Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,91
I had lost all a woman could lose. But the fresh grief that fills my heart will never depart, no matter how long I live.”
“How I wish I could hold you in my arms and comfort you!”
“Hush!” she whispered and looked as if she were listening for something. All of a sudden Nasreen Khatoon came in bearing the coffee, arriving so soundlessly that I wondered if she had been trying to catch a few words of our conversation. I changed the subject quickly.
“The esteemed princess would like to know if you have any special medicine that would help Gowhar vanquish the worst part of her grief.”
“I do,” Khadijeh said. “In recent days, I have had many requests for the mixture, and have been taking it myself. Nasreen Khatoon, please prepare another serving of the herbs I showed you and bring it here for our guest.”
The lady laid down the tray and left again to do her bidding. Now I understood why Khadijeh seemed so composed. Her medicines were potent enough to take away all pains.
“Javaher—” Khadijeh said, but I interrupted her.
“How can we stop him?”
Her mouth turned down in disgust. “I only hope he doesn’t call for me. How can I lie under him, knowing what has happened to my brother?”
I was puzzled. “What does Mohsen’s death have to do with the Shah?”
Khadijeh sighed. “Javaher, it pains me that you must know the truth. My brother died defending Mahmood.”
I felt as if an iron hand were squeezing my heart. “May he always be safe!” I said, but my words sounded angry.
She looked at me with such compassion that my rage embarrassed me. “If you don’t want to know what has happened, I won’t tell you.”
I had no choice but to ask her.
“Mohsen was with Mahmood at a hunting camp. The Shah’s men found them by following the smoke of their fire and attacked them. A friend of my brother’s who was with them escaped with his life. He wrote that Mahmood was strangled, and Mohsen was killed with a dagger. Their bodies were taken back to Mahmood’s home to be prepared for burial. A few hours later, Mahmood moaned and woke up. His neck was badly bruised, but he wasn’t dead.”
The rage drained out of me, and I breathed in the sweet air of life, just as Mahmood must be doing. It was the first time in days that the air seemed to flow easily down my throat and into my lungs.
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry,” I said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.”
I think I even smiled, until I realized that Khadijeh’s lovely face was twisted with grief.
“I wish I didn’t have to tell you the rest of the story,” she continued. “The assassins asked their leader what they should do about Mahmood, and he ordered that they extinguish his life. This time, they were successful.”
I leapt to my feet and kicked the tray of coffee as hard as if I were trying to score a goal. The glasses broke against the tray with a crash, and the coffee threw drops all over a blue silk rug owned by the Shah.
“He was like family!” I shouted.
“I know,” she murmured softly.
“We are being led by a dog! I spit on his face, I curse his eyes! May his star fall from the sky! May he burn in hell!”
Khadijeh twisted her body around in fright to see if someone had heard. I didn’t care, even if my treasonous words meant my death. I strode out of the room, deaf to Khadijeh’s pleas to take some of her medicine for myself. At that moment, I hated everyone in the world. Walking furiously into a secluded part of the gardens, I hurled my body against a cedar tree again and again, watching its branches quiver each time I thudded against it. Unhinged leaves drifted through the air, and broken twigs struck my shoulders. I pounded the tree as if I were thrashing the Shah to death. Then I did my duty by telling Pari the news.
While I was in the deepest throes of mourning, I reached for my Shahnameh, the only thing I had left of Mahmood, and opened it at random. Tears welled in my eyes and I could not make out the words. As I shut the book and placed it beside my bed, some lines written by Sa’adi sprang to mind: