Equal of the Sun by Anita Amirrezvani Page A

a little as she smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. “Preventing a coup.”
    Deh! I had not heard any rumors.
    “Whom do you suspect?”
    “The Georgians and the Ostajlu might decide they are better off supporting another prince.”
    “I will redouble my efforts at gathering intelligence.”
    But first, Pari asked me to take a message to her uncle Shamkhal requesting that he preside over the meeting the next day.
    “Princess, I thought you were angry at him about the death of Haydar.”
    She sighed. “I am, but I need him.”

    In the history of the Safavis, no woman had ever taken charge of the men so directly. We left nothing to chance. I helped the princess select the cloth that would separate her from the nobles, since such an exalted woman would never show herself to a group of men to whom she was not related. We settled on a bolt of thick blue velvet patterned with scenes from the hunt, most notably a repeating motif of a mounted prince thrusting his sword through the belly of a lion.
    Pari concealed herself behind the draped cloth while I stood in different corners of the room to listen for how well she could be heard. Her voice was melodious: very low for a woman, but with an agreeable timbre, and it didn’t take much practice before she could easily be heard at the far corners of the room.
    “One thing, princess. Your father spoke slowly. If you do the same, you will make the men pause and listen just as he did.”
    “Very well. Have I forgotten anything?”
    “Since you won’t be able to see the expressions on the men’s faces, I will report anything notable to you.”
    “You will be my eyes, as you are around the palace.” She smiled, and I felt as if the sun were warming my skin.
    The next morning after dawn prayers, I went to my post at Pari’s house. As soon as it became light, I was gratified to see both men of the sword and men of the pen arriving. They filed into her public rooms and arranged themselves on cushions according to rank, forming a semicircle around the curtained area. The air seemed heavy and portentous, as before a storm.
    Shamkhal Cherkes’s wide shoulders and enormous white turban made him look like a giant when he mounted the platform. He welcomed the men and bade them listen well to the words of his niece, favorite daughter of the late Shah. Majeed stood near Pari’s curtain, ready to convey any private messages she might wish to send. I chose a position on the side of the room where I could see everyone. As I stared at the battle-hardened men, the enormity of our task seized me. The late Shah had barely managed to keep them under control. The Ostajlu and the Takkalu had fought a bitter civil war, and there were countless feuds and grudges between other groups that had to be navigated. We must find a way to tame the men at all costs.
    Pari’s voice was clear and strong. “Nobles, you honor the memory of my blessed father—may God’s judgment upon him be light—by your presence here. You are the shining stars of our age, recognized by my father as such during his lifetime. But don’t forget that a heinous act has recently occurred: a near takeover of the palace by those who wished to install their candidate on the throne.”
    Several men looked as if they wished to flee. Others, like Mirza Shokhrollah, the chief of the treasury, smirked.
    “Despite these horrors, our responsibility at this moment is to ensure the security of the state. Every man must perform his job, but not every man has stayed at his post. Where has everyone been?” Her voice was loud and strong as she issued the challenge.
    No one replied.
    “The palace can’t run itself. All of you are needed until a new shah is in place. I want to hear from you now,” she continued. “Despitewhat happened a few days ago, I am going to ask you—all of you—to support Isma‘il as shah. Well?”
    Amir Khan Mowsellu stood up to speak first. “You have our full support,” he replied in a booming