Evil in a Mask (30 page)

Opposite the Palace stood the Lutfallah, or Ladies' Mosque, to which the
Banou
—the chief wife of the Shah—and her female companions could go unattended, by an underground passage beneath the square, to practise their devotions. Dominating the north end of the square, there rose the huge, blue dome and minarets of a still larger mosque, the Masjed el Shah, and at its opposite end lay the entrance to a covered bazaar even greater in extent than that in Constantinople.

To the surprise of the French, they were allowed to enter the mosques and were shown round them. The majority of the peoples in the Mohammedan world were
Sünies
and held that Omar, Osman and Abu Bakar were the lawful descendants of the Prophet. But the Persians were of the
Shiah
sect, the members of which maintained that Ali, Mohammed's son-in-law, had been the next in succession. The latter were much more liberal in their views and could, perhaps, be compared with Protestants as opposed to Roman Catholics, in their attitude to the practice of Christianity.

The tiles in the two mosques were superb, having a wonderful variety of patterns and rich colours. One section of tiling in the Ladies' Mosque particularly intrigued Roger. It was about six feet high by four wide and was the original design for a silk rug which Shah Abbas had sent as a present to Queen Elizabeth of England.

It was on their fourth day in Isfahan that the Mahemander Bachi suggested that, as another ten days or more must elapse before the presents for the Shah arrived, and that no business could be transacted until they did, Gardane and his officers might like to visit the ancient capital of Shiraz. With relays of horses, the two-hundred-mile journey could easily be accomplished
in four days, so they could spend three nights there and be back in Isfahan before the caravan was expected.

The five officers with the General, having become fascinated with the marvels of Persia, pressed him to agree, so he consented. Early the following morning, Mesrop arrived with a dozen men leading horses, the panniers of which were loaded with tentage, food and fruit drinks packed in crushed ice. The French, accompanied by their grooms, mounted, and the cavalcade set off.

By ten o'clock they found the heat intensely trying, so Mesrop called a halt and the tents were erected. But, after they had taken an hour's rest, he persuaded them to mount again and cover another five miles until they reached a caravanserai, where they had a meal, then slept through the heat of the afternoon. Later, in the cool of the evening, they rode about twenty miles, then spent the night at another caravanserai. On these lines their journey progressed until, on August 3rd, they reached Shiraz, where they were lodged in one of the many houses owned by the Shah. It had a pleasant garden, with an avenue of orange trees; but the house itself they found quite extraordinary, as every room in it was panelled with thousands of diamond-shaped pieces of mirror.

In some ways the visitors found Shiraz even more interesting than Isfahan, and they were particularly impressed by the beautiful tombs of the famous poets Sa'adi and Hafiz. To them it seemed strange that a people should honour its poets more than they did its monarchs, statesmen and successful Generals. But that was plainly the case. The remains of both poets reposed in marble sarcophagi beneath domes supported by a circle of pillars raised up on marble platforms. Surrounding them were spacious gardens in which, despite the torrid heat, bedded-out flowers were kept in blossom by skilful irrigation and companies of gardeners who sprayed them with water every night.

On their second evening in Shiraz, Mesrop proposed that the next day he should take them out to the ruins of Persepolis, the ancient capital from which Darius, Cyrus the Great and Xerxes had ruled a vast empire. It entailed a ride of some
thirty-five miles, so they set off at five o'clock in the morning, in order to arrive there and go over to the ruins before it became unbearably hot.

After leaving the suburbs of Shiraz they rode for some miles through rolling desert, eventually arriving at a broad, sandy plain which ended abruptly in a barrier of three-hundred-foot-high cliff. Immediately below the cliff, but raised about fifty feet above the level of the plain, they could discern the rows of pillars and great arches of the Palace.

As they trotted on towards it, Mesrop pointed to a group of trees that stood some way back from the track on the left-hand side and about half a mile from the great terrace covered with ruins. Among the trees could be seen the flat roof of a small building, and the Armenian said:

‘Persepolis is among the half-dozen greatest monuments left to us which give some idea of the splendour of ancient civilisations; so travellers from all parts of the world who come to Persia rarely fail to visit it. Their numbers are sufficient to support a family living in that house you see. The father acts as a guide to the ruins. But he is an ignorant fellow who really knows little about history; so in that capacity, having many times conducted visitors on this expedition, I can serve you better. Nevertheless, we might rest ourselves at the house for a while, as the family provides refreshments. Wine can be had there, and excellent fruit drinks. The water from which they are made comes from an ancient spring, so you have no need to fear infection.'

Gardane shook his head. ‘No. Those vast ruins must cover many acres. It will take us two hours or longer to go over them. By then the sun will be high and taking its toll of us. We'll go over the Palace first, and refresh ourselves afterwards.'

As they passed within about two hundred yards of the house, they saw not far from it several tents before which there were horses and a group of people. The group consisted of two men and two women in European clothes, and several native servants. Both the women were wearing light veils, not of the Eastern fashion, but covering the whole of
their beads to protect them from the annoyance of flies and also their complexions from the sun. They were just about to mount, and one of the women was already in the saddle. She waved a friendly greeting to Gardane and his officers. They returned it, and rode on.

Two minutes later, they heard the thunder of hooves behind them. Turning, Roger saw that the other party were now all mounted and that, for some reason he could not guess, the horse of the woman who had waved to them had bolted with her. Another moment and she had raced past, vainly striving to rein in her mount.

Roger was riding with Gardane and Mesrop at the head of the French party. Instantly he set spurs to his horse and galloped after her. She was heading straight for the wall of solid rock upon which the ruins stood. Unless she could pull up her animal it would inevitably jib as soon as it saw the fifty-foot-high barrier ahead, and throw her over its head. If he failed to catch up with her and halt her, the odds were that she would be lucky to escape with only serious injuries and not have her brains bashed out.

Once before, many years ago, he had chased and caught a runaway horse. Its rider had been the beautiful Athenais de Rochambeau. The hoofbeats of his horse in pursuit had urged hers on and, not knowing that there was a hidden river in a gully ahead, he had forced her mount in that direction. His action had resulted in Athenais' being thrown and receiving a ducking. Moreover, he had followed her out riding against her wish; so all the thanks he had got was the lash of her riding switch across his face.

Recalling the episode now, he was near smiling at the eventual outcome of that affair. In due course, Athenais had come to love him as passionately as he had her. But this was no case of pressing his unwanted attentions on a spoilt and haughty girl with whom he had fallen desperately in love. He was acting simply on the instinct that would have animated any man to save a woman from disaster.

His comrades had also put their horses into a gallop. So
had the men of the woman's party. But Roger had been quicker off the mark and was a dozen lengths ahead of any of them.

Bending low over his horse's neck, he rowelled the animal savagely. With a fierce neigh, it raced on at still greater speed. When only fifty paces from the rock, he came level with the runaway. He made a grab for its rein and missed. Again he dug his spurs into the flank of his horse. Maddened, it plunged forward, carrying him half a length in front of the other horse. Suddenly the runaway saw the wall of rock ahead. Splaying its hooves, it dug them into the sand and halted rigid.

At the same instant, Roger's mount also saw the barrier. With another terrified neigh, it tensed itself to rear. As Roger felt its muscles contract beneath him, he lifted the heavy riding crop he was holding in his left hand and brought it down with all his force on the animal's head. Simultaneously his right arm shot out and encircled the waist of the woman as she was catapulted from her saddle. Exerting all his strength, he dragged her towards him.

Half-stunned, his stricken horse staggered on a few steps then, its head hanging, halted. Roger pulled the woman he had saved across his saddle bow. Her veil had been blown aside and she had fainted from terror. With her back arched over Roger's knees, her legs dangled down limply on one side and her head, with her mouth gaping open, on the other.

Dropping his riding crop, Roger raised her head into the crook of his left arm. The woman proved to be a girl who looked to be about twenty. Suddenly Roger realised that he was staring down into one of the most exquisitely beautiful faces he had ever seen in his life.

For the next few moments all was confusion. Gardane and the officers with him had all automatically galloped after Roger, so had the two cavaliers and the woman in the girl's party. One after another they were brought up short against the rock face. Most of them swerved in time to bring their mounts round in a semicircle, but several of the excited horses were out of control, pulled up only when they saw their own danger, and threw their riders.

Roger, streaming with sweat and gasping for breath, slid from his saddle, still holding the girl in his arms. She had Titian hair that came down in a widow's peak on to a broad forehead, below which were unusually widely-spaced eyes. Her face was heart-shaped, with high cheek-bones, a firm jaw line and a pointed, but gently rounded, chin, the mound of which was creased by Apollo's cleft. Her nose was straight and slightly freckled; her full-lipped mouth—now a little open—showed two rows of white, even teeth. To the left and a few inches above the corner of her mouth she had a natural beauty spot in the form of a small brown mole.

As Roger gazed down into this angelic face, she gave a little shudder, then her lashes lifted, revealing the colour of those widest eyes, which were the strangest he had ever seen. Their centres were a pale blue, but this merged into grey flecked with yellow, and had a curiously leonine look.

Next moment a handsome, well-dressed, middle-aged man with grey side-whiskers came up to them. He spoke swiftly in Portuguese. As Roger was fluent in Spanish, he got the sense of what the other was saying.

‘May the Good Lord bless you,
senhor
. But for you, my
daughter would have been crippled for life by being thrown against this rock face, or might well be dead. Never can I repay you for saving her by your prompt action. Permit me to introduce myself. I am the Marquis de Carvalho e Mello Pombal and the Portuguese Ambassador accredited to the Shah.'

As Roger was still holding the girl in his arms he could not bow, but inclined his head and said in Spanish, ‘I am more than happy to have had the good fortune to render your Excellency this service. I am Colonel de Breuc of the French mission recently sent to the Shah by my Emperor.'

The Marquis smiled. ‘Naturally I have been informed of your mission's arrival, and we are—er—diplomatically on opposite sides of the fence. But that will not deter me from being of any service to you that I can while you are in Persia.'

A minute later the other woman, who was older and strongly resembled de Pombal, joined them and took the girl over from Roger, as the Marquis said, ‘Monsieur le Colonel, my sister, the
Senhora
Anna de Arahna.' By then the whole company had crowded round and it was suggested that the young lady should be escorted back to the tents. But she had suffered no harm at all, and rallied surprisingly quickly after her faint. Smiling first at her aunt, then at Roger, she said:

‘I fainted only from fright, and if we put off going over the ruins until later, the sun will roast us to our marrow bones. I shall be under no disability if this gallant gentleman who risked his life to save mine will give me his arm.'

Surprised and delighted, Roger returned her smilê. ‘
Senhorita
, you overwhelm me. I could ask no greater reward than the pleasure of escorting you.'

Almost simultaneously with the Ambassador there had arrived upon the scene a tall, dark, beetle-browed man of about thirty. At the
Senhorita's
request for Roger's arm, his face had taken on a sullen look; but he swiftly hid his annoyance when the Marquis introduced him as
Senhor
Don Alfonso de Queircoz, First Secretary of the Embassy.

Roger duly presented General Gardane and the other French officers to the four Portuguese, while the grooms tethered
the horses in the shade thrown by the lofty platform on which the Palace stood. Then the
Senhora
de Arahna, with her brother on one side of her and Gardane on the other, led the way along to a steep ramp, which led up to the first of many lofty flat-topped gateways.

The carvings on these gateways had been only partially blurred by time. Most of them had on one side pairs of huge, mythological beasts, and on the other pairs of human heads, with curly beards and high, conical hats that looked like those of Assyrians. About the main hall of the Palace there were still standing several sixty-foot-high pillars. In the vast sunken Treasury only the stumps of the pillars which had supported the roof remained, but there were scores of them, covering an area that in itself would have provided a large enough ground space for the Palace of any minor King. Yet the most impressive sight provided by the ruins was several very broad staircases with shallow steps. On both sides they were flanked by carved reliefs of a procession of men, each bearing some object: a jar of wine, a dish of fruit, a dead gazelle, a string of pearls and so on. They were the twenty-eight Kings bringing tribute to their overlord Darius who, from their subjugation, took his title: King of Kings.