Saam’s prediction proved correct.
The very next day, ghulams confined in huts near the northern gate rose in revolt.
Unable to endure the constant uprisings any longer, Marzban Saam requested an audience with Queen Tahmineh and pleaded with her at length, urging immediate measures to improve the situation.
“There is no other course left to us. Your Majesty, free every ghulam within the city and make them azat. Give them wages and arms. Otherwise, even these impregnable walls will become nothing more than an image on a canvas.”
The queen furrowed her fine brows in bewilderment. “I understand what you are saying, Sir Saam. But the hierarchy of wispuhran, wuzurgan,[1] azadan, azat, and ghulam is the cornerstone of Parsian society. If we undermine the very foundation of the kingdom for the sake of temporary stability, how could I answer to His Majesty when he returns?”
Saam sighed at the queen’s stubbornness. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, that very foundation now threatens the royal capital itself. Who would fight for a country while bound in chains? The enemy surrounding this city promises the ghulams what we cannot give them. Such promises are not to be trusted, of course, but when people see no hope in their present lives, it is only natural for them to want to believe.”
“I understand. I will consider it.”
The queen offered nothing more definite than that, and Saam had no choice but to withdraw.
After that, the situation only worsened.
The minstrel Giv, given a room in the royal palace, treated war and chaos as if they were none of his concern. He lived in ease, indulging in fine food and long sleep, until one night when he was summoned by the framadar Husrav to his office.
The chancellor, thin as a pauper from what he called a weak stomach, put on an ingratiating smile. “So, I hear you’re not only skilled with the bow, but also said to be sharp of mind. Is that true?”
“I’ve been told that since I was a child.” Giv accepted the compliment unabashedly.
At a loss for words, Framadar Husrav let his gaze drift toward the intricate mural on the wall. Then, as if remembering himself, he offered Giv a chair. Sensing he held the upper hand, the young minstrel sat down without hesitation.
“I have a matter to discuss with you. It requires your intelligence. Would you be willing to do something for me?”
Giv did not answer immediately. He kept his eyes fixed on the minister’s face while quietly taking in the surroundings. He felt the metallic presence of swords and armor. If he refused, he would likely face more than one fully armed knight. And he was currently unarmed. If necessary, he could use the framadar as a shield, but the frail official looked quicker than expected.
“Well? Will you accept?”
“Let me see… if there’s a legitimate reason, proper compensation, and a reasonable chance of success, then I would be willing to accept.”
“The reason is the survival of the Kingdom of Pars. Nothing more, nothing less. And you will be well compensated.”
“If Your Excellency says so, then I shall do my best.”
Husrav nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Queen Tahmineh will be pleased as well.”
“Her Majesty?!”
“I did not call you here on my own authority. It was by the Queen’s will. She places her trust in you.”
“I am in awe that Her Majesty would trust a wandering minstrel like me.” New chapters come out on g.com first.
Both men were insincere in their own way. Only a fool believed the flattery of those in power.
“In short, Giv,” the framadar went on, “we want you to take Her Majesty out of the city through a secret passage and bring her to a safe place.”
“The Queen is leaving the capital?”
“Yes.”
“A royal capital is called such because it has a king and a queen. Without either, Ecbatana no longer deserves the designation.”
The mockery, wrapped in his resonant, beautiful voice, went unnoticed by the framadar.
“If the Queen were to escape the city and join His Majesty the Shah in safety, thereby demonstrating that the royal authority of Pars still stands, then loyal soldiers and citizens would gather around them. There is no need to cling to Ecbatana.”
Very convenient thing to say, Giv thought.
“There are a million citizens inside Ecbatana. What becomes of them?”
Giv’s question soured the framadar’s mood. It was no longer mockery but an accusation.
“That is none of your concern. What matters is protecting the royal family. We cannot afford to take every commoner into account.”
There we go. This is exactly why decent people have no choice but to protect themselves. People like me.
The framadar possessed no supernatural ability to read minds. He did not hear Giv’s inner thoughts.
The reason he had served as framadar of Pars for sixteen years without trouble was simple. He knew how to sense the will of Shah Andragoras and carry it out without ever incurring his displeasure, deftly managing affairs of both court and state.
Everything was decided by Andragoras. Husrav only had to execute what the shah ordered. He had certainly enriched himself at times, but no more than many nobles and priests. It was only natural for officials to use their position, just as it was natural for the people to serve those in power. There was no reason for a lowly wandering minstrel like Giv to lecture him.
A hundred dinars were handed over to Giv, and he accepted them with an outward show of respect. There was no need to refuse what was offered.
Giv walked through the long, underground water channel leading outside the city.
The passage was reinforced with stone and brick, with torches installed at intervals along the walls. The flowing water reached about halfway up his shins. Giv and the woman in a black veil whom he was guiding had already been walking through the dark passage for about an hour.
He had been told by the framadar that this underground waterway was used as an escape route for the royal family in times of emergency. It was always the same everywhere. Escape routes were prepared exclusively for royalty and high-ranking officials, and the common people were not allowed to use them. They weren’t even told of their existence. While the masses were slaughtered outside, forming walls of corpses, the king and his family slipped away to safety. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? If there was no kingdom, it was the king who would suffer, not the people.
“He really thinks little of me,” Giv said, mocking both himself and the framadar.
There was no way the queen, without even a single retainer or maid, would entrust her fate to a wandering minstrel. That kind of story belonged only in the fantasies of bards. This story is hosted at novelping . com.
“You must be tired. Do you want to rest a little?”
The woman in the black veil silently shook her head. Perhaps she lacked confidence in her disguise.
“You should take it easy. Pretending to be the Queen must be exhausting.”
The long silence was broken by a resigned-sounding voice. It clearly did not belong to the queen.
“How did you know?”
“Your smell.” Giv smiled and tapped the tip of his well-shaped nose. “You and Her Majesty don’t smell the same. Not even if you wear the same perfume.”
“…”
“You’re the stand-in. While you play the Queen, the real one escapes. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
The woman said nothing.
“That’s how people of high station are,” Giv went on. “They believe others exist to serve them. They think it’s normal for others to sacrifice themselves for their sake. They don’t even feel grateful. Must be nice.”
“You will not insult Her Majesty.”
“Oh, really?”
“Whatever the Queen or the framadar thinks, I only follow my orders and fulfill my duty.”
“That’s what they call slave mentality,” Giv said cruelly. “People like you let the highborn run wild. You make them comfortable, and in the end, it’s your own kind who suffer for it. I want no part in that kind of charade.”
“Then you refuse to take me any further?”
“Well, I agreed to escort the Queen, not a palace maid dressed as her. If I quit here, no one can blame me for it.”
Giv leaned back sharply, dodging a slash from the court lady’s dagger. He dodged the second strike just as easily and smiled faintly.
“Hey, stop it. I may be a disloyal man, but I don’t swing my sword at beautiful women.”
His smile vanished in an instant. At the same moment as the second slash, the woman drove her knee hard into his groin.
“Ugh!”
While Giv could not even manage his usual sarcasm, the court lady splashed through the water and ran off. She intended to return to the royal palace and explain everything. Giv tried to tell her she was going the wrong way, but no sound came out.
After running for a while, she lost her sense of direction and came to a stop under the dim light of a torch. Then she screamed, because she saw a strange figure standing very close by.
1. Parsian term for the nobility. From Middle Persian wuzurgān (the great ones), the hereditary high nobility of the Sasanian Empire. ↩