Ezzat-ud-Dowleh fell silent for a while and fanned herself.
Then she went on. “There’s an old saying that only children turn out either mad or crazy. When my boy was five, all he did was to fly kites with coloured paper-lanterns. At seven or eight, he became obsessed with pigeons. When a person is born under an unlucky star … even now as a grown man all he does is play with pigeons. He’s made three hundred nests on his roof-top for them. Every evening he flies his pigeons, and he claims that when the birds fly up and away, his heart flutters to the rhythm of their wings, and only comes to rest with them when they’ve returned.”
Ameh sighed. “He was playmates with my poor son,” she said. “When my child died, I couldn’t bear to see your Hamid. But now, time has taken care of all that. I miss Hamid.”
“He’ll come to see you in a little while. I told him his aunt would be here and he said he’d come early this evening to pay his respects. He misses you very much too …”
The black maid appeared just then, carrying a tray of afternoon refreshments which she placed in the middle of the takht. There were all sorts of seasonal fruits as well as a variety of imported biscuits. She also brought in a brazierful of hot coals standing in an ornate copper tray. This she put in front of Ameh for her opium-smoking. She made tea in a red china teapot with floral designs which matched the china bowl of the opium pipe. The flowers on the design were white poppies. The tongs and the pipe-rod gleamed like gold.
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh went on. “How I’ve suffered because of that child! You probably know that he sends foreign officers and soldiers here on the pretext of seeing antiques. In reality they sell us whatever extra bits and pieces they may have like biscuits, soap, shoes, stockings, silk, and so forth. I sell the goods in turn through Nana Ferdows …”
Ameh interrupted her harshly, “Come now, Ezzat, do you think no-one knows? It’s hardly a secret that you, a distinguished lady as you say, have turned into a smuggler! I didn’t want to mention it today, but at our house I tried to give you some hints. You kept evading the issue and I didn’t insist. Your son’s driver told the story of your Jahrom haul in front of everyone at the Do-Mil teahouse. He said you and Nana Ferdows looked as if you’d put on quite a bit of weight overnight! He said you spent two whole hours wrapping up your body in silk to hide the smuggled arms. Apparently you also packed two big canvas sacks full of goods in the boot of a car which could have cost you a twenty thousand toman fine. Why have you become so greedy? A little bit of self-respect and dignity go a long way, you know.”
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh controlled herself. Only the corner of her mouth twitched as she said, “That driver was probably the one who betrayed us. I kept telling Hamid not to dismiss him in this godforsaken summer with all the sickness and famine around. But he wouldn’t listen. What I go through because of that boy! But then you know, as I’m sitting here by myself of an evening, he comes along with a special rice dish, or a plateful of best quality apricots or some large tangerines … he’ll say, ‘Mother, I was thinking of you.’ Then he’ll kiss my hand, my foot, lay his head on my bosom and with all this pampering, I know that the next day he’ll get anything he wants out of me.”
Ameh Khanom opened the small jewel-studded case before her, took a piece of opium, and smelled it. “What good quality!” she said. She warmed the opium and stuck it to the pipe-bowl.
“Forgive me for being so bold,” Zari said, “but you have a great deal of assets and property.”
“May he never rest in peace that husband of mine!” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh exclaimed. “What assets and property? He would steal the title-deeds of my land, cover his sister with a chador and take her to Sheikh Gheib Ali the notary and introduce her as his wife. He would sell my land, and have his sister—well-hidden under her chador—thumb-print the foot of the sale transaction as signature. All the money was spent on his women … and on that bedroom! His private room where he took the prostitutes, with that double-bed he brought over from India. He bought every pack of old playing cards to be found in this town so he could paste all the aces, queens and jokers on one wall of that room. He hired a painter to illustrate another wall with every imaginable kind of love-making position. Whatever money was left over, at the end when he was confined to the house, he smoked away in opium.”
Ameh Khanom took a puff and said, “He left enough for your family to live on respectably for several generations. But if you’re hinting at my addiction, too, let me just say I don’t smoke away anyone else’s money … it’s my own. Besides, I’ve vowed to give it up the instant I set foot in the shrine of Imam Hossein. Right then and there, I’ll break my opium-pipe in two. O Lord, please give me the strength to do it!”
“Sister, why have you become small-minded?” Ezzat-ud-Dowleh asked. “And why so touchy? I swear by my only son that I meant no offence to you. As for giving up opium, I’m certain that you’ll be able to do it. You’re one of those people who can do whatever they want.”
Ameh Khanom took a long puff. “What good opium! Where do you get it? It brings the scent of the poppy-fields right to my nostrils! How often I used to ride around those fields! Field after field of poppies, and each one a different shade … the scent of it at sunset intoxicated both me and my horse. When the flower-petals have fallen, the yellowish, moss-green seed-heads nod in the breeze as if to talk to you, and you’re certain they’re alive. They have something no other flower in the world has. At sunrise, they come to cut them. The dew is still sparkling on the seed-heads, and drop by drop the pretty sap oozes out.”
“Since you like it so much, I’ll tell them to prepare some more pieces from the same batch for you to take with you on your trip. You can think of me when you use it.”
“Curse the devil! Even if it kills me I’m going to give it up. The beauty of the poppy-fields is quite a different thing from its poison.”
Zari was beginning to feel anxious. She had planned to visit Kolu in hospital earlier in the evening, but it was too late now. She was worried about Khosrow, who had gone to join Hormoz so the two of them could go to Fotouhi’s together in the evening. Khosrow had inadvertently mentioned the night before that although they might not be accepting him at any party branch because he was under-age, Mr Fotouhi had generously allowed him to join Hormoz and his friends as an ‘independent observer’. This was the same group whose members pitied those with aristocratic blood.
Zari turned to Ezzat-ud-Dowleh and said, “I’m beginning to understand now. Nana Ferdows was caught red-handed smuggling.”
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh sighed. “I wish it were that simple,” she said. “This time she was actually smuggling arms.”
“By Allah, the Almighty!” exclaimed Ameh, putting her pipe down next to the brazier.
“Yes. Two Brno guns, ten revolvers and a box of ammunition. God knows we were very careful, very cautious. Four times previously Nana Ferdows had delivered the same load safely to its destination. But this time she was caught. I’m certain it was the driver who gave us away and was probably paid well for it too. A curse upon him! Nana Ferdows was supposed to take the load at sunrise before the women’s public baths opened, to the Khani Hammam and deliver them to the Mirza Agha Hennasab.”
“Which Mirza Agha? The son of your own wet-nurse?” Zari asked.
“Oh no. No-one knows where my wet-nurse’s son is. They say he’s joined the Communists …”
“I see. Go on.”
“Yes, she was supposed to deliver the load to the Mirza Agha Hennasab and tell him, ‘Mirza Agha, these are Khanom’s bath things. I’m leaving them in your care. When it’s the women’s hour at the baths, give them to the bath-keeper’s wife.’ And Mirza was supposed to call out casually to one of the errand boys and ask him to take the bundle to the back of the hammam for safe-keeping. I’d wrapped up the ‘bath things’ myself in the dead of night. Even Nana Ferdows didn’t know what was in it. I packed the guns end to end and wrapped them tightly inside a small rug. And even though my fingers were pricked till they bled,
I pinned both ends of the rug so the guns wouldn’t slip out and the fringes of the rug would cover up any parts that were showing. I placed the rolled-up rug on the porter’s tray myself and put the large copper bowl which had the box of bullets hidden inside, next to it. The revolvers I rolled up in bath towels and carefully wrapped that in a cashmere brocade. These I put inside the large copper bowl as well, with part of the brocade cloth showing. I even sat down and prayed for the safe delivery of the load.”
“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.”