Samarkand pdfdrive com

CHAPTER 21
What a strange dilemma for Terken’s followers: their Sultana was dead, but their
principal adversary was at their mercy; their capital was surrounded but the very
person laying the siege was now their prisoner. What should they do with him?
Jahan had taken over Terken’s place as guardian of the child-Sultan, and it was
to her that the discussion was brought so that she might settle it. Until then she
had shown herself to be extremely resourceful, but her mistress’s death had
shaken the ground under her feet. To whom could she turn, whom could she
consult if not Omar!
Omar arrived to find her seated on Terken’s divan at the foot of the drawn
curtain with her head lowered and her tresses spread carelessly over her
shoulders. The Sultan was next to her, dressed all in silk with a turban on his
little head. He was sitting on his cushion; his face was red and spotty, and his
eyes half-closed. He looked bored.
Omar went up to Jahan. He took her hand tenderly, stroked her face with his
palm and whispered:
‘I have just been told about Terken Khatun. You have done well to call me to
your side.’
When he caressed her hair, Jahan pushed him away.
‘If I have summoned you, it is not so that you can console me, but to consult
you on a serious matter.’
Omar took a step backwards, crossed his arms and listened.
‘Barkiyaruk had been caught in a trap and is a prisoner in the palace. The
men are divided over the fate that should be meted out to him. Some demand his
death, notably those who set the trap. They want to be certain of never having to

---

answer to him for their actions. Others prefer to come to an understanding with
him, place him on the throne and win his favours hoping that he will forget his
misadventure. Still others have suggested keeping him hostage in order to
negotiate with the besiegers. Which path do you advise me to follow?’
‘You snatched me away from my books to ask me that?’
Jahan stood up. She was furious.
‘Does the matter not appear sufficiently serious? My life depends on it. The
fate of thousands of people, this city and this empire may depend on your
decision. Yet you, Omar Khayyam, you do not wish to be disturbed for such a
trifle!’
He went towards the door, and just as he was about to open it he came back
over to Jahan.
‘I am consulted after the crime has been committed. What do you want me to
tell your friends now? If I counsel them to release the youth, how could I
guarantee that he will not wish to slit their throats tomorrow? If I counsel them
to keep him as a hostage, or to kill him, I become their accomplice. Leave me
out of these quarrels, Jahan, and you too should leave yourself out.’
He looked at her with compassion.
‘One son of a Turkish Sultan replaces another son, a Vizir dismisses a Vizir.
By God, Jahan, how can you spend the best years of your life in this cage of wild
animals? Let them rip each other’s throats out, kill and die. Will the sun be any
less bright or wine any less smooth?’
‘Lower your voice, Omar. You are frightening the child. And we can be
overheard in the adjoining rooms.’
Omar persevered:
‘Did you not call me to ask my opinion? Well I shall not beat around the
bush: leave this room, abandon this palace, do not look back, do not say
goodbye, do not even collect your belongings. Come, give me your hand and let
us go home. You will compose your poems and I shall observe my stars. Every
evening you will come and curl up naked next to me. Wine with the aroma of
musk will make us sing and the world will cease to exist for us. We shall cross it
without seeing or hearing it. Neither its mud nor its blood will cleave to the soles
of our feet.’
Jahan’s eyes were misty.
‘If I could return to that age of innocence, do you think that I would hesitate?
However, it is too late, I have gone too far. If Nizam al-Mulk’s men take Isfahan
tomorrow they will not spare me. I am on their list of outlaws.’

---

‘I was Nizam’s best friend and I shall protect you. They will not come into
my house to make off with my wife.’
‘Open your eyes, Omar. You do not know these men. They think only of
vengeance. Yesterday they rebuked you for having saved Hassan Sabbah’s head.
Tomorrow they will reproach you for having hidden Jahan and they will kill you
at the same time as me.’
‘So we will stay together at home, and if my fate is to die with you, I will
resign myself to it.’
She straightened herself up.
‘I will not resign myself! I am here in this palace, surrounded by troops who
are faithful to me, in a city which is now mine and I shall fight to the end. If I
die, it will be as a Sultana.’
‘And how do Sultana’s die? Poisoned, smothered, strangled! Or in childbirth!
Pomp will not help you to escape human misery.’
They looked at each in silence for a long while. Jahan drew close to Omar
and placed on his lips a kiss which she wanted to be impassioned and sank into
his arms, but he pushed her aside, not able to bear farewells. He begged her one
last time:
‘If you still attach the least value to our love, come with me, Jahan. The table
is laid on the terrace, a light wind from the Yellow Mountains will blow over us
and within two hours we will be drunk and we will go to lie down. I shall tell the
servants not to wake us until Isfahan changes master.’

---