Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,37
soft. “He gave me my first lessons in archery. He would even stand behind me and help me draw the bow. He could have allowed the archery masters to teach me, but he knew I adored him. After he left on campaign, I practiced every day. I liked to imagine myself riding on a horse beside him, shooting arrows and striking targets.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wanted to be just like him.”
“Why was he sent away?” Maryam asked. She bit into a thick date and took a sip of her tea.
Pari called a eunuch to carry away the trunks of clothing and told Azar to follow him. Only when they were gone did she begin to speak. With troubled eyes, she explained that she had been too young to understand what had happened. Although everyone agreed Isma‘il had bravely beat back the Ottomans in the north, accounts differed as to why he raised his own army without his father’s permission. Some contended the purpose was to try to vanquish the Ottomans forever; others accused him of intending to overthrow their father. Before then, Tahmasb Shah had barely been able to squelch coups organized by his mother and by his brother Alqas, and dissent had become intolerable to him.
“Yet it is also possible that my father was envious. It wouldn’t be the first time a man has wished to shine as brightly as his warrior son.”
“What a tragedy to think of a family separated for so long,” said Maryam.
“It was a dagger through our hearts.”
Maryam took her hand. “When Isma‘il sees you in that gazelle-colored robe, he will be pleased by the way you reflect the beauty of your family.”
Pari’s eyes brightened. “People always told us we looked more alike than any of my father’s children.”
“I trust he will welcome your good counsel,” said Maryam.
“It will be difficult for him if he doesn’t. My father’s courtiers have alliances and arguments that span generations. All Isma‘il knew before his imprisonment was how to command Turkic warriors, not how to manage Tajik administrators, Jewish tradesmen, Armenian exporters, Zoroastrian priests, Arab mullahs, diplomats from the Christian lands, emissaries from the Ottoman and the Indian courts, and all the other supplicants we see on a daily basis. He needs me.”
“Isma‘il will be lucky to have such a powerful ally,” Maryam said.
“Not just an ally.”
Maryam looked at her, puzzled. “What more could you be?”
Pari made as if pulling back the string of a bow; then she released her hand as if shooting the arrow.
“I want to be his closest counselor, just as my aunt was for my father.”
“Has he agreed to this?”
Pari looked away. “Why wouldn’t he? The same royal blood runs through our veins.”
“Esteemed princess,” I said, “I think we should plan what you will say to the new shah to obtain his favor.”
“Obtain his favor? I am the reason he will be crowned!”
“True, but I don’t think we can be too careful.”
“There is no doubt he will shower her with love,” interjected Maryam, her warm eyes beaming so much admiration at Pari that I was discomfited to witness it.
Maryam turned back to her task of perusing Pari’s jewelry. After a moment, she said, “I think I have found just the right pair. Try these.”
She showed Pari a pair of gold earrings shaped like moons with dangling pearls and rubies.
“Come here and put them on me.”
Maryam leaned over Pari and gently inserted the end of each earring into her pierced ears.
“Bah, bah! How lovely you look.”
Pari looked up into her eyes, which were only a handsbreadth away, and Maryam’s cheeks bloomed like a pink rose. Then Pari reached for her chin and held it, her eyes filling with an animal gleam. Maryam’s lips parted. The moment lengthened until I became uncomfortable and pretended to a fit of coughing. Finally, Pari turned around and dismissed me.
“Tell my servants not to disturb us,” she said as I left, her eyes fixed on Maryam’s.
No wonder she cared so little about marriage! Why would she wish to ally herself to a man who could take away all her pleasures? The hunger I had witnessed in Pari’s eyes reminded me unnervingly of myself before I had been cut. With Fereshteh, I had been like a lion sinking its teeth into the flank of an onager, my appetite ferocious. How different I was now.
I felt glad Pari had found someone to love, and even gladder that she trusted me enough to show how she felt. The women of the