The King

22. The Cats

The tsar received Mahdolia in his palace, and during one of their talks he revealed to her the message that the Russian delegation had planned to tell the shah at Sheikh Aqasi’s country home.

The talks with the tsar were encouraging. Mahdolia had regained his trust. She spent two weeks on an estate outside Moscow, and whenever she left the estate to take a stroll in the city she was accompanied by a group of older ladies from the Russian royal family.

Her plans to return to her homeland were hindered by a heavy snowfall that struck the northern part of Russia. The roads were covered with a thick white blanket. The temperature plummeted, and no one dared venture out on the roads. Mahdolia was forced to remain indoors until the snow began to melt.

In Tehran winter was still far off. The shah walked through his palace in a panic. Sharmin had not shown her face that night, which had never happened before. She would walk through the palace and the gardens, but she always came back to the hall of mirrors to sit at the window.

When Sharmin failed to show up the shah was unable to sleep. He spent the night wandering the corridors, peeking into all the rooms and calling her name. He was afraid he might find her dead somewhere. He searched through dark storerooms and under old cupboards and couches, but she was nowhere to be found.

The next day he sent out the guards, but there was no trace of Sharmin anywhere. Tired and disappointed the shah lay in bed and listened to the outdoor noises. The wild cats were making a racket on the roofs of the palace. Had they seduced Sharmin? Would she have chosen the warmth of a feral cat over the warmth of her master’s arms?

The caterwauling of the cats drove the shah to distraction. He got out of bed and went out to the courtyard. When he reached the pool he called out, ‘Sharmin, are you there?’

The guards saw him. The head of the guards asked if he could be of any help.

‘Bring us a torch!’ ordered the shah.

The guard did what was he was told.

Torch in hand the shah climbed the stairs leading up to the roof. The cats, who saw the shah coming towards them, jumped to the other roofs of the palace. There must have been at least a hundred of them. The shah had never seen them in a group like this before. During the daytime each cat went his own way, but in the evening they all gathered together. Astonished, the shah held the torch aloft. The fat wild cats regarded the palace as their own territory, and each day they feasted on leftovers from the harem and the palace kitchen. These were the descendants of the cats that had been living on the roofs of the palace for generations. The animals knew where the borders were drawn. They never entered the palace; the roofs, the back garden of the harem and the rubbish shed at its far end were their domain. Now, face to face with the shah, they knew they were not to get any closer and that they had to behave themselves.

‘Sharmin!’ the shah shouted. The cats flew in every direction. Sharmin did not appear.

Back in his bedroom the shah could not bear the empty spot at his feet. He rang his little bell and cried, ‘Taj!’

Rapid footsteps told him that the chamberlain was on his way to fetch the shah’s daughter.

Taj Olsultan was still living with her servant in a separate apartment at the end of the harem, which had its own entrance to the gardens. The shah continued to pay regular visits to her classroom, where she was tutored by the French woman. An experienced statesman came to teach Taj the history of the country, but it was the shah himself who told her about events that had taken place during the rule of his father and grandfather.

‘Remember everything. As princess you must know these things.’

The secrets that the shah shared with her strengthened the tie between father and daughter, but they also caused her to worry about his health and well-being.

Taj Olsultan had quickly slipped into a dressing gown when the chamberlain told her the shah was having another sleepless night.

‘What is it, Shah-my-Father?’ she asked as soon as she saw him.

He embraced her and kissed her long dark hair. ‘Sharmin is gone.’

‘What do you mean, gone?’ asked the girl with surprise.

‘I’ve looked everywhere.’

‘She’s bound to come back. You’re tired. You really must sleep,’ said Taj.

‘I can’t sleep,’ replied the shah.

‘I’ll read to you then,’ she said, and she put the shah to bed.

Taj picked up a French book from the stack on the bedside table. She sat on the edge of the bed and began reading from the page where the shah had made a dog-ear.

‘“La vicomtesse était liée depuis trois ans avec un des plus célèbres et des plus riches seigneurs portugais, le marquis d’Ajuda-Pinto …”’

But the shah’s mind was elsewhere. He sat up and said, ‘The women of the harem have a hand in Sharmin’s disappearance.’

Taj pushed him back gently and continued reading.

‘“C’était une de ces liaisons innocentes qui ont tant d’attraits pour les personnes ainsi liées …”’

‘They take away everything that is dear to me,’ said the shah, and he got out of bed.

‘Where are you going, Father?’ asked Taj, putting the book back on the bedside table.

‘I still don’t have an heir. No son of those women could ever succeed me.’

The girl poured out a glass of water and handed it to him.

‘I don’t need water,’ said the shah. ‘Taj, listen, you are my only hope. You must give me an heir. I must find you a suitable husband.’

‘What are you talking about?’ said Taj, clearly startled. ‘I’m only a girl.’

‘Your mother was also a girl. She was about fourteen when she gave birth to you. How old are you now? Almost fourteen, surely?’

‘No, far from it,’ said Taj.

‘You’ll soon be thirteen, and thirteen is the same as fourteen. You must watch what you eat. The older and prettier you become the more likely they are to poison you. They’ve taken Sharmin from me and with you they’ll do exactly the same,’ he said, and he left the bedroom.

‘Where are you going, Father?’

‘To the harem. Whoever harms Sharmin will die. You! Go to your own room. Watch what you eat. And keep the door firmly bolted when you sleep. I’ll have them hung if they so much as point a finger at you,’ he said.

It was deep in the night. Khwajeh Bashi, the harem overseer, was asleep. The shah kicked the door so hard that the man awoke with a start. Only the shah would ever do such a thing. Khwajeh Bashi unbolted the door. The shah probably had need of a woman.

‘Your Majesty!’

The shah ignored him and walked on. The air of the harem was heavy with the smell of tobacco.

‘Sharmin!’ the shah bellowed.

Khwajeh Bashi’s heart was in his mouth. He had heard that the shah’s cat was missing. He knew the shah was capable of murder if he didn’t calm down, but Khwajeh Bashi dared not open his mouth for fear that he would be the first victim. He followed him at a safe distance.

‘Sharmin! Sharmin!’ called the shah.

He stumbled over a chair and a bucket in the dark. Then he knocked over a hookah. Blind with rage, he kicked the pipe against the wall and it shattered noisily. Grumbling sounds could be heard from the rooms. The women had woken up and locked their doors from the inside, afraid the angry shah would come in.

Khwajeh Bashi, who thought there was a good chance that the women were behind the cat’s disappearance, went to get help. The women fell silent.

‘Where are you, Sharmin?’ called the shah.

Suddenly the terrified whine of a cat could be heard and the creature tore past the shah’s leg. The shah thought he had seen from which room the cat had been tossed, and he threw his full weight against the door.

‘Stop, Shah-my-Father! Stop!’

Khwajeh Bashi had rushed to get Taj and warn her. The girl took the shah by the arm and led him out of the harem.