**2nd Edition Author's Note: Persian Love Song was originally published 11/19/08. Due to a change in 's formatting, the original spacing was deleted, creating a lack of cohesion that I found particularly annoying. So I took it down, added the space bars, and put 'er back up. Happy Reading!**
Persian Love Song
*Original Author's Note: All the names mentioned here (with the exception of Griddlebone and Growltiger, of course!) are authentic Thai and Persian names. Not that it has any bearing on the story, but just in case you were interested...*
"Sing me a pretty little tune," commanded the drunken cat. I nodded and forced a smile, making my eyes shine with a sense of attraction that I did not feel, "What shall I sing?"
"A love song."
I smiled, "I only know one that my mother taught me."
The cat nodded, "That'll do."
I smiled softly and began my song:
"For once upon the highest mountain, I did sit alone
When across the desert plain I saw a stranger, all burdened with his wares
At once my heart flew to his hands, and never more did roam…"
All my life I had heard tales of the infamous Growltiger—how he terrorized the shoreline, murdering my kind for a crime they did not commit. I was a foreigner in the land of England, and for that I was looked down upon by this pirate. It was said that a Siamese had taken Growltiger's eye and ear in a bar fight; for this Growltiger swore everlasting contempt for all cats of foreign race. I belonged to the Cattite Tribe, which were Himalayans—a cross between Persians and Siamese, to be exact—and so we bore the brunt of Growltiger's rage.
I remember being very young, and hearing the bells toll in the village square, signaling that Growltiger was on the loose again—his boat had been spotted snaking its way up the shoreline to port. The humans always assumed it was just the church cat playing with the bell-rope; but it was a much more ominous matter. My mother would look around frantically, calling out her children's names "Narges! Bijan, Arash! Kismet! Asho, Neema! Manoush—come quickly, Manoush!"
Manoush was what they called me then. Now they call me Griddlebone.
I was entering my second year when an embassy from the Siamese Clan appeared at our palace, which was actually the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse—nothing like the palaces of old, Mother always said, but still a safe place for our people.
They were marked like us, with dark points on their faces, tails, and legs, but their fur was sleeker, their faces resembled wedges and they seemed to have this certain gleam in their eye. I do not know how to explain it—they seemed very crafty or clever—not smarter than us, but more capable of doing evil. And it was evil that they were planning.
"Oh, gracious Sardar," the head Siamese bowed low before our Chief. Sardar looked down on them with affected disinterest. His mate Darice beheld our guests with a look of mild amusement. She always found the Siamese to be pretentious and odd looking little creatures. Siyamak, the eldest son of Darice and Sadar, stepped forward, "What is it that you want, stranger?"
"I am Niran of the Tribe of Sirikitten," the stranger bowed once more. He motioned to the three toms behind him, "And these are Kiet, Kovit, and Pricha, members of my tribe."
"You still have not stated your business," growled Siyamak. He was the Protector of our tribe; he did not care for outsiders.
Niran forced a smile, turning his attention back to Sardar, "As you know, Growltiger has led a vendetta against our kind for years—"
"Because your kind doesn't know how to fight fair," Tahmores, Siyamak's brother, spoke up. Niran shot him a warning look. The three other Siamese toms bristled at the accusation.
"Please," Sardar said sternly, holding up his paw. "Let our visitors speak in peace."
Niran nodded graciously at this and continued his tale, "For years we have lived in fear of the pirate Growltiger. However, that time has come to an end. We propose to kill him."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Sardar sat back, an amused smile on his dark features, "You are welcome to try, Niran. Many cats have tried before, and all have failed."
"Yes," smiled Niran. "But they did not know Growltiger's weakness."
He paused for dramatic effect. "Queens."
There was another murmur through the crowd. My mother turned her blue eyes questioningly to my father, "Ariabod, what does he mean?"
My father spoke quietly, so that he did not interrupt the other speakers, "He wants to set a trap for Growltiger. Set it with a queen."
"Then why do they need…" My mother's voice trailed off. Suddenly she knew why.
Sardar sat up, his face set in anger, "Niran, we will not offer our queens up like sacrifices to this depraved cat. Why don't you use your own?"
"We have tried," Niran admitted, his head drooping in sorrow. Tahmores leaned forward, "And?"
"She was murdered."
Gasps of surprise and anger ran through the crowd like wildfire. Meghdad, one of the elders, roared to his feet, "Why should we willingly send one of our queens to her death? What purpose would that serve, Siamese?"
"You are not like us," replied Niran. "You have queens of different shades, some of whom could pass for another breed." He looked dead at me, "Like her."
My mother gasped in horror at this. I looked down at my chest. True, I was a light crème, without the dark points. I could pass for a full-bred Persian, which was still a foreign race—and thereby worthy of Growltiger's hatred.
Siyamak mentioned this, "She still looks Persian—you cannot change that."
"We wouldn't have to," Niran replied. "As long as she seems removed from the Siamese Clan, she will be safe. The only reason Growltiger murdered our queen was because he knew she had connections to our tribe."
Niran looked hopefully at me, "We must try. How long will we live like this—fearing for the lives of ourselves and our kittens, hiding in abandoned buildings and crouching in fear every time a ship pulls in to port?"
Sardar was thoughtful. Darice looked at her mate, concern and dismay written across her beautiful features. She lightly set a paw on Sardar's shoulder, "We cannot do this. It is not right."
Sardar nodded, "My Queen speaks the truth. We cannot willingly allow our queens to be paraded past Growltiger, only to end up murdered by this tyrannical cat. Niran, the Cattites cannot accept your proposal."
Niran gave a small bow, a mixture of disgust and hatred on his face, "As you wish, Sardar."
With that, the four strangers slinked out of the Cattite grounds. Before they left, they cast one last hopeful glance at me.
"What strange cats!" My eldest sister, Narges, remarked as she began to wash her paws. Her head bobbed rhythmically as she licked her paw, wiped her face, licked her paw, wiped her face. Narges was from my parents first litter—a whole year older than me. She was darker, with golden eyes and the most beautiful face I had ever seen. I always wished I could look like her.
Kismet, her littermate, snickered in agreement, "They're so thin! I think even Neema could snap them in two!"
Neema was my littermate. She was the runt. My mother sat down beside my two older sisters, joining in the bathing ritual, "Hush. They are still noble cats. Their hearts are in the right place; they just aren't using their heads."
"Siamese never do," my father replied gruffly. He looked to Sardar, "Brother, what do you really think they were here for? Surely that was just a pretense."
Sardar was thoughtful, "I do not know, Ariabod. Perhaps they were telling the truth."
"Surely they aren't that desperate," Darice commented.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," came the smooth reply from Madhis, another crème colored queen. She was even lighter than I was, with light red markings. She jumped from her perch, landing lightly on her feet, "Perhaps we should not have turned them away so quickly."
Madhis had as voice like silken water—smooth and low, rippling with the cadence of our mother tongue. My mother shrugged, "Perhaps you are willing to face the plank and the inevitably watery death that follows, but not I! I have two litters of kits to feed, and daughters to provide mates for!"
"Ah, Niloufer," Madhis smiled at my mother. "Always thinking of your family. How selfless of you."
My mother bristled at this, "What are you implying, Madhis?"
"Perhaps we should spend less time thinking about ourselves and more time thinking about the greater good," Madhis replied. Siyamak looked at her disdainfully, "Did you not hear the Siamese? Growltiger killed the last decoy!"
"Because he knew she was a decoy," Madhis reminded him. She sat down daintily, fluffing the long fur around her collar, "I am not stupid—yes, there is a chance that he might kill me, but there is also a chance that he will not. Isn't it worth the risk?"
"No," replied my mother.
"Yes," replied Parisa, the daughter of Darice and Sardar. She had been quiet this whole time, deep in thought. She was oddly colored as well—her points were bluish-grey rather than brown. Her sister Farsiris spoke up, "I think it is worth a try. I will be giving birth soon; I would love for my kits to grow up in a world that did not possess the fear of that mongrel pirate cat."
A few others nodded in agreement—especially Narges, who had just chosen a mate last spring. Kismet had a mate and a kit; she nodded vehemently as well. My mother could not help but agree.
My elder brother, Bijan, looked around, "Yes, but who would go?"
"I will," I stepped forward boldly. My mother gave a cry of despair, "No, Manoush!"
She rushed over to me, grabbing me with both paws and turning me to face her squarely, "You are too young, Manoush; it is too dangerous! Too many things can go wrong."
I looked up at her—my beautiful devoted mother—and forced a hopeful smile, "But too many things could go right, too."
She sighed and shook her head. She knew there was no swaying me.
"What's your name, Pretty One?" The tom asked, a sloppy smile on his drunken face.
"Griddlebone," I replied. He nodded, murmuring the name to himself, "Griddlebone, Griddlebone. How very…Jellicle."
I nodded, unsure of what to say. He turned his bleary eye back to me, "Very smart of your parents, giving you a name like that. Would hate to see you mistaken for a foreigner."
I felt my heart rise to my throat. Had I been caught in this deadly game? Was I the cat or the mouse?
"Why don't we continue this conversation on my boat?" The cat said thickly. He had been drinking steadily all evening; his sense of tact had dissolved with his motor skills.
I forced a smile, inwardly repulsed by the idea, "You have your own boat?"
"Of course I do!" He replied passionately. "You can't be the Terror of the Thames if you haven't got a boat!"
My father tried to stop me—he begged and he pleaded, then he roared and stomped his paws, then he forbade me, then he implored Sardar to forbid me—but all of this did not sway me. My mind was made up.
Perhaps I should explain something about my family. As I'm sure you've noticed by now, my father, Ariabod, and Sardar were brothers. They came to this land from the far reaches of Asia, our distant homeland. Their father founded the palace and made it a haven for all of our kind. Sardar took over when my grandfather went to the Sarmad (the Jellicles call it Heaviside Layer, I believe). My father became his second in command. They became known throughout the land for their valor. Darice, Sardar's mate, was a direct descendant of the royal cats of Burma, she carried herself with unusual grace and beauty. My mother, Niloufer, could trace her roots back to Egypt—she stood proudly beside my father, as beautiful and defiant as the morning sun. Sardar's eldest son, Siyamak, became our Protector; he was renowned for his honesty and compassionate nature. He chose Nastaran, the princess of a neighboring tribe, as his mate. She was beautiful—the exotic dusky blue of the Persian ran through her coat, her eyes were yellow like the newborn moon, and her smile was like a blooming rose. Everyone was touched by her beauty. She too, was well known—not only for her beauty, but for her intelligence. My parents' first litter—Narges, Kismet, Bijan and Arash—were cats all famous for their wit, agility, grace, and beauty. The second litter—Asho, Neema, and myself—were beginning to follow in their pawprints. My family had developed, over the centuries, a line of warriors and great thinkers, great cats of valor and even greater leaders. We were known for our courage and our inability to accept defeat.
How could I not accept this challenge? Could I defile the long and courageous history set down by my ancestors? Could I remain silent, hidden in the shadows, when my people needed me? Could I sit idly by, whilst Cattites died under the oppressive hand of Growltiger?
The answer was a resounding NO.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Narges whispered. I turned to her, an amused smile playing on my lips, "You didn't have to come."
"Of course I did," Narges brow furrowed in concern. "I couldn't let you go to the Sirikitten alone. Everyone knows the Siamese don't play fair!"
I shrugged—what she had said was true. I crouched down at the sound of a passing automobile. We both stopped, frozen in fear. The roaring beast passed by; we straightened up and continued our journey.
Surprisingly, the Siamese were not shocked to see us. I instantly recognized Niran, seated beside an older cat. Niran did not bother to move, "Ah, little one, you have come to accept my offer."
"I am not little," I replied smoothly, my nose rising haughtily into the air. "And perhaps I will accept your proposal, once I hear all the details."
There were four queens sitting beside him; they all blanched at my reply. One who wore a sapphire collar spoke, her voice as gentle as the whisper of a breeze through lilac trees, "Niran, surely you are not—"
"Phailin," Niran said sharply, never even deigning to look in her direction. She quickly bowed her head in submission. Narges wrinkled her pretty nose in disdain at this, muttering to herself, "A Persian would never treat a queen so dishonorably."
If Niran heard this, he chose to ignore it. He motioned to me, "Come…I do not know your name."
"Manoush," I replied, leaping onto the box beside him. I nodded to my sister, "And this is Narges."
"Narges the Cattite," Niran turned to my sister with renewed interest. "I have heard many things about you."
"I'm sure you have," Narges smirked, her gold eyes watching him in disdain. She could not keep her pretty lip from curling in distaste—she hated the Siamese on principle, for they were infamous breakers of oaths, which was a disgrace to the Cattites. Niran turned back to me, obviously hurt by her snide brush-off, "Now, Manoush, here is what you must do: you must catch the attention of Growltiger. Get him to take you back to the boat, and keep him distracted so that we may attack."
I nodded. So far this seemed easy. "What else?"
"That is it," Narin smiled, but it was a false smile—the type you would see on a man dealing cards in the street. Phailin sat up; this time she would not be silenced, "You mustn't go, Persian. You will surely die—Growltiger killed my sister—"
"Prasert was a fool," Narin growled over his shoulder. Phailin stepped forward boldly, "No, she wasn't; she was a sweet girl! And that Growltiger took her to the boat and—"
Her voice caught, she turned away and hid her eyes with a small dark paw. Another female wrapped her tail comfortingly around Phailin, continuing the tale, "That monster—for he is nothing else!—slit her throat. Then he tossed her overboard."
The second queen turned to Narges, "Is that what you wish for your baby sister? To die before her time? To be tossed overboard, like fish guts?"
"ENOUGH!" Narin lashed out at her, striking with his paw. But she ducked the blow, her face filled with righteous fury, "It is the truth, Narin, and you know it! How dare you! How could you send this kitten to her death? You are no better than he is!"
"Silence," came another voice. This was the older cat seated atop the pile of rubbish. "Sakda speaks."
The old cat stood and gingerly made his way to me, his blue eyes now rheumy with age. In a voice as solemn as thunder, he said, "Child, what Ratana and Phalin says is true. More than likely, Growltiger will kill you. Do you understand this?"
"Yes," I nodded.
He took a moment to study my face before adding, "Do you still choose to accept the challenge?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation. From the corner of my eye, I saw Phailin and Ratana sink down in despair.
Sakda nodded slowly, "So it is."
He turned away. Narin looked at me with a renewed sense of admiration. Narges just looked heavenward, shaking her head, "Oh, Bast, do not abandon your foolish child now."
"Oh, Bast," Growltiger swore as he attempted to navigate the rocking boarding plank. I followed close behind, trying to keep him from falling overboard. He safely reached the deck, turning to me with a gentle smile, "Now, where were we?"
"You were telling me about your raid on the Pekingese." I supplied helpfully, although I would rather have plucked my own eyes out than listen to this cat's pompous tales.
"Ah, yes, the Pekingese," he smiled at the memory. How could anyone be so proud of the terror and destruction he caused?
Pricha, who was the clever mastermind behind this whole charade, quickly trained me for my inevitable meeting with the Terror of the Thames. He taught me how to speak, losing my distinctly Persian accent-he even changed my name.
"Manoush," he shook his head. "No way. Too foreign. He'll pick up on that in a second, even if he is snockered. We need something more… Jelliclle. Like… Griddlebone."
"Griddlebone?" I looked at him in disbelief. "That is the ugliest name I have ever heard."
"Yeah, well, welcome to the West," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Besides, it'll only be for one night—one week, tops. Now, Grid, back to that horrendous accent of yours."
"My," I said, my eyes wide with wonder. "How brave you are!"
This was exactly what Growltiger wanted to hear. He shrugged, "It's all in a day's work."
He turned back to me, his one eyes filled with a tender hopefulness that caught me by surprise, "Perhaps we could sing a duet?"
"A duet?" My heart skipped a beat. I did not know any duets.
"Yes," Growltiger sat back dreamily. "An Italian duet."
"But I do not know any duets," I replied. He smiled gently at me, "Then I will teach you."
The night had finally come. The bells rang out across the shore, signaling the dark pirate's return. Phailin and Ratana trimmed my fur, spritzing perfume on me and attaching a breathtaking collar of jade and gold around my neck.
"Bast protect thee," Phailin whispered through her tears. During the past few weeks, I had come to think of the two queens as sisters. My own family was back at the Cattite Palace, anxiously awaiting the news of my success—or failure. I took a deep breath. I could not let them down.
I made my way to the pub—the one that Growltiger always visited when he came to shore—and prepared myself for the night of my life.
"Got it?"
I nodded, "I think so."
Growltiger gave a curt nod of approval. He hummed a little tune to warm up his vocal chords. Then he began the song.
He had the most beautiful voice I had ever heard.
I entered the pub and made my way back to the bar. I was the barmaid there; I had gotten the job a few weeks earlier—all part of Pricha's well-oiled plan.
Growltiger arrived shortly afterwards, his raffish crew in tow. They sat at the bar, laughing riotously and occasionally engaging in a fight or two. I looked around helplessly. How could I get his attention?
I could see Kiet's anxious face peering in the window. He was careful not to be seen by Growltiger-in fact, Kiet was probably the only foreigner on the street. Everyone else had been hidden for hours now, awaiting the second toll of the bell which signaled "All Clear".
I gave a soft smile. Kiet nodded, silently affirming his faith in me. He knew I could do this. That was all I needed. I waited until most of the crew had drifted off—either with companions or to other pubs. I smiled sweetly at the pirate, handing him another glass, "It's on the house."
He looked up at me, his one eye wide with surprise. He lifted the glass in salutation, "Thank you."
I smiled warmly at him as he downed the drink, silently hoping that he was drunk enough to fall for this perfectly laid trap.
Growltiger threw back his head, completely lost in the melody. It was in Italian; I had no idea what he was saying, but I could feel the emotion in his voice. I stared at this ugly, beaten up tomcat, with his baggy coat and his forbidding eye. He was not the monster I had imagined. Somehow, in that moment, in his most vulnerable state, he seemed almost beautiful.
That was when I saw the gleam of Narin's sword creep slowly over the boat.
I stared at the oncoming Siamese in horror. Then I realized it had grown silent. Pricha motioned for me to return my attention to Growltiger. I quickly looked at him, realizing that I had missed my cue to sing. I cleared my throat and nervously began my line:
"Oscillare in silenzio nel vento profumato…
Dalla marea del naviglio serenamente cullato"
Growltiger smiled softly and joined in:
"In quella tepida notte
In quella tepida notte
In quella tepida notte…"
The moonlight shone so brightly on the sea; I could see the outlines of sampans and junks surrounding the barge. And suddenly I was filled with regret. Growltiger was not a monster, although he was no saint. He had seen something in me that he had not experienced in a long time—kindness. And he had trusted that kindness to be true, not the charade that I had presented. He brought me to his boat, his world, and he sang to me. He showed his true self in the balmy moonlight, and what had I done?
I had led him to his death.
Once Niran and Gilbert attacked with their horde of Siamese, I quickly disappeared. Kiet had grabbed me, hissing, "Run, before it gets too dangerous! Go back to your people, Manoush, and do not come out until we return!"
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. I reached the Cattite Palace scared and out of breath. My mother was the first to spot me, "Manoush!"
She rushed over to me joyously. The other Cattites sat up, all relieved to see that I was still alive. They swarmed me with questions, "How was it? The Siamese didn't treat you badly, did they? What did he look like? Is Growltiger dead?"
I sighed and shrugged at the last question, "I do not know. I got out before…"
My voice trailed off with regret. I quickly walked away, wanting to be alone. The others sensed this; they did not follow me. They assumed that the violence of the Siamese attack had scared me. But really, I was filled with regret. I did this to honor the bravery of my ancestors—why was I feeling like such a traitor?
"He was nicer than you thought he would be," Narges said quietly, taking a place beside me on the ledge. I looked at her, surprised at her accurate guess. She smiled softly, "They always are, Manoush. But you must remember: that does not excuse the horrible crimes he has committed. It does not make him any less of a monster or a murderer. You did what you had to do."
I nodded, wanting so desperately to believe her.
Soon the bells rang out once more—this time it was to signal the end of the Bravo Cat's reign of terror. My people gave a joyous cry, circling me with praise and hugging me so tightly that I almost couldn't breathe. I was the cat who had tumbled the mighty Growltiger. I was the Lady Griddlebone.
In una tepida notte d'estate, allorche la natura
Era nel pieno fulgore, e la resca rugiada
Splendeva al chiar di luna sopra la verzura
Si poteva vedere il galeone ancorato
Oscillare in silenzio nel vento profumato
Dalla marea del naviglio serenamente cullato
In quella tepida notte che c'e dunque di male
Se in tnata poesia anche il pirata divento sentimentale?
Oscillare in silenzio nel vento profumato
Dalla marea do naviglio serenamente cullato
In quella tepida notte
In quella tepida notte
In quella tepida notte