Kader Abdolah - The King

He could also be found dining more often with his elderly mother. These were not at all like their normal meetings. They embraced each other longer and exchanged tender endearments.

‘My boy, you are my son and my king.’ She kissed his hands with tears in her eyes. The shah wiped away her tears and kissed her grey hair.

One day before his departure he went to see his daughter, Taj Olsultan. Since the birth of his grandson he had received his daughter and her child in the palace almost daily, but now he was visiting her.

Taj saw he was sad. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but she kept silent. In the past, before she was married, she could speak more easily with the shah and ask him, ‘Father, why are you sad?’

But since her marriage the shah had kept his distance, as if she were the girl or wife of another man and no longer belonged to him. It hurt her that their intimate contact was gone and that he no longer wanted to share with her his fatherly secrets. The attention he used to lavish on her now went to her son. Perhaps she was a bit jealous, but she did understand her father. She belonged to another man now. When all was said and done she was glad the shah was so happy with his grandchild that he gave him the love he had once given her.

Taj put her son in the shah’s arms and said, ‘How lucky I am to have the shah as a babysitter for the prince.’

‘My pleasure, I’m sure,’ said the shah with a grin. He sat down in a rocking chair with the child on his lap.

The shah always spoke to his grandchild in complete sentences because he believed it was essential for proper brain development. He read short paragraphs from the Persian classics and enjoyed them himself. This time he told the child a story from a very old Persian book called Kélilé and Demné .

‘“Once upon a time there was a merchant who lived in Herat. His wife was called Jamis and she was as beautiful as the moon. No one could imagine that such a magnificent woman ever having existed before. Her face shone like the day of victory and her hair was as dark and long as the night you spend waiting in vain for your beloved.”

‘“Living in their neighbourhood was a celebrated artist who could work magic with a pencil and brushes. He was having a secret affair with the merchant’s wife …”’

‘Father, why are you telling the child such things? He’s only a baby,’ protested Taj laughingly.

‘He is a child and he is a man. These are things that he must learn early on,’ responded the shah, taking great pleasure in Taj.

‘Shah-my-Father, there’s no need to raise my son with such love stories,’ said Taj with a smile.

‘He is a man,’ said the shah. ‘And some day he will be king.’

‘And that is why you’re drumming the city of Herat into his head, even now,’ said Taj.

The shah handed his heir back to her. He knew how important this child was for the future.

Later that afternoon the shah invited Taj Olsultan to go for a walk with him in the garden. As they walked he told her he would be going to Europe on his upcoming journey and not to Karbala.

‘Listen, my daughter, only a few people have been told about this trip. Later, during our absence, the nation will be in your hands. Be on your guard, take good care of your child. He already has many enemies. If it were up to me I wouldn’t make the journey until he is big and strong. But I cannot put it off. Life has made its decision and I must submit.’

The shah wanted to tell her about the golden treasury in the cellar of his palace. Anything could happen to him during this journey, even death. In the face of such risk it was his duty to share the secret with his heir. The shah took his daughter to the other side of the garden, where no one ever ventured.

‘Listen!’ he whispered. ‘I want to tell you a state secret. It is not meant for you but for your son. If you tell anyone else you will be committing treason. Keep it locked in your heart until your son becomes the nation’s king.’

‘Father, you’re going to live a long life,’ said Taj.

‘Death can strike us all at any moment. Listen well and remember everything.’

The shah picked up a stick and drew an outline of his room in the dirt. He drew his closet and the hole behind the closet, the narrow tunnel, the stairway, the short tunnel and the next stairway. Then another tunnel, the small door and the treasury. He told her about the jewels from India, and he also told her about the hole and the passage in the treasury through which the king could flee in case of emergency.

Taj Olsultan embraced her father and whispered, ‘I thank you, Father, for putting so much trust in me. I will devote my life to the task of passing your message on to your heir.’

The evening before his departure the shah received Eyn ed-Dowleh in his study. Although at first he had decided not to tell him anything about his trip to Europe, he finally realised that as his son-in-law and a soldier of the highest rank, Eyn ed-Dowleh could not be left in the dark. He told him that he was probably going to visit a number of western countries. Then he dictated the following statement: ‘We hereby order that all possible dissidents are to be arrested in our absence. When we return, we do not want to hear any more about them. This letter gives you full authorisation to carry out your task.’

The shah slipped the letter into Eyn ed-Dowleh’s inside pocket and said, ‘Bring Taj Olsultan and her child to the palace regularly. Let them spend their days and occasionally their nights here. It is good for the child to become accustomed to the palace.’

The shah grasped Eyn ed-Dowleh’s arm and said softly, ‘Protect your wife and your son with your own life. They are the most precious things in the kingdom. In any matter concerning them don’t trust anyone.’

The next day the shah began his journey, which would take six months. He brought with him a select group, having warned them beforehand that they were going on a secret mission. The vizier had advised him not to take Malijak, but the shah had rejected his advice: ‘That’s impossible. If I leave him alone, he’ll suffer the same fate as my cat. Besides, we’ve got to have someone to talk to if we happen to feel out of sorts while travelling abroad.’

The shah had decided to keep a diary during his journey. The book was not meant for people living then but for future generations, when the shah would be long gone. He was aware that he would never be as greatly admired as the ancient Persian kings, that he would not leave his mark on this new age, but he could distinguish himself by writing a travelogue. New machines would be able to print many copies of his book, and one day he would be read by everyone. He wanted to make the journey for people who did not yet exist but undoubtedly would someday.

Late that night he pushed the curtain aside and peered into the dark blue sky and at all the stars. Perhaps this was the last time he would be granted the opportunity to marvel at the Persian night.

Even though he was anxious about the country there was something strangely pleasant about the prospect of travel. He felt as if he were suddenly being relieved of a burden that he had been predestined to carry for the rest of his life. He was a caged bird who was about to be freed, to fly away into that endless blue sky.

Although it had been late when he went to bed he woke up early and took a stroll through the gardens. It was early spring and the trees were putting out enormous blossoms. His patience was gone. In fact he would have happily made an early departure, but he had to wait until his travelling companions were ready.

He wanted to cast one last glance at the harem, but much to his surprise he found his wives standing in the garden dressed in festive attire. They were all holding mirrors in their hands. They wept silently and smiled at the same time. A couple of them stepped forward carrying crystal bowls filled with clear water, and they sprinkled the shah as a good luck token. It moved the shah to tears. The women came closer, touched him and led him to the gate, where his fellow travellers were waiting.