Equal of the Sun (51 page)

Her eyes were skeptical. “Really?”

“At the very least, I wish I could have told you that I longed to save you—because I did.”

“You were confused,” she said. “Although you were passionate in my arms, when our lovemaking was done, I could feel your heart
turning away from the very idea that you might love a woman of low standing.”

She had understood me correctly, and I was mortified.

“I was still a nobleman’s son,” I replied. “I thought such liaisons were beneath me. I expected to marry a pretty, sheltered girl who would serve me all of my days. What an irony that I became a servant of women.”

She smiled. “And I became a servant of men. I would have preferred that my body remain my own territory, but I haven’t been so fortunate.”

Neither had I.

“Do you blame me?”

She sighed. “I wish you had been courageous enough to admit that you cared for me and wanted to help me.”

She was right; back then, I had not had the wideness of heart to admit to loving her or to acknowledge the severity of her suffering. I had assumed, with childish disgust, that a woman in her position was forever tainted by what she had done. But look what I had done to myself! At least she had not lost her ability to bear a child.

“I apologize from the depths of my heart,” I said. “I failed you because I was a child of privilege, but I no longer feel as I did. I understand now that life requires sacrifices, many of which are bitter.”

Fereshteh’s eyes were sympathetic, reminding me of how she had comforted me in my struggles when I was young.

“Your own sacrifices have changed you,” she replied. “The bird of your understanding has spread its wings, and now it flies free.”

Something in my heart lifted at her kind words.

“Perhaps we won’t always be caged,” she added. “I shall escape as soon as I can, and you will do the same.”

“Insh’Allah. If Pari succeeds with her plan, I will be closer to realizing my independence. If she falls from grace, I will, too. That would ruin all my plans.”

“What plans?”

I told her about Jalileh and my worries about her future, which
was so dependent on mine. By the time I had finished, my voice was thick.

“Poor child. Why didn’t you tell me about her earlier? There is a small chance I can help. Before Mirza Salman left, I gave him the name of a lady of high price to visit in Qom. I will send a messenger and ask her to tell me if she learns anything useful.”

“I would be very grateful,” I replied. “Would silver help?”

“She will help as a favor. I have a web of such friends in all the major towns.”

When I returned to Pari’s side, I told her about our conversation and suggested that she dispatch a gift to Fereshteh. The princess sent a pair of pearl and filigree earrings beautiful enough to loosen any tongue.

A few days later, Mohammad and his entourage traveled from Qom until they were only a few
farsakhs
from Qazveen. They set up a camp while awaiting the astrologers’ determination of an auspicious day to enter the city. Looloo had recently been rehired by the court on my recommendation. I hoped he would be consulted.

Mohammad summoned Pari to his camp to pay her respects. I helped organize her entourage including her ladies, her eunuchs, and Shamkhal’s soldiers. Pari and I agreed that it was essential to demonstrate her strength through the size and grandeur of her guard.

On the day of our departure, everyone expected that the princess would be riding in a gold-domed palanquin, but I had sent it on its way earlier, and it was awaiting her outside the city. Pari wished to exercise her horsemanship. It was against the rules for her to ride unaccompanied by an entourage, but we had achieved it with a bit of subterfuge.

Soon after the city gates opened, the princess and I emerged in the small park near the Promenade of the Royal Stallions, met the horses that awaited us, and rode out together in the chill air. She was mounted on her favorite Arabian mare, Asal, so named because she
was the color of forest honey. She wore a long, fur-lined gray robe, with slits designed for riding, plus thick woolen trousers, leather boots, a fur hat into which she had put all her hair, and a gray woolen cloth wound around her face for warmth that covered everything but her eyes. A little boy, seeing her pass, exclaimed to his mother, “I want to be just like him!”

We proceeded at a dignified pace toward the Tehran Gate. Its large central archway was flanked by two smaller ones so that traffic could proceed in both directions. The white, yellow, and black tile patterns on the gate made me think of butterflies and filled me with the optimism that accompanies a much-anticipated journey.

Not far behind us were Pari’s eunuchs and errand boys, led by her still-retired vizier Majeed, as well as chests containing her clothing, personal necessities, and the gifts she would present to her brother. Behind them rode a large contingent of Circassian and Takkalu soldiers organized by her uncle, as well as servants bearing the necessities for setting up camp.

As we rode through the gate, the princess looked back toward the long procession that would accompany her and said, “May God be praised. Isn’t it a fine sight?”

“It is, indeed!”

The procession would be slow and stately because of the amount of baggage it carried. As soon as we left the gate, she said, “Let’s go!”

Pari spurred her horse and rode off into the distance, following the spine of the snow-covered mountains. The glorious land around us was wide open, and the frozen road was empty. I tried to keep up with Pari, my breath steaming around me, but couldn’t. As her horse sped farther away, I admired her grace as a rider: I had had few opportunities to witness it. She rode as if sitting on air. After a while, she began to disappear into the landscape, and it seemed to me that she might never come back. If only there were somewhere for her to go! Her responsibilities inside the palace consumed her every breath. No wonder she thrilled at the sight of open country.

After a long gallop, Pari turned around and returned to me, and then we rode together.

“How good it feels to be unencumbered!” Her skin was flushed with the joy of the gallop.

“You look happy, princess. It is a pleasure to see.”

“A new shah and a new era are at hand. This time, everything will be different.”

“Insh’Allah.”

We rode together until we reached a river near the mountains, where I had sent the gold palanquin earlier that day with Azar Khatoon inside. When we arrived, Azar spread out a warm blanket and Pari threw herself down in front of the river near a crackling fire. She untwisted the cloth that covered her face, shed her big warm robe, and sat for a moment in the free, open air. More color flooded her cheeks, and her brow looked relaxed for the first time in months.

“Bah, bah!” Pari exclaimed. “Who needs more joy than this? I wish I could live like this every day of my life.”

Azar Khatoon shelled some walnuts and handed them to us. We ate them contentedly, watching the birds overhead, while Azar poured steaming cups of tea. I stretched out my legs. Soon, very soon, I would be with my sister again, and I would show her all the things I loved about Qazveen. On our free days, I would take her for walks in the countryside and bring a picnic of her favorite foods. How glad I would be to know her at last!

A thick cloud of dust in the distance stirred me out of my happy thoughts. “Princess,” I cautioned, “I see your guard approaching.”

“So soon?”

With a sigh, Pari picked herself up and reluctantly concealed herself in the gold palanquin.

When her men arrived, Pari’s palanquin was placed at the head of the procession, and we continued on our way. We proceeded very slowly now that her bearers had to go on foot. I walked alongside the palanquin. It was a clear, cold day, and the frozen ground crunched under my feet. We passed fields that would be alive with wheat and barley in summer. Shepherds tending to their flocks greeted us and asked us if they could offer us milk. We thanked them and continued to the camp.

In the distance, I saw a cluster of large black tents, and before
long, the individual soldiers guarding them. When we reached the entrance to the camp, Pari’s palanquin was greeted graciously by one of Mohammad Khodabandeh’s eunuchs, while his groomsmen took charge of our horses. Pari and Azar were escorted to the tent that would be theirs in the women’s section of the camp, and I followed closely behind.

The tent was made of a thick, coarse fabric to protect inhabitants from winter winds. When the eunuch lifted the flap of the tent and we stepped inside, Azar gasped with delight. The interior had been furnished with ruby-red rugs and cushions, which made it seem warm. The walls were hung with crimson satin embroidered with whirling flowers and other twirling forms dancing within them. Soft cushions were arranged into seating areas and a bedroll was placed behind a long embroidered cloth. Wooden trunks had been brought in for Pari’s clothing and cosmetics.

We were admiring the tent when another eunuch arrived promptly with steaming vessels of tea and pastries. We refreshed ourselves, then unpacked Pari’s things. By the time everything was set up, it was the hour for the evening meal, which was brought to the princess by Mohammad Khodabandeh’s servants. They spread out a clean cotton cloth and served a large platter of roast lamb on hot bread, which soaked up all the meat juices, as well as yogurt and greens. I left Pari and her ladies to their meal and walked to a tent used by Mohammad’s eunuchs. Before I entered the tent, I heard some of them talking.

“Have you seen that woman’s retinue? It is as if she thinks she is shah!”

“With an armed guard like that, he will have to think twice about offending her.”

I chuckled. When I walked in, I was welcomed like an old friend. Together we supped and conversed and celebrated late into the night.

The next morning, Pari was summoned to meet the shah-to-be. A eunuch led us to his tent, which, for his safety, was not identified in
any way from the outside. Inside, though, it was even more opulent than Pari’s. The carpets on the floor were deep indigo wool with white silk patterns that sparkled like stars in a twilight sky. There were porcelain vessels for water and wine that had been transported all that way, despite their value, and porcelain cups and serving platters. Fruit and sweets and nuts were piled high on engraved silver trays.

Mohammad Khodabandeh was seated on cushions, his wife, Khayr al-Nisa Beygom, on his right side. His dark eyes were blank, and he sat with his head thrust forward as if to better position his ears for listening. He wore a brown robe, a gray sash, and a white turban, subdued attire that made him look like a man of God. Next to him, his wife glittered like a peacock. Her pink robe seemed bright over a green tunic, which matched a triangular headdress made of pink and green silks. She wore gold bangles on both wrists, rings on every finger but her thumbs, a chain of pearls on her forehead, and large pearl and ruby earrings. Her full lips glowed red from madder, as did her cheeks. While her husband gave the impression of being thoughtful and retiring, she threw off sparks like the jewels she wore. Her eyes swept across us and around the room with frequency, as if to make up for the fact that her husband could see nothing.

“Welcome, sister. Your arrival brings us happiness,” Mohammad said to Pari.

“Yes, welcome,” added his wife in a voice that was high, nasal, and loud. “I have rarely had the pleasure of seeing you, but all of us have heard your father’s praise of you as a paragon among women.”

Pari dropped gracefully onto a cushion facing them, while I remained standing near the door. “I am unworthy of your generous words, but I thank you for your kindness. How are you? How are your children?”

“All are well, except, of course, for my husband’s son Sultan Hassan Mirza, whose loss we still mourn,” she replied.

“The loss of a child is worse than anything that can be described,” Mohammad said. “Truly it was as if the light of my eyes had been extinguished.”

“May God comfort you in your sorrow. What a terrible affliction you have endured.”

“Your losses have been equally great,” he said.