Kader Abdolah - The King

Eyn ed-Dowleh obeyed and came back almost immediately. ‘The chairman says, “The shah’s message has been duly received.”’

‘Was that all?’ asked the shah.

‘That was all,’ confirmed Eyn ed-Dowleh.

The shah gestured to Colonel Liakhov. They rode on a bit to discuss the situation privately. Then the shah turned back to Eyn ed-Dowleh and said, ‘Go back into the building and make the following announcement to everyone, loud and clear: “Either you all come out at once or the shah will personally demolish the building with his cannon.”’

Eyn ed-Dowleh bowed and carried out the order. Much later than expected he came back out.

‘Did you make the announcement?’ asked the shah.

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ answered Eyn ed-Dowleh.

‘Why did it take so long?’

‘They were right in the middle of voting.’

‘Voting for what?’

‘The laws, Your Majesty.’

‘I’ll teach them a lesson!’

But he stayed where he was and stared straight at the door of the parliament.

Something had to happen. The shah dismounted. With his left hand behind him he walked up to his cannon, placed his hand on the barrel and stood there thinking.

‘Aim it at that window,’ said the shah to the sergeant, pointing to a stained glass window somewhere in the parliament building.

‘Ready!’ the sergeant called to his soldiers.

Three soldiers ran up and opened the back of the cart, placed two sturdy planks against it and rolled the cannon down. They moved it to the spot indicated by the sergeant and aimed the barrel at the parliament building.

The shah gave a sign.

The sergeant placed a ball in the cannon.

When everything was ready the shah took his position behind his cannon. Everyone held their breath. The Russian officers did not expect that the shah would actually do the shooting. The sergeant solemnly handed him a linstock. Colonel Liakhov nodded to the shah, who lit the fuse. Fire leapt from the barrel of the cannon with an enormous bang. The ball bored a hole in the side of the building. The ground shook; the horses whinnied and reared.

Suddenly tongues of flame issued from the building and smoke began pouring from the broken stained glass window. The shah waited, the colonel waited, the officers waited, but no one came outside. The shah stood apprehensively beside his cannon until suddenly, out of nowhere, armed men appeared on the roof of the parliament and began shooting.

Colonel Liakhov gave the shah cover and told him to hide behind the cannon cart. The Russian officers, who hadn’t counted on this kind of action, withdrew their soldiers immediately to the surrounding alleys, seeking shelter behind the walls.

Fierce fighting erupted all around the building. The armed men on the roof kept up a barrage of fire, thereby enabling the delegates to escape through the back garden.

Colonel Liakhov ordered his troops to enter the building.

Jamal Khan, who had put the approved constitutional articles for the new parliament in a leather briefcase, tried to escape by way of the roof, but he was hit by a Russian officer. Jamal Khan stumbled. The leather briefcase fell from his hand. Mirza Reza fired at the officer, ran to Jamal Khan, picked up the briefcase and escaped. The wounded Jamal Khan crept across the roof and dropped into the garden of a house behind the parliament building.

Fighting in the city continued all afternoon. It wasn’t until evening that the Russian soldiers regained control of the city centre.

Late that night Colonel Liakhov appeared before the shah to make his report: ‘The resistance has been wiped out. The parliament building is yours.’

The shah walked over to the mantelpiece, picked up a small box, handed it to Liakhov and said, ‘By way of thanks.’

The colonel was astonished by what he saw. It was an old dagger encrusted with glittering jewels.

The next day the vague sound of demonstrators’ slogans permeated the halls of the palace. The shah unconsciously absorbed them, and a few days later he even heard himself humming the same phrases:

Az khun-e javanan-e watan, leleh damideh,

Az ma’tam sarv-e qadeshan sarv khamideh.

From the blood of our young men that watered the earth

tulips have burst forth.

The trees are bowed with sadness.

It took several days before order was completely restored in the city. The Russian soldiers had withdrawn and the Persian soldiers guarded the important places. The shopkeepers minded their own business and the people went back to the bazaar. Seven parliamentarians had been killed, a few were wounded and a considerable number were arrested. How many Russian soldiers had been killed was not known. The ayatollahs and the escaped parliamentarians had all gone into hiding.

When it came to the fate of Jamal Khan no one was really sure. There were rumours that a Russian officer had shot and killed him. But according to reliable sources Jamal Khan and Mirza Reza had fled to Moscow to stay with their friends.

The shah felt very good indeed. He had received telegrams from all the major cities reporting that the bazaars had reopened and people were going to the mosques for prayer. He had not stood for any nonsense, and everyone had seen what he was made of. The shah’s position was strong once again and he wanted to record his victory. He asked his photographer to take a series of photos of himself in the city for posterity.

‘Take a picture of us next to that building,’ said the shah.

‘The parliament building, you mean?’ asked the photographer.

The shah emphatically refused to use the word ‘parliament’. ‘A picture of us next to that hole in the wall along with our cannon, so all three can be seen clearly,’ he said. ‘Is that possible?’

‘That would be difficult. In a photograph the accent can only be placed on one thing. It has to be either the cannon or your head.’

‘But we want the hole in the picture too,’ said the shah.

‘I will do my best, Your Majesty.’

The photographer had the shah’s cannon brought to the parliament building, and he moved it around until he found the right composition. When he was ready he alerted the shah. He told him to stand in front of the cannon, with the cannon’s barrel pointing at the hole. It was a scene that he had carefully puzzled out with the help of his assistant. The photographer looked through the lens with great concentration. The image was balanced, but the shah’s tall cylindrical hat was not completely visible.

‘If Your Majesty would tilt your head a little bit backwards. Just a little bit. Stop. That’s good,’ shouted the photographer from under the black cloth of his camera.

The photographer wanted to take a picture that was reminiscent of the famous painting of Napoleon, a scene in which the wind was blowing, a grey cloud was threatening, a cannon was smoking and Napoleon was looking towards a battlefield in the distance.

‘Wait a minute,’ shouted the photographer. ‘I think the hole would be more prominent if the shah didn’t look at the hole at all but in the opposite direction. So look at that tree and raise your chin a little. Place your right hand on the barrel of the cannon, not flat against it, as if you were holding the reins of your horse. Very good, excellent.’

At that moment a man came out from behind a tree. He was wearing a smart suit and a cap. He walked calmly towards the photographer. The shah thought he had seen him somewhere before. Perhaps he was the photographer’s assistant, or someone who worked as an interpreter for the Russians. The man came even closer. The shah felt that something wasn’t quite right, and he looked to the side. But the photographer, whose head was still under the camera’s black cloth, shouted, ‘Don’t move!’