Kader Abdolah - The King

London had already given the ambassador the nod to assist the opposition if necessary. Just to be sure, though, he wanted to send one more telegram to London to ask for permission. But Browne appealed to him with great emotion: ‘The shah is killing his own subjects before our very eyes. You cannot wait for London. You must decide!’ Outside the soldiers were shooting at the defenceless demonstrators.

‘Open the gates!’ said the ambassador. Browne ran to the gate.

‘Everyone flee to the British embassy!’ shouted Jamal Khan at the top of his voice.

One after another they all ran into the embassy’s huge garden. As the British ambassador dictated a telegram to London he watched the people standing behind the embassy fences, shaking their fists at the soldiers and shouting, ‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’

The next day almost the entire city had gathered round the embassy. These were ordinary people who, up until now, had only followed the events at a distance. When the gardens of the embassy were full people rolled carpets out over the pavements and onto the square, where new people were constantly coming to sit. The people living nearby opened the doors of their houses so everyone could have access to water.

The shah couldn’t believe what Eyn ed-Dowleh was telling him. His lips trembled and his hand reached for his sword. Eyn ed-Dowleh took a step backwards.

‘And what did you do?’ shouted the shah with rage. ‘Stand by and watch? You’re nothing but a scarecrow. How else would they have dared to storm the prison? How else would they have dared to enter the British embassy? Don’t just stand there in front of me like a puppet in a puppet show. Go and surround the embassy!’

Eyn ed-Dowleh rode to the barracks at once. Then, accompanied by additional troops, he marched to the British embassy. In the meantime the shah had summoned his vizier.

The shah was seething. ‘The British are preparing a coup. Either you straighten them out or I’ll turn to Russia for help.’

‘The shah must think of his health. Anger is harmful to your body,’ said Mostovi Almamalek to the shah in calming tones.

‘I’d rather die than see the British push us into a corner,’ the shah responded. ‘Contact the embassy. Order them to send the demonstrators away or I’ll regard it as a declaration of war on the part of England.’

‘It’s not wise to come down so hard on them right away. The problem is not the British embassy.’

‘The problem is every bit the British embassy. The British are in league with that so-called Tehran committee.’

‘Your Majesty, we cannot keep blaming the British. They have invested a fortune in the southern part of the country. They want a government that will protect their people and their installations.’

‘That government already exists,’ said the shah.

‘What we need for these complex projects are an independent government and a powerful parliament.’

‘The vizier is trying to sell us the slogans of our enemies.’

‘That’s not true. England wants to set up banks in our country. If we have no constitution or court of justice the investors will not materialise. The shah wonders why the British embassy opened its garden to the demonstrators. Your Majesty, England’s demands are exactly the same as those of your subjects, that’s why.’

‘The vizier has expatiated at length, but you’ve missed one important point in your argument. I have visited a number of European parliaments, but parliaments like that will never work here. Power must be kept secretive and incomprehensible.’

‘That will never change. I guarantee it. But I am asking your permission to negotiate officially with the leaders of the demonstrators.’

‘As long as they remain at the embassy I will not give you permission. The British embassy is British territory. First they will have to leave the embassy. Then you may begin talks with them.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the vizier.

‘We have patience,’ said the shah firmly.

The ayatollahs too were troubled by the new turn of events. If the people were to remain in the garden of the British embassy, it would be difficult for the ayatollahs to provide them with direct support. They would be unable to come to an unequivocal decision. They ended their discussion and went to the courtyard for some fresh air.

Behbahani, the oldest ayatollah, hobbled to the pool, washed his hands and threw some water on his face. He leaned on his walking stick and listened to the bustle in the street with closed eyes. Then he walked up the stairs to the roof. From the edge of the roof he could see the crowds at the embassy, on the pavements and in the square. As soon as the people saw him on the roof they all began to shout: ‘Ya marg, ya qanun, ya marg, ya qanun, ya marg, ya qanun!’

The aged ayatollah incited the chanting crowds with his left arm, his right hand on his walking stick. Then he sat down on the edge of the roof. The crowd shouted even louder: ‘Qanun! Qanun! Qanun!’

Now the other ayatollahs appeared together on the roof. The people shook their fists and stamped their feet: ‘Ya marg, ya qanun!’ It made everything at the embassy shake, from the doors and windows to the fences.

A servant rolled out a large carpet on the roof and the ayatollahs sat down on it with their faces towards the embassy. This was how they expressed their solidarity with the people at the embassy without having to go there themselves.

This act of the ayatollahs made things even more complicated for Mostovi Almamalek. First he sent a messenger to the British ambassador and tactfully asked him to force the demonstrators to leave the embassy. The ambassador, who had seen the ayatollahs on the roof, knew that his position was stronger than ever. He in turn sent a messenger to the vizier: ‘We have no army to drive the occupiers out of the embassy. Personally, I would be very grateful if you would bring this matter to an end. What England wants is to keep the peace.’

Everyone was expecting that a spirit of gloom would descend on the square, but the atmosphere remained cheerful and lively. Fresh bread began coming in from everywhere as well as vegetables, fruit, sugar cubes and biscuits. The people ate together, slept together, smoked their pipes and discussed things with each other. No one knew how long it would go on.

A great silence hung over the palace. It seemed as if the shah wanted to show that he was still unimpressed by the demonstrations. But he couldn’t just stand by idly and watch. The news of people claiming sanctuary in the embassy had spread to other cities, where people had also begun to claim sanctuary in the telegraph offices to support their comrades in Tehran. Prompt action was called for.

The shah, in the person of his vizier, tried to negotiate with the opposition via England. At the same time he spoke with his own advisors and army officers, telling them to prepare for a possible attack on the throne. While all this was going on a Russian messenger was riding back and forth in deepest secrecy between the palace and the Russian embassy.

A week passed. The vizier’s negotiations with a delegation from the bazaar, and his discussions with the ayatollahs, had so far proved fruitless. The opposition refused to budge until the shah met their demands.

The shah felt the situation pressing down on his chest, which sometimes made it difficult to breathe. He had been awakened a few times in the middle of the night by the sound of his own racing blood. He had nightmares. In his sleep he set up his cannon on the embassy square and shot the demonstrators in the embassy garden. No, this could not go on much longer.

‘We’ve got to teach England a lesson,’ said the shah to Eyn ed-Dowleh. ‘Sweep out the embassy garden. Pull down the fences if necessary and get those traitors out of there.’ The shah’s order was clear. His son-in-law put a special unit in place — armed horsemen who were skilled with both swords and guns. It was late in the afternoon when he advanced on the embassy. But another development had taken place the evening before. Horse carts full of illegal weapons had been smuggled into the city.