Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,172

fashion until one morning, I overheard a court historian explaining to his young assistant how they would undertake the work of writing the history of Isma‘il Shah’s short reign. He told the assistant to deputize a few men to collect details from his closest advisors about his efforts to deal with national and international problems, as well as to interview other nobles about his patronage of mosques and of the arts. The assistant would organize the material and provide it to his master, who would write the official history.

Once those details had been settled, the assistant lowered his voice.

“What are you going to write about that sister of his?” he asked the historian in a near whisper.

“You mean the one who poisoned him?” the graybeard replied.

“I thought he was poisoned by the qizilbash.” The young man had an offensively bright red mouth and tongue.

“Who knows? The harem is a mystery. There is no way to be certain about what goes on in there.”

“Of course there is,” I said so loudly that the men looked up from their pages. “Why don’t you ask the eunuchs who work there every day?”

“Why bother? The women hardly do anything at all,” said the young man.

I stood up. “Are you a fool? Pari Khan Khanoom did more in a day than you do in a year. Compared to her, you are like an old mule.”

The graybeard looked at me as if I were mad. “Calm down!” he said. “We are only going to write a few pages about her anyway.”

“Then you will be missing one of the most arresting stories of our age.”

“You think that way because you served her,” said the young man dismissively.

Memories of Pari appeared so suddenly that they seemed more real than the men in front of me: her challenges on the first day I had met her, the gleam in her eyes as she dropped the peacock bowl, the ringing sound of her voice when she declaimed the poem that silenced Mirza Shokhrollah, the fearless way she had begged Isma‘il for clemency for the condemned, the strength of her hands against my back pushing me out of the palanquin. I missed her with all my heart. Her great flaws—obstinacy, arrogance, and fervor—had also been her strengths. Why didn’t the historians care enough to find out?

“Illiterate!” I said to the young man. “Don’t you imagine you have a duty to the truth?”

He shrugged. Rasheed Khan motioned the young scribe to the other side of the room and told him to get on with his work. From there the scribe glared at me but kept quiet. I realized that not only would the court historians fail to write enough about Pari, but they would not bring her story to life. How could they? They had never breached the royal harem. The women’s daily affairs, political efforts, passions, eccentricities, and quarrels would rarely be charted, and if they were, they would be misinterpreted and misunderstood. Worse yet, Mohammad Shah’s court would no doubt portray the princess as a monster to justify her murder.

Then and there I decided I must write Pari’s life story, under cover of responding to court letters. Not only would I tell the truth of events, but I would beat away misconceptions and help her live for all time. That was the least that she was owed.

As the only chronicler who served her closely enough to breathe in her perfume, I knew better than anyone that the princess was not a flawless gem. I never wished to pretend otherwise, in the way that our historians often try to justify the irregular behaviors of our shahs. I knew only too well about Pari’s arrogance, her refusal to compromise, and her temper, but I also understood that her magisterial nature stemmed from the fact that she was more learned and better trained in statecraft than most men. She was right to wish to rule; only the greed and fear of others prevented her from achieving the greatness she deserved.

I began work on my prologue that very afternoon, after most of the scribes had gone home for their afternoon tea. When it became too dark to see, I concealed my pages carefully in a dusty corner of the library. I realized that I had finally begun fulfilling the fate predicted by my astrological chart. My presence at court was ordained so that I could tell the true story of Pari Khan Khanoom, the lieutenant of my life, the khan of angels, the equal