facedown　beneath　my　heavy　body；　using　my　chin　and　one　free　hand　to　push

his　head　so　it　nearly　touched　the　sharp　point　of　the　sword。　My　one　hand　was

full　of　his　dirty　hair；　the　other　held　the　sword　to　the　delicate　skin　of　his　throat。

Wisely； he didn’t move at all； because I could have finished him then and

there。 Being this close to his curly hair； to the nape of his neck—which

might’ve invited an insulting slap at another time—and to his ugly ears

enraged　me　all　the　more。　“I’m　using　all　my　restraint　to　keep　from　doing　away

with　you　this　instant；”　I　whispered　into　his　ear　as　if　divulging　a　secret。

That he listened to me like an obedient child without making a peep

pleased　me：　“You’ll　recognize　this　legend　from　the　Book　of　Kings；”　I　whispered。

“Feridun　Shah；　in　error；　bequeaths　the　worst　of　his　lands　to　his　two　older　sons

and the best； Persia； to Iraj； the youngest。 Tur； bent on revenge； dupes his

younger brother； Iraj； of whom he is jealous； before he cuts Iraj’s throat； he

grabs his hair just as I am doing now and lies on top of him with all his

weight。　Do　you　feel　the　weight　of　my　body？”

He　gave　no　answer；　but　from　his　eyes；　which　stared　blankly　like　those　of　a

sacrificial lamb； I could tell that he was listening； and I was struck with

inspiration：　“I