Guards were placed at the door of Táhirih’s house and no one was allowed to enter or leave, while the authorities waited for instructions from Baghdád and Constantinople. As the interval of waiting lengthened out, Táhirih asked for permission to leave for Baghdád. “Let us go there ourselves,” she told them. “We are resigned to everything. Whatever happens to us is the best that can happen, and the most pleasing.” With government permission, Táhirih, the Leaf of Paradise, her mother and Shamsu’d-Ḍuḥá all left Karbilá and traveled to Baghdád, but the snake-like mass of the populace followed them for some distance, stoning them from a little way off.
When they reached Baghdád they went to live at the house of Shaykh Muḥammad-i-Shibl, the father of Muḥammad-Muṣṭafá; and since many crowded the doors there was an uproar throughout that quarter, so that Táhirih transferred her residence elsewhere, to a lodging of her own, where she continually taught the Faith, and proclaimed the Word of God. Here the ‘ulamás, shaykhs and others would come to listen to her, asking their questions and receiving her replies, and she was soon remarkably well known throughout Baghdád, expounding as she would the most recondite and subtle of theological themes.
When word of this reached the government authorities, they conveyed Táhirih, Shamsu’d-Ḍuḥá and the Leaf to the house of the Muftí, and here they remained three months until word as to their case was received from Constantinople. During Táhirih’s stay at the Muftí’s, much of the time was spent in conversations with him, in producing convincing proofs as to the Teachings, analyzing and expounding questions relative to the Lord God, discoursing on the Resurrection Day, on the Balance and the Reckoning,[111] unraveling the complexities of inner truths.
One day the Muftí’s father came in and belabored them violently and at length. This somewhat discomfited the Muftí and he began to apologize for his father. Then he said: “Your answer has arrived from Constantinople. The Sovereign has set you free, but on condition that you quit his realms.” The next morning they left the Muftí’s house and proceeded to the public baths. Meanwhile Shaykh Muḥammad-i-Shibl and Shaykh Sulṭán-i-‘Arab made the necessary preparations for their journey, and when three days had passed, they left Baghdád; that is, Táhirih, Shamsu’d-Ḍuḥá, the Leaf of Paradise, the mother of Mírzá Hádí, and a number of Siyyids from Yazd set out for Persia. Their travel expenses were all provided by Shaykh Muḥammad.
They arrived at Kirmansháh, where the women took up residence in one house, the men in another. The work of teaching went on at all times, and as soon as the ‘ulamás became aware of it they ordered that the party be expelled. At this the district head, with a crowd of people, broke into the house and carried off their belongings; then they seated the travelers in open howdahs and drove them from the city. When they came to a field, the muleteers set them down on the bare ground and left, taking animals and howdahs away, leaving them without food or luggage, and with no roof over their heads.
Táhirih thereupon wrote a letter to the Governor of Kirmansháh. “We were travelers,” she wrote, “guests in your city. ‘Honor thy guest,’ the Prophet says, ‘though he be an unbeliever.’ Is it right that a guest should be thus scorned and despoiled?” The Governor ordered that the stolen goods be restored, and that all be returned to the owners. Accordingly the muleteers came back as well, seated the travelers in the howdahs again, and they went on to Hamadán. The ladies of Hamadán, even the princesses, came every day to meet with Táhirih, who remained in that city two months.[112] There she dismissed some of her traveling companions, so that they could return to Baghdád; others, however, accompanied her to Qazvín.
As they journeyed, some horsemen, kinsfolk of Táhirih’s, that is, her brothers, approached. “We have come,” they said, “at our father’s command, to lead her away, alone.” But Táhirih refused, and accordingly the whole party remained together until they arrived in Qazvín. Here, Táhirih went to her father’s house and the friends, those who had ridden and those who had traveled on foot, put up at a caravanserai. Mírzá Hádí, the husband of Shamsu’d-Ḍuḥá, had gone to Máh-Kú, seeking out the Báb. On his return, he awaited the arrival of Shams in Qazvín, after which the couple left for Iṣfáhán, and when they reached there, Mírzá Hádí journeyed on to Badasht. In that hamlet and its vicinity he was attacked, tormented, even stoned, and was subjected to such ordeals that finally, in a ruined caravanserai, he died. His brother, Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Alí, buried him there, along the roadside.
Shams-i-Ḍuḥá remained in Iṣfáhán. She spent her days and nights in the remembrance of God and in teaching His Cause to the women of that city. She was gifted with an eloquent tongue; her utterance was wonderful to hear. She was highly honored by the leading women of Iṣfáhán, celebrated for piety, for godliness, and the purity of her life. She was chastity embodied; all her hours were spent in reciting Holy Writ, or expounding the Texts, or unraveling the most complex of spiritual themes, or spreading abroad the sweet savors of God.
It was for these reasons that the King of Martyrs married her respected daughter and became her son-in-law. And when Shams went to live in his princely house, day and night the people thronged its doors, for the leading women of the city, whether friends or strangers, whether close to her or not, would come and go. For she was a fire lit by the love of God, and she proclaimed the Word of God with great ardor and verve, so that she became known among the non-believers as Fátimih, the Bahá’ís’ Lady of Light.[113]
And so time passed, until the day when the “She-Serpent” and the “Wolf” conspired together and issued a decree, a fatvá, that sentenced the King of Martyrs to death. They plotted as well with the Governor of the city so that among them they could sack and plunder and carry off all that vast treasure he possessed. Then the Sháh joined forces with those two wild animals; and he commanded that the blood of both brothers, the King of Martyrs and the Beloved of Martyrs, be spilled out. Without warning, those ruthless men: the She-Serpent, the Wolf, and their brutal farráshes and constabulary—attacked; they chained the two brothers and led them off to prison, looted their richly furnished houses, wrested away all their possessions, and spared no one, not even infants at the breast. They tortured, cursed, reviled, mocked, beat the kin and others of the victims’ household, and would not stay their hands.