The King

38. The Silence

After the murder of the vizier, Amir, his right-hand man, helped his wife and children escape from Tehran. All the friends and relatives of the vizier fled. And Amir went into hiding.

There was feasting in the palace. The vizier’s opponents congratulated each other without mentioning the dead man’s name. Mahdolia, who could barely walk now, spent the whole day on her feet receiving guests.

The country’s change of power was observed in silence in foreign capitals. The vizier’s death was not officially announced anywhere. The very question of his death was neither confirmed nor denied. Ordinary people did not take the rumours seriously.

Only when the vizier had been absent from the scene for a very long time did people begin to wonder where he was. It was suggested that he had been dismissed by the shah and that he and his family had moved away to his country estate.

There was a story making the rounds that the vizier had committed treason in the negotiations with England and that the shah had punished him for it. Some claimed that he had arrogated all the power to himself and had not been willing to give others any room to manoeuvre, much to their indignation.

It was now openly said that the vizier had had a double agenda. Sheikh Aqasi announced that the shah had been given written proof clearly showing that the vizier had made a deal with England in which they would provide him with support if he were to depose the shah. The vizier’s opponents wanted everyone to believe that he was the one who had turned Afghanistan over to the British. They made him out to be a traitor and praised the shah for his courageous decision.

When the tension had died down and the dust from the rumours had settled, the shah threw a party. He invited all the princes, the prominent men from the bazaar and a few ayatollahs.

Not a word was uttered about the vizier. The hall was full and everyone was dressed to the nines. When the guests came in they bowed their heads to demonstrate their loyalty.

Normally the shah was not very talkative, but today he felt the need to say a few words to his guests: ‘It is God’s will that we have been permitted to see you all again in this capacity,’ he said to his own astonishment, for he himself didn’t know exactly what he meant. Because his words had inadvertently brought tears to his eyes, the guests were moved as well. No one asked any questions.

He walked past the guests, who were lined up in two facing rows. Very occasionally he would stop and speak at length with merchants from the bazaar, telling them in guarded terms that changes were coming and that the bazaar would benefit. He paused when he came to the ayatollahs and gave them the opportunity to preserve him from evil with their singing. One of them boldly pulled out his pocket Quran, recited a short surah under his breath and blew gently over the shah’s face for extra protection.

At the shah’s almost imperceptible command three servants appeared, each carrying a dish filled with gold coins. It was customary to distribute new coins to guests at the New Year’s feast, a gesture to symbolise the beginning of a new spring.

The feast had cost the shah five gold bars, which he had taken from the gold supply in the cellar. Sheikh Aqasi had used them to have new coins minted.

The guests, most of whom were from the upper class, laughed and admired the shah, kissed his hands and wished him luck. The princes, all of them decked out in new military uniforms, surrounded the shah and let him know that they were prepared to sacrifice themselves for the nation.

The shah listened to all of this in silence. He smiled. He knew the princes were in collusion with England and Russia. In his diary he later wrote, ‘They’re just a bunch of traitors. They’d kill me if they had the chance. They’d even do away with my daughter and Sharmin. We’ve got to render them harmless before they begin hatching plans.’

The guests were served fresh tea in gilt-edged glasses. The shah took a little coffee. It was the first time he had ever drunk coffee in public, and it was seen as the beginning of a new era. He put the cup back on the gold tray with a flourish and withdrew behind the curtain.

Sheikh Aqasi now assumed the role of host. Servants came in with huge dishes full of tasty morsels. The guests let him know they were aware of how he, in his wisdom, had stood by the shah in difficult times. Never before had they seen the shah so happy.

Sheikh Aqasi said the shah had spent a long time grieving over Herat, but fortunately he had put that grim episode behind him, and now the leadership of the country was back in his own blessed hands. He also told them that the shah had asked him to take on the responsibilities of the vizier. ‘There have been many irregularities, especially in the army. Fortunately the shah has the expertise to deal with them all. That is not exactly my forte.’

With tears in his eyes Sheikh Aqasi swore by God to apply all his talents and strength in his service to the shah.

At first the shah tried to keep the vizier’s death hidden from England and Russia. But the British ambassador had received the report of the murder from his spies on the day it took place, and he had alerted London. The ambassador saw it as an unfortunate event that was not wholly unexpected. The vizier had been ambitious and had made many enemies. His young advisors had been arrested or had gone into hiding, and the reformers had taken a hard blow.

England was not sorry about the change of power. From now on London could do business with the shah directly.

Forty days after the death of the vizier the ayatollah of Tehran made a brief announcement on behalf of the royal house during Friday prayers: ‘We, the king of Persia, appoint Sheikh Aqasi the new vizier of the land. May Allah be with him.’

In his announcement the shah had not said a word about the vizier. The ayatollah too was silent. Sheikh Aqasi was praised as a God-fearing man, and the ayatollah hinted that Allah was happy with the choice.

Stories about the vizier were still making the rounds in the street.

‘The vizier has fled.’

‘He’s in the British embassy.’

‘The vizier wanted to depose the shah and place the crown on his own head.’

‘He’s gone into hiding among his own tribe.’

‘His house is empty and boarded up. His wife and children have fled as well.’

‘The vizier has been arrested. The agents have searched his house and have taken his files.’

‘The vizier is soon to be hung on the bazaar square.’

The stories had made their way into the harem. One of them was accepted as the truth: ‘The vizier rode into the palace grounds. All the guards had been replaced that night. They strangled him in the hall of mirrors. Then they buried him in great haste in a simple grave in the Abdoldawood Cemetery.’

No one knew the source of that report. It was a compilation of three facts that had been related by three different witnesses. The witnesses were an undertaker’s man, a cleaning woman and a liveryman. They recounted what they had seen because their consciences were troubling them.

One night, as the undertaker’s man was lying beside his wife in bed, he said to her, ‘There’s something I want to tell you, but it can’t go beyond these four walls. Remember that evening when I had to prepare a grave for a burial? A coach with two horsemen brought a body wrapped in a black blanket. I got the lantern and went into the grave to lay the body on its right side. I wanted to pull the blanket away from the face, but one of the men jerked the lantern out of my hand and pulled me out of the grave by the collar. They threw earth over the body and filled in the grave. By the time they were finished it was daylight. In the glow of dawn I saw that it was a coach from the palace. The dead person was from there.’

The wife of the undertaker’s man promptly told an old servant in the hamam, and the story made its way from the hamam to the harem.

One week after the vizier had been killed a cleaning woman from the palace found a crushed cylindrical hat in the hall of mirrors. It lay on the floor behind a curtain in front of the window. The cleaning woman immediately recognised it as the vizier’s hat from the ornament decorating it. Her hands began to tremble. She dared not tell anyone about her find. She concealed the object under her clothing and took it back home with her, scared to death. Once she was home she wrapped the hat in a black cloth and hid it under the beams in the dark cellar of her house.

For three weeks she was as silent as the grave, but she had the constant urge to tell someone about it. One night, when she couldn’t sleep, she went to see her old mother. She hid her face in her apron and began to weep. ‘I have a hat in my house,’ she said through her tears. ‘I found the crushed hat of the vizier in the hall of mirrors. It was lying on the floor behind the curtain, but his jewel glittered in the light.’

Although the only person she told was her mother, it finally came to the attention of the shah’s wives.

There was only one more thing the women needed to know to get to the whole truth.

The palace liveryman could no longer keep his mouth shut, and one evening he unburdened himself to his daughter: ‘The vizier’s horse has been in the palace stable for quite some time. This means that the vizier came to the palace on his own horse that night, but he did not leave on his own horse. I don’t dare show the animal to anyone, so I’ve hidden it in the stable. The horse is becoming very restless, but I can’t let it out. You’re not to tell anyone about this.’

This report also made its way to the harem.

The shah’s wives lined up all three of these facts and came to one conclusion: ‘The vizier was killed in the hall of mirrors!’

The next Friday morning the shah’s wives put on black clothing and sat together on the veranda of the harem. The smoked their hookahs and drank tea. On the floor in front of them was a large dish of black dates, a sign of mourning. They looked sorrowful, but no one cried and no one talked about the vizier. It was appallingly silent.