Equal of the Sun (27 page)

“It will rival the promise of paradise!” Mirza Salman said, his eyes shining.

“It is worth dying for,” I added.

Pari’s quarters had always been filled with people, but after she fell out of favor, they were eerily quiet. I was able to spend more time at her side, helping her compose letters and discussing strategies for her rehabilitation. Sometimes, on cold days, we created a
korsi
by throwing blankets over a table and heating up the space underneath it with a charcoal brazier. Then we thrust our legs under the blankets—
awkh joon!—
and recited poetry to one another, including our own compositions. Pari shared her heart with me more than before, telling me of the great sorrows of her young life—the loss of a beloved mare, the death of her favorite aunt, Maheen Banu, but most of all, about her passionate desire to steer Iran into a period of greatness. I began to feel, when we were alone, that we were not just princess and servant—we were
hamrah,
companions on the same road.

One day, Pari confessed her fear that Isma‘il would try to claim Maryam, her dearest treasure, as a way of punishing her further. Her eyes grew soft when she spoke of Maryam, which emboldened me to ask about her.

“How did she first find favor with you, Princess?”

“Her father offered her to the court because he had eight daughters and no dowry money. I was fifteen then, and I urged my father to take her in. After five years of training as a hairdresser, Maryam entered my service. Before I knew it, she had bewitched me.”

“And you, her.”

A handsome blush appeared on Pari’s cheeks.

“I have made her wealthy, but she tells me she finds all the riches in the world by my side.” She glowed with satisfaction as she said this, and I thought about how often she must have faced sycophants who pretended to love her. I was glad that she was not blind, like so many other courtiers, to honest feeling.

“And what has become of her sisters?”

Pari looked at me curiously. “God be praised, she has provided six of them with excellent dowries.”

“Princess, I confess there is someone I wish to help in the same way,” I blurted out. My heart was full as I confided in her about Jalileh and showed her one of my sister’s letters, which I kept in an inside pocket of my robe. Pari glanced at it and was sufficiently impressed to read out loud the part where Jalileh revealed her ecstatic feelings about Gorgani’s poetry.

“What a thoughtful child! Surely no one is more important to you in the world.”

“Except for you, lieutenant of my life.”

She ignored the flattery, which pleased me. “And how strange that you, too, have had to live far away from a beloved sibling.”

“It is a dagger through my heart. My fondest wish would be to bring Jalileh to serve in the harem, if you think there might ever be an appropriate position.”

I waited with trepidation, knowing I was asking for a great privilege.

Pari’s eyes were sympathetic. “I will try to grant your request, but not yet. It will not be wise until I am returned to favor.”

My heart soared with new hope, and I wrote to my mother’s cousin right away to tell her the news. I worried that my letter was premature, but I was so eager to brighten Jalileh’s long exile that I sent it anyway. Then I redoubled my efforts to help restore Pari’s reputation.

On the longest night of the year, the royal women usually stayed up very late together, telling stories, eating soup, feasting on pomegranate seeds and sweets, and celebrating the coming return of the light. After everyone went to sleep, I used to creep into Khadijeh’s warm bed. Even though I could no longer do that, the arrival of the shortest day of the year made me long for her.

After my bath, I dressed in a fur-lined hat and robe to fight the cold. In the palace gardens, my breath steamed white around my face, and everyone I passed was veiled in the same way. I thrust my hands into my sleeves to keep warm. The trees in the palace gardens were stark and lined with snow, the flowers long gone, the bushes pruned back. The snow had been cleared from the palace walkways but the ground was frozen, and before long, I could feel the cold pushing its way through my leather boots.

On my way to Khadijeh’s, I passed a woman who reminded me of Fereshteh, my erstwhile lover. She had the huge dark eyes and rosebud mouth that I had so admired in Fereshteh when I was young. I was seized with nostalgia for our time together and wondered what had become of her.

It had been a revelation to show Fereshteh all my parts and to explore, with the enthusiasm of a nomad conquering new mountain passes, every corner of her body. It was she who first explained to me the mysteries of women’s cycles. With no shame, she showed me her blood. With no shame, she reached for my
keer
. The sex words she used reddened my sheltered ears, then stiffened me like a tent pole. I had never known another woman as frank as she. I still hoped to see her again one day and tell her of my strange fate.

I entered Khadijeh’s building, saluting the eunuch on duty. The thick walls of the building defeated the worst of the cold, and the rooms were heated by charcoal braziers. Even so, I kept my outer robe wrapped around me and quickly drank the cardamom tea I was offered when I stepped inside.

The spice made my blood circulate faster, and my heart thudded in my chest. After some time, a seamstress came out of Khadijeh’s rooms, holding in her arms several new silk robes that had been pinned to indicate changes. I was shown in, and Khadijeh greeted me formally. She wore a violet robe that made her skin look like dark satin. Her high-cheekboned lady, Nasreen Khatoon, gave me an appraising glance.

“Your arrival brings happiness, Javaher Agha,” Khadijeh said.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I wished to tell you about the fate of Rudabeh, the woman for whom I requested help the last time I visited
you. She has written to my commander from Khui to inform her that her case has finally been settled there.”

“That is excellent news,” Khadijeh said.

I rubbed my hands together and shivered as if I were still cold. Khadijeh turned to her lady and said, “See to it that our guest is served hot coffee.”

“Chashm.”

Nasreen rose to do her bidding, leaving us alone except for a eunuch who sat out of earshot near the door. Coffee was new to the court, and only the favored had access to it. It would have to be boiled fresh, unlike tea, which always simmered at the ready in a samovar. That would give us more time.

When we were finally alone, Khadijeh’s whole body relaxed. I thought of her tamarind skin and how it once seemed to warm like honey under my hands.

“How are you? You look as lovely as the moon.”

“I am well,” she replied in a soft voice, “but not as well as I was.”

“The new wives?”

“Not just that,” she replied. “It is that I see him less now that he has new women, and my chances to bear his child decrease.”

“You have hardly begun!”

“Yes, but the more distracted he is, the less he will visit, and the less likely are my hopes.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic, but I said, “With you so moonlike? You have no competition.”

“Ah, but I do,” she replied. “You won’t believe what has already happened—and why I am so fearful.”

She rubbed her nose with a gesture so endearing I wanted to wrap my arms around her.

“Khadijeh, soul of mine, what is it?” The endearment escaped my lips.

“She is pregnant!”

“Who?”

“Mahasti, a slave that he has taken, like me, in a temporary marriage. She is one of those straw-haired women from the Caucasus whose pale beauty is so prized.”

“She is already with child?”

Fresh agony filled her dark eyes.

“How do you know?”

“My ladies talk with her maids. She has been sick every morning, but at the midday meal she eats like a starved dog. She has an obviously thickening belly and complains of sore breasts at the hammam, and her servant has been boasting so loudly it will be a wonder if she doesn’t call down the evil eye on the child.”

“That is very reckless of her.”

“But why isn’t it me? I have been with him the longest.”

“Remember, when other women are heavy with child, he will turn to you at night. You will have him to yourself again!”

My heart dripped tears of blood as I comforted her, and I tried to pretend that I meant what I said. I was rewarded when a wan smile flashed on her face.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said.

“Khadijeh, who wouldn’t want you?”

She smiled again, even more sadly.

“Has he said anything to you about the pregnancy?”

“Not a word, but he talks endlessly about how he longs for an heir, like all men.”

I tried to keep my face neutral, but hearing this from Khadijeh was like a dagger in my heart. I wondered for a second what the child of our loins would look like, and a curly-headed boy with a mischievous laugh danced in my head, tormenting me.

“Please forgive me,” she said quickly.

“It is nothing.” It would do no good to discuss this with her, and I must make haste before her lady returned.

“And that is not the only news. An astrologer told him the child will be a boy.”

“You must make a charm for yourself—you are good at that.”

“I face Mecca every day and pour water on my head. I make tonics to aid fertility, including one with ground rhinoceros horn. Still, pray for me. If you happen to go to a shrine, be sure to whisper my suit to the saint.”

It cost every fiber of goodness that I had within me to say, “I
promise.” She looked so hopeful I was happy to have lightened her mood.

“Before your lady returns, I must ask you—has he said anything lately about the princess?”

“He hasn’t mentioned her name,” she replied, “but he is always frightened that someone will try to usurp him. Whenever he disrobes at night, he takes off his sword and dagger and lays them within arm’s distance of the bedroll so he can find them in the dark.”

“I can’t blame him.”

Khadijeh leaned closer and whispered, “Once, in the middle of the night, I arose to get a drink of water, and when I returned, he threw himself on top of me and reached for his dagger, shouting ‘assassin!’ The guards rushed in, but by then he had felt my breasts against his chest and understood his mistake. His eyes looked as unpredictable as a wild dog’s, and he chided me for misleading him. I was so frightened that after he fell asleep, I pressed my body close to his so that he wouldn’t forget I was there, and I didn’t close my eyes for the rest of the night.” She shivered.

Isma‘il remained so troubled about his own safety that he had come close to murdering my beloved Khadijeh! I had to shove my hands into my sleeves to quell my urge to throttle him.

“Poor creature!” I said. “If anything ever happened to you, I would—”

Khadijeh hushed me gently with her eyes.

“It is all so strange,” I added. “The treasury functionaries count and recount every piece of silver for fear of being one coin short. The formerly gleeful bandits are so wary of him that they have stopped robbing travelers. Not even the qizilbash chiefs dare to rebel.”

“Every day Isma‘il was in prison, he expected to be assassinated. That hasn’t changed. I think he fears his own kin the most.”

“But he doesn’t fear you. Otherwise he wouldn’t leave his dagger within reach.”

Nasreen walked in a moment later with coffee on a silver tray. I thanked her, adding that I would enjoy chasing the cold from my blood, and I drank the coffee in a few gulps.

“May your hands never ache!” I said. The coffee Khadijeh served
was the best. I ate a rice flour and pistachio pastry, which I recognized immediately as Khadijeh’s own from the way it tickled my tongue, and then I pretended that we were still speaking about Rudabeh.

“To finish my story, she has just regained possession of her house. She is so overjoyed that she sent you a gift.”

I unrolled a piece of embroidery displaying poppies and roses. It was stitched on pale cotton in an extremely fine hand, so fine you could not distinguish the individual stitches.

Khadijeh touched the cloth. “What skilled fingers! Please convey my thanks to Rudabeh, and tell your commander I am always happy to help a woman in distress.”