Lion of Babylon Read Free Page A

power elite, the pair wore dark suits and light-colored shirts and no ties. But these two also had closely trimmed beards. Which meant they guarded a religious official. All talk on both sides of the counter ceased.
    The vizier, the personal aide to the Grand Imam, entered behind them. Respectful murmurs arose, hushed greetings. The vizier looked thoroughly displeased to be here. Which was hardly a surprise. During Ramadan, such officials rarely took on anything other than the most important religious duties. For the vizier to personally come to the courthouse indicated a most serious matter.
    The bodyguards pointed in Sameh’s direction. The vizier’s features twisted in bitter lines. “You are the lawyer el-Jacobi?”
    The use of surnames was relatively new to Arab culture. After the First World War, Ataturk had ordered it in his drive to westernize the Turks. Over the last century most Arabs had reluctantly adopted the practice, taking the name of their family’s home village or a trade or the name of one of the Prophet’s descendants. Sameh’s grandfather had adopted the first name of a famous forebear, Jacobi, a powerful minister during the Ottoman Empire. Sameh bore his surname with pride.
    Before Sameh could respond, a fourth man entered. This time everyone rose to their feet. Their greetings were both grave and loud. Jaffar was the Grand Imam’s son, the heir apparent, and a recognized imam in his own right.
    The word imam meant “one who stood before others.” An imam was generally recognized as both a scholar and religious leader. The Imam Jaffar spent a few minutes circulating among the waiting group, greeting each in turn, including the clerks who now clustered by the front counter. But his gaze repeatedly returned to Sameh.
    Sameh knew Jaffar’s father, the religious leader of Iraq’s Shia population, which was the majority of Iraq’s Muslim community. The Shia formed a majority only in Iraq, Iran, and Bahrain. In the rest of the world, they were not just a minority, but persecuted. Saddam Hussein’s regime had been Sunni by heritage. The Shia under Saddam had suffered immensely, along with the Christians.
    Jaffar’s father was part of an august Persian dynasty that traced its heritage back to the Prophet. Unlike many of the current generation of Shia scholars, Jaffar considered himself utterly Arab, endearing him to the local populace. Jaffar was also fluent in Farsi, the language of Iran, out of respect to his father and the family dynasty. This had forged alliances among the conservatives.
    Sameh had never met the man before. But Sameh held great hopes for his country under Jaffar’s religious guidance. The father was ailing and not expected to live long. Sameh would never have prayed for a man’s demise. But he looked forward to the day Jaffar became leader of the Shia community.
    Those sentiments were not shared by the father’s vizier. Sameh had never met this man either, but his first encounter confirmed everything he had heard. The vizier directed the same hostility toward Jaffar as he aimed at Sameh.
    Jaffar had made no attempt to hide his plans to institute changes as soon as he officially became Iraq’s chief cleric. And the first change would be to retire the vizier.
    The vizier controlled access to the Grand Imam and held enormous power. Jaffar never spoke of what he thought of the vizier. He did not need to. Everyone knew the vizier’s days were numbered.
    Jaffar now approached Sameh with his hand upon his heart, a gesture of deep respect. “Sayyid.”
    Even the vizier was surprised by this manner of address. Sameh himself was staggered. Sayyid was used by devout Muslims to denote a distinguished superior. It was ironic for Jaffar to address Sameh in this manner, as sayyid was the term most often used to describe Jaffar himself. What was more, Sameh was known throughout Baghdad as a devout Christian. Yet the imam