A Persian Requiem (19 page)

“What things you pray to God for!” muttered Ameh Khanom.

Ignoring her, Ezzat-ud-Dowleh continued. “At dawn with the help of Kal Abbas, Ferdows’s husband, we managed to lift the tray and put it on Nana Ferdows’s head. It was very heavy, but she didn’t have that far to go. Again I prayed and blessed the load and Nana Ferdows. I made her leave through the door of the inner courtyard. Kal Abbas had checked the street to see if the coast was clear.”

“How did you find out she’d been caught?” Ameh asked.

“I was saying my morning prayers when there was a knock. My heart sank. Apparently, just before reaching the public baths. Nana Ferdows had come across a policeman and a gendarme. I imagine they must have stopped her and searched her load. They asked her who it belonged to and where she’d got it. Kal Abbas says when she came home and he opened the door to her, it was obvious she’d been beaten up and had been crying. Anyhow, she had spilled the beans, and brought them to my doorstep. But see how clever and loyal Kal Abbas is. At the door, the policeman asked him whether he knew Nana Ferdows. Kal Abbas replied, ‘No sir, I do not.’ Nana Ferdows instantly burst out crying, saying, ‘I spit on you! My own son-in-law! You don’t know me? Has the world come to an end?
Have you lost your eyesight that you don’t know me?’ And Kal Abbas said, ‘listen you shrew, why make up such lies at this time of day? How should I know you?’”

“What a mess you’ve got yourself into!” Ameh said, between puffs.

“Well, by this time I was glued to the door of the outer courtyard, eavesdropping and trembling from head to toe. No-one should ever live through such a thing! Nana Ferdows was wailing and
screaming
, swearing by the Quran that the goods had been brought from our house. ‘I had no idea there were guns and things like that in it,’ she was saying. ‘And this bastard here is Kal Abbas, my
son-in-law
, who’s siding with them and won’t help me out, his own mother-in-law! I shut up once when they dishonoured my
daughter
, but now they want to dishonour me too! I spit on you, Kal Abbas! You’re a traitor, you help them. You helped them the other time too …’ She sobbed her heart out, and cursed with such bitterness that my hair was standing on end. She kept saying, ‘O Lord, where are You? Are You blind?’”

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh fell silent for a while, fanning herself. Ameh Khanom and Zari kept quiet the whole time. Zari was biting her thumbnail. She thought silently, “And now what is it I can do for you?”

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh went on. Obviously she was not going to get to the point until she had recounted all the details.

“Either the gendarme or the policeman shouted at Nana Ferdows to stop blaspheming, and ordered Kal Abbas to wake the master of the house so he could be questioned. Kal Abbas told them the master had died a long time ago, at which point the policeman asked to see the mistress. By this time I was feeling so faint I had to sit on the ground. Kal Abbas said, ‘The mistress is away on a pilgrimage to the shrine of Imam Reza.’ The policeman shouted at Nana Ferdows, ‘Didn’t you say these were Khanom’s belongings that you were taking to the Khani Hammam?’ Kal Abbas didn’t let Nana Ferdows answer. He laughed and said, ‘Sir, we have a private bath in this house. The mistress never uses the public baths. I can show it to you if you like.’ Then he said, ‘Please go and have your fight elsewhere. I have a thousand things to do.’ When the
policeman
started to hustle her away, Nana Ferdows pleaded with them, ‘Where are you taking me?’ The policeman said to her, ‘First to the lieutenant, who’s going to lock you up.’ The foolish woman kept
screaming, ‘Let me see my child first, and I’ll go wherever you want.’ But they took her away. It was a stroke of luck that Ferdows and her children were sleeping far away from the entrance and didn’t hear all the noise. As for me, well! No one should ever have to live through such a thing! I was shivering as if I’d been struck down with a fever. I couldn’t breathe. I sent Kal Abbas at top speed to the Mirza Agha Hennasab to inform him.”

Then turning to Zari, she said, “But Zari, my dear, you hold the solution to my problem. We’ve made the necessary investigations indirectly. We know that Nana Ferdows is in the women’s ward. Now I beg of you, when you visit the prison tomorrow, go and see Nana Ferdows. Talk to her. Beg her on my behalf not to mention our name under any circumstances. You see, Kal Abbas managed to nudge her foot at the last moment and make her understand that she must keep her mouth shut. It seems she’s either caught on or simply tired out, because she’s stopped talking for the time being. My dear Zari, please tell Nana Ferdows to say at her trial that the mistress was on a pilgrimage; that Kal Abbas had bought the goods from a few Indians, wrapped them up in the mistress’s bath things and given them to her to sell at the bazaar, and that the Mirza Agha Hennasab had offered to buy the goods. If she doesn’t stick to this story, my whole family will be ruined. So will our long-standing reputation. We’ll be utterly undone.”

“Is it all right for Kal Abbas’s family to be ruined, then?” asked Ameh Khanom cynically. “Why implicate that poor Mirza Agha Hennasab? I don’t want to criticize you, but … well, anyway, it’s none of my business.”

“Qods-ol-Saltaneh, this is no time to talk Zari out of helping me,” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh pleaded with her. “Doesn’t our sisterhood mean anything to you? I swear I’ll repent and give this up. Besides, neither Kal Abbas nor Mirza Agha’s family will suffer. We’ve notified Mirza Agha in good time and he’s escaped to the tribe. And I’ve persuaded Kal Abbas to cooperate. Tell her I’ve persuaded her son-in-law to cooperate. We’ve made enquiries and found out that if an ordinary citizen smuggles arms just for money and nothing else, the sentence is no more than a year or two in prison. They confiscate the arms and levy a fine twice their value. That’s nothing to worry about; I’ll take care of all the fines. I’ll give Kal Abbas five thousand tomans reward when he gets out of prison. And I’ve promised to take good care of his wife and children in his absence.
Tell her to ask for Mr Sharifabadi as her lawyer. I’ll contact the judge and the public prosecutor for her. And I promise that this time I really will keep my word and send her on a pilgrimage to Karbala.”

She reached under the cotton sheet and pulled out two envelopes and a small box which she handed to Zari. She shouted to the maid, “Bazm Ara, put the lights on!” The tall garden lights which looked just like carriage-lights were immediately switched on.

“Give her these two envelopes, my dear,” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
continued
. “The first one contains a written request for a lawyer, and the second one has the details that I’ve been telling you. She can read—she reads the Quran—but she can’t write. Make her press her finger in this ink-box and fingerprint the bottom of the first letter. Then give the letter to the warden’s office and ask for a receipt. You can say you wrote this letter yourself as a form of counsel or kindness to the prisoner. Since everyone knows you as a generous, charitable woman, no-one will suspect you. But make sure you take both letters from her … whatever you do, don’t leave them with her. I beg you in God’s name to do this … will you? I’ve thought of sending her daughter Ferdows to her as a visitor, but I don’t trust the girl. There’s a strange glint in her eyes these days. I’m afraid mother and daughter will get up to something and land us in a real mess. Should they decide to take their revenge, what better
opportunity
than this?”

Zari wondered which would take more courage: to accept or to refuse? Giving two envelopes to a prisoner, and talking and
probably
reasoning with her, having her finger-print the letter, waiting for her to read all that was written on the two sheets of paper with her minimal reading ability—all this in front of other prisoners, especially that madam who held Zari responsible for her
imprisonment
, demanded courage enough. But she could be adventurous and do it. What kind of justice, however, would that be? She would be shielding the real criminal and allowing her to appear innocent, while an innocent person took the blame for a crime. Besides, she wasn’t afraid of Ezzat-ud-Dowleh.

But what if she refused to cooperate? Would she be showing the courage that her husband and son expected of her? After all, if Ezzat-ud-Dowleh didn’t succeed in using her, she would merely find some other way, buying and safeguarding her reputation through whatever means. And it probably didn’t make much of a
difference to Kal Abbas whether he was imprisoned in the entrance of Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s house or in a real jail. Nevertheless, why should she be a vehicle for injustice? The right thing to do would be to encourage Nana Ferdows to tell the truth, undaunted by
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
or anyone else’s reactions or conclusions. But then, couldn’t Ezzat-ud-Dowleh crush the woman with her money and influence anyway, and destroy her family? In any case, Nana Ferdows had long been an accomplice. She had accepted the life they offered for many years now.

Ezzat-ud-Dowleh broke her train of thought.

“Zari my dear, what a long time you take to weigh up such a small thing!”

Zari pushed the letters and the ink-box in front of
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
and said, “No, I won’t do it, I’m sorry.”

“You won’t do it? But why?” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh asked, stupefied.

Zari didn’t reply. Ezzat-ud-Dowleh tried to cajole her like a child. “What if I get your emerald earrings back from the Governor’s daughter?” she coaxed. “Would you still not do it? I was just about to do something about your son’s horse when this whole situation came up …”

“My earrings are not that important to me anymore. It’s better if you allow the truth to be known. You were saying yourself it was a pity Hamid Khan didn’t do his military service. Well, this might prove to be a form of military service for him.”

Ameh Khan laughed so hard that she was seized by a fit of coughing. Ezzat-ud-Dowleh forced a nervous titter and said, “You don’t seem to understand the difference between Kal Abbas and Hamid. If Kal Abbas is convicted, his jail sentence is only for a year or two. But if our family name is mentioned, our whole livelihood will be at stake. They’ll charge us with smuggling arms with intent to jeopardize national security. Sharifabadi was saying that
according
to article 171 of the penal code, the sentence for that would be execution, or at best life imprisonment. The maximum he can do is to settle the case on appeal for ten or fifteen years. No-one is going to believe that our living expenses are high and we did this for money.”

Tears sprang to her eyes as she said, “When you’re born under an unlucky star … so much for friends and avowed sisters … they abandon you in times of need.” And she shouted, “Bazm Ara, bring me the drops for my heart.” Then she continued, “I know why
you’re refusing. You disliked us from the start. I don’t know what we ever did to you. Or maybe you regret now that we didn’t press you harder to marry Hamid. A beggar like you played so hard to get! I know. Now you want to take your revenge on us. With that crazy, temperamental husband of yours, I don’t blame you. He’s made more enemies than he can count!”

At this moment Hamid Khan arrived. He looked plump and jolly, and greeted everyone effusively. He took his shoes off at the foot of the takht and stepped up in his socks. He hugged and embraced his ‘aunt’ over and over again. Zari noticed that Ezzat-ud-Dowleh hurriedly wiped away her tears and smiled at him. Her son literally bent down to kiss her feet. He kneeled down next to his mother and asked, “How are you, how have you been, what news?”

He went over to Ameh Khanom, leaned his head on her shoulder and touched her braided hair. Looking Zari over, he said, “Khanom Zahra, touch wood, you remind me of first-rate wine! You
constantly
improve with age.”

He held Ameh Khanom’s hand affectionately, then kissed it and said, “My dear aunt, how many years is it since we saw each other?”

Ameh Khanom didn’t answer. She poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of him. Then she took up her opium pipe which she cleaned and prepared for fresh use. She asked him, “Will you smoke if I fix you a pipe?”

“What I’ve gone through in your absence, my dear aunt!” replied Hamid Khan, trying to ingratiate himself. Turning to Zari, he said, “I was never blessed with brothers and sisters, but God gave me two mothers instead.”

He puffed on the opium pipe once, then several times, and became even more talkative, going over old times. He asked Ameh, “Do you remember I used to sit on your lap, and even though I was three or four years old, I’d try and fondle your breasts and then ask you to nurse me. I loved you like a mother because you always looked after me. I remember that time when the other children threw stones at my prize pigeon and broke its leg. You’d come to visit my mother, and I was hugging my pigeon, shedding tears like a river as my dear mother would say, begging people to do
something
for it. The poor bird was making the most pathetic noises. It was worse than all the moaning in the world to me! I remember you soaked some crushed peas and mixed it with egg yolk and myrtle to
make a sort of plaster for the pigeon’s leg. When you finished, the pigeon was cooing peacefully again.”

Zari felt as though she had nothing more to do there. She was restless and couldn’t wait to excuse herself and leave. But Hamid was not ready to give up.

“Remember that night on the summer estate?” he asked Ameh again. “We’d all gone there for the day but ended up staying overnight. The musicians couldn’t find a droshke to take them home, so they were forced to stay, too. When they spread out the bedclothes, there wasn’t enough room for everyone. My mother never gave up the chance of sleeping next to my father if she could help it, so I was left alone. No-one else wanted to sleep next to me because I had some boils on my face and the one on my nose had become infected. Everyone knew those boils were usually
contagious
, especially since the garden buzzed with flies and
mosquitoes
which were carriers of that disease. I was left there
wondering
where to sleep, feeling really tired. It was very cold, too. Even though your own child was sleeping next to you, you called me over and said, ‘Come my dear, come and sleep on my other side.’ Then I cried and you wiped my tears. You even kissed my nose despite the infected boil. When your son died, I used to avoid you to spare you grief. One day in the Vakil bazaar, I saw a woman who looked just like you. I called her ‘my dear aunt’, and she turned around and slapped me one! ‘Your dear aunt,’ she said, ‘I bet!’”