The funny thing about time is how much it can change a person. As the days of my childhood blended into years of adolescence, I never forgot Darius, nor did I forget that conversation which I overheard at the eunuchs' door. But I kept what I knew to myself, as so often I did with other things later in life, and I listened to my tutor and to my parents. I was a dutiful son, but beyond that, I was a young nobleman. By fortune of birth, I was better than other young men my age who worked in the kitchens and in the stables; I was better than the sellers in the bazaar and the beggars on the street. What kept me grounded, I think, was the knowledge that there were those who were better than me: the royal family, for instance. Even the shah's young son, younger than me but in due time would become shah himself, was better than me.
It was a delicate balance and one I didn't dare question. The few times I tried, my tutor made a helpless gesture and said: "It is the will of Allah that things should be this way." I didn't dare ask my father, the Daroga of Mazenderan. He was busy and important and when I saw him, we were not outwardly affectionate. I knew that I was to be apprenticed to him upon my fifteenth year and I and a handful of my most necessary servants would travel to where he worked and I would learn how to apply the mystifying laws of my country to its people.
It was when I learned I'd be taking servants with me to Mazenderan and to the capitol that I began to devise my plan.
I seldom asked for anything from my mother and father. I was, after all, a good son and a good son never asked for more than he needed. But in this case, what I wished to ask for was something I could easily disguise as a need.
It was on one of my father's stays home. I counted on his being there, knowing full well that were I to ask my mother alone, she would say she needed his approval, which in those days was her way of saying no and foisting the blame on him. We dined together in relative peace. My father spoke of his work and suddenly, conversation took a direct shift.
"And in two years, Nadir will join me," he said.
A smile broke through on his face, as the sun breaks through a thunderstorm. I knew he would take my side, for I was his pride and joy and would soon train to take his place and allow him the retirement he so desired and deserved. He had been in his middle age when I was born. Now he was old; his hair was salt-and-pepper colored, with more salt than pepper. His beard had gone entirely grey.
"I have been meaning to speak with you, Pedar, about that," I said.
My mother's plate clattered on the table, but she regained composure quickly. Still, I could feel her fear thick in the air. I was thirteen and no doubt she feared that I, like other boys my age, was entering a time of rebellion. My father made no such motion. Instead, he inclined his head towards me, urging me to go on.
"I've been thinking that when I go to court with you… when I become your apprentice… my needs will have changed," I said. "I will not need servants to watch out for me as if I were a little child."
"This is true," said my father. "You will be a young man; not a child."
"I've been thinking that I will want for a personal attendant of my own," I said. "And that I will want someone closer to my own age. There are not, I take it, many men as young as me at court?"
"This is also true," my father said. "I shall choose a attendant for you. Or your mother shall, once I'm away again."
There was pregnant pause. I locked eyes with my father. Where my mother and I had light, unusual eyes, his were the more common, nut brown of our family. I don't know why I'd never noticed before that Darius had exactly my father's eyes, both in shape and in hue. I thought of him and was suddenly unafraid.
"I've put some thought to it," I said. "And I would like – Allah willing – Darius to be my attendant. Perhaps he can apprentice to your own attendant while I finish my studies?"
"Sarina, will you listen to our son?" my father said, looking from me to my mother. "He has given this careful thought! He's practically ready to join me at court already!"
My mother made a tight noise through pursed lips. She hadn't been quite as old as my father when I was born, but age lines crisscrossed her once lovely features. She carried bitterness within her heart; bitterness that only showed itself in moments like this. I could tell she was thinking of my father's transgressions against their marriage. She was thinking of Rayka in the kitchens, who had more than likely prepared the very meal we were eating. She was thinking of Darius and our childhood friendship that, to her eyes, was so improper it was almost unforgivable. It took a long time for her to speak.
"Nadir and Darius were playmates as children," she said softly. "Do you not worry that they will think of nothing but play at court, if they are together once more?"
My father rubbed his chin as if considering her words. Then he said, "Nadir's tutors tell me the boy is studious and good. Their worst complaint is that he's too eager to learn at times. How can a boy like that turn his mind to play as a young man? We have raised a good son."
"Indeed we have," my mother said, casting her eyes downwards. "I just worry that Darius might be a bad influence upon Nadir."
"You believe our son to be impressionable," my father said.
"No, no!" My mother was running out of arguments and she knew it. She had one thing she could argue for, but for the sake of saving face where she could, she said nothing. Color rose high into her cheeks. "I am merely curious why Nadir would pick Darius – a kitchen boy – to be his attendant?"
"Ask him, then!" my father snapped. I had never heard him speak to my mother in such a harsh tone, nor anybody. I supposed he must have spoken to prisoners in this manner or to incompetent bailiffs at the prison. I never would have guessed he would speak to my mother in such abrasive terms. There was a tense silence and then they turned their eyes to me. My father was the one to ask me, "Well?"
"I wish to honor Darius for his years of friendship," I said. This was the part I had rehearsed alone in my room. "We must not forget the kindness of others and loyalty is to be rewarded. Was it not you, Pedar, who told me a man must allow himself a few, loyal friends and beware false ones?"
He'd told me that a hundred times. I'd come to see – rightfully, I would later learn – Persia's court to be a treacherous place. His eyes softened.
"We cannot deny him his request," he said softly. "It is a just thing to do. And Nadir shows wisdom beyond his years. We must allow it."
My mother bowed her head again, this time in defeat. I had gotten my wish. For a moment, I was the victor.
However, when my father was due to return to court, I saw Darius loading up an extra horse for the trip. I stayed his hand as he reached for a saddle hanging on the stable wall.
"Who is this horse for?" I asked.
He had a serious demeanor that kept his round face from looking as good-natured as I knew him to be. Today, Darius looked positively grim.
"I am to be apprenticed to your father's personal attendant," he said. "I was told last night that you are to be my master in two years' time."
My plan had worked! I wanted to take Darius by the hands excitedly and tell him all the things that I had planned for the two of us: I would teach him to read and to write and to do equations. I would one day share my birthright with him, as I should have done for all this time. But he met my gaze for a fleeting moment and to my surprise, there was sadness there.
"I will be gone for six months," he said. "I will miss this place."
"This place will be here when you return," I told him. "You must tell me – when you return – about all the wonderful things you see at court."
"Yes, master," Darius said. And with that he turned away to saddle up his horse.
My heart sank. I don't believe I had ever realized that I was the only one of us to know that we were brothers. I had thought that surely if it was common knowledge among the eunuchs of our household, that it was the worst-kept secret in all of Persia. But I was wrong. Or if I was right, the last few years had changed Darius as much as they had changed me.
I watched from the front porch as my father's company – now including Darius – rode away.