Read Online Equal of the Sun by Anita Amirrezvani - Free Book Online

which groaned as if being tortured.
    “Haydar Shah, open up and let us in!” a man yelled from outside. “We are your friends.”
    Ignoring the usual palace decorum, I ran through the courtyard and all the checkpoints until I was back in the harem. Just as I reached a large plane tree, the ground trembled so sharply I suspected an earthquake, but then I realized it was the pounding of horse’s hooves. I halted abruptly, feeling like an ant caught between a man’s thumb and forefinger.
    My heart beat faster as the tall wooden door that led from the harem to the Promenade of the Royal Stallions creaked open. Soldiers streamed into the gardens, brandishing their swords while shouting Isma‘il’s name and trampling the red rosebushes near the walkways. The unprecedented sight of men in the women’s space, which had never been violated by outsiders, shook me to my core.
    Shamkhal rode toward me on a black Arabian steed and pulled on the reins.
    “Where is Haydar?” he shouted.
    “Probably in his mother’s quarters. It is the building with the two cypress trees in front.”
    I pointed the way.
    Shamkhal directed his men to ride toward the gate to the birooni and hold off Haydar’s supporters if they tried to enter the harem. Then he spurred his horse in the direction of Sultan-Zadeh’s home. One of his captains, Kholafa Rumlu, whose costly helmet inscribed with protective verses from the Qur’an gave away his high rank, spotted something in the distance and shouted, “Who are you?”
    I caught a glimpse of three women in chadors, their faces hidden by pichehs, concealed among tall flowering bushes. The tallest among them was wearing pink silk shoes.
    “Calm down; we’re just going to buy bread,” one of them called to him in a lilting voice. “The kitchens are empty, and our children have nothing to eat.”
    “Shamkhal Cherkes, come back!” Kholafa yelled. Shamkhal turned his horse around and rode with Kholafa and a few soldiers toward the women. The women clung to one another, looking like frightened gazelles trapped by a circle of hunters.
    “Remove your pichehs!” bellowed Shamkhal.
    A woman wrapped in a black chador protected the others by spreading out her arms and corralling them behind her, causing the one in pink shoes to stumble.
    “It is not your place to demand such a thing!” the woman in the black chador replied bravely.
    “If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear,” replied Kholafa. He tore off the woman’s chador, picheh, and the kerchief covering her head, and she screamed as her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto her breast. It was Awva, one of the ladies in charge of the kitchens. I gasped, horrified to witness such a transgression.
    Another of the women came forward, volunteering herself, and the captain uncloaked her. She, too, cried out as the men stared at her naked face and unusual red hair, feasting on the spectacle of her. I didn’t recognize her.
    “Who are you?” demanded Shamkhal.
    “We serve the ladies of the royal court,” replied Awva haughtily, refusing to identify herself any further.
    She and her friend crushed the third woman between them whilefacing out toward the soldiers, locking their arms backward around each other’s midsections to protect her. I thought about standing up to defend her, but a suspicion had entered my mind, and I decided against taking action.
    “You will throw dishonor on the Safavi house if you insist on revealing her,” cried Awva. “The penalty will be your lives!”
    Kholafa waved his hand as if to give up. “Let them go,” he said scornfully. “They are only women.”
    “Let her prove it then!” shouted Shamkhal, his eyes fiery.
    “You have lost your senses. Do you want to get us killed?” Kholafa replied.
    I heard clubs striking wood and realized that Haydar’s men were challenging the barricades and the guards at the checkpoint from the birooni. By God above! We could all be killed in a matter of