The Blood of Flowers (44 page)

"Indeed," said Gostaham, "those farangis will take anything they can grab! They have no honor."

I shifted from one foot to the other, weary of standing. "I would not have asked for your help otherwise," I said.

Gostaham looked at me with pity and called to Taghee to fetch his purse.

"Take this money," he said, handing me a small bag of coins. "Do everything you can to make your mother well."

"I will try not to trouble you again," I said.

"I would be most insulted not to hear how you and your mother are faring," Gostaham replied. "God willing, you shall return and tell us that roses are blooming on her cheeks."

"Thank you," I said. "I remain, now and forever, your servant."

"May God be with you," said Gordiyeh, but her tone was icy. Gostaham frowned at her.

"I mean it," she added quickly.

As Ali-Asghar showed me out, I kept my hand on Gostaham's bag of coins, which felt heavy and solid in my sash. I believe that he regretted his harshness with me and was seeking to make amends. That's why he had finally hushed his wife, if only for a moment.

AS I WALKED toward the Image of the World, I passed the kind beggar with the stump at the top of Four Gardens and stopped to give him a small coin. Then I walked to the meat sellers' section of the bazaar and sought out the fat butcher. By chance, I arrived at the beginning of the last call to prayer; the muezzin's voice traveled clear and pure from the Friday mosque across the square. It made me feel scrubbed clean inside.

"Ah!" said the butcher when he saw me. Then he whispered, "You're one day early for our delights! Let me wipe my hands."

His nails were black with dried blood. "Don't trouble yourself," I whispered back. "Here's your money," I added loudly, counting out the coins so that his assistants could witness me paying. "That should take care of the meat, plus an errand boy's time."

The butcher's face grew red with anger. He had no power over me now that I was paying. Lifting his knife, he began slicing a lamb's heart.

"My mother's health has improved, thanks to your fine meat," I said. "You were very kind to give me the food on credit."

The butcher paused and swept the coins into his bloodstained hands. "How very lucky you are," he hissed.

In a louder voice for show, he added, "Praise God for her health."

"I do," I said. I felt as if I had just escaped the blackest fate of my life. I would be a slave to God, to carpets, or to Gostaham, but I did not want to be a slave to someone else's pleasure ever again.

I returned to Malekeh's house and served the family the meat stew I had made, although Malekeh was not home yet. Everyone looked brighter than they had only a few days before. The boys behaved better, for they were not irritable from hunger. Davood was well enough to move around the room. But the biggest change was in my mother. Her fever had finally abated, and her color was beginning to return to normal. I sent my thanks to blessed Fatemeh for her intercession.

Malekeh arrived very late that evening, with only one carpet on her back and a lightness in her step. "I sold one!" she announced proudly as she walked in the door. A family that had recently moved to Isfahan had bought it to furnish their new home. The wife had recognized that Malekeh's knots were tight and her prices low, and had told her that she would rather help a poor young mother than one of the wealthy merchants in the bazaar.

We all exclaimed joyfully, "Praise be to God!"

Malekeh's boys were excited by the bright silver coins in her hands. That night, after Malekeh had eaten, everyone was so merry we decided to set up a korsi. We heated pigeon dung in the stove, put the embers in a large metal vessel, and placed it under a low table. Malekeh threw blankets over it, cautioning the boys not to touch the hot vessel with their feet. Gathering around, we covered ourselves with the blankets and warmed ourselves by the delicious heat of the embers. For the first time in weeks, we drank strong tea and crunched on sugar crystallized with saffron. Malekeh stroked her boys' hair until they fell asleep. Then Davood told jokes, and the rare sound of my mother's laughter filled my ears with the finest music I had ever heard.

DURING THE NEXT two months, my mother convalesced slowly. Since she could not stand without becoming exhausted, from her bedroll she explained which dried herbs to buy in the bazaar and instructed me on how to make her medicines. I steeped them, packed them, and delivered them to Amir, who sold them successfully on his own. The medicine brought in enough money for us to feed ourselves, but we were not able to put much aside for wool. I longed to start another carpet, for it was the only way we could improve our fortunes, and I still dreamed of hiring others to help us.

When I told Malekeh about my hopes, she looked doubtful. "Buy wool and hire women with what money?" she asked.

"How about the silver from your carpet sale?"

Malekeh clicked her tongue against her teeth. "It's too risky," she replied, "but if you gather some money, I will match yours."

In the past, I might have been angry that she would not be persuaded, but now I realized she was right to be cautious. Since I would never earn enough extra money for wool by selling medicines or begging, in the end, there was only one thing I could do. With my mother on her way to recovery, I owed it to Gostaham and Gordiyeh to tell them their charity had made a difference. I dressed in Naheed's old finery--the purple robe with the fur cuffs, and a pink tunic--and went to see them again.

When I arrived, Gordiyeh was absent. Ali-Asghar told me she had gone to see Naheed's mother, which must have meant that the families had been reconciled. He showed me into the workroom, where Gostaham was making sketches.

"Come and sit!" he said, calling out to Shamsi to bring us coffee. "How is your mother?"

"Much better," I replied, "and it is because of you. The coins you gave me bought her fresh meat, which restored her health. Thank you for helping me save her."

"Praise God, Healer of Men," he replied.

I looked at the paper on Gostaham's lap. The design was as beautiful as a park in bloom. "What are you working on?" I asked.

"A cypress tree carpet," he said. The trees were long and thin, with a slight bulge in the middle like a woman's hips. They were surrounded by riotous garlands of flowers. Seeing Gostaham's drawings made me long to be working with him again.

"Amoo," I said, "as you know, I have no protector now, so I must do everything I can to earn honest money."

"True," said Gostaham, "but now it is time you took your own risks, for you will always be one to take them."

He was right. I could not stop myself; it was part of my nature. "Can you help at all?"

"Perhaps, if you can reliably deliver what I demand," he said, with a guarded look. "But can you?"

I knew I had always been a curiosity in his eyes, for I had talent and fire. He had never seen that in his wife or daughters, who had been content with being pampered. But now he had reason to mistrust me, as well. I took a deep breath.

"I promise you, amoo, I have learned," I said. "I almost lost my mother to illness. I have begged in the bazaar and endured the worst insults from strangers. I have made my peace with living humbly. I will not go against your sage advice--at least, not when it comes to carpets."

Gostaham looked off into the distance, and his eyes were full of regret. He cleared his throat a few times before he could speak. "We did wrong by you," he finally said.

"And I by you," I replied. "I am sorry for all the trouble I caused your household, for I have loved nothing more than learning by your side."

Gostaham looked at me as if assessing me anew. I believed he could see the change in me. I was calm, prudent, and strong, not the willful child I had been.

"It is time we made amends," he said. "If you are certain you can do what I require, I have a way to assist you."

"I will do anything you ask."

"What I need is workers," he said. "This cypress tree carpet is a private commission, and my usual assistants are too busy to do it. You know how to read a design now, so you can call out the colors and supervise its creation. I will pay you and two workers a daily wage to make this carpet, and give you the wool."

I was filled with joy. "Thank you, amoo, for your generosity," I said.

"Not so fast," he replied. "The conditions are that I will visit your workshop weekly to make sure everything is proceeding according to my exact plan."

"Of course," I replied. "We will open our home to you. And who is the carpet for?"

"A friend of Fereydoon's," he said.

I was astonished. "So he is no longer angry!"

"He seems to have forgiven all of us," Gostaham said. "And so have Naheed's parents, who restored their carpet commission just a few days ago."

"I'm so glad," I said, for I could feel that Gostaham was more at ease now that his silver was assured.

We sipped our coffee. It felt good to be with Gostaham again. Yet now things were different, for I was no longer his retainer. Although I did not have his protection, neither was I under his and Gordiyeh's sway. He was right, I would always take my chances on things. Perhaps it was better to be unfettered.

"Amoo," I said, "may I show you the design I have been working on?" I had sketched some carpet designs while my mother and Davood slept off their illnesses.

He threw back his head and laughed. "You are most unusual for a girl," he replied. "Before long, you will have seventy-seven people working for you, I am sure."

I showed him the design and asked him to advise me on the colors. It was a simple sunburst carpet with a universe of tiny flowers, a design that I hoped would appeal to young wives who enjoyed shopping for fashionable goods in the bazaar. Gostaham looked at it carefully, but then I watched the lines in his forehead deepen, a reliable sign that something was wrong. He looked up and said, "Don't make this."

I was so surprised, I stared at him.

"If you try to sell this carpet, you'll be competing with rug makers from all over the country who use the same type of design. It's an honorable pattern, but you can do better."

I thought about how long it had taken for Malekeh to sell one of her sunburst carpets, even though it was very fine. I didn't want to have to struggle as hard as she had.

"Then, what should I do?"

"Make another feathers carpet, like the one you gave the Dutchman," Gostaham said.

I winced at the memory of my folly, which had cost me so dearly. It was painful to be reminded of it again.

"That carpet showed you to be a designer whose work cannot be equaled by others," Gostaham said in a softer voice. "That's the only way to make money in this business."

"I'm glad you liked it," I said.

"You still don't understand," he replied. "It is a rare talent to be able to design something fine and dear. You must cultivate that talent, not waste it."

I could feel my blood rushing to my head. After all that had happened, it was hard for me to force the words out. In a low, strained voice, with my eyes on the carpet, I said, "Amoo, will you help me? Because I don't know how to do it alone."

"You're right, you don't know how to do it alone," he said. "I'm glad you finally understand that."

"I do," I said humbly.

"Then, yes, I will help you as much as I can. And gladly."

His enthusiasm emboldened me to ask for an advance on my wages for the cypress tree carpet, especially since Gordiyeh was not there to stop him. He laughed at my boldness and, to my great satisfaction, gave me the silver right away.

I said my farewell and walked to Malekeh's, singing softly to myself. The air was still cool, but the New Year and the beginning of spring were only weeks away. In the distance, the lemon-yellow dome of the Shah's private mosque beamed like a life-giving sun. It made me feel warm from the inside, although my skin was tingling in the chill.

When I arrived home, I told Malekeh and Katayoon the news. They were filled with delight, for we now had several months of paid work ahead of us. Malekeh expressed surprise over the source of the commission. "You went back to your uncle after he dismissed you?" she asked. "How bold you are!"

I smiled with satisfaction. I was bold, but I was no longer rash. I finally understood the difference.

Malekeh promised to match the advance I had received on my wages so that we could buy all the wool for my feathers carpet, which would allow me to start working on it right away.

For the first time in many months, there was so much joy in the household that no one wanted to sleep. We set up the korsi again and warmed ourselves underneath it. It started snowing lightly outside, but we all felt cozy together. I looked around at everyone as we talked and sipped strong tea. Even though we weren't family, Malekeh and Davood behaved as if we were. Although we crowded them terribly, they had never told us we were not welcome. They shared everything they had and praised us for everything we gave. This, I thought, was truly my family, for they loved us and helped us through difficulties without complaint.

"Would anyone like to hear a story?" asked my mother all of a sudden. I sat up, surprised. For months, she had been as silent as a nightingale in winter. Now I was certain she was on the path to good health.