16 Persepolis

  Joseph and Parlings arrived at Perpolis in a short time. Many peers respected them and welcomed them. Parlings had an acquaintance named Behzad at Persepolis who could speak English well. The man received Parlings and Joseph to stay at his house as long as they wished.

  Nothing in Persia was the same as in England. The architecture of the houses, the roads, people’s cloths, their food, body language, manners, everything was quite different. Behzad’s residence was colorful in all aspects, and it fascinated Joseph. He had never seen such structures.

  A pool was in the middle of the yard with Persian green tiles. The color was new and comforting to Joseph’s eyes. Small redfish were swimming inside it. Around the yard, there were trees and flowers of all colors. Some of them had dried out due to the cold weather. The sound of Canaries filled the beautiful green view.

  Joseph took a long breath and enjoyed the combination of all the good things; A beautiful view, the comforting sound of birds and swishing leaves, chilly weather, and the refreshing scent of flowers.

  “I dare you, Rufus,” Behzad said to Parlings as the three of them were in the big yard of his house. They were close to the pool, sitting on a wide wooden surface decorated with colorful pillows and mattresses. The beds were customary in Persian yards for sitting, not lying down.

  Behzad had a bottle of wine and had just finished filling Lord Parling’s glass. “Drink this Baade,” he said while holding the bottle and looking at Parlings, “and tell me it is not the best Baade-ye Shiraz you’ve ever had.”

  Behzad possessed the smoothest British accent Joseph had ever heard from a foreigner. Joseph was impressed and a bit intimidated. If that man wanted to act as an English, he could easily do it.

  Parlings first smelled the wine and then took a sip from it. “I’ve had better,” he said with a smirk, and the Persian man’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “Bugger off!” Behzad said to Parlings, and Parlings laughed loudly. They seemed to be good friends. “You’re not welcome in my house anymore.”

  Parlings took another sip from his drink with a smile. “You dared me, Behzad,” he said to the man.

  Joseph looked at them blankly. “I assume Baade is…,” he said.

  “Wine,” Parlings said and started arguing again with Behzad.

  Joseph moved the glass in front of his face. He inhaled the scent and was surprised by how different it was. He put the glass on his lips and took a short sip. The flavor melted on his tongue, the strong taste of it tingling his tastebuss, warming his mouth and throat. His eyebrows raised in shock. He glanced at the glass in his hands and then at Parlings.

  “This is the best wine I’ve ever had,” he said, which attracted the attention of the two men sitting by him. They both got quiet and looked at Joseph. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a wine like this. Why haven’t I tasted a wine like this?”

  Parlings chuckled. “You look like a man who’s had his first girl. Would you like some more?”

  “Don’t get too drunk,” Behzad warned. “We shan’t want to look like idiots when we arrive at the palace.”

  “What palace?” Joseph asked.

  “The palace of the king,” Behzad said.

  Joseph looked at Parlings and waited for an explanation.

  “Tonight, there is one of the biggest feasts of their year,” Parlings said.

  “Chelle,” Behzad said. “It’s going to be a very amusing night.”

  Joseph didn’t like the idea. He was a loner and appreciated his time alone, especially after the death of his son and wife. He didn’t mind enjoying his time on the trip while searching for the Pedlar. But he tried his best to stay anonymous and unrecognized. Going to the king’s palace would change everything. Joseph hated the nobles, whether English or of any other nation.

  “Can’t you sit me out of this one?” he asked, and Parlings looked at him with a puzzled face. “I’d rather focus on the… purpose of this trip. You know, finding the Pedlar.”

  “Be patient, my friend,” Parlings said. “You won’t find the Pedlar unless you investigate the right people.”

  “Who is this Pedlar?” Behzad asked.

  “We don’t know,” Parlings said. “We’re eager to find out. Do we have to wear something specific for the palace?”

  “Do not wear something disrespectful, and you’re good to go,” Behzad said.

  “Was that comment meant for me?”

  “Yes. You wore a Sindur at the Indian festival four years ago, which got us almost killed.”

  “I simply enjoy Asian culture.”

  “Keep your enthusiasm limited. Sindur is for married women only. I repeat, do not wear something disrespectful.”

  “All right.” Lord Parlings looked at Joseph. “Pardon me, Lord Mainwood, but I think it’s best to shave your face.”

  Joseph touched his long brown beard and ran his fingers through it. He didn’t have a mirror to look at himself and wondered if he looked presentable for the feast.

  “Is it necessary?” Joseph asked.

  “Yes. You look like an old lion.”

  “I am no lion, but I am old.”

  “Old?” Parlings said with a shocked face. “Are you not forty?”

  “I am thirty-six.”

  Parlings got even more surprised. Joseph looked and acted more maturely. To think of himself as old made Parlings laugh.

  “My dear Lord Mainwood,” Parlings said. “You have just started your life.”

  Joseph hated the thought of just starting his life when he had already lived the worst things a man could experience. He didn’t want more of it; the pain, loss, grief, abuse, torture, loneliness, and weakness. Joseph didn’t want to have a long life ahead of himself filled with all the bad things awaiting him as soon as he returned to England.

  “I’ll help you, Lord Mainwood,” Behzad said, sensing Joseph’s unwillingness. “I know how to use a razor even though I don’t use it myself.” Persians mostly had long beards, and that explained his sentence.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  ***

  The entrance of the palace was magnificent. Something new to the eyes. People had colorful clothes. Persian men mostly had mustaches and beards. They wore garments that looked quite different than what the English people were used to wearing.

  Women of Persia mostly wore long dresses but not as pleated as the dresses of English women. Some wore loose trousers. Most of them had long veils, mostly silk, which rested on their long hair and ran through the strands as they moved their head.

  A guard stopped Joseph and Parlings at the entrance. He said something in Persian that they did not understand.

  “You need to surrender any weapon you carry,” Behzad said, standing by them.

  “We’re not going to surrender our weapons!” Parlings said, frowning at the suggestion.

  “Then you can’t enter,” Behzad said casually.

  “Oh, you can't be serious!”

  “I can’t do anything, my friend. These are the palace rules.”

  “All right.”

  Parlings pulled a knife out and put it on the table before the guard. The guard said something.

  “All of them,” Behzad translated.

  “I don’t have other weapons,” Parlings said.

  The guard approached Parlings. Without inspecting, he moved his hand behind him and swiftly pulled a knife from Parlings’ back. Parlings looked at the big guard and hesitated to protest.

  “Any other weapons?” Behzad asked with a disappointed look on his face. Parlings shook his head. “All right then. Let us go.”

  The guard stopped Joseph. He touched Joseph’s pockets and back. When he felt nothing, he let him get inside.

  The view of the gardens was heavenly. It wasn’t as cold as the winters in England. Everyone found it pleasant. A cold breeze blew, and the trees swished. Everyone was laughing and talking merrily. The large pool in the garden was full of watermelons and pomegranates floating on top of the water. Redfish were swimming through the fruits, giving life to the feast.

  Lord Parlings explored each corner and tasted all the fruits. Joseph found everything he saw amusing. What mainly interested him was the Shiraz wine he had just found. One of the servants gave him a container which was supposed to be a glass. It had a goat shape at the end of it. He poured wine for Joseph and wanted to walk away, but Joseph insisted on more. The servant understood him and filled his glass to the fullest.

  “Thank you,” Joseph said, and the servant walked away. He started drinking the wine. It tasted even better than the one Behzad had offered him at his house. He had a full glass and didn’t intend to finish the refill too soon. He wanted to savor the strong taste of it.

  “You look quite different,” Behzad said, appearing by him.

  Joseph smiled. “Really?”

  “Yes. You were handsome before. But now you look neat and young.”

  Joseph felt better with the subtle compliment. “Thank you.” He sipped his cup, and Behzad noticed it.

  “Save some for us.”

  Joseph shrugged. “If I am to be in a crowd, I need something to keep me entertained.”

  “Ouch, Lord Mainwood! I thought you would like our customs a bit.”

  “Oh, no. I love your customs. I’m merely a loner. That’s all.”

  “Yes. And I see you’re a Haft-Khat.”

  “A what?”

  “A seven-lines drinker.” He showed the seven horizontal lines on the glass in Joseph’s hand. “The cupbearers never fill to the last one.”

  “Why not?”

  “Not many people have the capacity.”

  “I am in love with this wine. Nothing has ever come close to it. Trust me. I’ve drunk from the best alcohol collections.”

  “Well, it’s made of Shiraz grapes. That’s why it tastes different.”

  “You should never show this wine to the Duke of Nowkey,” Joseph said while sipping his drink. “He will become obsessed and have all of your wines.”

  “Duke of Nowkey? Donkey Nowkey?”

  Joseph chuckled. “You know his nickname!”

  “Of course. I’ve visited London before. I gave him some of my wine, and he claimed it tasted odd.”

  “He is an idiot,” Joseph said, not considering he was insulting the duke.

  Behzad liked Joseph’s bluntness. “A donkey,” he said.

  Joseph chuckled. “Indeed.”

  A man came, standing at the entrance of the garden. He said something in a loud voice, and everyone got quiet.

  “The king’s here,” Behzad said as he straightened his height.

  A tall man entered the garden gracefully. He had a long, partly gray, partly dark brown beard and hair. A large crown was on his head. His eyes were fierce, and his nose had a hump that suited the rigid features of his face. Everyone stood in line and curtsied for him, holding their heads down. They didn’t look up while waiting for the king to pass all of them and sit in his seat away from the crowd.

  After he sat down, he gestured for everyone to lift their head and be at ease. A few people were seated close to the pool with musical instruments in their hands. They started playing lovely music, and everyone resumed talking. Some people danced to the music, some were sitting on the wide wooden beds and listened as a woman read from a book.

  “Chelle shaad baad,” Behzad said to someone, and the person repeated the same sentence. They talked for a few seconds, and then the person parted.

  “What does Chelle mean?” Joseph asked, the alcohol making him curious.

  “Chelle is the longest day of the year. We celebrate it by gathering together, eating pomegranate and watermelon. Also, we sit together and read prophecies from a poetry book by Hafez-Shirazi.”

  Joseph thought about the last time he had enjoyed or celebrated any occasion; He couldn’t remember.

  “Would you like to know your fortune?” Behzad asked.

  Joseph looked up at him. “My fortune?” he said with slightly lifted eyebrows.

  “Yes. Lady Mehrban can read it for you from the book.” He pointed at the woman who was reading from a book with a loud voice.

  Joseph laughed. “No, thank you.”

  “Do you not believe in prophecy?”

  “I don’t want to know the ugly future that awaits me.”

  “How can you be so sure that it will be bad?”

  “Nothing good happens when I’m involved.”

  Behzad switched his drink to his other hand. “Relax. The good thing about Hafez-Shirazi’s poems is that he is always kind. He never says anything remotely bad or unconventional. If you want to be haunted, you should meet Bibi Banoo.”

  Before Joseph could ask about Bibi Banoo, Behzad left to meet other nobles. Joseph stood there and watched the female reader with curiosity. Suddenly the people on the wooden bed got quiet and moved away, making a spot empty for someone. A woman with large eyes and long black hair partly covered with a silk veil came. She had a green and gold gown. Seated ones stood, and everyone curtsied for her. She sat on the empty spot on the bed, facing the reader. The reader opened the book in her hand and started reading it in a rhyming tone. Everyone listened carefully.

  Joseph took a sip from his drink while staring at the scene across him. He was invested far more than he should have been, even though he understood nothing of Persian. He watched as the young lady in the green gown listened to the reader’s skilled drawing voice. Nothing poetic had ever interested him. Yet her passionate voice of made Joseph wonder what each word that flew on her tongue meant.

  The reader stopped, and everyone smiled, including the young lady. She said something to the reader and then placed a coin in her hand. Then she got back on her feet and stood straight.

  Her eyes met Joseph for a second. Joseph didn’t move the glass away from his mouth as he looked back at her. Her face changed. She almost squinted at him but pulled herself together and started walking away. Joseph watched her long black hair entwined with the silk veil, and something locked inside him. Was she—?

  His eyes widened. He put his glass on a table nearby and strode to find Parlings. The man was easy to spot in a crowd. Joseph grabbed his arm and dragged him to a corner.

  “Lord Mainwood!” Parlings said. “What happened? You ripped my arm off!”

  “Who is the woman in green and gold?” Joseph asked.

  “Oh, you mean the Shahdokht.”

  “What is Shahdoht?” Joseph said, failing to pronounce the word correctly.

  “You have good taste,” Parlings said with a smirk.

  Joseph frowned. “Who is she?”

  “She is someone you and I will never have.” He looked at the woman in gold and green with a smile. “She’s the princess.”

  Joseph looked at her too. Her dark brown eyes looked just like her father’s. She was fierce and graceful at the same time. Could she be the Pedlar? There was no way a noblewoman, especially a princess, could travel around the world and endanger her life only to serve sick people she didn’t even know. The princess looked at Joseph and held eye contact for a few seconds. Then she turned her head and continued talking with other nobles.

  Lord Parlings smiled even more. “She looked at me,” he said, misunderstanding the princess’s gaze at Joseph. “You just want those eyes to be on you forever. The things that I could do to her.” He sighed. “Well, let us stay civil for now.” He looked at Joseph. “We can’t have her. Trust me. I’ve tried. She is not interested in anything that you bring to her.”

  “Does she know English?”

  “No. However, that wouldn’t stop me.”

  A woman’s scream interrupted their conversation. Everyone’s heads turned to find the source of the voice. The musicians stopped playing, and everyone got quiet. A woman came, running to the middle of the feast, her hands covered in blood. Everyone gasped. The guards by the king made a circle around him and shielded him so no one would harm him.

  The princess was not in sight anymore. The woman covered in blood started talking, and everyone gasped again. They all started talking incoherently and running to exit the gardens. One of the guards stood on top of the side of the pool and shouted something. Everyone stopped and looked at each other.

  “What the hell is happening?” Parlings asked in shock.

  Behzad appeared by their side. “Good God! You’re here!” he said.

  “Is this a show?” Parlings asked Behzad.

  “No! The crown prince has been stabbed!”

  “What?”

  “They won’t allow anyone to exit until they find the one responsible.”