A Persian Requiem (20 page)

He looked at Bazm Ara bringing a tray containing a small bottle of medicine and a cup of water to his mother. “Mother dear,” he asked, “why are you taking medicine again?” And he stole a meaningful glance at Zari.

“It’s nothing,” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh answered. “I’m having some palpitations again.”

Turning to Zari, Hamid asked, “Khanom Zahra, I’ve heard you’re going to the prison tomorrow. Will you be visiting our prisoner?”

Counting the drops she was putting in the water,
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
said, “But not as we wanted.” And she resumed her counting. Hamid frowned and looked a little nervous. He took the opium and began to smoke again.

“Why?” he asked. “I suppose you’re afraid. Well, it is frightening for you.” He put the pipe down clumsily next to the brazier and addressed Ameh affectionately. “But my dear aunt is as brave as they come. She’ll kiss my boil this time again, won’t she? I’m sure
you don’t want to see me on the gallows. Anyone but you carrying out a plan like this would be suspect, you know.”

Zari saw Kal Abbas passing through the orangery and coming toward the takht. As he came forward and greeted them, Ameh Khanom pulled on her chador. Kal Abbas stood by the takht and called to Hamid Khan who bent forward while he whispered
something
in his ear. Hamid put his shoes on in a hurry and rushed off. Zari suddenly felt anxious. What if something had happened to her little girls! Ezzat-ud-Dowleh was capable of anything. She could even kidnap the children and keep them as hostages somewhere while she forced Zari to consent. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier? Why did she let the children go to the police-chief’s garden in the first place? And she thought with bitterness that the real ‘show’ had been taking place right here! Only it was too
complicated
for the children.

“It’s late. Why aren’t the twins back?” she asked Ameh in a shaky voice. She was ready to give in to anything they proposed now. If she were to choose between courageousness and her
children
, she would clearly choose the children. Yes, Hamid would come now and make the first move. Ameh looked at her sharply and said, “Don’t worry. They’ll turn up sooner or later.”

Zari thought, “I’ll wait. I’m worrying needlessly. It was a good thing I sent Khadijeh with them.” She remembered a line from a poem Yusef often recited, “From naught but a thought comes their fear and dread …” No, she had changed the poem. It really went like this:

“From naught but a thought their peace or war

From naught but a thought their fame or disgrace.”

Hamid soon returned with a tall, well-built woman who was tightly clutching her chador. They came and sat on the takht.

“Mother, do you want a guest?” he chuckled.

Zari immediately recognized the ‘woman’. She had received her wearing the same veil in her own house. “Malek Sohrab Khan!” she exclaimed involuntarily.

Sohrab sat down and took off his veil. His unshaven face seemed thin and haggard, and he was covered with dust. Ezzat-ud-Dowleh laughed so hard, tears ran down her cheeks. He turned to Zari with a faint smile and said, “I went to your house first. No-one was there.” He held his head in his hands. “If only Yusef Khan was in town,” he said. “I should have listened to him.”

Bazm Ara came in, carrying a brightly-polished ewer and bowl which shone like gold. A thick towel with floral patterns was folded over the maid’s arm and the soap she held was shaped like a pear. Zari’s soap in the bath had resembled an apple. Was it for these items of luxury that Ezzat-ud-Dowleh had run such risks? But Malek Sohrab’s presence there at that time of night seemed to shed a different light on the whole situation.

“Sohrab, we’ve just had the bath water changed,”
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
said. “Why don’t you go and take a bath?”

“Maybe they’ll call,” he answered. “I’m hoping against hope that we’ll be contacted and that the English haven’t tricked us. I’ve come straight from the battlefield. I’ve been to that English Colonel who’s just like the treacherous Yazid. He thinks this is the desert and he can play Lawrence of Arabia with us. He wouldn’t see me. He sent a message saying he has a cold. A cold in the middle of summer? Then I went to that sly fox Singer who gave me a garbled answer about being too busy to receive me. The fool still hasn’t learned Persian after all these years. If they’ve tricked us into fighting and looting without keeping their promise, we’ve shed our brother’s blood for nothing. Still, he said he would call.”

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh tried to signal to him, but since everyone else noticed, she merely said, “Did you go to them wearing the chador too?”

“No, I was wearing the uniform of a Captain Mohammad
Kashmiri
Kermani. His identity card was in the uniform pocket. First we stripped him down, then we put a bullet through his neck. It was ten against one. Afterwards I went over to Mirza Agha Hennasab’s to change into the uniform.”

Suddenly the children’s voices could be heard from the outer courtyard and Zari sighed with relief. Hurriedly she excused herself, saying she must leave, and Ezzat-ud-Dowleh, happy to oblige, called out, “Ferdows, bring my sister’s chador! Bring my prayer things too. Make sure your hands are clean.”

“Have you heard anything in town about our fighting in the region?” Sohrab asked.

“No,” replied Zari. “They haven’t mentioned it in the
newspapers
.”

“When do they ever write anything in the newspapers? There’s been a rumour that the bodies of the officers killed in battle with our tribe are being brought to town for official burial.” He added, “But
we shouldn’t be blamed for the bloodshed, because we only fought for our ideals. After the way the cunning English have treated us the past few days, I felt so guilty about the slaughter that the dead man’s uniform seemed to be choking me.”

Ferdows brought the brocade wrapper containing Ameh Khanom’s black chador and Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s prayer rug. Zari could not help noticing Hamid’s expression. When the maid bent over to put the prayer rug before Ezzat-ud-Dowleh, his eyes
sparkled
as they swept over her body appraisingly. Following his gaze, Zari noticed for the first time the shapeliness of Ferdows’s figure. Her legs clad in sheer stockings looked as if they had been chiselled out of fine marble. Her light-blue chiffon chador moved
tantalizingly
over a flowery crepe de chine dress which barely disguised the firm, well-proportioned curves of her body. It was hard to believe she had had three pregnancies and a miscarriage.

But Ameh Khanom didn’t open the brocade wrapper. “Khanom Ferdows,” she said, “take some food for the children and keep them in the outer courtyard until we come. Tell Bazm Ara to come and take away the brazier.”

Ferdows busied herself piling two small plates with fruit and biscuits, oblivious to what had been going on and not
understanding
why the mistress was darting such poisonous looks in her direction. Ezzat-ud-Dowleh pushed aside the cotton sheet on which she was sitting and performed a ritual dry ablution with the dust on the carpet. With some difficulty she adjusted the starched headscarf over her head to cover up her gaudy hair for prayer-time. Only her face was now visible. But what a face! She looked as if she had just swallowed some bitter poison. At war even with the deity to whom she was praying, she tugged angrily at the prayer rug as she spread it out, and began her prayers in a seated position.

Deep down, Zari was feeling quite pleased with herself for
standing
up to the woman. If only Yusef would hurry up and come back! She’d never had so much to tell him. Her experiences at the prison and the asylum were interesting enough, but not for Yusef. Often he would ask her to talk to him and cheer him up, and she had to rack her brains for something comforting or cheerful. It was a long time since she had been able to come up with things like that. She knew her stories had become quite repetitive of late, and Yusef seemed content just to be lulled by her voice. But now Zari had a chance to show her mettle and she couldn’t wait to tell him about it.

She felt sure Ezzat-ud-Dowleh would prolong her
communication
with heaven just to annoy them, and that they would have to maintain a respectful silence for a while. But Malek Sohrab would soon tire of it and begin to talk. Her curiosity about the fighting had been aroused to such a degree that, if Ezzat-ud-Dowleh didn’t actually ask them to leave, she knew she would wait until the whole story was told.

The black maid reappeared and took away the opium brazier. Zari broke the silence. “Sohrab Khan, you were telling us about the fighting …”

“Actually, I had decided to confess all the details of these recent events so that if I take off to the mountains and become an outlaw against the government, or if I disappear altogether from this place; if my tribal blood gets the better of me and I take my revenge on these foreigners, or even if everything is lost and me with it, my friends should know why I did the things I did. How I wish I had listened to Yusef Khan like my brother did! He knew. He’s friends with McMahon. They translate poetry together—poems of a
revolutionary
poet who’s changed all the rules of our verse.” He shook his head and recited,” ‘where in all the darkness of this black night, should I hang my shabby robe …’” Suddenly he said, “But Singer promised us! He told us to attack at Semirom, then at Shiraz, next at Isfahan, and finally Tehran. And what barbarities we committed! I’m the first to admit it—what mistakes our brothers made. What an ugly war it was!”

“Brother, maybe I’m the one who’s confused,” said Hamid, “but I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Mark my words, McMahon must have known their intentions. He’s a war correspondent.”

“Come now, don’t take it too hard. Be grateful you’re alive and in one piece. It’s all over with now. I think you should smoke some opium and forget about the whole thing. Shall I tell them to prepare it for you?”

“I’m not the kind who can drown my sorrows with opium. If I can’t atone for my sins, I’ll do away with myself. Right now, I’m prepared to do anything.”

Hamid baited him. “What if the English do call? Then you’d even forget the cardinal sins, wouldn’t you?”

Zari thought that this was the only true thing he had said in his life.

Sohrab unwittingly confirmed Hamid’s intended taunt with his next sentence. “If they were really going to call, they would have done so by now. They trust you and your mother.” And he
continued
, “You see, the Russians had asked for thirty or forty Iranian soldiers, maybe more … some say they had requested as many as five divisions for logistics service. Soldiers, that is, armed with guns alone to guard ammunition stores and roads, to help with transportation or unloading cargo, admitting patients to rural
hospitals
, that sort of thing. Although Russia and England are allies for now, the British are obviously very reluctant to allow the formation of a ‘communist nucleus’, as Yusef Khan calls it, here in Iran amongst its soldiers. So they made excuses about the lack of training of the Iranian army … how worthless they are even in the face of a group of local upstarts. They staged our recent little skirmishes to demonstrate that point to the Russians.”

“But if you knew all this, why did you go ahead and fight your own countrymen?” Ameh asked.

Hamid laughed and said, “My dear aunt, the Qashqai tribe loves to fight. Fighting gives them the same pleasure as hunting.”

Ignoring Hamid, Sohrab answered Ameh. “Because I thought it was all rumours. Now I know better. You see, I’ve only just found out that there was a Russian inspector present at the Khoongah Pass to send back reports about the fighting. But the British were telling us to prepare our crowns as successors to the Achaemenid dynasty. They managed to get weapons to us by whatever means. For instance, twice we were instructed to raid their own shipment by previous arrangement. They had loaded our guns and ammunition in a civilian car and transported them as a shipment of coins from Khuzestan through the foot of the Bakhtiari mountains to the Shahi Bank in Isfahan. They did exactly the same thing during the First World War, only then they used mules. According to what we had been told to do, we ambushed the car, tied up and abandoned the driver and their agent at the roadside. The driver had been waiting for us, since he even signalled with his lights. But we took the car too.”

“But I heard that you killed the manager of a bank and stole all the money,” Zari said. “Was that the same incident?”

“No, that was another time. Well, it takes money to do things like this. Our friends helped too. Hamid and the others got weapons to us …” Turning to Hamid, he added, “These last bullets really came
in handy, even though you overcharged us … and the revolvers too, although they seem heavier in the heat.”

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh, whose prayers had come to an abrupt end, turned to Malek Sohrab and said, “Must you say all this in front of strangers? The fact of the matter is, we’ve been caught too. They found out about Nana Ferdows. You can’t rely on your sister for help … and you can’t even trust your very own eyes.”

“Who’s Nana Ferdows?” asked Sohrab. “The mother of this pretty maidservant here?”

Hamid laughed and said, “She stole your heart, too? When I used to tell my dear mother that this girl literally sends off sparks which go straight to the heart, she wouldn’t believe me!”

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh invoked God’s name out loud and hurriedly clapped her hands over her ears. Either she was going to say her evening prayers, or she was paying penance for her previous debts.

Suddenly Sohrab remembered. “Mirza Agha Hannasab’s wife did tell me that one of your people had been caught, but I didn’t know her name was Nana Ferdows. She also told me her husband had managed to get away in time. Before we make any other decisions, we must send Mirza Agha’s wife and children to him at the tribe. Hamid, go to Singer first thing tomorrow morning or even tonight and tell him that it was while helping to carry out their plans that you were caught. You can tell him from me that they have only twenty-four hours to keep their word. If they don’t deliver, they’ll be risking their very necks. As God is my witness, I’m going to round up a few of my bravest men, and they know what we can do … to think we’ve done all these things just to protect their precious oil pipe-lines!”