Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,120
send a gift. If questioned, I will say that I hired the horses and groom to send the items on the first stage of their journey.”
“What shall I say about my whereabouts?”
“You have been assisting me. If someone saw you in the bazaar fetching the digestives, you will say that I gave you permission to go in search of a new medicine for your stomach—which by now has been well established as a vexing problem.”
I smiled.
“Now, before you return to your quarters, I wish to read you a poem I have written.”
“What a welcome surprise.”
“Sit down.”
I stared at her. Sit down, while she was still standing? It would be the first time I had ever violated this protocol.
“Go ahead.”
I lowered myself carefully onto one of her cushions. Pari picked up the burnished cotton paper on which she had written her poem and read it out loud.
“At first you would think he was a mouse
Scuttling discreetly through the house
He could make himself seem to disappear
In quietness and stealth, he had no peer
Like an honest woman, he listened well
His selfless words could comfort you in hell
You might be tempted to think him soft as gruel
As if weakened through lack of some tool
Yet inside he was made of damascened steel
His heart was a lion’s; his roar was real
He proved the truth that a man’s fragile skin
Gives no hint of the white fury within
That a man of the pen schooled mostly in poems
Can rise to a height surpassing the greatest domes.
Was he a man? A woman? A bit of each?
I would argue the third sex has plenty to teach
From now till eternity, one name holds this key:
It is Payam Javaher-e-Shirazi!”
“May your hands never ache! It is beautiful.”
“You say that because your ears hear only beauty,” she replied demurely.
“I mean it,” I said, feeling myself soften. To think that the princess would write me such a loving poem! It was more than I had ever hoped for. Men would always think of me as lesser because of my missing tool, while women would imagine that I was exactly like them. They were both wrong. I was indeed a third sex, one more supple than those stuck in the rigid roles handed to them at birth. Pari had understood. Rather than seeing me as defective, she chose to celebrate the new thing I had become. My birth as a eunuch had finally been recognized and recorded with as much fanfare as the moment a male child enters the world.
I was a man, so I wanted to embrace her; yet as her soldier, I must only salute her. The conflicting feelings made me leap to my feet in an effort to pursue the right course. Then I just stood there, not knowing what to do next, until Pari’s smile told me that she knew what was in my heart.
The palace was quiet all that day. I was as skittish as a cat, wondering if every noise in the corridors announced that the deed was done. But all was calm. Late in the afternoon, I told Pari I wanted to return to my vigil on her roof to try to discern whether the digestives had been eaten.
“You may go,” she said. “I will send one of my ladies with a platter of food for you.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
I removed my turban, borrowed one of her ladies’ chadors, covered my body, and ascended the staircase to the roof. A white chill pervaded the air. I covered my head and stared at the sky, watching the first few stars appear. When one winked at me, I imagined Khadijeh was signaling her approval.
After the cannon boomed, Azar Khatoon brought me a blanket and my meal. Pari must have told her to spare nothing. I ate roast lamb falling off the bone, several types of rice, stewed lamb with greens and tart lemons, chicken with sweetened barberries, cucumber with yogurt and mint, and hot bread. When I had finished, Azar brought me a large vessel of tea flavored with cardamom.
“That black garment brightens your coffee-colored eyes,” she teased, and her smile showed off the pretty black beauty spot near her lower lip.
“Only a rose like you would be so gracious even to the humblest of flowers,” I flirted.
“What are you doing on the roof?” she asked as she descended the stairs.
“Studying the stars,” I replied. “The princess has asked me to improve my astrological skills.”
I hoped not to see the door of Hassan’s house opening, because that would mean the Shah had survived.