Equal of the Sun (17 page)

Finally, Isma‘il deigned to see his sister. He still looked sallow, as he had the first time. He and his mother sat so closely together it was as if they were reconnected by an umbilical cord.

“Brother of mine, thank you for agreeing to see me,” Pari began. “I have come to offer you a small gift, although I fear it is unworthy.”

Pari proffered the poem, which was encased in a strong leather binding to keep it flat. Isma‘il beckoned to indicate that he would receive it, and one of his servants came forward with a silver tray and brought the poem to him. He opened the binding and began reading, and I waited breathlessly until a few moments later, when a smile broke over his face.

“Here, Mother,” he said. “I beg you to read this aloud, so that you can enjoy it, too.”

Sultanam began reading, and Isma‘il leaned back to enjoy Pari’s fluid lines. In them he emerged as a young warrior astride a horse, filled with loyalty to his country, drawing his bowstring and striking his target with ease. His mother’s voice increased its excitement as the poem leapt forward, and I, too, felt as if I could see him on the battlefield, his sword flashing in the sun, his future as bright as his heart.

“Bah, bah, it is beautiful!” he exclaimed when she was done. “Who wrote it? I should like to meet the man and reward him.”

“I did,” replied Pari in a modest tone.

“Indeed? Then you are very talented. Did you know that I, too, compose poetry?”

“I hadn’t heard.”

“As I suspected, there is much you don’t know about me. I write under the pen name Adeli.”

The name he had chosen meant “man of justice.”

“Justice will indeed be yours,” Pari replied.

“I should like to hear your other poems.”

“Thank you. Perhaps you would also like to hear some of the poetry I commissioned about our father.”

“Yes, we must plan an evening together very soon. We can recite to each other.”

“I would be honored,” Pari said.

Isma‘il called for more refreshments, during which time I suggested to Pari in a low voice that we should go. But she pressed ahead, even before the sharbat arrived.

“Brother of mine, may I tell you about a matter of state?”

His eyes became suddenly wary, his tone cold. “What is it?”

She changed course and said, “I only meant . . . I wondered if I could assist you with the governorships that need filling. I could suggest some good men.”

“Everyone wants to suggest his own men,” he replied. “The problem is, whom can I trust?”

“I can advise you,” Pari said confidently.

“There are vipers everywhere,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Again and again I have escaped their venom through the grace of God.”

The princess looked puzzled.

“Do you know why it took me so long to come to Qazveen? I foiled several assassination plots by changing my plans on a moment’s notice. It is a wonder I arrived safely.”

“Thanks be to God for His beneficent protection,” Sultanam said, her protective gaze on her son.

“And now that I am here, I see that the palace is divided into those who supported me and those who didn’t. I haven’t stayed alive for twenty years in confinement only to be assassinated upon my return by traitors!”

“Of course not. May God keep you safe,” Pari replied.

“Yet my enemies are everywhere,” he continued. “I won’t feel secure until my coronation, when every man and woman makes a vow before God to obey me and is reminded that the punishment for disobedience is death.”

“Your heart will be much easier,” said his mother.

The astrologers had recently determined that all the stars were aligned perfectly, and the coronation had been scheduled for the following week.

“But even then I will have to be vigilant, because men’s hearts are blacker than dirt. My greatest wish would be to have the contents of every man’s mind revealed to me like the pages of a book so that no thought of treachery could ever escape my eye. Then, and only then, would I feel safe.”

The princess and I exchanged a troubled look.

“It will be some time before I know who has my interests foremost in mind,” he added, his eyes resting on his mother.

“Brother of mine, I offer my services whenever you need them. As you know, the nobles have been meeting with me every morning so that the business of the palace can proceed.”

I was glad Pari had mentioned the meetings. Now Isma‘il couldn’t claim that she was doing something behind his back, and could tell her what he thought about her actions. I awaited his answer anxiously.

“Yes, I know about the nobles who come to you,” he replied. “Time will show me who is loyal.”

It was an odd answer, neither positive nor negative, and I wondered if he included his sister in his concerns about loyalty.

“I wouldn’t recommend a man to you if I was uncertain about him,” Pari said. “There is one man whom I question, however: Mirza Shokhrollah.”

“I remember your concerns,” replied Isma‘il, “but his confusion over whether he should serve a woman was understandable.”

“I am royalty,” said Pari. “There is no confusion there.”

“True. Still, I need men like Mirza Shokhrollah. He understands court finances better than almost anyone.”

Pari was unable to prevent a frown from flitting across her face.

“My son,” interjected Sultanam, “it is time for your afternoon rest. Little by little, you must regain your strength.”

“Just one moment—my business is vital,” Pari replied.

“Yes, Mother,” said Isma‘il, ignoring the princess. “How grateful I am to have someone who looks after my well-being. I will go now and have my nap.”

Sleep, when there was so much to do?

“Thank you for the poem. We will speak again soon.” He arose and took his leave, his mother following closely behind.

As we walked back to the palace, Pari’s eyes seemed to be looking inward. When I asked her if I could do anything for her, she replied sadly, “All the time I imagined my brother coming home, I never suspected it would feel like I was talking with a stranger. I only hope that time will turn him back into a brother.”

“Esteemed princess, I think he is afraid of you. He is all dark instinct and confusion, while you are like the sun of reason.”

“And that means I shall have to prove to him day by day that my intentions are loyal.”

“That is wise.”

We strategized about the best ways for her to show her loyalty, but before we could implement any of our ideas, Isma‘il announced that he would not see anyone but his closest advisors until after the coronation. When Pari received the news, the hurt in her eyes was deep. How could Isma‘il cut off his own sister, the person who had done so much to bring him to the throne? Was someone close to him sullying her name?

Early the next morning, I went to Shamkhal’s house with a small bag of silver in my hand. When a servant opened the door, I asked to see one of his eunuchs, whom I knew from when he had served at the palace as a messenger boy. As I kissed him on both cheeks, I slipped the bag of silver into his sleeve and asked him whether his master had been ill. He said he hadn’t. When I pressed him for details, he whispered that Shamkhal had been invited to keep company with Isma‘il every day.

I returned to Pari’s and told her I had something to reveal to her,
but that the very thought made me choke. Fortunately, she did not require the lengthy protestations of regret that were usually necessary in such a circumstance.

“Out with it.”

“Is it possible your uncle has found favor with Isma‘il?”

“Of course not. He would have told me.”

I assumed a concerned look, as if worried about his health. “But we haven’t seen him for days. Do you think he is still ill?”

“He must be.”

“Perhaps, then, he would welcome a visit from you.”

Pari’s eyes sought mine. “What exactly do you know? Speak!”

“Isma‘il has invited him to make daily visits.”

“Him, not me? How have you learned this?”

“I paid someone to find out.”

“With whose money?”

“My own.”

“When did I grant you permission to do that?”

“You didn’t.”

Her brows knitted together, and I feared a storm. “Are you implying that my uncle is betraying me?”

“Surely not, esteemed princess. I simply thought you would wish to know his movements.”

I had to be diplomatic.

“How dare you? If my uncle finds out you were spying on him, you will be pounded into pudding.”

“My duty is to protect you, no matter what.”

“That is what all servants say to earn their keep,” Pari scoffed.

It wasn’t uncommon for palace servants to put themselves at risk to earn their master’s trust, but my own reasons went deeper. Lately I had begun to develop tender feelings for Pari. Her vulnerability brought out all my protective urges, almost as if she were the sister I had never been able to watch grow up. Seeing her struggle with what fate had allotted her made me think about Jalileh and how much I wished I had been able to soften the blows she had endured. Something in my face must have spoken out loud, because the storms on Pari’s forehead cleared.

“I won’t judge your actions until I investigate this matter further. You prove your loyalty to me every day.”

I let out my breath. I hoped she would begin to think about how she could appear to serve Isma‘il rather than demanding things from him.

“Esteemed princess, the nightingale finds it easy to be loyal to a rose,” I said. “Your task is much thornier than mine.”

CHAPTER 4

THE ROSE IS HEARTLESS

During Zahhak’s reign, a noble child named Fereydoon was born. The destiny of this child was so powerful that his birth penetrated and disturbed the sleep of the king. Zahhak dreamed that Fereydoon would become a brave warrior and unseat him from his throne. He awoke in terror, so disturbed that he ordered a manhunt for the child.

When Fereydoon’s mother, Faranak, heard about the king’s edict, she agonized about how to protect him. Where could she conceal him in a place no one would look? One day she passed a resplendent cow whose coat of hair shone with thousands of colors. She approached the cowherd and asked if he would allow his glorious animal, Pormayeh, to nurse her only child. He agreed, and Faranak entrusted him with her son. Pormayeh nourished Fereydoon every day on her sweet milk until he grew into a strong little boy. Still, Faranak sensed that he was not safe. After he was weaned, she secreted him away to India, where she found a sage who promised to teach him all he knew.

Zahhak was not far behind. Having learned that a cow had nurtured Fereydoon, he had his men inspect all the cows in the land until they located Pormayeh, whose coat still shone with thousands of colors, and he butchered her with his own hands. After the deed was done, peasants must have gathered round and stared at the dead cow, aghast that a life-giving animal should be so wantonly slaughtered. What a terrible waste, they must have cried, tears streaming and bellies rumbling. What kind of king would destroy a nurturer of men?