In the Palace of Flowers by Victoria Princewill

Author:Victoria Princewill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CASSAVA REPUBLIC PRESS
Published: 2021-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

27

Abimelech sat in one of the Shāh’s offices, waiting for Kamran to arrive. He had spent several nights researching Persian history and collecting contemporary papers, trying to tie the information together into a relevant set of questions. The men, having decided Abimelech would conduct interviews, had left the work to him and remained unreachable, unless one counted the eunuchs that they had following him, which Abimelech didn’t. Abimelech had had his eunuchs send requests to the princes’ eunuchs, only to have his letter to Mozaffar returned to him without comment; Kamran’s returned with a time and date written over it.

He brought boxes of his research with him, suspecting that Kamran and Mozaffar would find this process beneath their dignity. An abundance of notes, of paper, of research, would convey seriousness on his part, perhaps even respect. Now as he sat with these boxes stuffed with paper, he felt silly. He flicked through the papers on the table. The first set of questions was not amongst them. Trying not to panic, he looked in horror at the eight boxes piled with paper he would now have to search. He turned to the younger eunuch, who was sitting on a cushion behind him. He couldn’t make him do the work. He sighed.

As he slid off the chair, and bent over the boxes, the door burst open and Kamran entered. Abimelech turned, crouching to gaze at Kamran as the latter stood over him.

‘You are not going to interview me,’ Kamran said, a smile tickling his lips. The eunuch on the cushion began to write.

Abimelech, hearing the scratching of a qalam, snapped, ‘Do not write this down.’

Kamran took a seat. Even as he relaxed, he dominated the space. Abimelech half-suspected that Kamran could sit with ease wholly unsupported, floating on a raft of his own self-confidence. He gazed around the room. ‘I presume the council is nearby?’

‘There is always somebody close. They have taken, as of late, to having me followed.’

‘You?’

‘I suspect they want to know what you shall say.’

Kamran leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, Mozaffar will say nothing – that I have been told to tell you. You are not worthy of his time.’

Abimelech shrank in his seat. ‘His…?’

‘Or his presence, as I recall.’

‘Ah.’

‘Mass’oud, it appears, is unhappy. He felt eligible, as he is a governor. He also expected you to have been to see him.’

‘Ah,’ Abimelech said again. His face grew warm.

‘You two are friends, then?’ Kamran’s mouth twitched. ‘I was not aware.’

Abimelech dropped his gaze. ‘Hmm.’

‘You’re close with everyone in the family, it seems. Well,’ Kamran permitted himself a chuckle, ‘with the exception of Mozaffar.’

‘Wh-what did he say?’ Abimelech asked, hastily.

Kamran stared at him for a moment. ‘His precise words were, “You may be questioned by a common slave to sanction the theft of my birthright, but I shall refrain from joining this spectacle”.’

‘Do you agree?’

Kamran straightened up. ‘It is not a matter of opinion. This is his birthright; I would be taking it from him.’

‘I would not…characterise it thus.’

‘He is not wrong.

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