Nasrosoltan eagerly accepted her offer, and he sat down to begin playing. He reminded himself not to underestimate Madame Shamsi as he assumed the other men had, by losing to her in an amateurish fashion.
She played with a relish and concentration he had not seen a woman play with up to this point. He had hoped for an elegant match, where he believed his skill would be enough to get the upper hand. But to his dismay, she countered his every move, and he soon realized he needed to put all his energy into the game. What he thought would be a playful pas de deux turned out to be a hard-fought duel instead.
Before he knew it, they were tied two games apiece, and in this last encounter, which was to decide the winner, she had the advantage. Nasrosoltan recognized that if he did not think of some course of action, he was soon to be added to the long list of dishonored men she had bested. He began to engage her in idle conversation to affect her concentration since, as she had jokingly suggested, the dice were indeed on her side. He especially did not want to lose and have to perform like a motreb, a hired street performer.
He asked his formidable opponent, “Madame, do you know the origins of this game that you so skillfully play?”
While her eyes were still fixed on the board, with a hint of curiosity, Madame Shamsi responded, “I seem to recall it is from India, isn’t it?”
Nasrosoltan continued, “No, not really, but by no means do I wish to distract you. Maybe I should wait until this final game has ended to pursue this conversation.”
She asked him to continue, even seeming a bit surprised that he would assume trivial discourse could derail her from her ultimate objective, which appeared to be within reach.
Nasrosoltan determined that with every sentence he uttered, he would hold the dice in the palm of his hand and twirl them around to slow down the game's pace as a ploy to buy time while distracting her from her purpose.
He continued, “In the sixth century, an Indian king sent his minister to Persia with the game of shatranj (chess) as a gift for the Persian King Khosrow. Accompanying this offering was a letter describing that this was a game of strategy that pits two armies against one another. The Indian king had added that since there is no other game like it in all the world, he was humbly offering this gift to the Persian court in honor of the friendship between the two empires.”
At this point, Madame Shamsi, who was not expecting a lecture on the origins of the game, politely interrupted him with a gentle reminder that it was his turn to roll the dice.
As Nasrosoltan continued to tease the dice in his hand, he asked her forgiveness and responded, “I apologize; I feel I may be unintentionally distracting you. If you permit, I will continue later.”
Madame Shamsi was perturbed and impatiently signaled for him to continue the story. He nodded his head in acknowledgment and added, “King Khosrow understood the inherent beauty within this newly created game but was also quite displeased with this gift from the Indian king. In those days, whenever a kingdom offered a gift that was more unique or priceless to another, it was considered an act of braggadocio. Khosrow, in turn, asked his prime minister to devise a game better than the gifted one, so he could send it as his return offering to the Indian king, to humble him and put him in his place.”
Once again, Nasrosoltan paused for a moment, asking her forgiveness for disturbing the flow of the game, which had precisely been his plan.
She curtly responded, “Not at all, Monsieur, please continue.”
Nasrosoltan pushed on with his lengthy story. “At this point, King Khosrow’s prime minister devises this game we are now playing, takhte-nard, and presents it to his king, who immediately sends it back with the envoy as a gift to the Indian ruler.
“When the Indian king first sees the game, he laughs out loud at the Persians’ lack of genius, and he says to his court, ‘The Persians have just copied our game of two battling armies but without any of the magnificent military pieces. Instead, they have just made each piece in the shape of a wooden coin, with opposing armies only differentiated by color. Where is the strategy in that?’”
Nasrosoltan continued, “His minister tells him, ‘The Persian king thought that upon initial inspection you may think little of his gift, but he commanded that I ask you to read the letter that accompanies it.’”
At this point, Madame Shamsi, who was at first slightly irritated by Nasrosoltan’s long-windedness, had now become engulfed in the story. She asked curiously, “So what did his letter say?”
Nasrosoltan found her sudden interest in his tale amusing, and as he looked around, he noticed many of the bystanders were also listening to their conversation.
With an ever-expanding audience, Nasrosoltan continued, “The Persian king wrote, ‘Most gracious king of the empire of India, we are truly grateful for your wonderful gift to our court; however, there was one slight flaw that we have corrected with our gift to you. In your game, there is no provision for chance; everything depends on strategy. But as you are aware, great king, just as in life, chance plays a major role in the outcome of events. Therefore, we have included dice, which makes the battle between two armies more realistic. There is always something unforeseen and not planned for that can derail a campaign no matter how well strategized. Hence, the dice adds this element of chance missing in your gift of shatranj!’”
The audience laughed and clapped with pride at the tale of a Persian king outsmarting an Indian one. Nasrosoltan then threw the sweaty dice down upon the inlaid wood board of the backgammon to reveal a double six. This was considered quite lucky and the best roll to have since it afforded the player many options. Slowly climbing out of the abyss of defeat, Nasrosoltan proceeded to battle his way back one fortuitous roll after another. He finally managed to win the game against his now thoroughly distracted and unsettled opponent.
Even though he was grateful for his triumph over Madame Shamsi, Nasrosoltan hoped that this would not be a Pyrrhic victory, to have won at too high a cost. He did not want her to despise him in the process. Madame Shamsi quickly collected herself, realizing perfectly well what he had done, and acted as if the loss did not bother her in the least.
She congratulated him, as did the men who had lost to her before this encounter, supposing that their stained honor had now been somehow restored by Nasrosoltan’s hard-fought victory.
She rose at once, and with the most gracious smile, said, “So, Monsieur, per our wager, I must sing a chanson for you, but I hope you accept my promise for a deferred performance. I am sure there will be many such opportunities, so for now, I bid you good night.”
Nasrosoltan thanked her for a game well played and replied, “It will be an honor to hear you perform; I am eagerly looking forward to it.”
The hour was late, and Nasrosoltan decided to leave with the commander to go back to the garrison by carriage ride. It was a glorious evening in Shiraz, a full moon flooding the sky and beaming down upon the city, with a gentle breeze blowing down from the Zagros mountains, carrying with it the scent of jasmine flowers.
During the ride, the commander said to him, “My friend, you found Madame Shamsi enticing, didn’t you?”
Nasrosoltan, unsure how to respond, answered him with a question. “How so?”
The commander replied, “It was obvious; I remember you from our elementary school days in Tehran before you went to Russia. Even as a child, you could not contain your excitement when confronted with something pleasing to your eyes. I see I can still read you like an open book! I am sure you admire her European flair. But you have also witnessed this evening how unashamedly opinionated she is. Perhaps that is something you enjoy in a woman? In just a few short hours, she seems to have bewitched you, but I do not blame you; she can have that effect on men. I think I may have also briefly come under her spell when she first arrived. My friend, if you will not be offended, may I give you some advice?”
Nasrosoltan, eager to hear his unsolicited counsel, said, “Please do!”
The commander, pointing
his finger at Nasrosoltan, with a warning tone, exclaimed, “Faghat movazeb bash dari ba atash bazi meekoni!” (“Be forewarned, if you pursue her, you will be playing with fire!”)
He then added, “She is to be fled from, not flirted with.”
Nasrosoltan asked, “Why do you say that? Is it because she is much more assertive than most men in Persia are accustomed to?”
The commander told him bluntly, “Even though she outwardly presents a bold face to assure us of her significance, in reality, she is a hothouse flower; turn the heat on her too much, and she will wilt!”
And then, as his eyes began to widen with excitement at the thought of what he was going to say next, the commander declared, “Also, even though I cannot put my finger on it, she seems to have a peculiar fascination with the forbidden! I know this from what our manservant tells me. She spends more time with my father than I think appropriate. When I asked my father about it, he said it is business-related, but I think she has some ulterior motive.”
Nasrosoltan sensed a hint of jealousy when the son spoke of his father and the young woman’s attention toward him. The commander had unintentionally, in his warning to Nasrosoltan, let it slip that he had also been enamored with Madame Shamsi. This made Nasrosoltan wonder if the commander was still infatuated with her.
The commander continued, “You see, my father was appointed the executor of her husband’s estate before they left for France. Now that he has passed, she has come back from Europe to take possession of her inheritance. My father believes she has not shown the ability to take matters into her own hands, and he still has not decided what to do about it. He worries that someone may take advantage of her, especially if she has full control over the properties, but I have no such concerns. In the short time that she has been here, I have seen her shrewdness up close. I tell you in great confidence, my friend, I want her gone as soon as possible. Forgive me if I have disabused you of your illusion concerning this zanike (a rude way of addressing a woman), Shamsi!”
The commander dishonored her by using an offensive insult instead of saying madame or khanoom. It was not the excess of drink talking but his way of belittling her, and he seemed to find extreme pleasure in referring to her in this callous manner.
Nasrosoltan was surprised at hearing all this and felt there was something left unsaid in his friend’s diatribe against her, particularly Madame Shamsi’s side of the story. Nasrosoltan recalled how she seemed uncomfortable with the commander when he had introduced them, and he was now even more curious to find out why.
He found it ironic that if the commander spoke any French, while he stood clumsily between them during their conversation, he would have known there was nothing to fear from Madame Shamsi overstaying her welcome. She was more eager to leave Shiraz than he was for her to go. Nasrosoltan decided to keep this bit of information to himself for now.
The commander noticed that Nasrosoltan was perplexed and said, “This is the last I will talk of her tonight. In your mind, you may anoint her how you wish, but if you pull away the façade she so masterfully covers her true intentions with, you will see what I mean! She is all talk and lacks imagination, even though she thinks she knows better than everyone. So, tell me, why would you be interested in someone like that?”
Nasrosoltan had not come away with a feeling that Madame Shamsi was deceitful, as the commander had insinuated. He was now shocked at the level of the commander’s disdain toward her and wanted to delve deeper into the mystery of this woman. He tried to ask the commander what he meant when he said Madame Shamsi was shrewd while at the same time declaring she had little imagination.
Finally, after multiple attempts by Nasrosoltan of asking and not receiving a straight answer, the commander hinted at why their relationship had gotten off on the wrong foot when he was first introduced to Madame Shamsi.
“I was just making small talk when I asked this ambitious and arrogant girl where she preferred to live, Europe or Persia. But instead of answering my question, she offered me a rude and dismissive reply, stating she prefers the decadence of the west to that of the east! What does that even mean?”
When the commander shared the details of his initial interaction with Madame Shamsi, Nasrosoltan realized that her frivolous comment had genuinely offended him. He wondered if this was the reason the commander was still holding a grudge.
Nasrosoltan understood how Madame Shamsi’s European mannerisms and bold pronouncements could give the impression that she was overly ambitious. But he did not think that she was ambitious in the usual way, furthering her position at every opportunity for the sake of moving up in the world. Instead, Nasrosoltan saw her ultimate goal to live where she was free to do what she wanted. For a single Persian woman in a male-chauvinistic society, this was an improbable desire.
When they arrived at the garrison and disembarked from the carriage, the commander turned to Nasrosoltan and said, “I may have had too much to drink this evening; please do not take seriously anything I have spoken. Just keep our conversation about her between us.”
Nasrosoltan assured him that this was just friends talking and to have no worries, and he thanked the commander for his company that evening. As he lay down to rest, thoughts of Madame Shamsi consumed him. The mystery of the commander’s words also plagued him, as he impatiently hoped for another opportunity to spend time with her.
As the days passed and Nasrosoltan heard nothing more from her, he began to settle into his daily routine of instructing the band. He now viewed his dallying encounter with Madame Shamsi as just a stretch of his imagination. However, an unexpected turn of events afforded him the opportunity he desperately sought.
Chapter 9
An Excursion to Margoon
It had been several weeks since the party, and one evening while dining, the commander said to Nasrosoltan, “So you must do me a great favor; I know I can count on you!”
Nasrosoltan inquired, “What do you need?”
The commander continued, “The wife of the French envoy to Tehran, Maximilien de La Martinière, has asked to visit Shiraz with her two children. They are eager to take an excursion to the Margoon waterfalls in the mountains outside the city.”
He chuckled, adding, “ I am told the children at first thought the place was full of snakes and were scared to visit” (the name Margoon means “snakelike” in Persian, from the way the water crosses through the furrows of the rock).
But then the commander’s face turned sour as he relayed the rest of his story. “Once the children were made aware it was just a name, they insisted upon seeing it before returning to France after the ambassador’s appointment. I wish no one had told them the truth, and they would have decided not to come. I do not have time for such entertainment!”
Wondering the commander’s purpose in telling him this story, Nasrosoltan asked, “And so what does this have to do with me?”
The commander replied, “Madame de La Martinière is a friend of Shamsi from diplomatic circles in Paris, and so they will stay at the governor’s mansion. My father requested that I escort Shamsi, Madame de La Martinière, and her children to Margoon to assure their comfort and safety. This is the last thing I want to do: babysit two women and a couple of children for several days while they gossip in a language I do not understand. I told my father that this was a burdensome task, and I do not have the time for such nonsense! He became outraged over my refusal and only calmed down when I mentioned that you would take my place instead. At least you speak their language, and now that it is a done deal in the governor’s eyes, you cannot deny me this favor.”
Nasrosoltan was delighted at the thought of spending time with Madame Shamsi, especially away from the curious eyes of those in the garrison and the governor’s mansion. However, he did not feel that the commander was asking a favor but rather demanding one.
Nasrosoltan decided to take advantage of the circumstance, fully aware of how much the commander needed his assistance. So, he initially feigned disintere
st and agreed that this was nothing more than being an attendant in waiting for the traveling party. Nasrosoltan did not appreciate the commander’s fait accompli without having beforehand consulted him, but he did not mind his friend feeling obligated to him. He reasoned, the more he sounded indifferent to the request, the larger the commander’s debt of gratitude if he acquiesced.
As it turned out, after a few more glasses of wine and amicable negotiation on the issue, Nasrosoltan’s calculation was a correct one. The commander’s demanding tone slowly changed to one of gracious cajoling instead.
It was getting late, so Nasrosoltan finally agreed to the commander’s request. The commander excitedly told him, “My dear friend, thank you for doing this for me. I will never forget it!”
That evening, it was difficult for Nasrosoltan to settle down to sleep, being so enlivened by the thought of spending time with Madame Shamsi once again.
A fortnight later, the French guests, having arrived from Tehran, were now rested and ready to begin the excursion to Margoon. They decided to leave early in the morning to avoid the heat of the day under the famed Shiraz sun. The commander provided a letter with the governor’s seal to Nasrosoltan, directing that certain privileges and attention be extended to them on their journey.
He counseled Nasrosoltan, “Do not worry; your trip should not take too long. From what I gather, both women are experienced horse riders, as are the children, so you will be able to make the journey and return within several days.”
The commander was ignorant of Nasrosoltan’s eagerness to spend as much time as he could with Madame Shamsi, so a quick return was not high on his list of priorities.
The next day before sunrise, the traveling party, including three guards and several servants, left en route to the falls. The commander had been right about Nasrosoltan’s companions as they turned out to be accomplished riders. They rode at a brisk pace and covered twenty miles that day. By nightfall, they made their way to a hamlet halfway between Shiraz and their destination, where they spent an uneventful evening, as everyone was exhausted from the hard day’s ride.
A Hundred Sweet Promises Page 6