The Girl Between the Two Seas
Part 6: War and Betrayal
The fields no longer smelled of flowers and wheat. They smelled of smoke and gunpowder. The Persian troops marched strongly, chasing the Russians across the planes of Armenia. On the heels of her soldiers came Iran, riding a white horse and in full body armor. To her right, just a few paces back, was the blond English man in elegant riding gear atop a tan Arabian stallion.
"We beat them, Arthur. They are pulling back," she said in a voice raw from too much smoke and too much action.
He didn't reply. His eyes stayed on the far away Russian troops who were retreating behind the rise and fall of the ground.
"I can't believe it was that easy. Let's have a meeting with the generals now," Iran said.
She turned the horse and galloped toward the cluster of men that had appeared at the right edge of the field. England took longer to turn. His green eyes were still scanning the horizon, slipping over the few (far too few) Russian soldiers that were still moving back. When he finally turned, Iran had already reached her generals, and a war horn was blowing, signaling the soldiers to stop as their commanders gathered for a debate.
-o-o-o-
Abbas Mirza, the crown prince of Persia and commander of all Persian troops, looked tired. He walked the length of the make shift table they had set in the middle of the grassy field, turning from one direction to the other like a caged animal. Iran's jubilant mood had somewhat dampened after hearing the reports. Despite the early advancements, and the Persians outnumbering the Russian troops 5 to 1, everything wasn't as rosy and she'd thought. They had suffered massive casualties and had barely managed to end the siege of Echmiadzin. The term that kept repeating was "superior technology," something that Iran knew wasn't to describe their army.
"So what if they have better guns and cannons? That didn't stop us with the Turks. There's so many of us and so few of them. We should crush them while we can and push them out of the lands they have occupied," she said.
"It's not that easy," Abbas Mirza responded. "Their cannons are deadly. They can kill whole squadrons without even getting close. I can't risk my men's lives like that."
"What then? Let them regroup and come back with more? We should kick them while they're down. That Russian bully scares me. I can't rest knowing he is trudging around terrorizing our people."
"I agree. But we need to exercise patience and come up with a strategy. We can't simply use brute force. The more we press on, the more worn out our equipment will get. Let's camp somewhere, observe their movements and wait for the opportune moment to attack."
"I hate to interrupt, but that strategy can easily lead to your defeat."
Everyone stared at the British man who had spoken for the first time. Iran turned to him, her eyes bright and pleading as if begging him for the answer to all their problems.
Arthur sighed and continued, "Russia is not weak. He's just too busy. He's fighting and squabbling with Francis, Sadiq and Berwald at this time and not dedicating enough attention to this war. However, if you take too long he might settle those fights and bring the troops here. Then he'd have the advantage of numbers and superior technology."
The group stared at him. Iran looked on the verge of tears. After a long pause Abbas Mirza said, "So what do you suggest we do?"
The Brit locked gaze with him. "You must sit down and talk with them as soon as you can. Once they've finished retreating, even if they are still within the occupied areas you must propose peace talks. Pretend you are able to hold your advantage for a long time and prepare your demands. Be ready to compensate but don't show your hand and your weakness."
The Persian officers looked at each other wearily. This strategy at least sounded better than anything they had come up with so far, even if it involved a huge gamble. They had to wait until the Russians settled in the next town and quickly proceed with the plan before Russia came up with one of his own.
-o-o-o-
Iran rounded on Arthur as soon as they entered their tent.
"How come we don't have deadly cannons?" she asked.
Arthur put a hand on her shoulder.
"Calm down. What are you yelling at me for?"
She pulled back. "Those are European cannons. Why didn't you give me anything like those so we could defend ourselves better and push them out?"
"Are you serious? You expect me to bring you cannons and rifles at the drop of a hat? Even if this wasn't a surprise attack it would have taken months for the ships to arrive. By that time the war would have been over."
"Then why didn't you give them to me sooner?" she began crying and Arthur took her in his arms.
"I'm sorry. This never should have happened. You have to understand, this is Ivan. Even with guns ten times deadlier than his you would never have been able to push him out of anywhere. He's been doing this for centuries, in Europe and other places. Ask Poland and Lithuania."
Iran sniffed. "Poland, who?"
Arthur shook his head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that Ivan has now set his eyes on Asia, and you're his immediate neighbor with the largest landmass and richest resources. He wants his cut and the sooner we negotiate with him the better a deal we can get. Trust me, I know what I'm doing?"
"Is that really true?"
"That I know what I'm doing?"
"No," she extracted herself from his arms and looked up, "that I should trust you."
England looked at her for a moment, not knowing what to make of the question. He pulled her back to him again and hugged her tighter than before. She buried her head in his chest.
"You can always trust me. You know that. No matter what happens I will be by your side. I would never let you deal with that Russian bastard alone. Never."
He felt her slight nod and in that moment, even he believed those words.
-o-o-o-
They met in a tent near Yerevan, where Ivan was holding a not-so-successful siege. Everything had proceeded according to Arthur's plan, and now he had come to inform the Russian about Iran's desire for a settlement.
Ivan wasn't smiling this time. He was in full amour, with a deep shadow covering his eyes. Arthur gave him a courteous bow before sitting across from him in the stuffy tent. He waited for the Russian to begin the conversation, as par his experience it was always better to respond to a verbal attack rather than initiate it. Yet when time passed and Russia remained silent Arthur got the point and, with a flick of his wrist, pulled the papers out from his inner coat pocket and put them on the table that was between them.
"Uh...," he started only to be cut off by a deadpan glare from Russia.
Ivan's voice was low and dangerous when he spoke. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm here to negotiate the terms."
"I meant what are you doing helping her?"
England blinked in shock. He hadn't anticipated Russia to be so angry and quickly tried to calm the situation.
Carefully he said, "But you knew I was going to be by her side."
"I knew you controlled the South because that's where your ships anchor for her treasures. What are you doing up north meddling in a war that is none of your business?"
England assumed a haughty look and said, "Who said this was about business? Can I not do something to help a poor nation you're abusing?"
Russia leaned forward and sneered.
"Who do you think you're fooling? You want to pretend you care? Like you're in love? As if that would ever happen again? We all remember what happened the last time you made that mistake."
Sudden images flooded England's vision, of a blond haired boy – no a man – with glasses, standing in the rain and pointing a gun at him. It made him swallow hard and Russia saw it. His creepy signature grin came back to his lips.
Russia, who had half risen from his seat, abruptly changed character. In a flash the angry, imposing giant was gone, replaced by an oversized, happy and sadistic child. He dropped back onto his seat and folded his hands on his chest, the guiltless smile spreading over his features.
"You know what? Maybe it is smart, what you're doing? Starting affairs with exotic nations I mean. Perhaps I should get into it too, da? Afghanistan is east of Iran, and she's ten times wilder and more uppity from what I've heard. Maybe I should do with her what you've done with Iran: softly invade her vital regions and reap all the rewards for myself. It could have some unforeseen benefits too, much more profitable than this war."
It was England's turn to rise. "What are you saying?"
"Nothing. Just following your lead."
"You said you didn't like warm climates. Whatever would you want with Afghanistan?"
Russia leaned forward again and looked the other straight in the eye, his own eyes mere slits of vicious glee. "What's it to you? You have your affair and your business with Iran? What do you care what I do to her neighbor? Or is it the other neighbor you are worried about. Would that perhaps be…uh, too close to India?"
England gritted his teeth. His fists clenched on the table ignoring the papers he was crinkling. Bastard Russia and his strategic genius! Now the choice was placed squarely in his hands: Iran or India. It was obvious Russia wouldn't let him have both without demanding something in return.
"What do you want?" he asked in a choked voice.
Russia chuckled and immediately pulled a handful of paper from under the table.
"Exactly what you want my dear: a treaty with our Iran. Here is one I have prepared. Would you be a darling and take it to her?"
England took the papers from Russia's hand and looked them over suspiciously, his eyes leaving the documents a moment later to stare at the grinning Russian.
"I don't understand…."
"Oh, you will. Make sure you remember what was said here and do not breathe a word of it to your girlfriend. You should know better than to go against your erstwhile allies to give aid to new acquaintances. After all, I don't help Francis attack you, do I?"
"Did you mean what you said about Afghanistan?" Arthur asked.
Russia looked at him through the fringe of his bangs.
"Have you ever heard me say anything I didn't mean, dear England?"
England didn't need to answer that. With a parting nod, and teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached, he left the tent and a satisfied, giggling Russia.
-o-o-o-
"This is preposterous. I'm not going to sign this."
"Please listen to me…"
"No, I don't want to listen to you. Why do I have to agree with his terms when it is us holding the advantage?"
"We only appear to hold the advantage. In reality we are no better than if we were defeated. It will only take one push from him to change everything."
Iran looked at England in awe.
"You weren't talking like this before. What happened at that meeting?"
"Nothing. I said from the start that we should negotiate as soon as possible, didn't I?"
"But this?" Iran held the papers England had given her in front of the blonde's eyes. "This isn't what we talked about. These are his demands, his advantage, his victory. Look, he asks me to concede Georgia and Azerbaijan. He tells me to accept his dominance over Talysh. He forbids me to navigate the Caspian Sea!!! Don't you see Arthur? This is not a treaty. This is a declaration of victory. And I don't get why you ask me to accept it. We're not defeated yet."
England closed his eyes. He was afraid they would betray his inner feelings, of how much he agreed with her but couldn't say it out of shame. Russia had in fact defeated them both. Poor Iran was just too clueless to know it.
"I am not going to sign this," she declared with finality. "If this is his idea of a peace agreement then we haven't got one. We're going to fight him with all we have and push him out of our land. No matter what happens, it cannot possibly get worse than this."
You have no idea.
"I can go back to him. I can ask for some changes …."
"No," she yelled, "You've done enough. And I thank you for that. But from this point on it's my job to defend my country. I'm not going to roll over and let him do what he wants. As of now, war is the course of action and nothing will change that."
She walked out of the tent to go and find Abbas Mirza and give him the message.
England sat still. He wasn't sure whether to hate or admire Iran's show of self-assurance, but he knew, based on the current situation, that it could only lead to one of two conclusions: She would lose, in which case Russia's revenge and punishment would be draconian. Or she would win and feel empowered, which would cause her to escape his hold completely and no longer feel the need to depend on him.
In both cases he would lose.
England slammed his fist against his thigh. He hadn't anticipated such mess. Damn Russia for ruining his life. Everything was going so perfectly if that bully hadn't interfered. Why did he have to put his foot in every situation in every corner of the world? What was he trying to achieve, world domination?
He was still simmering when a man walked inside and saluted him. Arthur recognized him and said: "Ah, Sir Ouseley. Good to see you. Any news from our ships?"
"Yes sir. In fact, I'm here to report a new shipment of weapons just arriving in Gameron Port. It's ready for you to receive." He handed Arthur a document.
Arthur looked it over. It was a large shipment of guns and rifles, even cannons of the latest production, just what they needed at this time.
Russia's face flashed before his eyes, followed by Afghanistan and India, a happy bunch grinning at him.
He shook his head and paused, then he folded the document and returned it to the man standing in front of him.
"Take this back to the captain of the ship, Sir Ouseley."
"Sir?"
"Tell them not to unload the shipment. Instead, tell them to stay on the docs and wait for my instructions. We will not deliver those weapons at this time."
The man still stared at him for another minute. It wasn't his place to question orders so he finally saluted and said, "Yes sir. I will deliver your message right away."
He left the tent and England put his head in his hands, fighting not to think about anything. In his lifetime as an empire there had been many times he was forced to make a difficult decision. Emotions had no place in governing a kingdom and choosing sides. Only strategy mattered. Russia was right; he had learned that the hard way.
-o-o-o-
The explosion rocked the ground and threw Iran several meters outside the trench. She tried to get up but couldn't. She only managed to move her head and look at the carnage around her. Bodies were strewn everywhere, bodies of her fallen soldiers, some still holding onto their inefficient rifles like lifelines. She panted hard and begged her body to move. She could hear the rumble of Russian boots through the ground. They were coming closer and she and her soldiers had to retreat or be killed. Still her limbs refused the command, frozen on the blood soaked ground. With much effort she managed to pull herself into a sitting position and realized the enemy was much closer than she thought. She could already see the tips of their white pelt hats peeking over the top of the dirt mound on the other side of the trench.
She also realized it was futile to try to retreat again. There were no more Persian soldiers left alive.
Her eyes were on her fallen men when his shadow fell over her. She looked up, up and up, noticing for the first time just how tall Ivan was up close. He was draped in the same white and red uniform as his officers, with that damn pelt hat that for all the world looked like a dead animal on his head. He smiled down at her like a wolf seeing a wounded rabbit, and she had to smile too, at how much that metaphor fitted the situation. This was it, the end of the road for both of them. And if she hadn't been a nation she would wonder whether he would let her say a prayer before she died.
He stood there looming over her for a long time, the terrifying smile never leaving his lips. Iran held his gaze bravely. If she were to go down she would at least keep her dignity. This wasn't that different from when the Arabs had invaded her, or the Mongols, or the Tatars. She and her people had survived that, they would survive this too.
"Ahh, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show up."
For a moment Iran was confused at the words. Then she saw he was no longer looking at her but at something behind her. She turned in time to see Arthur running up an incline to reach the spot where they were, breathing hard and having sweat pour down his face.
He came to stand next to her like a guardian knight. She smirked at the ridiculousness of it. What was the term his people used? Too little, too late?
England bent down and extended his hand. "Get up," he ordered, "Hurry, take my hand and get up."
Russia was watching all of this in amusement and didn't object when England shoved Iran behind him and stood to face him. He directed his smirk to his longtime friend and observed him with that same happy, cool detachment that he applied to everything, like this was all just a fun game.
"I trust you know what to do, hm? Dear England?"
"Yes, now please go. You've done enough."
"Then I'll see you both at the meeting. Make sure to let her rest a bit. She looks shaken."
England fisted his hands at his sides but didn't say anything. He could feel Iran struggle to remain standing behind him, almost leaning on him and her breath heavy and labored against his back. He broke his intense gaze from watching the Russian only when he and his soldiers were completely out of sight. Then and only then did he turn, in time to catch the Middle Eastern nation as she finally collapsed in exhaustion.
-o-o-o-
"Iran accepts to renounce all claims on Georgia, Azerbaijan and all of Armenia."
"Iranian ships lose full rights to navigate all of the Caspian Sea and her coasts, henceforth given to Russia."
"Iran agrees to pay Russia 10 million in Gold for war reparations."
Arthur's voice shook as he read the conditions of the treaty. He stole a glance at the defeated nation. Iran was standing tall. Although a bit pale, her face showed no reaction to the terms being read to her. She was keeping her face completely blank and except for a single glare she threw at Ivan when they entered the meeting area she hadn't looked at him even once.
"Iran recognizes Capitulation rights for Russians in Iran."
"Russia gains the right to send consulate envoys to anywhere in Iran it wishes."
It went on and on, Russia sitting at a table to their right, only a few feet away from Iran who stood near the center, and Arthur who was in front of her. She wasn't looking at England either. Her gaze was off somewhere beyond his shoulder, as if he didn't exist.
What bothered Arthur more than Iran's lack of emotional reaction was Russia's smug attitude. The bastard couldn't even clamp it down for the sake of the situation. He had to have his legs up on the table, crossed at the ankles and grin nonstop at the rewards he was reaping from the poor defeated girl.
"Iran is forced to sign economic treaties with Russia as Russia specifies."
"Russia will support Abbas Mirza as the heir to the throne of Persia."
He took a deep breath and stopped. Hoping that was the end of the list of the verdicts and no more would come from the big man at the table. He looked over to Ivan. There must have been something in his eyes because the Russian threw his head back and snorted in what could either be glee or mock, Arthur wasn't sure.
The bastard is enjoying my shame.
"It's finished," he said dryly.
Russia threw his legs off the table and snapped his fingers twice, asking for a quill that was soon placed in his hand. Meanwhile England brought the document to the table for the Russian to sign. Once it was done Ivan looked at Iran, who hadn't moved an inch from her spot, and raised an eyebrow. Arthur turned around.
"Sweetie, could you please come and sign."
Iran turned her head, looking at them as if waking up from a dream. Slow, stoic steps brought her to the table where she took the quill and looked at the paper as if it was something vile. She didn't say anything or look at either of the men, simply dipped the tip of the feathered pen in ink and signed the treaty. After it was done the quill just slipped from her fingers and she took a moment to steady herself against the table.
"Alright, bring them forth," Russia called.
A loud cry from behind drew their attention and both Arthur and Iran turned to see Russian soldiers drag a small brown haired girl into the center. She wasn't coming easily, kicking and screaming all the way. Behind her two more soldiers escorted a teenage boy with curly black hair, black eyes and shades of a mustache above his lip. Behind him was another boy, pale with white-blonde hair and gray eyes, looking somber and detached like a ghost.
The little girl freed herself from her captors as soon as she saw the people around the table and ran toward them. With a shriek she threw herself at Iran and began pummeling her chest with her fists.
"You liar, liar, liar. You promised you'd give me independence when I grew up. Is this how you keep your promise? By giving us to that man? Why, what did we do?"
Iran leaned forward and tried to pacify the girl but Russia chose that moment to stand up and walk around the table to get closer to them.
"Ahh, Georgia," he said, causing England to quickly look at the amber eyed girl. So this was Georgia, the nation that was going to be handed over to Russia under the treaty. He looked over at the other two captives standing in the field and his mind made the connection. The boy in the front was Azerbaijan, the one in the back, most likely Armenia.
They will all disappear, their culture, language, even borders. They will all become part of Mother Russia.
A chill went through Arthur's body.
Iran was kneeling in front of the girl and petting her hair soothingly. Georgia had stopped hitting her and was now openly crying. Arthur saw Russia walk toward them and quickly grabbed for his sleeve, pleading with his eyes as the Russian looked at him in surprise.
Let them have their moment damn it.
Ivan ignored him and put a paternal hand over Georgia's shoulder.
"Come on ребенок, let's go and join your brothers in your new home."
Georgia tensed under Ivan's hand. Then, with no warning, she kicked the man in the shin and ran off to Azerbaijan. Russia cried out in pain and the soldiers raised their rifles threateningly while the teen boy shielded the girl in his arms.
"Don't harm them. They are just wild animals in need of taming," Russia barked, "Bring the horses. We are leaving now."
"No!!!" Georgia wailed, "I'm not going anywhere with you. Iran said I could have independence. You won't give me that so I'm not coming. Why won't you let us be?"
Russia grabbed his sword and his papers from his aid and barely spared a glance toward the small nation. He gave more orders to his men.
"Take them to my house. Tell Belarus and Lithuania to take care of them. Tell them if I hear any more crying tonight everyone gets a punishment."
A stone hit him on the shoulder. He turned and saw the girl holding another one, ready to throw. Azerbaijan saw the danger in his eyes and quickly pulled Georgia back into his arms and removed the stone from her hands. He shivered and closed his eyes as he saw the larger nation come toward them with strong, measured steps. When Russia was in front of them Azerbaijan held Georgia in a very tight hug, hoping to protect her against Ivan's wrath.
"Listen to me," Russia's voice hissed, "You are all part of Imperial Russia now. You're members of my house and if you learn to behave properly no harm will come to you. Forget who you were and what you had. Throw it all away. Forget Persia, Turkey or your own useless local bosses. I am your boss now, and you are all my dear children."
"Never!" Georgia cried, and in that moment she looked much older than she was. She straightened up, despite Azerbaijan's attempts to hold her back, and said, "I will never, ever, submit to you. Nor will I ever become one with you. I may be small today but someday I will get strong. And on that day I will leave you and become independent. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Russia eyed the fiery girl with hooded eyes before turning and walking away. "We'll see about that," he whispered under his breath and went to mount his horse.
As the Russian soldiers struggled to put the girl on a horse she turned to Iran one last time. The Persian's head was turned, unable to watch the small ones being taken away. Arthur was by her side, standing close to her and hugging her shoulders. Georgia cried out to them, "I will not forget how weak and pathetic you were, Iran. You could have saved us but you didn't. And it's all because of him, that swindler, that fiend. He's got you in his claws and you're too dumb to see it. You're England's bitch."
Arthur stared at the young girl who returned his look with a glare. By then the caravan had begun moving and soon the three nations were out of their sight, along with Russia and his soldiers. All that was left was an empty field with cold wind blowing all around them. It was then that Arthur felt Iran's shoulders shake and looked down.
She was silently crying.
-o-o-o-
-ребенок: child.
-The treaty mentioned in this chapter is a combination of the two infamous Gulistan and Turkemanchay Treaties, two of the most painful agreements forced upon Iran in history. To keep things simple I told the story as one war and one treaty where in fact there were two. First the Persian army's loss resulted in the Treaty of Gulistan and Iran losing control over Georgia and Azerbaijan, then the Persians retaliated and tried to win back the lost regions. They lost again and another treaty with much harsher conditions was imposed on them. If you like to read more just search the two treaties and the Russo-Persian wars on Wikipedia.
-True to her word, Georgia did not submit to Russia. In truth Iran never extended full control over Georgia so the Georgians had more free will when their region was considered part of Iran. With the annexation to Russia, Georgia lost the little independence it had and they began scattered rebellions against Russia's power as early as 1917 (after the Russian revolution.) Unfortunately they, like the Baltics, had to wait for the monumental changes in the 1990's to gain their independence but even after that there was tension between the two countries. There were clashes as recently as last year and it is safe to say that Georgians don't like Russia even though, ironically enough, one of the most prominent Soviet figures of all time, Joseph Stalin, hails from Georgia.
-Abbas Mirza, the brave prince who was the hero of the Russo-Persian wars never got to the throne. He died in a later war near Khorasan (north east of Iran.) Most believe Iran's history would have been much different had he become king. He's by far the most well liked, well respected character of the Qajar dynasty.
-Again, I fudged the parts about England and his involvement in the war. In fact no one knows if they could have supplied the Persian army with better guns. The truth is that the British had a heavy hand in constructing the treaties and were mostly concerned for their own interests. I'm actually giving them a lot more credit in this story than they deserve considering how they, and the Russians, mauled the Persians in the jaws of their politics.
-I'm glad this chapter is over. Although is one of the more interesting ones of so far, and it's always fun to write Ivan as he's one of my favorite villains, having to go over this part of Iran's history over and over to get it right was no walk in the park. Hope you like it and would make this poor writer happy by giving her your feedback.