Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,89
about Isma‘il’s unborn child?”
“I don’t know who will survive. My responsibility in this matter is to defend all the princes who might lead the dynasty in the future. I must do everything I can to protect them.”
“That won’t be easy.”
“As things stand, it is impossible. I can no more prevent Isma‘il from sending out assassins than I can tell the sun when to rise. There are those who believe they can control the orbits of the planets, but I am not one of them.”
The gravity of her tone and the privacy of our meeting made me acutely sensitive to whatever was coming next.
“In times of confusion, I turn to the Shahnameh because my father held it so dear. I have been reading it for Ferdowsi’s guidance about the righteous ways to handle a disordered shah. He is very cautious on this point. After all, he was hoping for remuneration from the Ghaznavi sultan and couldn’t be seen as opposing his reign, even indirectly.”
I had continued reading my own copy of the Shahnameh almost every night, holding it with affection because it had been a gift from Mahmood.
“But look what happens to the voracious Zahhak: Kaveh sparks a rebellion. So even Ferdowsi, who is usually so careful not to offend the institution of royalty, is willing to suggest that a truly evil shah must be resisted.”
Pari was drawing a noose of logic around my neck, and I didn’t wish to be captured in a knot that couldn’t be untied. My face must have shown my feelings, because her voice softened.
“Sometimes, one person must make a sacrifice for the good of all others,” she added. “Kaveh was such a man. What an inspiration he is to all who suffer from tyranny! I can’t sit by any longer while a fire consumes the house of our future. Too often, I have acted in the hope of some gain for myself. Now I must act for others, regardless of my fate.”
She said this with so much delicacy and such understanding of her own flaws that I was touched at the core of my heart.
“May God always protect you! You are the brightest star among women.”
“Thank you, Javaher. But tell me: Do you feel as strongly as I do that our leader is disordered?”
“Yes, of course. Your revered father would never have killed his own kin with no reason.”
“I know the sacrifice you made to serve him was dear. Now I am going to request that you make an even greater one, but I won’t demand it from you. It must be freely given.”
A feeling of dread suffused me. “What are you asking for?”
“Your loyalty.”
“That is always yours. What else?”
“Your assistance.”
“With what?”
Pari lowered her voice. “He must be removed.”
My heart began pounding like the drums that march men to war. How could I agree to what she was asking of me? For a man to raise his hand against his leader, for a sister to strike at her own brother—that was cause for death if discovered, and for eternal damnation if God deemed it unjust.
The princess wanted to rip the proclamation. Yet we couldn’t do it the way Kaveh had done, because our shah was not a character in a poem; he would simply have us put to death if we openly protested his rule.
Pari was scrutinizing my face. “Javaher, will you help me bring justice to this land?”
“In the name of God above!” I thundered. “I have delivered everything but my last breath to this dynasty, including the possibility of raising my own sons. Now must I turn traitor in order to serve this same line? What kind of servant would I be? What truth would ever seem solid?”
“Your questions are fair,” said Pari, “but I suggest that you would be serving the cause of justice. That can be the only reason for agreeing to such a request. You have my permission to assist me only if you believe the cause is righteous.”
If she had said anything else—if she had mentioned personal gain or glory, I would have refused her. But she was reaching for the only part of me that was tender to her request. Isma‘il had become the very image of Zahhak; there was no denying it. Would we remain silent and allow him to destroy us at his whim? Or would we become as brave as Kaveh?
“What do you intend for him?”
“The fate he brought to others.”
“Even your father, may his soul be at rest, let Isma‘il live,” I argued.