Kader Abdolah - The King

The young man, who wore a single round eyeglass over his left eye, was fitted out in a most unusual suit. He had put grease in his hair, and his beard was clipped in a remarkable fashion. He bowed his head slightly and greeted the shah. The scent that enveloped him stung the shah’s nose, which made him sneeze.

‘Please sit down,’ said the shah with a gesture.

Pirnia sat down on a cushion, but not on his knees, as was customary. The servant placed a hookah next to the shah, and as he smoked he noticed that the young man was wearing strange shoes that had a black sheen. It looked as if he had rubbed them with the same grease that he had used on his hair.

‘We understand you have spent some time in Europe? We know your father. He is a trustworthy businessman. So we have asked you to come here to share your experiences with us. We are listening.’

Without the usual introduction, which was supposed to consist of words of praise for the shah, Pirnia plunged right in with a description of his stay abroad. He gave a brief report of where he had lived and which countries he had visited.

‘What exactly did you do there?’

‘I traded in rough precious stones, but what really interested me were the local languages and customs! My business gave me the opportunity to travel.’

The man’s self-assurance did not go down well with the shah. He found his obtrusive odour particularly unpleasant.

‘So you travelled,’ said the shah with emphasis. ‘Tell us, what did you see?’

‘Many impressive things!’ responded Pirnia crisply.

‘Mention a few!’

‘It’s difficult to describe a journey in just a couple of sentences. I did keep a travel diary, though. When it’s finished I will send Your Majesty a copy.’

‘There’s no time for that. Just tell me about a few striking things.’

Pirnia, who knew Jamal Khan and had contact with his committee, was aware of the current political situation. He had immediately accepted the shah’s invitation and hoped to use the opportunity to discuss the governing of the country with him.

‘They had two chambers, for example.’

‘Chambers?’ asked the shah with surprise.

‘Yes, chambers.’

‘And what was so special about those chambers?’

‘In those chambers they discussed matters that were important to the country and then they made decisions.’

‘They? Who are they?’

‘The representatives of the people.’

The shah shifted his weight from one knee to the other. He had sensed that the man sitting across from him was an undesirable, and his instincts had not proven him wrong.

‘We have already heard about that. Tell us something new,’ he answered.

‘Another custom that I found strange was the newspaper — or newspapers, rather,’ said Pirnia, who noticed the shah was irritated.

‘We have them too,’ the shah shot back.

‘But in those newspapers people write their opinions about all kinds of things and carry on a kind of war of the pens.’

‘A war of the pens? What do they fight about?’

‘About everything! About politics, about cities, about bridges, about women, about buildings and about art.’

‘A war of the pens, fighting about women and bridges. You make us curious, young man.’

‘Each of these countries has a book that contains a constitution with all the laws and regulations of the land. All that is allowed and is not allowed is in that book.’

The shah nodded. He remembered the translation of the French constitution that his vizier had made.

‘Each country has its own form of government. What one regime does is not universally applicable. On the other hand, a book like that would take a great weight off our shoulders. We’d have our hands free and could spend more time on ourself. Do you have anything else informative to tell us?’ He turned to his servant. ‘Our hookah is cold!’ he snarled.

A fresh hookah was brought in instantly.

Pirnia, who was afraid the shah would send him away if he became annoyed with the conversation, changed the subject.

‘Although the East is known for its secrecy and we are the masters of mysterious tales, the West also has something we lack. In the East the secret lies in the past, in books, in our narratives and behind our curtains, but the Europeans have made the hidden things visible. There the secret things can be touched. You can even sit in them. Take the train, for instance.’

‘We already know that. In the palace there’s a whole stack of catalogues about trains. Tell us, what language or languages did you speak when you were travelling?’

‘Although each land has its own language, French is usually spoken within the better circles.’

‘ On parle très bien le français ,’ said the shah proudly.

He smoked his hookah, inhaled a few times and said, ‘What do they call the hookah in French?’

‘They don’t have hookahs.’

‘Oh, yes. You’re right. How odd!’ remarked the shah.

Pirnia had something else he wanted to say, but he saw that the shah’s thoughts were elsewhere.

‘Bring a glass of tea for our guest,’ called the shah unexpectedly. ‘You also mentioned the women. Do you have anything special to tell us about them?’

‘I don’t know how to describe this,’ said Pirnia, ‘but … in the West the women show their faces in public. Everyone is free to show off their eyes, nose, lips, chin and arms. At parties there are even women who leave their necks and part of their breasts uncovered.’

The shah made a gesture of apparent indifference.

‘All right, you can go once you’ve finished your tea.’

Pirnia didn’t wait for the tea and left.

‘If you have anything else to say that’s worth saying, say it now,’ the shah called out to him. He had the feeling that Pirnia had not told him everything.

Pirnia paused, and then he said, ‘Recently a French engineer has come up with something extraordinary: an incredibly high tower made out of millions of iron beams.’

‘How high?’

‘Very high. At least as high as that mountain over there!’ He pointed to a mountain in the distance.

‘Why did they do that?’

‘No one knows. It caused quite a sensation. Supporters and opponents harassed each other in the press. At the same time, hundreds of curious men and women came to climb the tower every day and every night out of curiosity.’

‘To climb what?’

‘The tower!’

‘Stack millions of kilos of iron beams on top of each other and then climb it?’ said the shah.

‘The engineer who came up with the idea is famous now. He invented a machine, a kind of horseless carriage, big enough for one or two or — I don’t know — twenty men. You get in and press a button. Suddenly the carriage starts to move. The amazing thing is that it doesn’t go forward or backwards, but up and down. It takes you to the top of the tower in just a few seconds.’

‘What do they do when they get up there?’ asked the shah curiously.

‘Look around. Admire Paris! The view at night is marvellous. You look at the Seine, the river that runs through the city. You see the new street lamps, lights on the banks of the river where the elegant French women go for strolls—’

‘All right. Enough,’ interrupted the shah. He was watching a peacock who had spread all his feathers for him. ‘You can go.’ His thoughts wandered off to the girl to whom he had given the necklace. She too had walked along the banks of the Seine.

Preparations for the journey had lasted a year. The day of his departure was coming more quickly than expected. In recent months he had visited his harem more often and spent more nights with his wives than usual. He received them in small groups, arranged them in a circle round him and let himself be indulged. He enjoyed their enticements, kissed them, pinched them, bit them and laughed with them.