The King

by Kader Abdolah

  The guard roughly shoved him inside and shut the door.

  ‘Don’t be weak,’ said the vizier to himself. ‘Stay calm.’

  He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then walked to the shah’s water jug, which had been placed on a table in the corner. Meticulously he washed his hands and face for prayer, then turned towards Mecca. It was the only calming thing he could do. He said his prayers, taking longer than usual, but the shah still did not appear.

  What was the shah waiting for? If he had wanted to belittle the vizier he had succeeded. And if he had something else in mind, why was it taking so long?

  Suddenly he realised it was Friday evening: on Friday it was forbidden to kill anyone. The moon was hanging directly over the palace. It was almost midnight. He began to sing quietly: ‘Ashhado anna la ilaha illa Allah, wa ashhado anna Muhammadun rasul Allah. I testify that there is but one God and He is Allah. I testify that Muhammad is His prophet.’

  These are the words you recite when you are certain that death is near. It was quite conceivable that the shah was spying on him to see how the vizier, the hero, the man who wanted to topple him from the throne, was now wrestling to escape from a tight situation.

  With great composure he walked through the room. Now that he was prepared to die he had become calm. He observed the carpet once again. It was indeed the most beautiful carpet ever made by Persian women. Many other viziers had probably walked across it just before their death.

  The moon had almost passed over the palace.

  ‘It is time,’ murmured the vizier.

  The door opened. Three burly men came in. They were carrying a large black blanket and a rope.

  ‘La ilaha illa Allah,’ cried the vizier.

  Two of the men ran up to him, grasped him from behind and tied his hands tightly together.

  ‘La ilaha il—’ cried the vizier again, but before he could finish his sentence the third man shoved a handkerchief in his mouth.

  The vizier fought to get loose, but the three men forced him to the ground. In a few quick movements they wrapped him in the black blanket. He snarled and kicked, but the men bound the blanket with the rope, lifted him from the floor and carried him outside.

  When peace returned to the room the cat came out. She walked across the carpet and sniffed it here and there. Then the curtain opened and the shah appeared. It was still night, but the torches near the fountain were burning again and the guards were standing attentively at the gate as if nothing had happened.

  38. The Silence

  After the murder of the vizier, Amir, his right-hand man, helped his wife and children escape from Tehran. All the friends and relatives of the vizier fled. And Amir went into hiding.

  There was feasting in the palace. The vizier’s opponents congratulated each other without mentioning the dead man’s name. Mahdolia, who could barely walk now, spent the whole day on her feet receiving guests.

  The country’s change of power was observed in silence in foreign capitals. The vizier’s death was not officially announced anywhere. The very question of his death was neither confirmed nor denied. Ordinary people did not take the rumours seriously.

  Only when the vizier had been absent from the scene for a very long time did people begin to wonder where he was. It was suggested that he had been dismissed by the shah and that he and his family had moved away to his country estate.

  There was a story making the rounds that the vizier had committed treason in the negotiations with England and that the shah had punished him for it. Some claimed that he had arrogated all the power to himself and had not been willing to give others any room to manoeuvre, much to their indignation.

  It was now openly said that the vizier had had a double agenda. Sheikh Aqasi announced that the shah had been given written proof clearly showing that the vizier had made a deal with England in which they would provide him with support if he were to depose the shah. The vizier’s opponents wanted everyone to believe that he was the one who had turned Afghanistan over to the British. They made him out to be a traitor and praised the shah for his courageous decision.

  When the tension had died down and the dust from the rumours had settled, the shah threw a party. He invited all the princes, the prominent men from the bazaar and a few ayatollahs.

  Not a word was uttered about the vizier. The hall was full and everyone was dressed to the nines. When the guests came in they bowed their heads to demonstrate their loyalty.

  Normally the shah was not very talkative, but today he felt the need to say a few words to his guests: ‘It is God’s will that we have been permitted to see you all again in this capacity,’ he said to his own astonishment, for he himself didn’t know exactly what he meant. Because his words had inadvertently brought tears to his eyes, the guests were moved as well. No one asked any questions.

  He walked past the guests, who were lined up in two facing rows. Very occasionally he would stop and speak at length with merchants from the bazaar, telling them in guarded terms that changes were coming and that the bazaar would benefit. He paused when he came to the ayatollahs and gave them the opportunity to preserve him from evil with their singing. One of them boldly pulled out his pocket Quran, recited a short surah under his breath and blew gently over the shah’s face for extra protection.

  At the shah’s almost imperceptible command three servants appeared, each carrying a dish filled with gold coins. It was customary to distribute new coins to guests at the New Year’s feast, a gesture to symbolise the beginning of a new spring.

  The feast had cost the shah five gold bars, which he had taken from the gold supply in the cellar. Sheikh Aqasi had used them to have new coins minted.

  The guests, most of whom were from the upper class, laughed and admired the shah, kissed his hands and wished him luck. The princes, all of them decked out in new military uniforms, surrounded the shah and let him know that they were prepared to sacrifice themselves for the nation.

  The shah listened to all of this in silence. He smiled. He knew the princes were in collusion with England and Russia. In his diary he later wrote, ‘They’re just a bunch of traitors. They’d kill me if they had the chance. They’d even do away with my daughter and Sharmin. We’ve got to render them harmless before they begin hatching plans.’

  The guests were served fresh tea in gilt-edged glasses. The shah took a little coffee. It was the first time he had ever drunk coffee in public, and it was seen as the beginning of a new era. He put the cup back on the gold tray with a flourish and withdrew behind the curtain.

  Sheikh Aqasi now assumed the role of host. Servants came in with huge dishes full of tasty morsels. The guests let him know they were aware of how he, in his wisdom, had stood by the shah in difficult times. Never before had they seen the shah so happy.

  Sheikh Aqasi said the shah had spent a long time grieving over Herat, but fortunately he had put that grim episode behind him, and now the leadership of the country was back in his own blessed hands. He also told them that the shah had asked him to take on the responsibilities of the vizier. ‘There have been many irregularities, especially in the army. Fortunately the shah has the expertise to deal with them all. That is not exactly my forte.’

  With tears in his eyes Sheikh Aqasi swore by God to apply all his talents and strength in his service to the shah.

  At first the shah tried to keep the vizier’s death hidden from England and Russia. But the British ambassador had received the report of the murder from his spies on the day it took place, and he had alerted London. The ambassador saw it as an unfortunate event that was not wholly unexpected. The vizier had been ambitious and had made many enemies. His young advisors had been arrested or had gone into hiding, and the reformers had taken a hard blow.

  England was not sorry about the change of power. From now on London could do business with the shah directly.

  Forty days after the death of the vizier the ayatollah of Tehran made a brief announcement on behalf of the royal house dur
ing Friday prayers: ‘We, the king of Persia, appoint Sheikh Aqasi the new vizier of the land. May Allah be with him.’

  In his announcement the shah had not said a word about the vizier. The ayatollah too was silent. Sheikh Aqasi was praised as a God-fearing man, and the ayatollah hinted that Allah was happy with the choice.

  Stories about the vizier were still making the rounds in the street.

  ‘The vizier has fled.’

  ‘He’s in the British embassy.’

  ‘The vizier wanted to depose the shah and place the crown on his own head.’

  ‘He’s gone into hiding among his own tribe.’

  ‘His house is empty and boarded up. His wife and children have fled as well.’

  ‘The vizier has been arrested. The agents have searched his house and have taken his files.’

  ‘The vizier is soon to be hung on the bazaar square.’

  The stories had made their way into the harem. One of them was accepted as the truth: ‘The vizier rode into the palace grounds. All the guards had been replaced that night. They strangled him in the hall of mirrors. Then they buried him in great haste in a simple grave in the Abdoldawood Cemetery.’

  No one knew the source of that report. It was a compilation of three facts that had been related by three different witnesses. The witnesses were an undertaker’s man, a cleaning woman and a liveryman. They recounted what they had seen because their consciences were troubling them.

  One night, as the undertaker’s man was lying beside his wife in bed, he said to her, ‘There’s something I want to tell you, but it can’t go beyond these four walls. Remember that evening when I had to prepare a grave for a burial? A coach with two horsemen brought a body wrapped in a black blanket. I got the lantern and went into the grave to lay the body on its right side. I wanted to pull the blanket away from the face, but one of the men jerked the lantern out of my hand and pulled me out of the grave by the collar. They threw earth over the body and filled in the grave. By the time they were finished it was daylight. In the glow of dawn I saw that it was a coach from the palace. The dead person was from there.’

  The wife of the undertaker’s man promptly told an old servant in the hamam, and the story made its way from the hamam to the harem.

  One week after the vizier had been killed a cleaning woman from the palace found a crushed cylindrical hat in the hall of mirrors. It lay on the floor behind a curtain in front of the window. The cleaning woman immediately recognised it as the vizier’s hat from the ornament decorating it. Her hands began to tremble. She dared not tell anyone about her find. She concealed the object under her clothing and took it back home with her, scared to death. Once she was home she wrapped the hat in a black cloth and hid it under the beams in the dark cellar of her house.

  For three weeks she was as silent as the grave, but she had the constant urge to tell someone about it. One night, when she couldn’t sleep, she went to see her old mother. She hid her face in her apron and began to weep. ‘I have a hat in my house,’ she said through her tears. ‘I found the crushed hat of the vizier in the hall of mirrors. It was lying on the floor behind the curtain, but his jewel glittered in the light.’

  Although the only person she told was her mother, it finally came to the attention of the shah’s wives.

  There was only one more thing the women needed to know to get to the whole truth.

  The palace liveryman could no longer keep his mouth shut, and one evening he unburdened himself to his daughter: ‘The vizier’s horse has been in the palace stable for quite some time. This means that the vizier came to the palace on his own horse that night, but he did not leave on his own horse. I don’t dare show the animal to anyone, so I’ve hidden it in the stable. The horse is becoming very restless, but I can’t let it out. You’re not to tell anyone about this.’

  This report also made its way to the harem.

  The shah’s wives lined up all three of these facts and came to one conclusion: ‘The vizier was killed in the hall of mirrors!’

  The next Friday morning the shah’s wives put on black clothing and sat together on the veranda of the harem. The smoked their hookahs and drank tea. On the floor in front of them was a large dish of black dates, a sign of mourning. They looked sorrowful, but no one cried and no one talked about the vizier. It was appallingly silent.

  39. Malijak

  The country seemed unruffled, but just the opposite was true. The vizier’s opponents said his death and the arrest of his supporters had saved the country from misfortune. But they had no idea what the vizier’s death had unleashed. A wave of resistance slowly spread across the land.

  It was at this time that Sharmin went missing. The shah looked everywhere for her, but she seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. He suspected that the women had stolen his cat to avenge the death of the vizier, so he asked the overseer of the harem to search all the rooms. But not a trace of Sharmin was found. Could Sharmin have left the palace herself? Had she not felt safe? Had she been afraid of the women of the harem, or was she afraid of the shah? Perhaps Sharmin had joined the wild cats.

  The shah had a feeling she would never come back. It caused him pain, but there was nothing he could do.

  A few months had passed since the death of the vizier. The shah often thought of him, but he threw himself into his poetry as a distraction. It didn’t work. His latest poems were all about the vizier.

  Take up a pickaxe, break down the wall

  and flee this prison.

  Escape, and surrender to the light.

  Just like those who are gone

  And are never coming back.

  No matter what he did, the remorse he felt at doing away with the vizier grew stronger and stronger. No one had been permitted to mourn his disappearance, but the shah mourned him in silence. He consoled himself with the thought that other kings in his position had done the same thing. Someone had to hold the country together. Now that the vizier was no longer there he would have to go out into the country and show his face.

  He asked Sheikh Aqasi to arrange a journey for him to the city of Sultanabad. The road to Sultanabad ran through the holy city of Qom, where the holy Masuma, a second cousin of the Prophet Muhammad, lay buried. Her tomb was one of the most important religious sites in the country.

  Sheikh Aqasi advised the shah to spend a few days in Qom and to pay a visit to the shrine as a way of strengthening his ties with the great clerics of the city. The journey would take almost two weeks, and the shah and his wives would stay in the homes of the city’s richest merchants.

  Qom was a passionately religious city on the edge of the desert. Its inhabitants were mainly clerics and their relatives. The country’s most important ayatollahs lived in Qom. The status of ayatollah was the highest that an ordinary imam could achieve. Those who held that position were usually of advanced years. The ayatollahs were powerful. They had thousands of followers. They lived simple lives among the people and their words were widely heeded. The mosque was the centre of their power. There were hundreds of imams throughout the country who kept them informed about what was going on at the grass roots. The shah hated that city, but he had to maintain good relations with the ayatollahs.

  The shah spent his days in Qom in a castle just outside the city in a very special place among the old date palms, where it was pleasantly warm during the day and pleasantly cool at night. The shah was not really interested in visiting the holy tomb, but he had to let the ayatollahs see that he was the one with a firm grip on the reins of power.

  Accompanied by a group of leading clerics the shah paid a visit to the holy Masuma and kissed the golden bars of the grave, as required by tradition. From there he visited a madrassah where students were training to become imams, and then withdrew to the castle so he would no longer have to have anything to do with saints, turbans and beards.

  The next morning he rose early and continued his journey to Sultanabad. After a day of riding he and his retinue spent the night
at a caravanserai, where a tent was set up for the shah. The thirty women accompanying him were put up in the travellers’ lodgings.

  Sultanabad was a provincial town and of little consequence in and of itself. The Farahan district, however, which contained a few hundred small villages, was a different matter. It was the native region of the murdered vizier, and for centuries the descendants of the vizier’s family had lived there. The inhabitants of the region were proud of the family and were especially proud of the murdered vizier.

  When the shah rode into the city the next day as evening fell, all the men he saw looked like the vizier. He may have been mistaken, but they all seemed to be wearing the same beards and the same hats. Tears sprang to his eyes.

  The shah wanted to go to the city’s old bazaar. The vizier had loved shoes, especially tall leather boots, and every time he went travelling he came back with a new pair. Once the shah had remarked on this practice: ‘I see you had enough time to purchase a pair of boots.’

  And the vizier had answered, ‘No matter what I buy it never gives me as much pleasure as when my father bought me my first pair of boots at the Sultanabad bazaar.’

  Everyone was surprised by the shah’s visit. The shopkeepers didn’t know how to react, for they had heard of the role the shah had played in the disappearance of the vizier. The chief of police cried, ‘Javid shah!’ and the officers responded, ‘Javid shah!’

  At the spice stands the shah stopped and inhaled the spicy fragrances. At a carpet shop he pointed to one carpet and asked, ‘Where was that carpet woven?’ And without waiting for the answer he walked on. He passed a number of jewellers and went into a shoe shop. He picked up a light brown boot, smelled the leather and put it back. After inspecting the other boots he walked out and left the bazaar by way of a side street. His guards never lost sight of him.

  The shah wanted to visit the large carpet workshop just behind the bazaar. One of the vizier’s big plans had been to promote the export of Persian carpets, and a proposal had been made to build a large number of carpet factories in various cities. The factory in Sultanabad had been erected as a pilot.