‘The shah must never use such words,’ responded Mahdolia sharply.
‘Whatever he does, he does for the good of the country and for us. Mother, someone must think of the people. It shames me just to go outside. I feel as if I were king of the beggars.’
‘You are not king of the beggars. You are king of a magnificent land, king of great and extraordinary cities, majestic bazaars and castles. You live in this palace that is described in the Thousand and One Nights as a garden of mystery.’
‘Mother, the vizier wants to build factories. He wants to send children to school and to bring in machines from abroad for printing books. He’s going to outfit our soldiers in new uniforms and make sure they’re properly armed.’
‘So that’s what the vizier wants, is it? And what does the shah want?’
‘He is doing this in consultation with us,’ replied her son.
‘Was it with your permission that he reduced our allowance – and that of the princes – by half? If this is the way the shah feels, then what have I to add? What am I doing here anyway?’
‘Mother, you were going to tell me a secret.’
She sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair. The shah poured her a glass of water. She sipped slowly, tilted her head forward and said in a muted tone, ‘Son, you know history. Nader the Great, the founder of the previous dynasty, invaded India more than once. The last time the shah of India held him off with a large army and with elephants, but he lost. The shah of India knelt before Nader and handed him his crown. Thus Nader became the shah of India.’
‘Mother, this is well known. Why are you speaking so quietly?’ asked the shah with impatience.
Mahdolia continued: ‘After fifty-eight days the Indians rose up in revolt against the Persian soldiers. When the resistance became widespread and violent, Nader had more than a hundred thousand people killed. He did not give the shah of India his crown back until he had plundered India’s treasury.’
The shah sat bolt upright.
‘According to documents in our royal archive,’ his mother went on, ‘Nader the Great brought great riches with him back to Persia.’
‘What documents are these? And exactly where are they being kept?’ asked the shah, who had never shown any interest in the royal archive before. ‘Mother, what kind of riches are you speaking of?’
Mahdolia pretended to ponder the question. ‘I will mention just a few,’ she finally said. ‘Chests full of gold and Indian jewels, a royal bed inlaid with precious green stones, a chair in the form of a great peacock, adorned with gems of many different colours. Sacks filled with large Indian diamonds. And two separate boxes containing the largest diamonds in the world, nestled on soft fabric of dark purple. One diamond is called the Sea of Light and the other is called the Mountain of Light. There are also a number of small figurines: elephants, peacocks, snakes and cows, all pure gold and inlaid with little precious stones.’
‘Whatever happened to these treasures?’ asked the shah with excitement.
‘They are in our possession,’ said Mahdolia calmly.
‘In our possession?’ he gasped.
‘Lower your voice. The documents I spoke of contain a binding agreement which stipulates that the shah can do nothing with these divine gifts. You may see them, but you may not sell them except in cases of emergency. If the British or the Russians knew this, they would scour our land and plunder it to lay their hands on these riches. It is the work of the greatest Indian artists and metalsmiths who ever lived. The spirit of India is preserved in these treasures. Your forefathers took this secret to their graves. It is a secret you will have to carry too, but your heart must be big enough.’
‘What good is all this if we cannot make use of it?’ asked the shah.
‘I am only passing on the words of your late father. I am but a messenger. The late king said, “My son! The treasures of India are a wonder that must remain buried underground until our land is stable and powerful once again. Only then may you let them be seen. Otherwise they will crumble and disappear.”’
Shah Naser was unable to stay in his seat. ‘Mother, where are they? Who else knows about this?’
‘There must always be three living people who know about the treasure.’
‘And who is the third person?’ asked the shah.
‘Sheikh Aqasi, your father’s counsellor.’
‘Why that man?’
‘He has magical powers, and he always helped your father and me when it came to making difficult decisions. He can read the future. Someday you will make use of his strength, his honesty and his insight.’
‘Enough about the sheikh, Mother. Just tell me where the jewels are.’
His mother took a small Quran from her bag and said solemnly, ‘My son, place your hand on this holy book and swear that you will protect the jewels as if they were your own eyes.’
The shah hastily did as she bade him. ‘I swear.’
‘The treasures are here in this palace,’ Mahdolia then revealed.
‘What? In this palace?’
‘This palace was built by the first king of our dynasty,’ she went on. ‘He built a secret cellar beneath the existing cellar. An invisible underground tunnel runs from that cellar to the mountains.’
‘Here, beneath the cellar of this palace? May I see the treasures?’ asked the shah impatiently.
‘Not now. It must be dark, and there can be no one else in the palace.’
‘But Mother, please!’ he cajoled. His patience had run out.
‘It is a man’s job. I will ask Sheikh Aqasi to take you to the cellar tomorrow evening,’ said Mahdolia, and with that she took her leave of her son.
Once she was gone the shah’s cat stuck her head out from behind a curtain and padded up to him silently.
6. Sheikh Aqasi
The father of the shah had been a superstitious king. When the situation demanded that a decision be made, he never had the nerve to act. Usually it was his wife Mahdolia who cast the die. She would then consult with Sheikh Aqasi, who had an unorthodox view of things.
Sheikh Aqasi had been the late king’s confidant. He was neither a minister nor an advisor, but he was in contact with invisible forces. If the king was at his wits’ end, Sheikh Aqasi could calm him with his insights, prayers and cryptic holy writings. The king saw him as an extension of a divine power.
Sheikh Aqasi had a long grey beard and he always wore a long coat of thin white cloth. It was known that he could see into the future and that he had the gift of prophecy. Rumour had it that by reading the stars he could make the impossible possible. On one occasion the king had demanded the head of one of his enemies, and Sheikh Aqasi made sure he got it.
The sheikh dwelt in a peaceful country house in the mountains, where he could withdraw from the world. He lived simply and had no other property or possessions. The late king believed in him unquestioningly, which is why he was chosen to hear the king’s royal secrets. The new shah was afraid of the sheikh’s otherworldliness, but at the same time he knew he might need him in the future.
On the evening that he was to take the newly appointed shah to see the Indian treasures, Sheikh Aqasi went to the hall of mirrors. Opening his arms like a father he walked up to the shah and pressed a kiss on his shoulder. ‘Your Majesty, your father has gone down like a full moon and you have risen like a young moon.’
‘You are dear to us,’ said the shah. ‘Father has passed away, but he left us with you and your wisdom.’ He then walked into the adjoining room where he held his confidential conversations, sat down on a green satin chair and bade the sheikh sit beside him.
‘We are listening,’ said the shah, who could barely contain his excitement.
‘Your mother has ordered me to show you the cellar,’ said the sheikh calmly. ‘But first I would like to present Your Majesty with a confidential letter. It is the royal last will and testament that your father left for you.’ And with that he took a sealed envelope from his inner pocket.
&nb
sp; The shah broke the lacquer seal and read the letter, which was indeed written in his father’s hand.
My son, the glory days of the Persian Empire are over. Circumstances have made me a weak king. I have been forced to relinquish two large parts of the country to the Russians, and it was as if they had chopped off both my legs with an axe. I will have to take this interminable pain with me to the grave. You know the British have taken possession of Herat, the jewel in our crown, to impede the Russians in their passage to India. They want to give Herat to the Afghanis in order to maintain full control of the area. My son, do all you can to regain our precious Herat. If you fail, Herat will cause you everlasting torment and our descendants will never forgive us. It will be very difficult, but I hope you have the courage of your grandfather. My tears have fallen on this letter. Long live Persia.
The shah sat motionless in his chair for a moment, the letter in his hand. His father’s last will and testament was a serious directive that he could not simply ignore.
Sheikh Aqasi, who thought he saw traces of distress in the shah’s face, turned to him and intoned, ‘The stars promise a glorious time for the shah. Your mother and I know the contents of the letter. I have seen in the movement of the stars that the shah will recapture Herat and that he will humiliate the British and push them deep into India.’
The shah looked at the sheikh and smiled. He folded up the letter and tucked it away in his inner pocket.
‘Your Majesty, allow me to perform my duties. For a long time the Indian booty was in the hands of one of the grandsons of Nader the Great. Your grandfather beheaded almost all of Nader’s male descendants until he finally discovered where the booty was hidden. He built a cellar beneath the cellar and put the treasures there.’ Then the sheikh picked up a lantern.
The shah thought he was going to bring him to the palace’s regular cellar, but to his surprise the sheikh led him to the shah’s own bedroom and locked the door from the inside. He closed the curtains and opened the shah’s closet. Then he took the clothing out of the closet and put it on the bed. Reaching into his jacket he produced a long key. He then shone a lantern into the closet and found a hole in the back panel into which he inserted the key. A small door opened and a cold draught blew in that made the shadows on the walls quiver.
‘The shah must be careful,’ said the sheikh. He wriggled his way through the opening with difficulty and disappeared into the darkness. Curious, the shah followed him.
‘There is a small stairway here,’ said the sheikh.
Shah Naser followed Sheikh Aqasi along the narrow tunnel, groping the wall with his hand.
‘At the end of this tunnel there is another stairway, followed by an even narrower tunnel, another stairway and a short tunnel. Then we will be in the treasury,’ said his guide.
At the end of the short tunnel a small door became visible, which the sheikh opened with another key. Once again he went first and the shah followed.
The shah was astounded. He saw a large room filled with jewels and golden objects that glittered in the light of the lantern.
‘Welcome to history,’ announced the sheikh.
‘This is truly astonishing. A remarkable secret. But why did they make the door so small?’
‘To make it difficult to remove the large objects. There’s another secret door, however, that serves as the exit. That’s for emergencies – if the shah suddenly has to leave the palace. The tunnel ends in a small cave, through which you can flee in safety. Someday I will show you the cave,’ said the sheikh, lighting a couple of candles in a niche.
Shah Naser was overwhelmed by the riches that were revealed in the dim light. He saw gold and silver chests and a magnificent chair shaped like a peacock, studded with precious stones. Everywhere there were golden sculptures, plates and candlesticks. Then the sheikh opened a box before the shah’s very eyes and said humbly, ‘Your Majesty.’
The shah was struck dumb at the sight of the largest blue diamond in the world, the Sea of Light. He did not know a precious stone could be so big and so enchanting.
The sheikh opened another box and said, ‘Look, Your Majesty!’
There lay the second wonder, the second-largest diamond in the world, which bore the name Mountain of Light. Once again the shah was speechless. He looked all around him. It was just as his mother had described: rare antique gold crowns, bracelets, necklaces, earrings and robes that had belonged to the kings and queens of India. Shah Naser opened a bag full of rubies and emeralds and let them run through his fingers. ‘Delightful,’ he murmured. He walked up to a large bed made of special hardwood and inlaid with precious stones, and he inspected the firmness of the well-stuffed mattress. Dropping onto it he stretched out full length.
‘Exceptional,’ he said. ‘It’s as if I had landed in a fairy tale.’
Lying there he looked at the abundance of swords, boots, plates and glasses arranged on the shelves and hanging from the walls. This profusion of heavenly colour couldn’t have come from the kings and queens; it must have come from the gods. These were bits of history, of life. Fate had brought them here and preserved them. Now he must protect them and keep them safe.
‘This is the spirit of India,’ said the shah to himself, ‘the India that the British, the Russians and the French want for their own. No one is to know what lies hidden here. No one. It is ours, Persia’s.’
Sheikh Aqasi nodded and handed him the two keys.
7. Herat
Because the late king had had so many wives, there were hundreds of families who could claim a royal connection. Together they formed society’s noble class, and all of them sided with Mahdolia. They occupied important positions in politics, in the army and in the nation’s commerce. Almost all of them maintained secret contacts with the British and Russian embassies. The series of measures that the vizier had taken to limit the power of these families had encountered much resistance, and they had made their dissatisfaction known to the shah.
The shah had sent for the vizier to explain the situation to him. Early in the evening Mirza Kabir rode into the palace grounds on horseback. The head of the guards took his horse’s reins and helped him dismount. They then exchanged a few words, something that did not escape the shah, who was keeping an eye on the courtyard from behind the curtain.
The vizier went inside. The chamberlain greeted him, bowed his head, took his coat and brought him to the hall of mirrors.
Mirza Kabir was wearing his prime minister’s robe and his tall cylindrical hat. The gems on his clothing glittered in the light of the great chandeliers. His hands clasped behind him, he impatiently walked the full length of the hall several times, back and forth. The shah’s cat followed his pacing. Every now and then the vizier would pause before the great mirrors and look at himself. With his cylindrical hat, his robe and his long salt-and-pepper beard he bore a striking resemblance to the portrait the court painter had once made of his father. It irritated him that the shah was making him wait more often, and for longer periods of time.
The hall of mirrors was an exceptional example of power, light and eastern art. The walls were decorated with thousands of little mirrors cut in mysterious shapes. Out of sheer boredom the vizier began studying the multiple reflections of himself. Famous Persian artists had painted the walls and ceiling with war tableaux, important battle scenes from the nation’s history. Covering the floor were carpets made especially for this hall in natural shades of purple and emerald. The vizier came from the Farahan region, where the most beautiful carpets in the country – if not in the whole world – were made. He knew exactly which villages the carpets had come from. Kneeling down on one carpet of gold, green and dark blue silk, he ran his hand along the surface, feeling how fine the threads were. The shah’s cat rubbed herself against him. The vizier picked her up and stroked her head and back.
‘What a pretty jewelled necklace you’re wearing. Just like a princess.’
The chamberlain then let the vizier know that the shah was waitin
g for him. Mirza Kabir took one more look at his reflection and went into the shah’s conference room.
Shah Naser received the vizier in his military uniform with his hand on his sword. The atmosphere was tense. Mirza Kabir removed his hat, bowed and said, ‘Your Majesty!’
The shah turned his face and spoke with his back to the vizier. ‘Tell me what this is all about: the vizier removes certain persons from our entourage and replaces them with his own relatives. We are under surveillance in our own household.’
‘You are angry, Your Majesty. But your intelligence is incorrect. You are the heart and the brains of the country. Traitors and enemies are trying to get closer to you. It is my duty to keep them out of the palace. Whatever I do, I do for you. I am your vizier, so in your presence I may speak plainly. I always showed great respect for your father. Because you are the king I am obliged to tell the truth. The court of your late father was riddled with corrupt politicians who had only their own interests at heart. Your father was surrounded by thieves, fools, superstitious clerics and spies from England and Russia. I have dealt with them all. In doing so I made many enemies, but that does not frighten me as long as I have the shah on my side.’
‘The vizier has reduced the income of my mother and my family members by half. Are they also thieves and confederates of evil-minded forces?’
‘I hold your mother in great esteem, but with the expenses she incurs I can build factories that would provide work for your subjects. The shah is entitled to know the truth. Your mother’s palace is a hotbed of old men who are hungry for power.’
‘Watch what you say, vizier. You are talking about my mother!’ cried the shah, greatly offended.
‘I am talking about Your Majesty, about the country. It’s not personal,’ said the vizier.
‘We hear quite different rumours,’ replied the shah, this time more calmly.
‘What rumours, Your Majesty?’
‘That it is the vizier who is trying to seize power from us.’
The King Page 3