An American Martyr in Persia by Reza Aslan

Author:Reza Aslan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Either You or Constitutionalism

THEY SAY IT WAS WHEN the crows came that Mohammed Ali Shah knew he might lose the war. They appeared in the skies above Tehran in a whirling black cloud that blotted out the sun. The noise was deafening: like a scraping inside the skull. At first, the crows were a mere oddity, an amusing distraction from the disquiet that had settled upon the capital over the past few months, as the conflict with Tabriz raged on with no end in sight. People came out of their homes to see the strange spectacle. They tilted their heads to the sky, mouths agape. One or two pulled out rifles and began shooting in the air, hoping to make the crows scatter. But they would not be intimidated. What were they looking for? Rats and snakes? There were plenty of those in Tehran.

It wasn’t until evening that their target came into focus. Just before the sun fell, the crows made their way to Golestan Palace—to roost, everyone assumed. For a few moments, they clustered above the palace roof, on the east side of the compound, where the red royal flags of the Qajar Dynasty flew three abreast. The shah’s courtiers were drawn outside by the noise. They stood in the rose garden and watched as, all at once, the crows set upon the Qajar flags in a frenzy, ripping them to shreds with their claws and their beaks.

Mohammed Ali Shah wasn’t at the palace when this happened; he was still holed up at Bagh-e Shah, where he’d been since before the attack on parliament. It was now his permanent residence. Both his family and the entirety of the state apparatus had been transferred there from Golestan. It was too risky to go back to the palace, his advisers kept telling him. It wasn’t yet safe, and it wouldn’t be until Tabriz surrendered and the war was finally over.

But when would it be over? It was now nearly February 1909. Seven months had passed since Rahim Khan was expelled from Tabriz. It still did not seem possible. That uncouth brigand had a thousand horsemen! He was given all the arms and ammunition he needed. He had unlimited funds and carte blanche to do whatever he wished with the population. And yet he was chased out of Tabriz like a stray. At least he had the good sense not to show his face in Tehran again. He and what remained of his Shahsevan fighters were now encamped on the outskirts of Tabriz, still trying to penetrate the town’s defenses. Still failing.

The shah blamed himself—not publicly, of course. But he must have known it was a mistake to place the task of taking Tabriz in the hands of an illiterate horseman. If a weasel gets into the hen house, you don’t send another weasel to root it out. You send in a fox.

Ayn od-Dowleh was supposed to be his fox. If anyone could take Tabriz, he thought, surely it would be “the Prince.

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