Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,58
was dressing, Massoud Ali came in with a letter for me. His sleeve fell away, revealing large purple and yellow bruises.
“What happened?”
He shrugged and looked down. It took quite a bit of prompting to get him to admit that Ardalan, the errand boy, had pummeled him after being bested again at backgammon. I made a mental note to reprimand him, and I told Massoud Ali that I would send him to a tutor for lessons on combat.
“But right now,” I added, “I want to tell you the most important story you will ever hear. It is a long one, so I will tell it to you in parts. At the end of it, you will know how to stand up to bullies like Ardalan.”
Massoud Ali’s fingers went to a bruise as if to soothe it.
I sat down on my bedroll, even though I had much to do. “Once, long ago,” I began, “there was a ruler named Zahhak whose evil knew no bounds. The way Ferdowsi tells it, all the world’s problems started when he decided to usurp his father, who had been a just leader. One day, with some help from the devil, he . . .”
Massoud Ali hung on every word, his eyes wide. When I got to the part about how Zahhak had destroyed Pormayeh, he jumped up angrily as if he wished to save the cow. I promised that I would help him learn how to defend those who needed his help.
It was late, so I sent Massoud Ali off on his duties and rushed to the hammam. Many other eunuchs had already gathered there to clean themselves before Friday prayers, and the sound of their voices echoed throughout the room. Balamani was in the largest tub, pouring bowls of warm water over his bald, charcoal-colored head.
“Aw khesh,” he said in satisfaction as the water coursed over his broad, smooth body.
After greeting him, I soaped myself, rinsed with buckets of water, and slid into the tub, where he was scrubbing a callus on his thumb. Before I had time to adjust to the heat of the water or to tell him what I had learned the night before, he asked, “How is your health?”
“God be praised,” I said. “And yours?”
“From your cheeriness, I can tell that you haven’t heard the news.”
When I shrugged and admitted defeat, his black eyes twinkled merrily. In the business of gathering information, Balamani was still the master, I the student. Since it was impossible to know when trifling details would become valuable, he collected them all. If you pick up a few shards of colored tile, he explained when I had first joined the palace, you have nothing, but gather enough shards and you can piece together a mosaic.
Balamani poured another jug of water over his head, then wiped his face. “Hossein Beyg Ostajlu was captured yesterday trying to leave the city. After hearing about that, I decided to go to the home of one of the Ostajlu nobles to quiz his eunuchs about the tribe’s status at court. Not far from the palace gates, I noticed a number of fine tents had been torn down, stomped on, and soiled. A man was rummaging under one of the tents trying to collect abandoned items. He told me that a few days ago, the Shah sent a message to the Ostajlu in the form of an arrow. It had been lodged in one of the palace’s plane trees during their invasion, and its arrival at the Ostajlu camp chastised them for entering the palace grounds and attacking royalty.
“On the morning of the coronation, the Ostajlu pitched their tents and sent a written reply. ‘We recognize we are in disgrace,’ the message said. ‘We can’t take another breath on this earth without pleading for forgiveness. We beg you to tell us our punishment so that we may one day fill our lungs with the sweet air of royal grace.’”
“What was the Shah’s response?”
Balamani raised his eyebrows. “He sent a group of soldiers to tear down the tents, and looters walked away with silver platters, embroidered pillows, silk robes, and even carpets.”
“What a humiliation! Have the Ostajlu been welcomed back?”
Balamani grimaced as he scrubbed at the tender flesh below his callus. “We will see,” he said. “They have been ordered to present themselves today.”
“On a Friday?” I asked, incredulous. The late Shah had never conducted business on the holy day.
Balamani stopped scrubbing. “The meeting is at Forty Columns Hall. Shall we observe it together?”