Persian Princess Ch 01

Part 1 – Amira and Sadira’s Story

I’ve only wept twice in my two score years. The first time was for my sister, the second for her cat. Both were strange instances, my emotions on edge. I thought our deaths were upon us for sure, both times, but I truly wept for their lives rather than mine. I have seen things, and had seen things, that made my life seem full. Neither of them had seen the same, and even for the feline I had hoped for more. Anahita be with us, we needed more.

Amira, my sister, had been both fortunate and unfortunate in having been selected as the bride of the king. She was not the first wife, nor would she be the last, but she had a place in the kingdom to call her own. The other wives welcomed her into the palace, but each in their own way let her know that she was jealously despised. With her youth she stole the king from them, his attentions focused on his young new spouse instead of the former ones. It was fortunate for them that he did not set them aside, and they resented Amira for their reluctant gratitude.

For those first two years of wedded bliss Amira was granted everything she desired, and the kings attention as well. She had his ear, his purse, and his body. At the peak of her happiness her belly began to swell with child, and I was summoned to the castle to be her maid.

“There is no one I would rather have with me than my sister,” Amira smiled, putting her arms around me.

“I am happy to come,” I said, returning her embrace. Even though her face smiled, however, I felt a burden on her back that I couldn’t place.

Every trick, every ounce of talent was used during the pregnancy. I fed Amira the good herbs that I knew would grow a healthy baby, pampered her, saw that she stayed off of her feet in the last month of her pregnancy. Dahaka’s three heads smiled as Amira struggled to push her child into the world. Nothing I could have done would have saved the life of the baby inside her.

I didn’t weep for my sister as I held her stillborn baby in my arms. Amira, exhausted from the hard labor of childbirth only shook her head when I offered to let her see the child. She was a girl, a small, perfect girl child who would never see the sky. We buried her before Amira could even get out of bed.

Incense burned in my sister’s room to keep her in an optimistic mood. I prayed to Anahita to deliver the baby into the afterlife, to look after the child since Amira and I could not.

“You mustn’t be too unhappy,” I scolded as Amira looked pitifully out of the window. Her body was growing gaunt with the time she was spending in bed, her face pale from the tears she had shed for her child. Her usual glow was gone, and her mouth seemed unusually large on her face. Gently I ran my fingertips along those soft lips, begging silently for her to smile.

“I called her ‘My Angel,’” she said softly, looking at the clear blue sky. “Mitra. Her name was Mitra.”

“You mustn’t worry about it,” I said, moving my face close to Amira’s. I could feel her soft breath as her tears came again. Lovingly I kissed them away from her face, my hands wrapping around her head and pulling her gaze away from the sky. “Come back to earth, Amira. I won’t lose you to the gods just yet. Stay with me, please.”

“Sadira,” she said softly. “The king will be displeased.”

I knew Amira’s words were true, and I could do nothing to sway her fear. Leaning in closer I kissed her lips firmly, delighting in the warmth I felt there. She was still here with me, and would not leave yet. She was strong.

The king was angry indeed, but not angry with Amira. He growled at the gods for taking his child, cursed the midwives and even me. But to Amira he was as tender as ever, the two of them giggling in Amira’s bed together just as before the child was born. It was not long before life had taken seed in Amira’s body once again, and Amira and I both rejoiced as her belly began to swell.

“You look lovely,” I said, admiring her. Truth was the only thing that slipped through my lips, and Amira the only thing I slipped through my arms. We embraced often, the rosy glow in my sister’s dark cheeks putting a smile on my lips every time I laid eyes on her. She was happy again, and together we looked forward to the birth of this baby.

In the palace, the other wives became weary of Amira’s good mood. None were ever rude to her, but whispers were heard when her back was turned. Servants talked, too, and I couldn’t help overhearing the suspicions.

“She is cursed,” they would say. “Life will not take seed in her body.”

Amira’s good cheer diminished as her term neared end, her eyes becoming haunted instead of alight with joy.

“What if they are right, Sadira?” she whimpered. “What if the gods are laughing at me, cursing me, and causing my body nothing but death?”

“You are being foolish, sister,” I scolded. But even as I spoke I saw that she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were drifting outside again, her eyes focusing on the sky instead of the world she belonged to. This was bad for her child, and I told her so.

“Leave me in my peace, Sadira,” Amira whispered. “There is nothing you could do.” And indeed, even my soft caresses would not bring her back down to me. She was too far gone, and the next day we laid a second child into the earth next to her angel.

This time the king did not curse the gods. He did not voice blame to any mortal, either, but only wallowed about in his depression. It was soon forgotten, but so, it seemed, was Amira.

My sister grieved for her lost babe and her husband both, but I still did not cry for her. I gave her the best attention I could, my warm kisses in the night when she cried for a companion; my company in the day when she wandered the palace alone. When the king brought in another wife there was nothing I could do to bring Amira out of her sorrow, and we no longer took our walks at all.

“He doesn’t need me any more,” Amira wept. “Why am I here at all? I should go home, in shame, and suffer the rest of my life there.”

Putting my hands on Amira’s shoulders I shook her violently.

“You must never say such things!” I shouted. “I give you my love, but it is not enough! Stay in your place, stay in your room, die alone and let the Gods have you! I am done.”

“No, Sadira,” she sobbed. “Please don’t leave me. You are all I have. Stay with me, I beg you.”

I could never leave my sister, and she knew. Putting my arms around her I gathered her close, burying my face in her fragrant hair. I loved her more than the sun, the moon, or the many stars in the sky. She was all to me, and she knew. Together we could be happy anywhere. I put my mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, drinking of her essence happily as she melted against me.

“I will stay with you,” I agreed, looking into her red eyes. “I will stay.”

It was over a year before the king came to visit Amira again. Selfishly, I regarded it as one of the happiest years of my life. Amira was all mine, her attention on me at every moment. There was no royal husband to please, only me, and please me she did. When the king’s newest wife became heavy with child, he once again turned to my sister, and jealously I watched as they retired together every evening. The whole palace rejoiced in the upcoming birth, even Amira could not be unhappy. The king was in a good mood with another child on the way. Amira and I joined in the prayers that the baby would be a boy. Although the king had many sons and many daughters, it was another son he desired.

“The king visited me,” Amira said, her voice dreamy. I frowned, jealousy stabbing at my inner mind as she sat down on the couch next to me where I embroidered a pillow. “He is so wonderful, sister. He makes me feel as no other can.”

My hair seemed to bristle at this. Night after night I spent with my sister bringing her to new heights, yet the king who could so heartlessly ignore her for months at a time brought out her affection. Throwing my embroidery down on the floor I walked to the window, staring at the ground below me.

“Maybe I will have a baby this time, Sadira,” Amira whispered. “He would favor me if I bore his child. He would not set me aside again.”

“I would be happy to see you once again treated as a princess,” I whispered. “It is what I want for you. Let us pray to the gods that this has happened.”

And we did.

Every night we prayed to the gods and goddesses in the sky, pleading for Amira to have a child. The king visited a second time, and a third, and one day Amira smiled wide at me.

“I am breeding,” she said, clapping her hands together in excitement. “This will be the time, Sadira! This is my time!”

The wives began their harsh rumors again, and soon the youngest wife was avoiding the rooms that Amira and I frequented.

“She believes that I will bring death,” Amira frowned. “I fear that she is right.”

“This is your time!” I protested, clapping my hands in the happy way Amira had greeted me when she found out she was to give birth again. “This is a happy time, not one to listen to rumors and superstitions.”

“I feel death in my belly, sister, and nothing can bring it back. I am doomed, I fear.”

I thought to bring Amira out of her depression with a gift, and my thoughts nearly drove me mad as to what to get her. Finally I found the perfect present, the perfect thing to make her happy. A small cat, as white as a lily and as gentle as a lamb. Amira smiled at me and opened her arms to the feline, allowing it the closeness to her heart, which I always had dreamed of. Being jealous of a feline seemed silly, and yet I was.

“You should not be jealous,” my sister chided, stroking the white cat that lay on her swelling stomach. “She is only a pet to me, and you a sister.”

“I am not jealous,” I denied, but she knew that I was.

Despite my jealousy of the animal I grew to love her. Her disposition was calm and cool, but her mind worked much like that of a human woman. She sensed when I was unhappy, and would leave her mistress to come comfort me. Amira saw what the animal did and would smile at the two of us.

“My two girls,” she smiled, her mind becoming silly in the last months of her pregnancy. “You are so beautiful together.”

“Your radiance is enough to consume us all,” I countered, smiling widely at my happy sister. She glowed, her dark cheeks rosy, her chestnut eyes aglow with joy. Life was surrounding her, and I thanked Anahita and Mithra for this third chance they had given Amira.

Amira had become calmer, but the palace around us was still boiling with rumors. The king’s newest wife gave birth to a son, and he was delighted, but two days later the boy had died of sickness, and the king was in a foul mood. Whispers were heard that it was Amira’s fault, that she had cursed the boy, and soon the king came to visit.

The walls and my bones both shook with the king’s angry voice, shouts bouncing off the walls for the entire palace to hear.

“If you do not succeed in this,” he screamed, “then I will have you beheaded at the walls, for all of the kingdom to see.”

He left her on the floor, sobbing, her arms wrapped around her nearly full belly.

“Sadira,” she cried. “What am I to do?”

“You mustn’t worry,” I said, putting my fingers across her lips. “You will be okay, I promise you.”

But I was scared. I was scared for my sister, and scared for myself. Sensing our fears, the white cat came to us, her soft head nudging our hands until we were stroking her soft belly. It seemed bigger than usual, and I looked at the feline curiously.

“She is expecting, as well,” I said quietly. Amira looked at the cat, wide eyed.

“We will deliver together,” she said, smiling at me, but her smile was not as sure as it had been lately. She seemed to feign hope, for my sake, and I died a little inside when I saw that smile. I feared that we were both doomed.

One night Amira sat up in her sleep, a scream escaping her lips. Quickly I sat up at her side, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her clenched face to my bosom.

“What is it, Amira?” I asked her softly, cradling her in my arms and rocking her softly.

“Death,” she whispered to me, her voice scratchy. “I saw my baby, a girl, dead from the moment she came to life. I saw myself outside, naked for the entire castle to see. Oh, Sadira, there is no hope for us, is there?”

“Shush,” I cooed, closing my eyes and struggling against my emotions. “You will be fine.” But at that moment I wasn’t sure if either of us would be fine. Against my better judgment, doubt crept into my mind. I doubted that the child would live, and I doubted that anything I could do would save my sister. “Pray with me, Amira,” I pleaded. “Pray to the goddess Anahita that she have mercy on you and we will be saved. Pray to Mithra that he will smile upon us, and all will be well. ”

Together Amira and I bent in prayer, our heads together as we chanted silently to Mithra and his consort Anahita, the god and goddess of fertility to have mercy on us.

When our bodies were so tired we could no longer kneel, we lay and chanted softly to the gods. When our tongues were so weak we could no longer speak, we lay silently, praying in our minds. When our minds were so exhausted we could no longer think, we slept, our bodies intertwined.

When we awoke, business went on as usual. Amira spent the day playing with her cat, amusing the feline who’s belly was also beginning to swell. I thought that the cat’s body did not look half as good as my sisters, who’s stomach was becoming larger and rounder every day. Amira’s breasts had begun to swell with the milk she would soon give to her child, and the cat’s teats too had become larger than usual. My sister and I noticed the cat’s changes and joked with the feline about them. I think the cat enjoyed the attention.

It seemed that the last days of Amira’s pregnancy went smoothly. She still had nightmares, I knew, but none woke her up in the nights anymore. I would hold her shivering body close to mine, relishing the feeling of her warm skin at the same time I felt scared for her. I almost felt two faced, wanting her selfishly and pitying her.

Amira’s pains came suddenly, and I rushed to make her comfortable to prepare for the baby’s arrival. Scared of bad luck, I wouldn’t let any of the maids in the room, choosing to attend to my sister myself. The cat seemed to have disappeared, but I was in too frantic a state to notice. My beloved Amira was to give birth again, and successfully, I promised her.

The king hadn’t even come to Amira’s quarters to ask about the birth. He had received word, no doubt, that his wife was delivering, but he didn’t believe that the baby would live. Someone sat outside the door, waiting for word.

“This is it, Amira,” I said. “Your child will be born today!”

Amira grimaced against her pain and prepared to push the last and final stretch. Slippery with fluids the baby came out of my sister, and gave out one shrill cry, and then the baby died.

Such joy filled my heart with that first cry, that sound of life. Tears of happiness and relief had come to my eyes. And then, when the baby stopped breathing, I couldn’t believe what had happened.

“No!” I whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

Amira took one look at my face and fell back on the pillows. I began to sob softly for my sister, the first time I’d cried for one of her lost children. This was our life, in my arms, this limp child who would never see the sun. I tried everything I could to bring the baby back, but it was no use. We were doomed.

A pounding came on the door.

“I heard the child!” the servant shouted. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

I looked at the baby.

“A girl,” I said, quietly.

“What did you say?” the servant shouted.

“A girl!” I screamed angrily.

“I will tell the king!” the servant said, and I heard footsteps as he ran away.

Quietly, I stared at the silent baby. When the king found out that she was dead, my sister and I would join her.

The silence in the room was broken by a tiny mewl. A high-pitched and yet soft sound that I might not have heard in any other situation. From underneath a chair, I spotted Amira’s white cat, and a tiny white, slippery kitten next to her.

“Amira,” I said softly. “Your cat is a mother.”

My sister’s eyes opened weakly. They searched around the room for the chair, and stopped when the found the tiny white kitten next to the larger white cat.

“She’s beautiful,” Amira whispered. “Let’s call her Shahdi.” And then Amira fell asleep.

The baby forgotten, I crawled like I child to the feline on the floor.

“Sweet Shahdi,” I cooed, looking at the mother cat licking its only child. “What a beautiful baby.” And indeed it was. White like its mother, the fur as fine as silk. Her tiny pink nose and pink feet seemed as perfect as any features could be. Shahdi would be a beautiful cat.

A soft knock on the door startled me, and I jumped up.

“Amira!” I heard the king’s voice say. “Let me in!”

I rushed to the door and opened it, slipping outside.

“Your Highness,” I said, bowing my head before the king. “Your wife sleeps, her child as well.”

“I have been told that it is a girl,” the king’s deep voice seemed to reverberate through my bones. I suppressed a shudder.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I said, not lying but not telling the king that the child was dead. Gears in my head were shifting, and a faint voice at the back of my mind told me that there were ways around the king finding out that his child had died. A lie that could save our lives was worth telling, especially since no worse could happen than what he would do if he knew the truth. Our lives might yet be saved.

“What does she look like,” the king asked.

The picture that popped into my head was not that of the baby my sister had delivered, but that of the kitten that her cat had birthed.

“Fair, Your Highness. Hair as pale as snow, skin as pink as a rose. She is beautiful and perfect.”

“Good,” the king said, his eyes seeming to drift. “I leave my wife and the child in your care.” And with that he turned and left.

I could hardly believe our luck. The child being a girl, and the king already having so many children, he was not interested in seeing the baby. Closing the heavy door behind me, I knelt next to Amira.

“My love,” I whispered to her. “We have been spared.” Bending down, I put my arms over her shoulders and rested my face against her neck. Softly caressing with my lips I held her tight until I, too, slept peacefully.

When Amira and I woke, we quickly set to hiding the evidence of the baby’s death. The small body was laid to rest in the gardens, as deep as the two of us could manage.

“I will give her a proper funeral when we are safe,” Amira whispered. I nodded and hung my head in prayer as we stood next to the tiny grave.

Next we asked the king for permission to leave the palace. He granted it, and together Amira and I, and the feline and her babe, moved to a house outside of the palace, in a place the king rarely visited.

The kitten grew quickly, and Amira and I treated her as if she were a princess. We gave her the best of everything, spoiling her, and she grew into a most regal animal. She played, but her play seemed reserved, as if she were saving her dignity and forcing herself to be more refined. She acted as though she were a princess with manners and airs that no one could learn; they were bred into a human, and yet the cat used them naturally as well.

Shahdi was a pleasure for Amira and I, and over time I felt that Amira thought of the cat as a daughter.

Everything was wonderful, until the king sent a message to us.

“I have offered my daughter Shahdi in marriage to the prince Darius,” the message read. “He will come to meet his bride.”

“Sadira,” Amira whimpered. “What are we to do?”

I gathered my sister into her arms, holding her shaking body against my own.