty spot in the whole vast courtyard.

‘Countrymen!’ began Jamal Khan, speaking into a megaphone. ‘We have come here today to commemorate the birth of Mahdi the messiah. One day the saviour will come to deliver the world from its misery. But fellow believers, we insult him if we ourselves do nothing, if we just sit back passively and wait for the saviour to come.

‘Countrymen! We have rights. Men have rights, women have rights and children have rights.

‘People of Persia! It is your children’s God-given right to learn to read and write. The rulers of this country have denied us these rights. They treat us all like beasts.

‘People of Persia! I am in contact with resistance groups in neighbouring countries. Right now England is in the south of our country, searching for crude oil day and night. There are probably immense oil fields in our southern province, a fact that the British want to keep secret.

‘People of Persia, you may not know it, but crude oil is just as valuable as pure gold. It is the fuel that is used to keep the wheels of factory machines in motion. England has bribed the shah and the princes. Those nearest the shah are filling their pockets. They’re richer than ever, while thousands upon thousands of parents in this country aren’t even able to buy shoes for their children.’

Because he was standing on a raised platform Jamal Khan could see a group of armed men gather just beyond the gates of the shrine. He knew they had come for him and were guarding all the exits to keep him from escaping. But he also knew that they didn’t dare come inside.

‘People of Persia! You have the right to bathhouses and hospitals. Not everyone can make a living from his land or his animals. You have the right to work. The only problem is that we have no industry in this country. Look around you. Here in this shrine there are hundreds of beggars, blind people, paralysed children and people who are aged and sick. We think it’s all a normal part of life, but let me tell you it doesn’t have to be this way. They can be healthy. They’re supposed to be healthy, just like the princes, just like the rich. People of Persia! The rulers of this land don’t think about you. They think only of themselves. Countrymen! Wake up!’

He saw a policeman with a gun in his hand climb up the wall and hide behind the façade of the gate. He brought his speech to a close.

‘People of Persia! I must hurry. But there’s one more important announcement I want to make. Let me bring your attention to an unmarked grave,’ he shouted, pointing to a spot next to the podium. ‘That is where the vizier Mirza Kabir lies buried, killed by the shah. We have had a tombstone made, and later we want to—’

He was unable to complete his sentence. Shots were fired, and one bullet struck a pole that was holding up the podium. The police entered the shrine. More shots were fired. People fled. Jamal Khan tried to escape by the back of the podium, but three officers blocked his way. One of them hit him on the shoulder with a truncheon, causing him to stumble and fall. The men bound his hands behind his back, using his green scarf. They pulled him to his feet and pushed him to the gates of the shrine. Then the people turned on the police, refusing to tolerate their presence in the temple. Jamal Khan’s five comrades took advantage of the turmoil and began pounding the police with sticks, thereby allowing Jamal Khan to escape and disappear into the crowd.

A group of armed officers forced their way into the shrine and began beating everyone with their rifle butts. Women screamed, children cried and the elderly were trampled underfoot, but the stronger pilgrims took their lives in their hands, grabbed the guns from the hands of the police and kicked them out through the gates of the shrine.

The pilgrims were furious at the officers who had entered the shrine and had even fired shots there. With this misbehaviour they had violated a centuries-old tradition, thereby dishonouring the holy Abdoldawood. The cry ‘ Allah-o-akbar !’ was released from thousands of throats.

After a while peace and quiet returned to the temple. The pilgrims stood in a circle round the grave of the murdered vizier while an undertaker’s man recited from the Quran. The comrades of Jamal Khan solemnly placed a tombstone on the grave bearing the vizier’s name: ‘Here lies buried Mirza Kabir, vizier of great skill.’

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