Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,62
hair, Sultanam looked twice as big as Isma‘il, who was still thin despite the richness of the palace diet. Pari saluted Isma‘il as the lord of the universe, thanked him for inviting her into his presence, and inquired after his health. The formalities done, Isma‘il did not delay.
“I know why you are here,” he said. “The answer is no—no more morning meetings.”
This shah, I thought, did not understand the first thing about diplomacy.
“Light of the universe, that is not my purpose,” Pari said. “I come to you with great humility to ask a favor.”
“What is it?”
“I have heard of your decision to execute Kholafa Rumlu and Hossein Beyg. As your sister and as a member of the royal family with years of experience at court, I beg you to show them mercy.”
“Hossein is a traitor, and Kholafa is an ungrateful wretch. They don’t deserve mercy.”
“Perhaps not, but the question is how the noblemen will view their executions,” Pari said. “If you kill Kholafa, they will wonder why a man of wisdom and high standing, who did everything to bring you to power, has been sacrificed. Being fearful of the same fate will make them dangerous. If you kill Hossein Beyg, they will understand why, but show clemency and they will see you as merciful.”
“Why do you care? What are these men to you?”
“They are nothing to me, but it is a matter of justice. Kholafa was your biggest ally. I think we owe him thanks for his support.”
“And Hossein Beyg?”
“The loyalty of the Ostajlu is worth a great deal.”
“Even though he was a traitor?”
“He wasn’t a traitor; he simply didn’t select the winning side.”
Isma‘il turned to Sultanam. “Mother, what do you think?”
Pari looked at her expectantly; she had often been successful in begging Tahmasb Shah for clemency and had no doubt saved Isma‘il himself.
“I think your sister is right about Kholafa,” Sultanam said. “Why destroy a brilliant strategist?”
“To demonstrate that no disobedience will be tolerated is valuable.”
“But it wasn’t disobedience; it was merely disagreement,” Pari interjected.
“What is the difference?”
Was the Shah incapable of seeing the distinction?
Pari looked bewildered. “Surely you will permit your subjects to disagree at times?”
“Of course,” he said. “I am listening to you right now, aren’t I? But Hossein Beyg is a lost cause. By opposing my accession, he will always be a rallying point for the dissatisfied. As for Kholafa, his execution sets an important example to the others about the behavior I expect. By dying, he will serve me better than by living.”
“But, brother of mine—”
“I have made my decision.”
“I beg you to reconsider. When our father was alive, his brother rebelled against him several times, but it wasn’t until Alqas joined forces with the Ottoman army that he had him captured and executed. Surely your noblemen deserve mercy.”
“I am not Tahmasb,” Isma‘il said, “and I intend to be quite a different shah than he was.”
Pari looked exasperated. “But if not for his clemency, you yourself would not be alive!”
Isma‘il’s face flushed with anger. “I am alive because it was God’s will that I should become shah.”
No one could disagree with that.
“Kholafa isn’t the only person at court who needs to be disciplined,” he continued. “Some wish to usurp my power, but they won’t succeed.”
Pari remained calm at the insinuation. “I offer my opinion with the sole goal of strengthening your rule, brother of mine.”
Isma‘il snorted. “Next time, you should wait to ask if I desire your opinion.”
Pari drew back, offended, and turned to Sultanam for reinforcement.
“You must heed the words of my son,” Sultanam said quietly.
“But you are depriving a man of his life, the only worthwhile thing he has! Surely you would expect an argument.”
“On the contrary, I expect to be thanked for listening,” he said.
Isma‘il put a roasted pumpkin seed in his mouth and cracked it open. I hoped Pari would say something conciliatory, but she frowned, as if a bad smell had invaded the room.
Isma‘il spat out the shell. “There is nothing left to discuss. You may go.”
Pari arose stiffly and walked out of the room without thanking him for seeing her. I asked permission to be dismissed and followed behind, cringing at the disrespect she had shown.
“I should have fought harder,” she said as we walked through the gardens. The roses looked wilted in the heat.
“What good would that do?”
“Perhaps none, but I owe it to Kholafa. He deserves to live.”
“May God have mercy on his soul tomorrow,” I replied. “Yet I think it is most important now to earn