Equal of the Sun: A Novel by Anita Amirrezvani

7/31/2019 Equal of the Sun: A Novel by Anita Amirrezvani

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prologue

iswear to you on the holy Quran there has never been anotherwoman like Pari Khan Khanoom. A princess by birth, a strategistby the age o ourteen, erce but splendid in her bearing; a master

archer, an almsgiver o great generosity, and a protector o prosti-tutes; a poet o uncommon grace, the most trusted advisor to a shah,and a leader o men. Do I exaggerate, like a court historian writingowery panegyrics to a leader in the hope o being rewarded with arobe o honor? No such git is orthcoming, I assure you: I am a manwithout a protector.

I wrestled over whether to attempt this work, since I am neitherbiographer nor historian. Despite the danger, the ignorance o themen around me compels me to set down the truth about the prin-cess. I I reuse this task, her story will be misrepresented or distortedto become a tool o those in power. Court historians report only thebest known acts about how royal women have led troops into battle,deposed shahs, killed their enemies, and thrust their sons into power.

Tey are orbidden rom observing the lives o these women directlyand thereore must rely on rumors and invention.

As Paris closest servant, I not only observed her actions butcarried out her orders. I realized that upon my death, everything Iknow about her would disappear i I ailed to document her story.But I must proceed in the greatest o secrecy. I this book were dis-

covered by the wrong man, I could be executed, or I have commit-ted monstrous deeds and made mistakes that I would preer notto revealalthough what man hasnt? Man is awed by his very


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nature. His ears hear only what they wish; God alone knows theabsolute truth.

Perhaps, now that I think o it, I exaggerate slightly in sayingthat Pari was the only woman o her kind. She came rom a dynastythat bred valiant women, starting with her grandmother ajlu Kha-noom Mowsellu, who had helped elevate her own ten-year-old son,ahmasb, to the throne; and her aunt Maheen Banu, who advisedahmasb until she died. By then, Pari was ourteen and wise enough

to take Maheen Banus place, and she reigned unchallenged as herather ahmasbs advisor, above and beyond his wives, until his deathalmost ourteen years later. But Paris deeds outshone those o heroremothers, and her boldness knew no bounds.

When I think o her, I remember not only her power, but herpassion or verse. She was a poet in her own right and lavished silver

on the poets she admired, keeping bread and salt on their tables. Shehad read all the classics and could recite long sections rom them. Othe books o poetry she loved, a single tome stood out above others:the Shahnameh, or Book o Shahs, in which the great poet Ferdowsirecounted the passions and struggles o hundreds o Iranian rulers.During the time I served her, one story rom that great bookaboutthe usurper Zahhak and the hero Kavehguided our thoughts,directed our actions, and even invaded our dreams, so much so thatI sometimes wondered i the story was about us. We turned to it oradvice, wept over it in despair, and drew comort rom it in the end.It guides me still, as I celebrate Pari or the sake o generations tocome.


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ChApter 1

A new Assignment


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Te way Ferdowsi tells it, Jamsheed was one o the rst great

civilizers o mankind. Tousands o years ago, he taught the

earliest humans how to spin yarn and weave cloth, how to bakeclay into brick or dwellings, and how to make weapons. Ater

dividing men into cratsmen, tillers, priests, and warriors, he

showed each group their duties. Once they had learned to work,

Jamsheed revealed the worlds sweetest treasures, such as where

to nd the jewels in the earth, how to use scent to adorn the body,

and how to unlock the mysteries o healing plants. During hisreign o three hundred years, nothing was lacking, and all were

eager to serve him. But then one day, Jamsheed called on his sages

and announced to them that his own excellence was unparalleled,

wouldnt they agree? No man had ever done what he had, and

or that reason, they must worship him as i he were the Creator.

His sages were astonished and appalled by his extravagant

claims. Back then, they dared not oppose him, but they began to

desert his court. How could a leader become so deluded?


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on the morning o my rst meeting with Pari, I donned mybest robe and consumed two glasses o strong black tea withdates to ortiy my blood. I needed to charm her and show her mymettle; I must demonstrate why I would be a tting match or thedynastys most exalted woman. A thin sheen o sweat, no doubt romthe hot tea, appeared on my chest as I entered her waiting area andremoved my shoes. I was switly shown into one o her public rooms,which glowed with turquoise tile to the height o my waist. Above it,

antique lusterware caught the light in alcoves and mirror work shim-mered all the way to the ceiling, mimicking the radiance o the sun.Pari was writing a letter on a wooden lap desk. She wore a blue

short-sleeved silk robe covered with red brocade, belted with a whitesilk sash woven with bands o golda treasure itselwhich shehad tied into a thick, stylish knot at her waist. Her long black hairwas loosely covered by a white scar printed with golden arabesques,topped with a ruby ornament that caught the light and drew my eyeto her orehead, which was long, smooth, and as rounded as a pearl,as i her intelligence needed more room than most. People say thatones uture is inscribed on the orehead at birthParis oreheadannounced a uture that was rich and storied.

Te princess continued writing as I stood there, her brow ur-

rowing rom time to time. She had almond-shaped eyes, orceulcheekbones, and generous lips, all o which made the eatures oher ace appear to be writ larger than other peoples. When she hadnished her work, she put the desk aside and scrutinized me romhead to toe. I bowed low with my hand at my chest. Paris ather hadoered me to her as a reward or my good service, but the decision

to retain me would be hers alone. No matter what, I must persuadeher I had much to oer.

What are you, really? she asked. I see ropes o black hair escap-


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ing rom your turban and a thick neck, just like a bears! You couldpass or an ordinary man.

Te princess stared at me in such a penetrating ashion it wasas i she were asking me to reveal my very being. I was taken aback.

It is helpul to be able to pass as ordinary, I replied quickly. Inthe proper attire, I can be convincing as a tailor, a scholar, or even apriest.

So?

It means I am equally accepted by commoners and royalty alike.But surely you cause consternation among the ladies o the

royal harem, starved as they are or the sight o handsome men.Panah bar Khoda!Had she learned about me and Khadijeh?It is hardly a problem, I parried, since I lack the tools they

crave the most.

Her smile was broad. By all accounts, you are good at gatheringintelligence.Is that what you require?Among other things. What other languages do you speak and

write? she asked.Switching rom Farsi to urkish, I replied, I speak the language

o your illustrious ancestors.Te princess looked impressed. Your urkish is very good.

Where did you learn it?My mother was urkish-speaking, my ather Farsi-speaking,

and both were religious. Tey required me to learn the languageso the men o the sword, the men o the pen, and the men o God.

Very useul. Who is your avorite poet?

I groped or an answer until I remembered her avorite.Ferdowsi.So you love the classics. Very well, then. Recite to me rom the

Shahnameh.She kept her gaze on me and waited, her eyes as sharp as a al-

cons. Verse came easily to me; I had oten repeated poems while

tutoring her hal brother, Mahmood. I recited the rst verse thatcame to my mind, although it was not rom the Shahnameh. Telines had oten lled me with comort:


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I you are a child o ortune, every day is blessed

You drink wine, eat kabob, your skin is sun-kissed

Your beloved hangs on your every wordYour children love you like you are a god.

Ah, lie is rich! Your goodness is deserving,

And just as soon as you start relaxing

Like a baby in its mothers warm embrace

Like a bird in ight soaring at its own pace

Joyous, careree, ully adored,Te world snatches away what you most loved.

Your stomach burns with shock

Your heart stands still as you take stock.

Me? But I am the worlds special one!

No, my riend, you were never a avorite son

But just another human suferer, once loved,

Now pierced by sorrow, weeping tears o blood.

When I had nished, Pari smiled. Well done! she said. But isthat rom the Shahnameh? I dont recognize it.

It is by Nasser, although but a poor imitation o Ferdowsisworld-brightening verse.

It sounds like it is about the all o the great Jamsheedand theend o the earthly paradise he created so long ago.

Tat is what inspired Nasser, I replied, astonished that sheknew Ferdowsis poem well enough to question whether a small sec-tion o verse ormed part o his sixty thousand lines.

Te great Samarqandi says in his Four Discourses that a poet

should know thirty thousand couplets by heart, she said, as i read-ing my thoughts.

From all that I have heard, I wouldnt be surprised i you did.She ignored the attery. And what do the lines mean?I pondered them or a moment. o me, they mean that even i

you are a great shah, dont expect your lie to proceed unblemished,

since even the most ortunate will be tamed by the world.Have you been tamed by the world?Indeed I have, I said. I lost my ather and my mother when I


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was young, and I have relinquished other things I had not expectedto lose.

Te princesss eyes became much soter, like a childs. May theirsouls be in peace.

Tank you.I hear you are very loyal, she said, like others o your kind.We are known or that.I you were in my service, to whom would you show ealty, me

or the Shah?How to respond? Like all others, I was bound rst to the Shah.o you, I replied, and when she looked quizzical, I added,

knowing that your every decision would be made as the ondestslave o the Shah.

Why do you want to serve me?

I was honored with the care o your hal brother Mahmood ormany years, and then I served as his mothers vizier. Now that she isno longer at court, I crave more responsibility.

Tat was not the real reason, o course. Many ambitious menascended the ranks by serving the royal women, and that was whatI wanted to do.

Tat is good, Pari replied. You will have to be bold to survivein my employ.

I like a challenge and said so.Pari arose abruptly and walked to the alcoves in her wall, pausing

beore a large turquoise bowl whose design showed a black peacockanning its beautiul tail.

Tis is a valuable old bowl, she said. Where do you think it is

rom?Nishapur.O course, she scoed.Sweat traveled down the back o my neck as I tried to decipher a

ew hints rom the color, the pattern, and the brushwork. aymursdynasty, I added quickly, though I could not say whose reign.

It was his son Shahrukhs, Pari said. Only a ew pieces o thistype have survived in perect condition.

She lited the bowl to admire it, holding it in her hands like a


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newborn baby, and I admired it with her. Te turquoise was so bril-liant it was as i the glaze were made o gemstones, and the peacock

looked as i it might peck or grain. Suddenly Pari opened her handsand let the bowl all to the oor, where it shattered into a thousandpieces. A shard came to rest near my bare eet.

What do you have to say about that? she asked in a tone as souras green almonds.

No doubt your courtiers would say that it was a shame or such

a costly and beautiul bowl to be destroyed, but that since the act wascommitted by a royal person, it is a ne thing.

Tat is exactly what they would say, she replied, kicking one othe shards with a bored look.

I dont imagine you would believe they meant it.She looked up, interested. Why not?

Because it is nonsense.I waited with bated breath until Pari laughed. Ten she clappedher hands to summon one o her ladies.

Bring in my bowl.Te lady returned with a bowl o a similar pattern and placed it in

the alcove, while a maid swept up the shattered pottery. I bent downand examined the shard near my oot. Te peacocks head lookeduzzy, unlike the crisp lines on the bowl that had been brought in,and I understood that she had broken a copy.

Pari was watching me closely. I smiled.Did I surprise you?Yes.You didnt show it.

I took a deep breath.Pari sat down and crossed her legs, displaying bright red trousers

under her blue robe. I tried to suppress my imagination rom travel-ing to the places hidden there.

Do you like to start things or nish them? she asked. You maynot say both.

Finish them.Give me an example.I thought or a moment. Mahmood didnt care or books when


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he was a child, but it was my duty to make sure that he could writea good hand, read with expertise, and recite poetry at ormal occa-

sions. He now does all three, and I am proud to say he does them aswell as i they were his avorite activities.

Pari smiled. Knowing Mahmoods preerence or the outdoors,that is quite an accomplishment. No wonder my ather recom-mended you.

It is an honor to serve the ulcrum o the universe, I replied.

In act, I missed Mahmood. Ater being in charge o him or eightyears, I elt as protective toward him as i he were a younger brother,but I dared not claim such eelings or royalty.

ell me the story o how you became a eunuch.I must have taken a step back, because she added quickly, I hope

you dont take oense.

I cleared my throat, trying to decide where to begin. Remem-bering was like sorting through a trunk o clothes worn by a deadman.

As you must have heard, my ather was accused o being a trai-tor and was executed. I dont know who named him. Ater thatcalamity, my mother took my three-year-old sister to live with rela-tives in a small town near the Persian Gul. Despite what happenedto my ather, I still wished to serve the Shah. I begged everyone Iknew or help, but was shunned. Ten I decided the only way toprove my loyalty was to become a eunuch and oer mysel to thecourt.

How old were you?Seventeen.

Tat is very old to be cut.Indeed.Do you remember the operation?How could I not?ell me about it.I stared at her, incredulous. You want to hear the details?

Yes.I am araid the storys gruesomeness will oend your ears.I doubt it.


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I did not spare her; I might as well nd out right away what shewas made o.

I ound two eunuchs, Nart and Chinasa, to assist me, and theytook me to a surgeon who worked near the bazaar. He directed meto lie on a bench and bound my wrists underneath it so I could notmove. Te eunuchs positioned themselves on the inside o my thighsto hold back my legs. Te surgeon gave me some opium to eat anddusted my parts with a powder he said would relieve the pain. Ten

he placed himsel between my thighs and held up a cruel-lookingcurved razor. He told me that beore he could perorm such a riskyoperation, I must grant him permission in ront o two witnesses.But the sight o the gleaming razor in the air unnerved me, and therestraints against my legs and arms made me eel like an animal ina trap. I twisted against the bench and yelled that I did not give my

assent. Te surgeon looked surprised, but lowered his razor rightaway and told the eunuchs to release me.Te princesss eyes were as round as polo balls. Ten what hap-

pened?I considered my options once again. I didnt see any way o sub-

sisting except at court. I needed to earn enough money to take careo my mother and my sister, and I wished to bring back the luster toour amily name.

I did not tell her that deep in my heart had burned a ercedesire to unmask my athers murderer. As I contemplated the sur-geons knie, I imagined mysel dressed in shining silk robes, hav-ing attained high position at the palace. Such prominence wouldallow me to expose my athers assassin and orce him to admit to

his crime. From now on, your children will know the sorrow I haveendured, I would say. Ten he would receive his punishment.

Pari looked down and adjusted her sash, an evasion that mademe wonder i she knew anything about his murderer.

What happened next?In the end, I told the men to proceed, but added that they

should cover my eyes so I could not see the razor and that theyshould not restrain my arms.

Did it hurt?


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I smiled, grateul that now it was just a memory.Te surgeon tied a cord made o sinew around my parts and

asked or my permission. I gave it, and seconds ater I elt his hand litup those parts, the razor sliced through me in a clean sweep. Feelingnothing, I tore o the blindold to see what had been accomplished.My parts had vanished. Tat was easy! I said, and I even joked withthe eunuchs or a moment, until all o a sudden, I elt as i I had beensliced in two. I screamed and descended into blackness. I learned

later that the surgeon cauterized the wound with oil and applied adressing made o the bark o a tree. Ten he applied a bandage andlet me to recover.

How long did it take?A long time. For the rst ew days, I was not mysel. I believe

I said broken prayers. I know that I begged or water, but was not

permitted to drink in order to allow the wound to heal. When mymouth became so dry that no words could emerge, someone moist-ened a cloth and placed it on my tongue. My thirst was so great thatI begged or death.

By God above! I cant think o another man willing to do whatyou did. You are very brave, arent you?

I did not tell her the rest o the story. Several days ater the oper-ation, I was allowed to drink some water. Nart bustled around me,attending to my bedroll and pillows, but looked strangely nervous.Every ew minutes, he asked i I needed to relieve mysel. I told himno repeatedly until he became tiresome and I begged him to leaveme be. When I nally elt the urge, he removed the dressings andthe plug and gave me a pot over which to squat. I was now smooth

except or a small tube that I had not seen beore. I closed my eyesat the sight o that raw, bloody canal.

It took a while, but when I was able to produce, I screamed inpain as the hot liquid shot through my exposed tube or the rsttime. I thought that I might lose my senses, but as I wanted to avoidalling into my own puddle, I managed to remain upright. When I

had nished, I was surprised to see Narts eyes shining. He openedhis palms to the sky and bellowed, May God above be praised!Never had the sight o a man at his business been so pleasing to him,


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he told me later. My wound had been estering, and he had beengreatly araid that I might suer the agony o an obstructed tube, a

death too ugly or words.Pari was still waiting or my answer. How modest you are!

Most men would quail at the sight o that razor. I still remember myathers astonishment when he heard your story.

Long beore I had been cut, I had gone to a tavern and watcheda dancer twirl her wide purple skirt over her head while the other

men dared me to grope her. She shot me a seductive smile, but ater awhile, her mischievous irting began to remind me o the way a boytoys with a lizard. Finally, spotting her large, rough hands, I came toa startling realization: She was a man! My ace went hot with rage asthe dancer grinned and whirled, and I elt ashamed that I had beenduped. But now I was just like that dancerindeterminate, strange

to all, always provoking erce reactions because o what I had doneand what I lacked.I was very young, I said in my deense.Not that young.I was inordinately ervent.And now?I paused to think about it. I have learned to moderate my

actions.You are perectly controlled here at court. I suspect you would

be ideal or secret missions.I bowed my head to acknowledge Paris praise with the correct

amount o humility.What is the dierence between men and women?

I looked up, surprised once again.I imagine you must have a better answer to this question than

any other man.I thought or moment. Tey say men want power and women

want peace. You know what the truth is?What?

Everyone wants everything.Te princess laughed. I certainly do.In that case, in what ways might I be o service to you? I knew


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she already employed several hundred eunuchs, ladies, maids, anderrand boys.

I need a man to gather inormation or me inside and out-side the palace, she said. His trustworthiness and loyalty must beimpeccable, his energy high, his need or sleep and amusement verylow. Tat man will have no desires outside o his work or me. Hissilence about my activities will be obligatory. For these services, I amprepared to pay a substantial salary.

She named a gure that doubled what I earned. I elt suspicious:Why was the oer so good?

By serving me, you will be at the heart o palace politics, sheadded. You must have a strong stomach to be successul. Te chal-lenges ahead will be severe, and i you cant bear them, you will bedischarged. Do you understand me?

I said I did.You may begin your duties tomorrow morning here at my house.I thanked her and was dismissed. As I put on my shoes, I elt

my brain prickling with possibility. Ater twelve years o service, mywork at the palace had nally begun in earnest.

Paris thorough questioning and strange beauty made me remembermysel as a man, not just as a eunuch. I was, ater all, more than amutilation, in my own eyes. But Pari must never know that I lovedand desired the women o the harem in ways that no one would ever

expect.Prior to my operation, I had been lying with a woman named

Fereshteh almost every night. Te rst time had been on the day thatmy mother and my sister, Jalileh, let the city o Qazveen, travelingby donkey rather than by horse, in so much disgrace that our neigh-bors dared not look at them. I remember pacing the length o my

boyhood home, which had been sold. One cushion remained in theroom where my amily used to gather or aternoon tea; I perched onit and watched the snow drown the bushes and the ountain in our


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garden. Tat night, in a tavern, I drank until my old lie disappearedin a og. My new riends recited poems and were happy to keep me

company while I paid or jugs o ruby wine. I banged my st on thewooden table and called or more to drink, and then more, and sangheartily to every tune. Ater midnight, I stumbled into the reshsnow and discovered Fereshteh, who was still new at her trade. Herlarge dark eyes were revealed by the black chador that covered herhair, and she was shivering in the cold. She took me to a room not

ar away and advised me not to drink. In her arms, I discovered mybody or the rst time, and I sank into her the way a thirsty travelerin the desert thrusts his head into a spring.

oward dawn, we whispered our stories to each other in thedark. Fereshteh had been ung out o her home by a stepmotherwho claimed that she had made advances toward her only son. Her

ather was long dead, and there was no one to deend her. I told herthat I, too, was about to be evicted rom the only home I had everknown. Fereshteh comorted me as only a tormented ellow soulcould do, and in the weeks ahead, I wanted nothing but to be inher arms. I spent every night with her that I could aord. Ah, thatwas a time o such erce pain and pleasure I couldnt imagine everexperiencing it again.

In the days ater my operation, any touch caused my entire bodyto ache. Pain became an extraordinary armor that repelled even thelightest physical contact so that my body could heal. I longed or thecessation o the pain, which seemed like the greatest possible git.Once my body had healed, however, the mental torments began. Inthe morning, I would go to urinate expecting to handle my parts,

and suddenly, my hands empty, I would eel as i I were alling. Tevertigo was so great I eared I would slip into the latrines. Was Imale? Female? What was I?

Ten I would remember why I had done it, and I would steadymysel, remove my plug, do my business, and emerge still shaken bymy changed state.

I wanted Fereshteh, my only lover, to know what had happenedto me. I tried to nd her, but another prostitute told me she hadlet town. As time went by, a curious thing began to happen. My


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lips remembered the sotness o Fereshtehs tongue; my chest longedor the buttery-wing beat o her eyelashes; my thighs tightened at

the thought o gripping her hips. Te beauties o the harem startedto turn my head. Tey could show each other all their glories, andwhy not? No men were around to make them eel uneasy. Secretly,I enjoyed every glimpse, but there was no corresponding rise in mymiddle. Frustration coursed through me. What good was desire toa gelding?

One day, while soaping mysel in the baths, I became aware oa strange new impulse. I was like a man who has lost a limb butbelieves or a moment that he can leap up and swing his legs overa horse. As I ran the rough kisseh over my skin, my groin and lowerback buzzed as i I had been grazed by lightning. I gasped, awashin sensations that were more diuse but deeper than any I had ever

elt. It was as i my reshly healed wound had reinvented my capacityor pleasure.I thought o Fereshtehs deeply grooved waist, so ne in my

hands, and her quick tongue. I yearned or her. Brushing the kissehover my belly, I whooped with joy and growled deep in my throat.Te other eunuchs, most o whom had rounded shoulders and sotthighs that made them look womanly, turned their heads in surprise.I elt like a cypress tree ravaged by re and presumed dead, until oneday, by the grace o God, new green shoots sprout rom its charredheart.

On my rst day in Paris employ, I said my morning prayers andwalked rom my quarters in the harem to her home just inside theAli Qapuliterally the grandest gateshortly ater dawn. A hand-ul o trusted nobles had been granted homes inside the main palacegate, but Pari was the only woman who enjoyed this honor. Most

royal women were conned to quarters deep inside the walled haremand permitted to exit only by permission rom the Shah.

It was early; I would probably be the rst to arrive. I said good


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morning to the guards, who lounged in the shade o the massivebrick gate. Tey were at their ease until they unlocked the huge

wooden doors and allowed members o the public to stream in topetition the Shah or his men at one o the administrative buildingson the palace grounds.

Te princesss home was located behind high walls. I knocked,and when the door was opened by a servant, I stepped into a court-yard lled with the invigorating scent o pine. A long ountain led

the way to a small but elegant building decorated with yellow andwhite tiles patterned with interlocking hexagons. Ater enteringthe house through a carved wooden door, I was escorted right awayinto Paris birooni, the ormal rooms in which she greeted visitors.o my surprise, her sta had already assembled. Dozens o eunuchsand errand boys stood in order o rank awaiting her command, and

maids moved in and out soundlessly with trays o tea. I was struckby the taut air o discipline in the room, so dierent rom what I hadexperienced when serving Mahmoods mother.

Javaher, you are late, Pari said. Come in and lets get to ourbusiness. She indicated the place where I should stand and rowned,her coal-black eyebrows darkening her orehead.

Paris birooni was more austere than any o the other womens,who oten competed with one another by adding lavish touches totheir quarters. She sat on a cushion atop a large dark blue carpet,but rather than displaying golden songbirds or gardens o owers, itwas illustrated with mounted princes pursuing onagers, zebras, andgazelles, as well as bowmen aiming their arrows at lions. In alcoveslay neatly placed reed pens, ink, paper, and books.

A latticed wall at one end o the room permitted Pari to receivemale visitors to whom she was not related. A young man in a bluevelvet robe was standing on the other side o the lattice. We couldsee him through the lattice, but he couldnt see us.

Majeed, I am pleased to introduce my new chie o inormation,Javaher Agha, Pari said, adding the title used or eunuchs. I had

asked around about her vizier and learned that Majeed was youngbut destined or high service. He was rom an old Shiraz amily,which, like mine, had served the court or generations.


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Majeed is my liaison to the nobles o the court, Pari added.Javaher, you are my liaison to the world o women, both inside and

outside the palace, as well as to places where Majeeds nobility wouldnot permit him to go without being detected.

She might have said the same thing about my own nobility, hadmy ather not been accused o treason and killed. Te old shame oit brought heat to my cheeks, and I bristled with the urge to provemysel the better servant.

Javaher, you will observe me at work. I will deploy you lateronce you understand what I do.

Chashm, gorbon, I replied, the short orm o by my eyes, Iwould sacrice mysel or you.

For the rest o the morning, I watched Pari attend to routinebusiness. Her rst task was to check on the progress o the annual

celebrations at the palace o the lie o Fatemeh, beloved daughter othe Prophet. Women schooled in religion must be hired, ood pre-pared, and rooms decorated. Ten one o the Shahs eunuchs arrivedto ask Pari how to process an unusual document because no oneelse could remember the protocol. Te princess rattled o the ordero the necessary signatures and named the men who must providethem, without even looking up rom the document she was signing.Next, Pari read through a stack o messages and suddenly burst outlaughing.

Listen to this, she commanded us.

Princess, I wrote orty-eight sparkling lines about your dad

You said you liked them: Are you in act mad?

I not, please send me what you pledged

A rain o silver to keep me and my children ed.

I humbly beg you to deliver what is overdue

Ten I will pen more dazzling gems or you.

Who could resist such a plea? Go to the head o the treasury

and make sure the court poet is paid at once, she ordered Majeed.In the aternoon, Pari held her usual public hours and saw pal-

ace women with a variety o requests: donations or the upkeep o a


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saints shrine, positions at court requested or relatives, the need ormore tutors. At the end o a long day, the princess agreed to see an

out-o-town petitioner, even though she was tired and the womanwas described to her as unt or royal company.

Te woman was shown into the room holding a sleeping baby,whose breath rasped when it exhaled. Her purple cotton robe wastired rom days o journey. Her eet had been bound with dirty rags.My heart lled with pity at the sight o this riendless pair.

Te woman bowed deeply and took her place on the visitorscushion. She told Pari that her name was Rudabeh and that shehad come all the way rom Khui, not ar rom the border with theOttomans. Her husband had divorced her and banished her romthe home she had inherited rom her ather; he claimed it was his.She wanted it back.

I am sorry to hear o your troubles, Pari said, but why didntyou take your case to one o the Councils o Justice that aid citizenswith disputes?

Revered princess, we went to the Council in my town, but themembers are riends o my husband, and they said I had no claim. Ihad no choice but to appeal to someone here in the capital. I cameto you because I heard that you are a protector o women.

Pari quizzed her on the details o her loss until she was con-vinced that the woman had a strong case. Very well, then. JavaherAgha, you must escort our guest to a Council o Justice so that shemay present her problem, and tell them I sent her.

Chashm, I said. Te next meeting is in a week.Have you any money or any place to stay? Pari asked.

I have a ew coins, the woman replied gravely, and I will makedo, but as she glanced down at her drowsy child, her eyes lled withear.

Javaher, take this mother to my ladies and ask them to shelterher and give her plenty o resh herbs so that milk ows or herchild.

Tanks be to God or your generosity! Rudabeh exclaimed. II may ever assist you, I would gladly oer my eyes to cushion thesteps o your eet.


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It is my pleasure. Ater you return home, write to me and tellme all the news o Khui.

I promise to be your aithul correspondent.

When I had rst joined palace service, a eunuch rom the Mala-

bar coast o Hindustan asked to train me. Balamani was a charcoal-skinned ellow with a big belly and dark circles under his wise oldeyes who spent his day in casual conversation with maidservants,gardeners, physicians, and even messenger boys. He had an easylaugh and an avuncular manner that made his people eel that hecared about them. Tat is how he learned everything about the day-

to-day news o the palace: who was jealous o whom, who was in lineor promotion, and who was on his way out. His inormants wouldtell him about things like the bloody contents o a nobles chamberpot long beore anyone else realized the man was dying. Balamaniscurrency was inormation, and he traded it like gold.

Balamani told me to memorize the anassour, a book that listedthe proper titles used to address every type o man. I had to learnthat mirzaplaced ater a mans name, as in Mahmood Mirza, indi-cated that he was a prince o royal blood, whereas mirzaused beorea mans name was merely an honoric. When I made mistakes, Bala-mani sent me back to the book: Otherwise the nobles will ay yourback until it resembles a red carpet.

Once I knew how to address all the palace inhabitants, Balamani

taught me the art o gathering inormation rom them in such aclever way that I appeared to be dispensing it, as well as how to payor it when necessary and how to use it as political capital. You haveno jewels between your legs or on your ngers, he said once, somake sure to acquire currency in your mind.

Balamani called every bit o inormation a jeweljavaher

and asked me daily i I had any or him. Te rst time I oereda gem to Balamani, I earned my nickname. Ater shadowing anerrand boy who served one o the Shahs ministers, I discovered that


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equAl of the sun 23

he was delivering messages to an unsavory book dealer. It turnedout that the minister was trying to sell a priceless gold-illuminated

manuscript he had intercepted beore it reached the court treasury.When Balamani inormed the Shah, the minister was dismissed,the book dealer was disciplined, and I was reborn with a new name.Javaher was normally used or women, but it became my badge ohonor.

I loved and respected Balamani like a avorite uncle. Now that

he was older, I nursed him when he had bladder complications,probably due to the removal o his male parts, which caused a sus-ceptibility to painul inections. I also did his work when he was toosick to do it himsel. As second in command to Anwar, the Aricaneunuch in charge o the harem, he had plenty to do.

Working or Pari, I used all I had learned rom Balamani to

orge deeper connections with people close to the women o theroyal householdmaids, ladies, and eunuchs. O special interest tothe princess were those wives and consorts o the Shah who hadadult sons. She wished to know their aspirations or their boys, par-ticularly i they sought to place them on the throne.

One aternoon, I returned rom an errand and chanced upon Pariand her uncle, Shamkhal Cherkes, talking quietly together. Sham-khal was an unusually big man, broad o shoulder, with large handsand orearms the width o a mace. His ace was sun-browned romriding, and when he talked, thick muscles bulged in his neck. Hisenormous blue and white turban, ashioned o two abrics twinedtogether, made him appear even bigger than he was. Pari looked asne as a vase next to him, as i she had a dierent maker altogether.

. . . prepared or what happens ater . . . I heard Pari saying.Pari began naming kinsmen and Shamkhal replied either with

us or not with us. A ew times, he said, I dont know.Why not? asked Pari each time, until nally she became exas-

perated and said, in a tone that brooked no argument, We mustknow these things or we will ail.

I promise to have more inormation the next time I see you.His deerence toward her surprised me.A ew days later, I ound a way to ask Pari about which man she


24/33


planned to support or the throne. I told the princess that I had beenhearing rumors about how Sultanam, the Shahs rst wie, had been

searching or a suitable wie or her son Ismail, even though he wasimprisoned. She suspected that Ismails lack o male children mightbe the result o a curse placed by enemies, and she had been consult-ing herbalists about how to open the gates o his luck.

Pari drank in this news. Good work.Te speculation is that she intends to make him the next Shah,

I added.So does every mother o a prince. We will have to wait and see.

But we must be ready.For what?For whatever happens, so we can rally behind whomever my

ather designates as heir. Te nobles have shown themselves to be

divided, and I want to avoid another civil war at all costs.How will you do that?By making sure that the heir gets all the help he needs to be

successully crowned shah.And who is that?My ather hasnt announced his selection.Some say Haydar is the best man, I said, trying to gauge her

reaction, although he has lived all his lie in the palace.He is untested.And some think Ismail is better, because he was such a brave

warrior.Paris eyes were sad. He was my hero when I was young. My

heart has ached or him in his exile. None o the royal amily has

been permitted to write to him or receive his letters, except or hismother.

Do you think he would govern well ater an absence o so manyyears?

Choosing an heir is my athers concern, Pari replied sharply.Ours is to ensure that a strong network o supporters is in place

well beore it is needed. Do you understand?Yes, esteemed lieutenant, I answered, but I would have thought

you might advocate or your brother, Suleyman.


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equAl of the sun 25

Paris mouth attened. I am not a sentimentalist. He is nomatch or the men he would have to rule.

So Pari was planning a decisive role in the succession! I suspectedthat a large batch o letters she had recently sent were intended torally support, but or whom?

For me, it wasnt merely a matter o curiosity. I Paris star ellwith the Shahs death, mine would plummet.

Ater entering palace service, I had begun making riends and hadasked those close to me to help me nd out more about my ather.Mahmoods mother had been too young to remember him, and as

a slave, she did not have connections to leading amilies who mightknow more. Khadijeh had asked Sultanam once on some excuse, butSultanam knew nothing about what had happened. Balamani andAnwar had pleaded ignorance.

I had also tried to obtain access to the court histories to examinethem or inormation about my athers murder. Each time, I wastold that a servant o my station was not permitted to lay eyes oncondential court documents. Years passed without progress. I hadyearned to rise up through the ranks so that I would have access topowerul men who possessed the inormation I sought.

Ater Pari hired me, I went to the ofce o the royal scribesto introduce mysel as the princesss new chie o inormation.Te scribes worked in a large room illuminated by light stream-

ing through tall windows. Te men sat upright on cushions, theirwooden desks over their laps, or wrote on top o chests made oinlaid wood that contained their supplies. Te room was as quiet as agrave. Te reed pens the men used hardly made a sound. Te scribeswho wrote letters or the Shah worked side by side with court his-torians who documented every breath o importance in the realm.

I made the acquaintance o the head o the guild, a venerableold master named Rasheed Khan, who wore a black turban, a longwhite beard, and had wise eyes that looked red and tired rom too


26/33


27/33

equAl of the sun 27

I threw o the bedclothes, slammed my arms into a robe, andshoved my hair inside my turban.

ahmasb Shah, who had ruled or more than ty years, dead?He who had survived several poisoning attempts and a grave illnessthat lasted nearly two years? It was as i Canopus had been extin-guished, leaving all o us mariners struggling to navigate in darkness.

Only a ew weeks beore, the Shah had granted me the boon oserving his avorite daughter. Do not orget, no other child is dearer

to my eyes, he had said, stabbing his nger at the air to emphasizehis point. You must swear to sacrice your very lie or hers i needbe. Do you swear it?

I rushed into the gardens near my quarters, which bloomedwithout shame in the early dawn. Birds sang in the cedar trees, andthe purple and white petunias were in ull ower. A wave o vertigo

assailed me; everything at the palace would now changethe minis-ters, women, eunuchs, and slaves the new shah avored. What wouldhappen to Pari? Would she retain her role as a avorite? And whatwould become o me? Who would survive?

I ound Pari in a dim room illuminated by ickering oil lamps.Her eyes were red with weeping, and her ace looked drawn and old.wo o her ladies, Maryam and Azar, attended to her, holding herhands and dabbing at the tears on her cheeks with a silk handkerchie.

Salaam aleikum, esteemed lieutenant o my existence, I said.My heart sheds tears o blood over your loss. I I could take awaythe poison o your pain, I would consume it with as much joy as iit were halva.

Te princess beckoned me to approach her. It is the worst heart-

break o my lie. I accept your condolences with gratitude.How could this have happened so quickly?Paris eyes looked like glass. I went to his side yesterday evening

as soon as I learned he had a ever, she replied in a voice thick withgrie. He told me his problems had started at the hammam. Ater hismanservant coated his lower limbs with a depilatory, he elt a stinging

pain, but ignored it until he noticed that his legs had turned bloodred.How like the Shah to want his body to be spotless when it was

time to pray.


28/33


He leapt up rom his bedroll and jumped into a pool. His man-servant, who had been etching sliced cucumbers, ollowed him into

the water ully clothed, ripped o his turban, and used the cloth towipe the sticky cream o my athers legs. By then, they were alreadybadly burned.

May God save us rom harm! I said.Pari took a sip o her tea and cleared her throat. Naturally, he

suspected poison and instructed his chemists to examine the depil-

atory. His physician applied a soothing balm to his legs and toldhim he would recover. My ather continued about his daily business,although he said his legs elt like poles o re. By evening, he couldno longer stand without agony, and he took to his bed. Tat is whenhe called or me.

She took a long breath and sighed deeply, while her ladies mur-

mured soothing words. When I arrived, I applied cold compresseslled with rosemary to his orehead, but his ever continued tomount. In the darkest hours o the night, it was as i his brain wereboiling like a stew. Beore long, he lost his ability to speak or to rea-son. I prayed and tried to comort him, but his crossing into the nextworld was racked with anguish.

Revered princess, no daughter could do more! May his soul bein peace.

For this I hope and pray. Pari wiped the tears angrily rom hercheeks. I only I could just grieve! she cried.

A look o understanding passed between us. I she had beenanyone else, she would have visited her athers grave site every dayor orty days and watered it with an ocean o tears. But Pari did not

have the luxury o woe; she must get to work on the succession. Ipitied her.

Shortly ater dawn prayers, I arrived at the mourning ceremony inSultanams quarters, where the royal women had gathered to lamentthe loss o the Shah. Te Shahs rst wie was known by her hon-


29/33

equAl of the sun 29

oric, which meant my Sultan. Her home had an open-air sittingarea on the ground oor with views o the rose gardens, and the

guest rooms were urnished with pink silk carpets and embroideredpink and white velvet cushions. oday the rooms were lled with theplaintive wails o the women.

I entered a large sitting room and put out my hands to acceptthe sprinkles o rose water oered to me by a servant. In the centero the room, an old woman seated cross-legged on a wooden plat-

orm was reciting the Quran rom memory. Te words owed outo her so easily that I guessed she knew the entire blessed book byheart. Te ladies seated on cushions on the oor around her woreblack robes, and their hair was uncharacteristically loose on theirshoulders, uncombed and wild. Tey wore no kohl on their eyes,no armbands, no earrings. Adornment was prohibited by grie, and

its absence made them look more vulnerable than in their ordinarycourtly attire.Sultanam greeted a new arrival and accepted her condolences.

Upright, she seemed to consume the space o two women. Her lay-ered robes made her appear even wider than she was, despite her tinyeet and ankles, which looked too small to support her. Her curlywhite hair anned out like a pyramid rom her tea-colored ace andslanted eyes, and it was easy to imagine her as a proud horsewomano the Mowsellu tribe, which she had been long ago. Her ace didnot bear any o the pufness that comes rom sincere weeping, nordid tears well up spontaneously in her eyes. I imagined that noth-ing could be more joyous to her than the possibility that her sonIsmail would be released rom his connementand perhaps even

crowned shah. But that was the kind o loyalty you would expect oa mother. Who knew i ater nearly twenty years o prison, Ismailwas t to rule?

Close at hand was Sultanams plump maid, Khadijeh, whose aceglowed like the moon. My heart sped up, but I orced mysel to turnaway as i she meant nothing to me.

Te room was crowded with dozens o women who had beenavored by the late Shah during his long lie. His three other wives,Daka Cherkes, Sultan-Zadeh, and Zahra Baji, had claimed the best


30/33


places close to the reciter. Next came eight or nine adult daughterso the Shah and their childrentoo many to countollowed by

several consorts and their children, and nally, a much larger circleo women who had never shared his bed.

Pari was sitting close to her mother, Daka Cherkes. Te twowomen had wrapped their arms around each other, and their headswere leaning together in sympathy. Daka was known or having amild and placating personality, quite the opposite o her daugh-

ter, whom she oten tried unsuccessully to rein in. Copious tearswatered Dakas cheeks, and I suspected she was concerned aboutwhat the Shahs death would mean to Paris uture.

Sultan-Zadeh, the Georgian mother o Haydar, began tearing ather ne camel-colored hair. Te older women disliked her becauseshe was one o the ew who had ensnared the Shahs heart, and they

had done everything they could to thwart her attempts to gain sta-tus. No wonder the tears in her green eyes looked real.Pari whispered something in her mothers ear, arose, and disap-

peared down a corridor. I ollowed her into one o the side rooms,where women were comorting one another in smaller groups. Myblood roze at the thought o the Shah lying silent and cold inhis death room in the palace. Something started to loosen in myown breast, and I concentrated on quieting mysel as I scannedthe room. Pari was sitting with Maryam at her side. Her walled-in silence was ar more awul than the shrieks and cries o sorrowrom the others.

I crouched down beside her and whispered, Lieutenant o mylie, is there any service I can provide to you right now?

Watch them all in the main room, she replied, and when thisterrible day is through report everything you have seen.

Te women in that room had not moved except to keen. Butbehind them, servants were whispering to one another as i burstingwith news, and Balamani was talking to a slave; he had a disturbedlook in his eye.

As the reciters voice rose high and sharp, the women lled theair with terrible moans, and the space grew hot and thick with thesmell o rose water and sweat.


31/33

list of Key ChArACters

tAhmAsb shAh And his fAmilyTahmasb Shah, second ruler o the Saavi dynasty (reigned15241576)

Sultanam, his Mowsellu wie and mother o MohammadKhodabandeh and Ismail

Daka Cherkes, his Circassian wie and mother o Pari Khan and

Suleyman; sister o Shamkhal CherkesSultan-Zadeh, his Georgian wie and mother o HaydarZahra Baji, his other Georgian wie and mother o two young sonsMohammad Khodabandeh, his eldest sonIsmail, his second eldest sonHaydar,his third eldest sonGowhar, his eldest daughterPari, his second eldest daughterMahmood, his son by a slaveBahram, his brother (deceased)Ibrahim, Bahrams son; married to GowharHossein, Bahrams son, governor o QandaharBadi al-Zaman, Bahrams son, engaged to Pari

ismAil shAh And his fAmily

Ismail Shah, third ruler o the Saavi dynasty (157677)Khadijeh, his wie; a slave rom AricaKoudenet, his wie; daughter o Shamkhal CherkesMahasti, his wie; mother o his son Shoja al-din; a slave rom the

CaucasusMohsen, Khadijehs brother


32/33

mohAmmAd shAh And his fAmily

Mohammad Shah, ourth ruler o the Saavi dynasty (15781587)

Khayr al-Nisa Beygom (Mahd-e-Olya), his wie and mother ohis sons Hamza, Abbas, Abu Taleb, and Tahmasb

Sultan Hassan, his eldest child by another wie

servAnts of the sAfAvi Court

Amir Khan Mowsellu, Sultanams brother

Amin Khan Halaki, a physicianAnwar, a eunuch rom Sudan; head o the royal haremAzar, chie lady to PariBalamani, a eunuch rom Hindustan; Anwars chie assistantFereshteh, a prostituteJavaher, a eunuch rom Qazveen and servant to Pari; also known as

PayamJalileh, Javahers sisterHassan Beyg Halvachi Oghli, Ismails avorite companionHossein Beyg, leader o the OstajluKhakaberi Khan, Sultan-Zadehs brotherKhalil Khan Afshar, Paris childhood guardianKholafa, a leader o the RumluLooloo, a court astrologerMajeed, Paris vizierMaryam, Paris avoriteMassoud Ali, an errand boy in Javahers serviceMirza Salman Jaberi, chie o the royal guildsMirza Shokhrollah, chie o the treasury

Mohammad Amir Shirazi, Javahers ather (deceased)Nasreen, chie lady to KhadijehRasheed, head o the scribesSaleem, chie o protocolShamkhal Cherkes, Paris uncle, a leader o the Circassians

Note: Agha, Beyg, Beygom, Khan, Khanoom, Khatoon, Mirza, andSultan are titles. Titles typically appear ater the frst name.


33/33

ScribnerA Division o Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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Tis book is a work o fction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are productso the authors imagination or are used fctitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Anita Amirrezvani

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Manuactured in the United States o America

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Library o Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-4516-6046-3

ISBN 978-1-4516-6048-7 (ebook)

Sadi, excerpt on p. 253 rom Te Cause or Composing the Gulistan and excerpt on p. 229 romTe Manners o Kings rom Te Rose Garden o Sadi(or Te Gulistan), translated by Edward

Rehatsek (Kama Shastra Society, Benares, 1888).

Hafz, excerpt on p. 292 rom XXXVII rom Poems rom the Divan o Hafz, translated by GertrudeLowthian Bell (London: William Heinemann, 1897).

Excerpts on pp. 315 and 343 rom Te Reign o Yazdegerd, Te Reign o Hormozd, romShahnameh: Te Persian Book o Kingsby Abolqasem Ferdowsi, oreword by Azar Nafsi, translated

by Dick Davis, copyright 1997, 2000, 2004 by Mage Publishers, Inc. Used by permission o

Viking Penguin, a division o Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Rumi, excerpt on pp. 3723 rom Weave Not, Like Spiders, Nets rom Grie s Saliva rom Look! Tis IsL P R i t l t d b A i S hi l 1991 b A i S hi l

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Equal of the Sun: A Novel by Anita Amirrezvani

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