The King Page 12

  The vizier had asked Amir to start a newspaper that would deal with developments in the country and throughout the rest of the world. So it was with great pride that the vizier conducted the shah to the brand-new print shop. Inevitably the shah’s cannon was dragged along behind him.

  The vizier told the shah about the young Persian engineers who had remodelled the streets of Tehran along French lines. Before going on to the print shop the shah would be presiding over the official opening of one of the city’s new squares.

  The closer they drew to the centre of the city the more crowded it became. Everyone wanted to admire the king. His royal garb, and the way he rode his ornamented horse through the throngs of the poor, so tall in the saddle, made him seem like something from a different world. Having arrived at the square the shah was surprised to see all the important men of the city standing along the road in festive clothing. It was a relief to encounter these esteemed individuals after so many deaf and blind people, so many beggars. The shah got down from his horse to cut a ribbon. He had never been part of such a ceremony before. The square was paved with flat stones and decorated with large flower boxes, and in the middle was a fountain with leaping jets of water.

  A pair of scissors were handed to the shah on a tray. He picked them up and walked somewhat awkwardly towards the ribbon. Making a royal gesture he grabbed the ribbon and slowly cut it through. Music was heard, followed by an outburst of cheers. The shah received the engineers, spoke with them briefly, pressed a few coins into their hands and proceeded to the print shop with the vizier. A group of young men walked with them.

  The print shop was located behind the mosque in a new building. It was filled with an unfamiliar odour that stung the shah’s nostrils and eyes. The vizier had been supplying him with documents about the progress of its construction, but seeing a print shop up close was something quite different.

  He looked at the new machines and equipment, but his eyes lingered on the young engineer who was leading the tour. He had heard about this Amir, the vizier’s right-hand man. The shah had no idea how the equipment worked, but he acted as if he knew everything. He looked at the lead letters in their cabinets and paused at one of the printing cylinders, running his index finger over it cautiously. The grease on the cylinder made his finger black. Not knowing what to do, he held the finger up in the air. Amir fetched a clean cloth. The shah wiped his finger and continued walking. He paused again at the type case, and the vizier motioned to Amir to provide the shah with an explanation.

  Amir picked up a few lead letters from the type case, arranged them in a line on the composing stick and placed the stick in the printing machine. Then he handily sliced off a sheet of paper and laid it on the machine’s paper holder. The shah watched the engineer with amazement and waited for the results. Amir turned the handle of the machine. It made a sound that was totally unfamiliar to him, after which the sheet of paper fell into a tray down at the other end. Amir picked up the paper and handed it to the shah. Speaking to himself the shah read the sentence that was printed on the paper: ‘The shah is welcome to the first Royal Print Shop.’

  He gazed at Amir in admiration. Then the vizier led the shah to another printing machine that already contained a fully composed text. He asked the shah if he would like to turn the handle of the machine to declare the print shop officially open. With one hand on his sword and the other on the handle, the shah turned the wheel three times. A large sheet of printed paper fell out of the machine. The vizier picked the paper up with both hands, gave it to the shah and said, ‘The newspaper.’

  The shah found it confusing to see his own portrait superimposed over the lion from the royal coat of arms with a sword in its paw and a dazzling sun on its back. A momentary smile appeared on his face. His eyes fell on a brief text printed below his portrait. It gave him goose pimples.

  ‘Look! One of our poems is printed here!’ He beamed with happiness and gave the newspaper to Amir, who was standing beside him. ‘Read it aloud to us!’

  Amir began.

  ‘We can’t hear you. Speak up,’ said the shah.

  With more feeling this time, Amir began to declaim:

  ‘Said one among them – “Surely not in vain

  “My substance of the common Earth was ta’en

  “And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,

  “Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again.”’

  ‘Excellent,’ said the shah, ‘but our eyes must grow accustomed to these letters. It’s not like reading a book.’ He pointed to an article that was printed beneath his poem and said, ‘Read this!’

  It was an article about telegraphy that Amir himself had written. He began reading with deep conviction: ‘“At one time the world’s fastest communication system was a work of our own devising. The great King Darius had built an enormous network of roads, with couriers who rode ceaselessly day and night to bring reports to the palace with the utmost speed from every corner of the world. They even used echoes, gestures and mirrors to convey the messages across rivers and over mountains. Back then we were proud of our inventions, but now we have become dependent on the Russians to build donkey trails for us …”’

  The vizier saw the look of unease on the shah’s face. Amir hesitated a moment but continued, ‘“Telegraphy is the sending of a message by cable. It works as follows. The sender hands his message to the postal clerk, who sends it to its destination at exactly the same moment …”’

  ‘Go on, go on,’ said the shah impatiently.

  ‘“England used to be dependent on ships. It took months for a message from London to reach the Far East, and it took even more months for an answer to be sent back. But now England sends …”’

  ‘Yes, yes?’ urged the shah.

  ‘“The vizier has informed this newspaper that we won’t have to wait for decades for telegraphy to come to us, if that is our desire. And if the vizier says this, we must believe that we too will soon be able to send our messages from one city to another in the blink of an eye, but— ”’

  The shah snatched the newspaper from Amir’s hands, rolled it up and kept walking through the print shop. He inspected the cables, the ink pots and the lead letters, tossed the workers a few coins and walked out.

  Once outside the vizier shed some light on the newspaper article. ‘The information in the newspaper is not new to Your Majesty, of course, but we think our fellow countrymen also ought to be informed of these big changes. The articles in the newspaper will cover developments in our own land. The British have told us informally that they are thinking about running a telegraph line to India via our country. Not so very long ago they laid cables along the bottom of the sea, a difficult and expensive method that takes a very long time. Now they have approached us, since the cheapest and shortest way for them to run their cable to India is through our country. It has also been drawn to our attention that they are considering a railway line that would run straight through our country and on to India. We have not had any official discussions with them, but we expect that very soon they will come knocking on our door.’

  The shah listened in silence and thought about the tsar’s message with regard to the invasion of Herat. He wanted to talk this over with the vizier, but decided not to. ‘Keep us informed,’ said the shah.

  That night the shah awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. Sharmin rubbed up against him. Sitting up in bed he thought about his visit to the square and the print shop. Only now did he realise that wherever the vizier went he was followed by a group of young men. These were the ones who had studied abroad. They looked different, they had a different way of sitting on their horses, and the way they walked was different from that of the merchants and princes. Together they represented the face of a land that the shah had never seen before.

  ‘Perhaps our mother is right,’ said the shah to the cat. ‘You weren’t there in the print shop, or you too would have seen how those young men are brimming with ambition. This won’t be the last we hear
from them.’

  25. An Historical Decision

  The shah, his mother and Sheikh Aqasi were the only ones who knew what had been discussed with the Kremlin. To prevent informers from discovering their secret they had formed a triumvirate. They never employed a messenger and never took notes. The shah had decided to become more actively involved in affairs of state. He attended important military meetings more often and kept the vizier outside the decision-making process whenever he could. To the vizier’s great irritation the shah had relieved him of some of his military responsibilities, arguing that the vizier would need to have his hands free in order to carry out his reforms. In the meantime the shah had appointed Sheikh Aqasi as his official advisor.

  The sheikh was now serving as a messenger between the shah and the Russians in the negotiations on the invasion of Herat. Ultimately the shah intended to transfer some of the power from the vizier to the sheikh. The sheikh advised the shah to make sure his subjects could see that he was ruling the land and not the vizier. He also tried to keep the shah from getting bored. He was constantly making plans for him and sending him to various cities on working visits. This change did the shah good; it cheered him up.

  Sheikh Aqasi knew that if he could enter into a stable agreement with the Russians, and if the shah could take Herat, he would undoubtedly become the country’s next vizier.

  It did not escape Grand Vizier Mirza Kabir’s notice that Sheikh Aqasi was meeting with the Russians more and more frequently. He had warned the shah countless times about the sheikh: he was sly, superstitious and easily influenced. A man like that could pose a danger to the country.

  ‘I would suggest that everyone mind their own business,’ responded the shah sharply.

  The vizier was forced to sit by and watch as his faithful warlords disappeared from the highest ranks of the army. The shah was the army’s commander-in-chief, but the decisions he made revealed the influence of the vizier’s adversaries. The vizier could do nothing to oppose them. The shah would not hesitate to use force to brush him aside.

  Whenever the shah made an appearance Sheikh Aqasi was at his side. He also made it his business to be with the king whenever the vizier came to the palace for meetings.

  It was late in the afternoon. The last page of the document that would seal the alliance with the tsar lay before him on his desk. Once he pressed his signet ring into the ink-pad and made his mark at the bottom of the page, the path to Herat would be thrown open. He walked around the room with the signet ring in his hand, looking at himself in the mirror. He would do what his father had not been able to accomplish.

  ‘Sharmin!’ he called, but Sharmin did not come. The shah looked out of the window towards the gate, where two guards were marching. He took off his hat, scratched his head and stood there with his hat in his hands. Resolutely he put his hat back on his head, walked to his desk, pressed his signet ring first into the ink-pad and then, with force, beneath his name. He rang his bell and asked the chamberlain to fetch Sheikh Aqasi.

  The shah handed the agreement to the sheikh and sent him away without a word. Now that he had made this decision he felt the need to speak with the vizier.

  ‘Sharmin!’ he called again.

  The cat remained hidden.

  The shah was about to go into the courtyard, but halfway down the stairs he turned back and entered the harem unannounced. Khwajeh Bashi quickly put on his slippers and followed the shah, who walked further into the harem and then changed his mind. He turned to Khwajeh Bashi and said, ‘Fetch the vizier!’

  Khwajeh Bashi did not understand why the shah wanted to bring the vizier to the harem.

  ‘Why are you standing there? Fetch the vizier!’ shouted the shah.

  Evening had just fallen when the vizier rode into the palace. He handed the reins to the guard and had the chamberlain inform the shah of his arrival. Once the vizier was inside the shah took him to his conference room.

  ‘Have a seat,’ he said, contrary to custom, but the vizier preferred to stand.

  ‘Please, sit down,’ repeated the shah in a friendly tone.

  The vizier sat down. The shah walked over to the window. Standing with his back to the vizier he told him in general terms about the decisions he had made, about Herat and about the Russian ships in the Caspian Sea. After having said all this he felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

  The vizier sat silently, his head bent low, lost in reflection.

  ‘What does the vizier think?’ asked the shah.

  ‘What the shah has done is irreparable,’ said the vizier, and he stood up.

  ‘Irreparable?’

  ‘Opening the Caspian Sea to Russian ships is surrender, pure and simple. And as for Herat, the shah knows we will never be able to win a war with the British. The shah and his advisors are steering us into troubled waters.’

  ‘We’ve made airtight agreements with the Russians,’ said the shah in his own defence.

  ‘No one is capable of making airtight agreements with the Russians. The generations before us have had plenty of experience in that regard.’

  ‘Times have changed,’ answered the shah unsteadily.

  ‘For the Russians times will never change,’ insisted the vizier.

  ‘But what have we got to lose if we don’t win the battle for Herat?’ asked the shah, feeling his way.

  ‘We’ll lose a great deal, but exactly what is impossible to predict.’

  ‘I wish the vizier would not speak with us in guarded terms. Let’s have some examples. Give us an example,’ said the shah emphatically.

  ‘The tsar is taking a chance. The tsar has nothing to lose. But the shah must be very careful where he puts his feet. We may end up so deep in the morass that we won’t be able to climb out.’

  ‘I asked for a concrete example, but the vizier is speaking in riddles.’

  ‘The gravity of the situation exceeds all examples,’ answered the vizier. ‘The war will bring unrest and uncertainty. We must reach a compromise with the British and not walk into the tsar’s trap. The reforms—’

  ‘Reforms, reforms. What good are all these changes if we are no longer in control of our own country later on? Compromise? What compromise? The vizier knows better than anyone that the British don’t understand the word “compromise”. Only a cannonball can put them in their place. The decision has been taken. Soon we will invade Herat. You have been sufficiently informed,’ said the shah, whose lower lip was trembling with agitation.

  The vizier hazarded one last attempt: ‘Excuse me, Your Majesty, but it is my duty to tell you that this is the most impetuous decision you ever could have made. I am against it. You are allowing yourself to be led by a group of greedy, deranged advisors. I am opposed to this war in every possible way. Tear up the documents. Don’t jeopardise your crown. Don’t endanger the nation!’

  In his youth, when the vizier was his tutor, the shah had often been forced to endure his harsh scoldings, but those days were over now. The shah opened one of his desk drawers, took out a stack of papers and thrust it under the vizier’s nose. There was no need for the shah to utter a word. It was a chapter of a translation of the French constitution that the vizier had been working on for quite some time. What it contained undermined the shah’s power.

  ‘Out of my sight!’ he shouted, slamming the door behind the vizier with all his might.

  26. Isa Khan

  Deeply offended, the vizier left the palace. He rode through the dark streets to the hill outside the city, talking to himself: ‘A pack of wolves is pursuing me in the dark. Why so many wolves? There’s hardly enough meat on me to feed three wild beasts.’

  He needed to talk to someone. He rode, he galloped and he talked out loud. Finally tears began running down his cheeks. Would he have to retire as vizier and spend the rest of his life at his family estate in Farahan, writing? Of course stepping down would be out of the question: that would play right into the hands of the corrupt elite, the politicians and the foreig
n powers.

  He saw his plans crumble into bits. His dream of a railway line that would run from the deep south to the far east. Telegraph cables criss-crossing the entire country. He wanted to build bridges and hospitals, to send children to school and deliver women from their misery. So studying the French Revolution and reading the documents on the Assemblée nationale, the flight of Louis XVI and the French constitution had all been for naught. It seemed like an impossible wish, but he was already visualising a Persian Assemblée as the country’s legislative power. It was his conviction that the legislative, executive and judicial powers would have to be separated. He understood that history could be shaped and moulded, and that man was the author of his own happiness.

  The vizier had never been permitted to talk about these things in the presence of the shah. He spent his scant free time translating the French constitution into Persian. He thought no one knew, but his enemies had proven to be formidable opponents. Sheikh Aqasi had somehow managed to get hold of a chapter of the translation, the very chapter that dealt with limiting the shah’s power. The sheikh had waited for just the right moment to pass it on to the shah.

  The vizier rode to the home of his aged father, who had retired from public life and was living in a castle in a village outside Tehran. His name was Isa Khan. Having worked for the father of the shah as first vizier, Isa Khan was an experienced manager who had lived through many wars and political assassinations.

  The small village lay at the foot of Mount Tochal. The villagers had no large pieces of land, but they farmed on small plots that lay on the slopes of the mountain. Because there wasn’t enough room the villagers had built their homes in step fashion, so that the roofs of the lower houses formed the courtyards of the houses above them. For strangers it was always peculiar to see cows and sheep standing among the roofs.

  The vizier’s family had built the castle centuries ago. Now the vizier’s father lived there, and some day the vizier himself might spend his last days there as well.