alternatehistory.com



Isfahan, 1715

Iranian History is dominated by tales of the “Rusul-u-Muluk”, or Prophets and Princes. From Zoroaster to Cyrus the Great, heroic figures bringing revelation or the sword have not only shaped the history of the Iranian people, but have inspired folk-stories and literature focusing on great heroes who rise from nothing to bring great changes to the world. The most fascinating aspect of some of these tales is that they are at least mostly true to life. Perhaps none of the Princes of Iranian history however rose from so low a station to attain such glory and power in his life as “Nader Shah”, the son of a shepherd who rose to become the most powerful Shah in Iran’s history. Noted for his ambition, fair-mindedness and capability as much as his ruthlessness or rapacity, the story of Nader’s rise to power as well as the glories that accompanied his rule are perhaps some of the most interesting in Iran’s long and illustrious history.


And so, our story begins in the Safavid Capital of Isfahan. To the easily dazzled, the city was nothing short of a paradise in the years before its fall. Even to modern eyes, the Naqsh-e Jahan Square impresses, and before the sack of the city by the Afghans in later years, the city was crisscrossed by great boulevards, studded with blue-tiled mosques and filled with rich bazaars. To the young Nader, the provincial son of a livestock herder, it might have well have been the moon.


Nader, a young musketeer in the army of Baba Ali, a Khorasani Warlord, had been dispatched to Isfahan with the news of a great victory against invading Turkmen. The great capital of Safavid Iran had impressed young Nader, though this was less the case with the effete, luxury loving court. Willing to accept his hundred toman reward from the hands of Shah Sultan Hussain, he nevertheless found something distinctly sickening in the ostentation of the courtiers, in only the way that one who was raised in poverty can. Were these really the men to maintain so great an empire?


Flush with more cash than he had ever seen, Nader decided to explore some of the city at his leisure, and encountered an old fortune teller, with a thin white beard and eyes half-blinded and discoloured with cataracts, in the Naqsh-e Jahan Square.

The man beckoned to him. “Greetings young Nader. Would you care for me to tell you your fortune?”

Nader warily approached him. “You know my name?”

“I will know a great deal beside this…”

Nader sat next to the man, and the old man offered a small cup of coffee. Nader drank from it, and the old man instructed him to turn it toward his heart, and place it on the mat between them. The old man waited, and picked up the coffee. He peered closely into the cup, straining what was left of his vision.

“How can this blind man even see what’s in the cup?” Nader wondered as the old man repeated the action a few times.

With a look of disbelief etched into his face, the old man put the cup down, and bowed to Nader.

“My Lord, your future is unmistakable as it is unbelievable. You will one day be the Shah”

Nader scoffed. “Impossible!”

The old man’s face shot a look of determination. He seemed genuinely certain of what he was saying. “Though my eyes have clouded, I see your future majesty, as clear as anything. You will one day be the Shah, obeyed by Kings from the Bosporus to the Ganges in Far Hindustan”

Nader was now visibly annoyed “You must be mad. Or perhaps you assume you can swindle this naïve Khorasani?”

“With Allah as my witness, I swear that I speak the truth. I merely beg you to treat my children kindly when you are Shah”


Nader left the man without saying another word. The old fortune teller was obviously mad, yet there was something somewhere in Nader that said maybe he was right.

* * * * * *

Isfahan, 1732
Nader’s mind turned back to his encounter with the fortune teller all those years ago as he placed the crown by the head of the infant Shah Abbas. The child may have reigned as Shah, but he would not rule. None of the Safavids ever could again. He would never rule and the hands that placed the crown near him were those of he who now ruled Iran, Nader, the man formerly known as Tahmasp Quli [1].


Nevertheless, pretences have to be made. Such is the game of ruling. As Nader placed the crown by the head of the infant Abbas, the little boy began to cry. Nader turned to the men present.

“Do any of you know why the child cries so?”

There was shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders. “Lord Regent, perhaps you would know better than we”

Nader smirked. These men knew his game, and were willing to play it. “The boy, he cries because he wishes not to rule only Iranians, but to rule over the Afghans in Kandahar too. He wishes to receive the submission of the Ottoman Sultan!”

Those present began to cheer. Nader began to raise his voice as he bellowed out further apparent instructions from the young king. “For this boy-Shah, I will undertake this task. I will throw reigns around the necks of the Afghans of Kandahar who dared enslave us, and the Ottomans who will reduce us to dust. I will fight the slaver-kings of Turkestan and bring the lands of India to heel!”


A farce of a ceremony. All present knew Nader was, for all intents and purposes, the ruler of Iran. Indeed, soon he would be Shah in name as well as fact. The little boy Abbas did not know, that he would be the last of the line of Safavid rulers in Iran, supplanted by the man who had crowned him.

[1] - A title meaning "Servant of Tahmasp", in this case referring to the Safavid Shah whom Nader overthrew in 1732.
Top