Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,39

royalty by paying closer attention to the road.

When we arrived at Kholafa’s house, we used the knocker for women, a large brass circle, and were greeted first by his wife, who led us to a room in the andarooni—the area restricted to ladies and intimates of the family. It had finely knotted blue wool and silk carpets on the floors, embroidered cushions, large silver vases full of fresh flowers, trays heaped with grapes, peaches, pistachios, and sweetmeats, and fruit sharbats in large flagons.

Pari greeted the women who were already present, the late Shah’s four wives Sultanam and Sultan-Zadeh, Pari’s mother, Daka Cherkes, and Zahra Baji, along with their ladies and attendants. Sultanam’s eyes and wrinkled cheeks glowed with motherly pride. Khadijeh sat near her to attend to her, her eyebrows as lush as brown velvet. I thought about the donbalan—sheep’s balls—I had eaten the day before and felt the heat rise at my groin. Despite the sobriety of the occasion, I imagined what we would do together the next time I saw her.

Everyone looked her best in her mourning clothes except for Sultan-Zadeh, whose poorly tied headscarf and red eyes testified to her grief over the death of her son. She kept her head bent as if trying to be invisible.

Before long, Isma‘il entered the room accompanied by a small retinue of fierce-looking eunuchs. The ladies rose and began ululating and shouting out praises to God. Isma‘il stood there in a gray silk robe and accepted the tribute, and when he seated himself on a handsome embroidered pillow that had been placed for him on the best carpet in the room, the ladies sat down again on their cushions. Along with other servants, I stood at attention at the back of the room.

He was a medium-sized man with small eyes and a thin beard threaded with gray. He appeared confident and regal, quite unlike the boy Haydar posturing in front of the elders with his sword. Isma‘il claimed the best seat in the room like a man who believed he was finally getting what he deserved.

But he hadn’t aged well. He appeared to be a man in his fifties rather than thirty-eight. The bones in his body seemed too fluid, as if held in a sack of animal gelatin rather than muscle. Looking closely at his face, I detected an unhealthy sallowness as if he were rotting from within. No one would ever mistake this slack-bodied man for the fierce warrior he had once been.

“Welcome, womenfolk,” he began. “This morning, I had a private audience with my mother to express my gratitude to her. All the years I was away, she never relinquished hope that I would return. She is the shepherd of my conduct—of my life as a man, of my wives-to-be, and of my future. Mother, all praise is yours for my life and for the crown that I will soon wear upon my head!”

I couldn’t help but think that the praise for the crown should be Pari’s, but perhaps he was simply being exuberant.

Sultanam could not contain herself. “Insh’Allah! My thanks go to God for watching over my son. To show my deepest gratitude for your safe return, I hereby pledge to build a mosque and a seminary in Qazveen.”

There was a low gasp, for we all knew the costs of hiring architects, engineers, and tile makers, and the labor of a building crew for several years. But all the late Shah’s wives and children had recently been informed by the treasury of the fortunes they had inherited after his death, which for the most favored, like Pari, included the revenue from entire towns.

“Your piety is an example to all women,” he replied.

Isma‘il greeted his father’s wives, each in order of seniority, including Sultan-Zadeh, until finally his attention came to Pari.

“Sister of mine, the last time I saw you, you were a little girl,” he said. “How things have changed. Throughout my journey, I have been flooded with reports of your doings at the palace. Your reputation is larger than you could ever guess.”

Pari bent her head to accept his tribute. I waited expectantly for him to shower her with words of praise, as he had his mother.

“Tell me—do you find me much altered?”

Pari lifted her head in surprise. She didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I wish to know the truth.”

A mist veiled her eyes for a moment.

“I see before me the brother who was kind enough to teach me when I was just a child,