Equal of the Sun (41 page)

Six months passed, and life returned to its accustomed patterns. The snows gave way to spring, the New Year, and a hot summer. We commemorated Moharram and the martyrdom of the Imam Hossein with ceremonies recalling his immense suffering on the battlefield, and we thought about all the other injustices that we had yet to tackle.

Gradually, the palace hierarchy began to shift in our favor. Shamkhal Cherkes won a few high postings and land concessions for the Circassians. Mirza Salman managed to get himself appointed grand vizier, through a relentless campaign of sabotaging the reputation of Mirza Shokhrollah, who was ultimately dismissed in disgrace. We hoped that Mirza Salman’s appointment as second in command meant that Pari could be rehabilitated one day, even though he must now keep his distance from her.

Ramazan arrived that year in the second month of autumn. For weeks in advance, preparations were made at the palace for the fact that day was about to become night, and night day. Tradesmen brought in plenty of oil, since lamps would burn all night while we were awake, as well as all the necessary supplies of food that did not need to be fresh—rice, beans, dried fruit and vegetables, spices, and the like.

On the eve of Ramazan, I stayed up late with Balamani, a few of the other eunuchs, and Massoud Ali. We took a walk near the mountains and sat in the open country, wrapped in wool blankets, to drink hot tea that we made over a charcoal brazier. I watched the night light up with stars and imagined that I saw Khadijeh’s eyes there. When the night grew late, Balamani suggested we recite some poems. The flasks of wine and much stronger
aragh
came out and all of us grew emotional as the night wore on and we recited the lines that were dearest to our hearts.

I stood up and addressed the moon, calling her beautiful, but in my heart I was speaking of Khadijeh. The poem I declaimed was about a lover whose love had gone to another, leaving the flower of his soul withered forever.

Then I recited a poem about a young man lost in battle, while thinking of Mahmood. The other men shouted, “Bah, bah!” when I recited an especially beautiful line, and I wiped dampness from my eyes. It was safe to weep together over the beauty of the lines of poetry, even though all of us were no doubt thinking of our own losses.

Massoud Ali, who had stayed by my side all evening, begged to practice a few submission holds he had been learning in his one-on-one combat class. Gleefully, he wrapped one arm in front of my neck and one arm behind it, locking me in a deadly embrace. I praised him and showed him a few tricks to increase his power.

Even though it was very late, he asked me to finish telling him the story of Zahhak and Kaveh. I sat up on a cushion and began where I had last left off. When I reached the part about how Fereydoon struck down Zahhak with his great mace, I emphasized the role of the hero’s great strength. Massoud Ali’s eyes lit up with joy.

“How can I be just like Fereydoon?” he asked. Before I could answer, he yawned, curled up against me, and sank into a deep sleep. From the lively, changing expressions on his face, I had no doubt that he was playing the role of Fereydoon in his dreams.

All of us ate a large meal before dawn, returned to the palace, and performed our morning duties. Then we returned to our quarters to rest. When I awoke in the afternoon, Balamani was still asleep on his bedroll, a pillow cradled in his arms. During the month of Ramazan, many of our official duties took place after the cannon boomed and lasted well into the night. There was no need to disturb him yet. I got up quietly and went to the baths, where I saw Anwar and another eunuch through a veil of steam. Both had pendulous breasts and flat pubic areas, which made them resemble women. In another corner of the bath, a younger, sylphlike eunuch flirted with an older one, displaying his pretty, smooth body as if it were for sale. I was glad I had not developed such feminine traits, due to being cut so late. My chest was still hairy, square, and manlike, God be praised, and my arms bigger than before due to lifting the heavy wooden clubs.

When I was clean and dressed, it was still too early to go see Pari. Alone in the quiet afternoon, I felt the heaviness of the loss of Khadijeh. If I had had a mother or a sister close at hand, I would have gone to one of them for comfort, but now I had no one nearby. So I left the palace and walked toward the well-tended neighborhood where Fereshteh lived. People were just starting to open their shops. I passed a fruit seller whose bright red pomegranates made my stomach growl loudly at the thought of their sweet juice.

When I was shown in to see Fereshteh, I noticed that her pillow had left a mark on her face. She looked fresh in a pink robe with a purple tunic underneath. I removed my shoes and sat down on a cushion across from her.

“Your visit brings happiness,” she began.

“Thank you. I came because problems continue at the palace. I am wondering if you have heard any news about the Shah’s habits.”

“Nothing important. What is new?”

It took a moment before I could continue. My voice seemed to
have stopped deep in my chest. When I could speak again, I told her what had happened to Khadijeh.

“I couldn’t save her—”

Fereshteh’s large eyes filled with concern. She reached over and cupped the top of my bare foot with her warm palm, which was hennaed a beautiful shade of red. I remembered how the mere touch of her hand used to send desire jolting from my toes through the rest of my body.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, surprised through and through. I felt it again, my missing limb, just as clearly as if it were stiffening against my clothes. How could it be? I hadn’t expected that feeling to surge through me.

Fereshteh could read the signs in a man’s body as easily as others read the written word.

“Is this the reason for your visit, then?” Her tone was cold. Abruptly, she pulled back her hand.

“I admire you as much as before,” I said, “but I didn’t come as a client.”

“Then why did you come?”

I reached out for her hand and held it between both of mine. It trembled. I felt as if I were enclosing a butterfly that demanded the greatest gentleness.

“I need a friend. I have lost many, and you are one of the few people I remember with affection.”

“I will always be your friend,” she said evenly.

“And I yours. In addition, when it comes to matters of the body, I am not the same man as before. I remember being very demanding, but now I will only lie with a woman if she both desires and demands it.”

Fereshteh looked surprised. “I don’t know if I desire such things anymore. I do them so often that they have fallen out of the realm of desire.”

“I understand. As for myself, I don’t proceed in the same way.”

“What do you do without those parts?”

“I know what to do,” I said with a smile, “but I reveal my knowledge only if invited.”

Fereshteh looked as if she was pondering something, and I wondered if I would be invited. The silence between us lasted a long time, until finally she said, “You look as though you could use an embrace.”

I felt embarrassed at being so transparent.

“I could,” I admitted.

“In that case,” Fereshteh replied, “I invite you to embrace me as a friend. No one ever does.”

I opened my arms and wrapped them around her, and she leaned the weight of her body against mine. I felt the gentle rhythms of her breath, like an ocean spreading its waves out onto a shore. I watched her eyes close, her dark eyelashes fringing her white cheeks.

“Aw khesh,” I said in satisfaction, knowing that the embrace was for my sake.

We stayed that way for a long time without speaking, and I thought about how differently I felt from when I knew her before. Rather than being possessed by an urgent animal desire, now I simply wished to give whatever comfort she needed and to take whatever she offered.

The room darkened as the autumn day faded, and the cannon boomed, signaling that it was permissible to eat, drink, and love. I held Fereshteh until a servant knocked and announced that one of her clients had arrived. Reluctantly, I released her.

Fereshteh rearranged her clothes and tightened her sash. “It is good to be cared for, even though it is so fleeting.”

Something in her tone made me bristle. “Because I am a eunuch?”

“Because long ago, you disappeared.”

We were both silent, remembering those days. I thought about how confused my feelings had been. Because I had spent so many nights with her, she had meant more to me than someone to be used and discarded, yet I had not permitted myself to think of her as anything more than a prostitute.

“Regardless, I will send a messenger to you if I hear anything useful.”

“I would like to visit you again whether you discover anything or not.”

“All right.”

Her tone was cool, but it reminded me that some people become cruel when they say goodbye because it is the only way they can bear to part.

Fereshteh’s maid showed me out into the courtyard, where a man dressed in a fine brown silk robe appeared to be dallying for a moment by the fountain. He turned around at the sound of our voices.

“You are supposed to show him out through the back door,” he complained to the maid, who blushed in embarrassment.

“I beg your forgiveness,” she said. “I won’t be so careless again.”

I wondered why the man cared so much until I realized that it was none other than the Shah’s companion, Hassan Beyg. We stared at each other, mutually surprised. Hassan Beyg had unusually elegant eyebrows that looked as if they had been shaped to match the contours of his turban. They set off his high cheekbones and smooth brown skin. Although probably in his late twenties, he looked younger because his skin was so flawless. The haughty way he kept his chin lifted suggested he was well aware of his status as a handsome trophy. Introducing myself as a servant of the court, I signaled to Fereshteh’s maid with a nearly invisible flick of my hand that we were to be left alone. She scooted away, a quick learner.

“I serve Pari Khan Khanoom,” I said, and when he showed no reaction, I made my lips jerk downward as if in an involuntary sign of resignation.

He smiled, revealing small, perfect white teeth. “I have heard all about her.”

“No doubt, but I am not sure any man alive knows what it is really like to work for such a woman. What have you heard?” I raised my eyebrows as if to indicate there were plenty of confidences to be had from me that Isma‘il might want to hear.

“That she is a power grabber.”

I laughed. “And what royal woman isn’t! But you wouldn’t believe what I have to go through sometimes. I don’t know what it is like for you, but her petty requests make me wish I worked for a man. The other day I was sent back to the bazaar three times until I delivered the right face powder. What a waste of time!”

“I prefer to serve men,” he replied.

“I understand.”

The door cracked open and the maid indicated that Fereshteh was ready to see him.

“What is the rush?” I said, turning back to Hassan.

“Didn’t you enjoy yourself in there?” Hassan replied, and then he stopped for a moment. “Wait a minute. You don’t even have a . . . What are you doing here?”

“It is true I didn’t come here for the usual reasons,” I replied swiftly. “The business I conduct is confidential. Today it has nothing to do with face powder, thank God.”

“What is it?”

“I really shouldn’t say.”

I knew he would feel better if he forced it out of me. His opportunities for subjugating men of my rank were few.

“As Isma‘il’s companion, I demand that you tell me.”

I acted as though I had been humbled by one of my betters. “W-w-ell,” I stammered, “the t-t-truth is, I came to ask about a certain charm that makes people fall in love.”

“For whom?”

“I am not allowed—”

“The princess wants a man to fall in love with her?”

“But of course,” I replied disingenuously. “Doesn’t every woman?”

“Her brother will kill her.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied. “The charm is intended for him. She longs for his brotherly love.”

He laughed. “I see. I will let him know.”

“I beg you not to reveal the business of my princess,” I pleaded. “I will get in trouble.”