Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,18
to the home of his uncle, Khakaberi Khan, but saw no activity there, then knocked on the doors of a few other supporters to no avail until I arrived at the home of Hossein Beyg Ostajlu. A large group of men armed with swords and bows were assembling in his courtyard. I saluted a fellow with a scar across his cheek that flamed red, matching the thick red baton held erect in his turban that proclaimed him as a qizilbash loyal to the Safavis.
“What is the delay?”
He scowled. “Who are you?”
“I serve in the harem.”
“Half-man!”
He adjusted his parts to reassure himself that they were still there. Grabbing his sword, he rejoined his fellow soldiers as if I might contaminate him with my condition. I would have liked to see him facing a castrator’s long, sharp knife; then we would know who was more brave.
A soldier on the street told me of a rumor that Isma‘il had arrived in the city with thousands of men. Haydar’s supporters had delayed storming the palace, fearing a massacre.
“But how could Isma‘il get here so fast?”
He shrugged and gestured toward Hossein Beyg, who was mounting his horse. “He has decided it is a lie.”
Hossein Beyg called for the Ostajlu to assemble, and they began marching toward the northern gate of the palace. Soldiers from other tribes streamed out from nearby houses until thousands claimed the street. They raised so much dust that people who had come out to look began clearing their throats and coughing. It was only a matter of time before fighting would begin between Haydar’s and Isma‘il’s supporters, and the thought of those tough qizilbash soldiers meeting in combat made my blood turn to vinegar.
I found Pari being comforted by Maryam. Her hair had been brushed until it shone straight and black under her white silk kerchief, and she had changed into a black silk mourning robe embroidered with gold squares that made her look long and tall. The turquoise and gold earrings shaped like half-moons that gleamed around her face had been a gift from her father. She had written a few letters since I had left, which were on a silver tray awaiting delivery to the courier. Her eyes looked even more troubled than when I had left.
“At last!” she said when I was shown in. “What is the news?”
“Princess,” I panted, “thousands of Haydar’s soldiers are marching to the palace under the leadership of Hossein Beyg.”
“May God protect us all!” said Maryam, looking frightened.
“Are there enough of them to overpower the Takkalu?” asked Pari.
“I think so.”
Pari jumped up. “I must tell my uncle to stop them.”
I wondered why she seemed so certain all of a sudden about what to do. “Princess, what has happened?”
“Not long before you arrived, my father’s chief chemist reported that the orpiment was strong enough to strip the hair off a hide. It may have been an accident. Still, how could I ever live under Haydar’s reign?”
“May God exact vengeance on evildoers!”
Pari handed me a cloth purse. “This is the key to the door from the Promenade of the Royal Stallions into the women’s quarters,” she said. “Tell my uncle that I grant him permission to enter and remove Haydar, so long as he is spared from harm. Return here as quickly as you can.”
I stared at the purse. “But men are never permitted to enter the women’s part of the palace,” I protested.
“I am authorizing it.”
Astonished, I put the bundle under my turban and took my leave. When I arrived at Shamkhal’s home, I told his servants I had an urgent message and was shown in right away.
Shamkhal opened the purse and peered at the key. His eyes began to glitter like those of a raven who has just found a bag of treasure.
“This is our best hope,” he said with glee.
“Pari wished me to tell you that Haydar should be delivered safe from harm. The esteemed princess asked for a token indicating your agreement.”
I wanted proof that I had delivered this most important part of the message. Shamkhal stood up.
“Tell her this:
The man we oppose will suffer a great fall,
Yet shall remain unscathed in the care of Shamkhal.
In exchange, I insist that my niece Pari
Remain distant from the soldiers and their fury.”
“Chashm,” I replied. As I took my leave, I heard Shamkhal shouting for his servants and directing them to go to the homes of his supporters to raise men for Isma‘il.
I started back toward the palace. Outside the Ali Qapu the Takkalu