The King

by Kader Abdolah

  Once he had thrown out the last coins he raised his arm in the air and walked to his coach.

  52. The Constitution

  The shah had been gone for a few months and everyone really did believe he was on a long journey to the holy cities. When his stay lasted longer than anyone expected they speculated that he had gone to Mecca to take part in the annual hajj. As a wealthy believer you had to travel to Mecca at least once and participate in the traditional Sugar Feast.

  The shah was now halfway through his travels, and he had sent a few brief letters to Tehran. To his mother he wrote:

  Mother, we were received by our neighbour Russia like a great Persian king. They told us they still have fond memories of your visit to Moscow. They showed us a couple of portraits of you. You never told us that the royal artist had painted your picture. I asked if I could take your portrait with me. Alas, they like you so much that they want to keep the painting in their own collection.

  To Taj Olsultan he wrote:

  How I wish I had brought you with us. It is more a journey for you than for us. The women, the cafés, the bridges, the lamps, the churches, the bakeries and the theatres. But it doesn’t matter. You are still young, and we will send you to Moscow some day.

  We miss our little Ahmad Mozafar, our crown prince. Take good care of him. Feed him with your own milk. Hold him close to your body and talk to him in complete sentences. Don’t tell him any foolish stories and don’t sing him any common lullabies. Read to him from Hafez. Teach him French songs.

  Until we meet again. We are coming soon.

  To keep the women of the harem from getting jealous he wrote one letter to all of them:

  Wives! The shah misses his harem. We were duty bound to make this journey or we wouldn’t have done it at all. The distances are great, the roads are impassable and danger is lurking at every turn. Thank God we didn’t bring you with us or it would have been a miserable expedition. We ask you to pray for us. We are coming home soon.

  To his vizier he wrote:

  The way the people live and work here is completely different from anything we are used to. I keep wondering whether such a life is suitable for our subjects. I am afraid that if we were to adopt all the manners of these people we would end up neglecting our own religion, traditions and customs.

  When I come back we will discuss this at length. It has certainly been a useful journey. We have bought cannons and ordered rifles for the country, and we have signed many contracts.

  We received a short note from Eyn ed-Dowleh. He writes to us in no uncertain terms that the presence of the shah is essential, which is why we believe it is unwise to stay away any longer. We have decided to cut the trip short. As far as we can judge, we have achieved our goal. The next time we make this journey it will be much longer.

  Vizier Mostovi Almamalek suspected he knew what Eyn ed-Dowleh’s short note was all about. He had probably told the shah that although everything in the country seemed peaceful, his opponents were busily building up a solid network.

  Eyn ed-Dowleh had also warned the vizier: ‘You must not think they are gone, or that they have changed their way of thinking. By no means. I have proof that they are preparing to seize power at a suitable moment.’

  Mostovi Almamalek had hoped to be able to carry out some of his plans in the shah’s absence, but it proved almost impossible to get anything done without royal approval. Eyn ed-Dowleh was a hundred times worse than the shah. He was the ideal watchdog. He had summed up the vizier’s position in a single sentence: ‘You are not to come up with any new ideas until the shah is back!’

  Eyn ed-Dowleh had put together a special military unit to arrest or eliminate opponents in Tehran. He wanted to complete the mission with which he had been charged before the shah returned, but that, as he was gradually learning, would be no easy task. He even believed that Mostovi Almamalek was maintaining contact with the opposition. Almamalek did speak occasionally with Jamal Khan and Amir Nezam, but he was planning nothing against the shah. His purpose in doing so was to win the young intellectuals over to his ideas.

  When the vizier had taken office the shah had asked to be shown all legal documents and contracts so he could study them. But because of the sheer volume involved, and because the shah simply didn’t want to be bothered most of the time, the papers tended to accumulate on his desk. The vizier had little patience with what he called the shah’s lack of responsibility.

  Later he would be confronted with the mountain of contracts that the shah had signed unilaterally with European companies and merchants.

  The members of the resistance committee had long been convinced that the shah was the biggest obstacle to real change, so they worked steadily on. At the last meeting of the resistance committee in Tehran, the following men were present:

  Jamal Khan

  Mirza Reza Kermani

  Prince Malkum Khan

  Abdolrahim Talebof

  Haj Zeinolabedin Maraghei

  Sheikh Ahmad Ruhi

  Mirza Muhammad Hassan Ashtiani

  Sheikh Abolhasan

  Mirza Soleyman Khan

  Mirza Yahya Dolatabadi

  Mirza Muhammad Alikhan

  Sheikh Ahmad Gherkhani

  Mirza Mohsen Sadolama

  Mirza Soleyman Khad Dehkade

  Mirza Isa Ghaemmagham

  Amir Nezam

  Abolghasem Lahuti

  Mostashar Aldoleh

  Most of them were involved in culture, literature, politics or science. Some of them lived in Tehran and the rest came from the other large cities. Their meeting was something like a small national congress at which they attempted to combine their forces.

  Jamal Khan opened the meeting.

  ‘Welcome, friends! I consider myself fortunate to see you all here. The fact that we are able to come together this evening is undoubtedly a gift from God. A number of you have travelled a few days to get here, and some of you a week. Once again, welcome.

  ‘Each and every one of you is important for our homeland. Sometimes I worry that our dream will never be fulfilled, that we are doomed to endless misery. But at other moments I feel a glimmer of hope in my heart.

  ‘My friends, I recently went to the south of the country to see what the British are up to. It was not possible to set foot in their territory, but I posed as an interpreter for one of the local officials. What is taking place there is a miracle. The British have erected new installations, machines, engines, appliances and pumps. They have built a long wall and have laid claim to everything, but that wall will not last long. Sooner or later they’ll have to work with our graduates and our workers. But right now, we ourselves are the biggest problem. What we need are laws, set down in a statute book. And the power of the shah must be drastically curtailed. We have a long way to go. But when I look at you now, I am looking at the future.

  ‘My friends, when the murdered vizier was still alive he translated the French constitution bit by bit and made a specially adapted version for our own country. I have been able to get hold of the complete text and have had a number of copies printed. It gives me great pleasure to give everyone here a copy as a never-to-be-forgotten gift. Let us study it and make any necessary corrections. This is a dream that will become reality.

  ‘My friends, I thank you for your attendance.’

  Mirza Reza left the room and came back carrying a heavy wooden box. He opened the box and handed everyone the first edition of the provisional Persian statute book. Everyone cheered and clapped enthusiastically.

  Jamal Khan had set aside one book to take to the house of Ayatollah Tabatabai. He was the cleric who had served as an envoy of the aged Ayatollah Shirazi and had gone with a group of merchants from the bazaar to speak with the shah. After that meeting he had become one of the most important political figures in the land.

  The aged ayatollah of Shiraz had retreated completely from public life after the victory of his tobacco fatwa. He wanted to spend his last days in peace and in prayer. A
ll eyes were now on Ayatollah Tabatabai. He had a good relationship with Jamal Khan and had let him know that he could always be counted on. On the evening of the meeting Jamal Khan handed the statute book to Ayatollah Tabatabai.

  Someone had also slipped a copy to Eyn ed-Dowleh. Seated among the cushions he thumbed through the book, boiling with rage. The man who had brought him the book had also reported on the meeting of the group. One of its members had probably spilled the beans.

  The next day Eyn ed-Dowleh went to the office of the Mostakhberat, the secret service, to discuss recent developments.

  ‘Twenty-five copies of this book have been printed,’ said the head of the secret service.

  ‘Where did they have the printing done?’ asked Eyn ed-Dowleh.

  ‘They were printed in Bombay and smuggled into the country via Herat.’

  Eyn ed-Dowleh had a feeling that this was the work of Jamal Khan. Jamal Khan was often cited as the brains behind all the unrest in the country. But the name of Mirza Reza, the son of the late Ayatollah Kermani, was also being heard with greater frequency.

  There had been nothing personal about Mirza Reza in the report, so Eyn ed-Dowleh was unable to form a clear picture of the man. He had never seen Jamal Khan either, but he had a fairly good idea what he looked like: a man with a drooping moustache who wore a black cap and a black coat.

  ‘A copy of that statute book is lying next to the Quran on the mantelpiece in the living room of Ayatollah Tabatabai,’ the head of the Mostakhberat told Eyn ed-Dowleh.

  Eyn ed-Dowleh drank his tea in silence.

  ‘The ayatollah has made notes on almost every page,’ the man continued. ‘This is the latest news, but we also have an unconfirmed report about their statute book. Each one of them was given a copy to take home. They were told to study the text and to come back with the notes they had taken. The ayatollah’s copy is proof. We know for sure they’re going to meet again, but we don’t know exactly when.’

  Eyn ed-Dowleh put his tea glass down. This statute book was making the problem more complicated than he and the shah had imagined. That evening he sent a short letter to the shah suggesting that it might be wise for the shah not to extend his journey any longer than was absolutely necessary.

  About three months later the members of the committee got together again to talk about the statute book. The head of the Mostakhberat had been informed that the meeting would take place in Tehran, but he was unable to find out the day or the location.

  Eyn ed-Dowleh applied pressure. ‘These facts are useless. I need concrete information. I want them all behind bars before the shah comes home. I want to show them off to the shah. Think of something. Do something. Give me an address. If we don’t arrest them now they’ll just grow and grow and we won’t be able to stop them. Give me something specific and I’ll close all the gates and search all the houses one by one until I get them. I want that Jamal Khan! Pick a day and I’ll chain him to the wall with iron shackles round his neck before the shah arrives. I’ll smash his face with his own statute book. And the same goes for Mirza Reza.’

  The head of the Mostakhberat sent a number of spies to the local inns and stationed his men at the city gates to spot any strangers entering the city and follow them. From all the information they received they concluded that the members of the committee would be gathering within a few days. Eyn ed-Dowleh immediately barred all the gates of Tehran and sent troopers to the inns outside the city. He ordered them to arrest every traveller with a book or even just a piece of paper in his luggage and to put him in chains. The troopers rode as far as the city of Qazvin. They stopped at every caravanserai and arrested anyone who looked suspicious. They found not a single book, but they brought a long row of men into the city in chains. Eyn ed-Dowleh interrogated them one by one and had them locked up.

  ‘If Jamal Khan’s men aren’t outside the city, they must be inside,’ reasoned Eyn ed-Dowleh.

  His troopers swept into all the guesthouses unannounced and locked up all the travellers until Eyn ed-Dowleh could question them personally. But they found no suspicious travellers. Everyone had a good reason for staying in Tehran.

  On the third day Eyn ed-Dowleh was given a tip concerning the presence of several strangers staying in the imam boarding school behind the Jameh mosque. Accompanied by his troopers Eyn ed-Dowleh entered the building and forced the doors of all the rooms. In one of the rooms was a man who pushed Eyn ed-Dowleh over and jumped out the window into the garden. It was Jamal Khan. He ran to the gate, but Eyn ed-Dowleh stood up and began shooting at the fleeing man. Jamal Khan stumbled and disappeared into the bushes.

  ‘He’s wounded. Get him!’ shouted Eyn ed-Dowleh, who still didn’t know who the escaped man was.

  Three armed officers ran to the place where Jamal Khan had fallen and began shooting blindly in every direction. Just then, from out of the darkness, shots were fired at the officers. They dived to the ground and shot back. Their attacker was Mirza Reza. He was in another room in the building and had opened fire on them, shooting until all the other members of the committee had escaped through the windows and across the roofs.

  Eyn ed-Dowleh crept to the room from which he had heard the shots. He kicked the door in and emptied his pistol. Mirza Reza got away just in time. He jumped into the courtyard and hid behind a couple of trees. A few of the officers saw where Mirza Reza had taken cover. Suspecting he had run out of ammunition they ran after him in order to arrest him. One of them struck him hard with his gun and the other two pushed him to the ground.

  Jamal Khan managed to escape, but the agents had arrested several members of the group. Eyn ed-Dowleh led Mirza Reza away in chains and had him locked up.

  53. The Journey Back

  The shah returned after six months away. In answer to Eyn ed-Dowleh’s letter he had sent a messenger on ahead with instructions to take occasional evening drives through the city with the royal coach so everyone would think the shah was back home.

  The journey had cost the shah more time and money than he had expected. In every country he visited he had bought a great many presents for himself, his wives and his family members. It was a Persian custom to return home with presents for everyone, and the shah observed this tradition. The things he had bought were spectacular: new products, clothing and household items that might never reach the bazaars of Persia. Every time the shah saw something along the way that pleased him he bought it and put it in safekeeping so he could take it back home with him.

  By the time he was at his journey’s end and had reached the Russian side of the Caspian Sea there were thirteen large, fully-loaded carts being driven behind him. His total luggage amounted to 367 trunks and 32 large boxes containing shoes, hats, coats, books, porcelain, appliances, sweets, toys, pipes, bracelets, photographs of the various heads of state, picture frames, eyeglasses, clocks, magnifying glasses, lamps, walking sticks, fabric, cigars, sugar cubes, gold rings, medals he had been given by the various heads of state, teapots, coffee-making devices, coffee beans, facial creams for the women, mirrors and hundreds of other extraordinary articles.

  When his caravan rode past the Russian villages people would run after them and ask for money. To keep his luggage safe the shah would toss out Russian coins. The people had no idea what was being carried in the carts; neither could they have imagined that it was the shah of Persia sitting in the coach or they would never have been content with such a pittance.

  The Russian customs office had arranged for the shah to be taken on ahead to his homeland by a Russian naval ship. His luggage would follow later. But the shah, who had seen the greedy people running after his carts, wanted to take his luggage along with him. No one knew why the local customs officials refused to cooperate. They kept coming up with different detailed explanations as to why the luggage could not be placed on the same ship and why the trunks and boxes had to be sent by ferry.

  ‘We don’t trust them,’ said the shah to his own companions. ‘They have wicked intentions – I can s
ee it in their eyes. We cannot leave our luggage here unattended.’

  ‘It isn’t unattended. The Russian customs officials will guard our luggage,’ said his companions.

  ‘The Russians took more than half of our beloved Azerbaijan from our father and never gave it back. If they find out what is in our trunks, we’ll lose it all. We refuse to part with our luggage. We are not going to leave Russia as long as our things do not travel with us.’

  The head of the customs office was unrelenting and insisted on first conferring with his supervisor in Baku. Reluctantly the shah agreed to spend the night in an inn that he found far beneath his dignity. That night something happened that, for the shah, was almost worse than the Russian invasion of Azerbaijan. It never became clear to the shah exactly how, or by whom, but by the next day all his carts had been plundered.

  The customs building on the Caspian Sea was located in a harbour used mainly by merchants from the bordering countries. They conveyed their goods to each other’s bazaars by means of rickety boats, which is why there was no need to protect the goods separately.

  The Russian police had guarded the shah through the Russian leg of his journey, but in all likelihood most of the contents of the trunks had been stolen by local agents, leaving a small amount to the general populace. Shots had been fired that night, but because of the wind and the murmuring of the waves the shah had noticed nothing.

  The next day there wasn’t a single person in the shah’s retinue who dared tell him the disastrous news. When no one appeared to wake him or bring him his breakfast, he sent Malijak to find out why: ‘Go and see where everyone is.’

  Malijak, who had grown even fatter during the journey, waddled outside with great difficulty and came back short of breath: ‘Everyone is gone. The trunks, too.’

  At first the shah didn’t understand. Then he jumped up from his bed and cried, ‘What did you say?’