The air at Sultanieh, usually crisp with the scent of mountain herbs and the distant murmur of the imperial army at drill, was now thick with tension. It was July of 1826, and Fath-Ali Shah Qajar, seated upon his throne in a grand, open-sided pavilion, presided over a council that would decide the fate of Persia. Around him, the most powerful figures of the Qajar court and the holiest men of the realm gathered, their faces etched with a mixture of anticipation, conviction, and thinly veiled anxiety.
The central question, a burning ember that had smoldered for thirteen years since the humiliating Treaty of Gulistan, was now a roaring fire: What was to be done about Russia? Specifically, what action would Iran take if Russia refused to evacuate the unilaterally occupied territories of Gokcha and Balagh-lu? Beyond this immediate provocation, the council grappled with the alleged mistreatment of Muslim communities under Russian rule, with news of discrimination and even unspeakable acts against Muslim women circulating throughout the court. And finally, there was the tantalizing, yet uncertain, question of the new Tsar's attitude.
There were two distinct factions: the peace faction and the war faction.
The peace faction was led by Mirza Abolhassan Khan Ilchi, the Foreign Minister. A man who had personally served as ambassador to Russia and witnessed their intransigence firsthand, this faction also included the astute Neshat Esfahani, the Chief Scribe; Manuchehr Khan Gorji, the Head of the Royal Office; and the well-traveled Mirza Saleh Shirazi, the Court Translator and Envoy.
Mirza Abolhassan Khan, his voice tinged with weariness from past negotiations, spoke. "Your Majesty, we have experienced the superiority of the Russian military firsthand during the previous war. The Treaty of Gulistan, which I was forced to sign, is a testament to their military capabilities."
Opposing them was the war faction, who spoke with fervent passion and the weight of religious authority. This powerful bloc was spearheaded by several prominent Islamic scholars (ulama), most notably the influential Agha Sayyed Mohammad Esfahani, whose voice carried immense moral authority across the land. Alongside him stood Asef al-Dowleh, the Shah's new chief minister, a man eager to prove his loyalty and influence; Abol-Qasem Qa'em-Maqam II, the trusted and influential advisor to Crown Prince Abbas Mirza; and a chorus of exiled khans from the Caucasus, men who had lost their lands and power under Russian dominion and yearned for their restoration.
"Your Majesty!" yelled one of the Ulama, his voice echoing through the pavilion. "The Russians have not merely encroached upon our sacred lands; they have insulted the very faith of Islam!"
A member of the peace faction stood up, his face pale. "Our treasury is strained, and our military, though improved, is still not their equal! War with the Russians will only invite another catastrophic defeat!"
"Then what about the reports of their brutal treatment of our Muslim brethren, their desecration of our mosques, and even the unspeakable acts against our women in the occupied territories!?" another member of the Ulama responded. "Shall we do nothing about it!?" He then took a deep breath and said fervently, "This is not merely a territorial dispute; this is a jihad, a holy war, ordained by Allah Himself!"
Abbas Mirza, the Shah's son and crown prince, also added, "Father, I have spent years improving the army and sending students to study in foreign military academies. I'm confident our army will win against the Russians."
Fath-Ali Shah, though a pragmatic ruler often in need of foreign subsidies, found himself under immense pressure. He was torn between the cautious, reasoned arguments of his experienced diplomats and the passionate, religiously sanctioned calls for war from the ulama and his ambitious Crown Prince.
Seeing that the Shah was still unable to make a decision, Agha Sayyed Mohammad Esfahani added, "Your Majesty, you have duties both as Sovereign of Persia and as the head of the Mohamedian faith. Have you forgotten the contents of the letter I sent you, in which a fatwa, a religious edict, was issued that opposition to the jihad, is a 'sign of unbelief'?"
Those words were like the final nail to the coffin, and just as the Shah was about to give in to the pressure, a man entered and delivered some news: the new Russian envoy, Prince Alexander S. Menshikov, had arrived.
The peace faction, hearing that the Russian envoy had arrived, had hope reignited in their eyes that the envoy would bring news that would stop the need for war.
As he entered, he was greeted with the sight of people arguing. They stopped and stared at him. Finally, someone then inquired, "Did the Tsar give any orders to retreat from the unlawfully occupied territories of Gokcha and Balagh-lu?"
The envoy, awkward, answered, "No."
Sigh. 'Why has the Tsar sent me here?' Menshikov thought. 'He knows that the negotiations are futile if Persia's sovereignty keeps getting violated. At this point, he is asking for war.' In fact, the reason he was sent was simply ceremonial, as Tsar Nicholas I had no intention of compromising for peace.
"Is the Russian empire planning to leave the occupied territories of Gokcha and Balagh-lu or give compensation to the local Muslim population for the atrocities committed?"
"No."
Menshikov again gave a simple answer. Thus, the peace faction's hope for peace was gone.
"Your Majesty, please consider the consequences of failure if war were to occur!"
Agha Sayyed Mohammad Esfahani added the final nail to the coffin. "The British have promised us financial aid in case a war with Russia were to occur, Your Majesty!"
The Shah, unable to withstand the tidal wave of support for war, finally gave in.
"I give permission. Henceforth, we will go on a jihad."
Hearing the Shah's words, sweat ran down Menshikov's head as he tried to leave, but as he did, the crown prince's words echoed behind him.
"Where are you going, envoy? Wasn't it a long journey here? You should stay for some time for rest."
'Lord have mercy,' was all the envoy could think as he knew that going back to Russia wasn't an option for now.
***
July 8th, 1826.
Paskevich was sitting in his camp, looking at some reports he had received.
'His Royal Majesty promoted me to a senior command position, increased the amount of troops under me, and deployed two sets of reinforcements nearby, totaling 19,000. Including the troops under my command, that would be 29,000. Considering all that and the order to be vigilant regarding any movement from the Persians, it seems like war is imminent.'
Sitting in his canvas-walled tent, a flickering oil lamp casting long shadows across the stack of reports on his desk. Outside, the usual thunder of boots on the parade ground and the crisp shouts of drill sergeants were absent. The camp was eerily quiet, the only sounds the rustle of a restless horse and the faint crackle of a distant fire, a silence he had ordered so his men could rest in anticipation of a potential surprise invasion by the Persians.
Paskevich's eyes then turned to a specific set of documents he had reviewed and memorized countless times. Their sheer detail and the countermeasures outlined seemed like the work of a seasoned general. 'I really wish to meet the man who designed it. All the points are articulated and well-reasoned.'
Just as he was about to grab the coffee on his desk, a soldier, panting heavily, hurriedly rushed into his camp, the report clutched in his hand. He saluted his senior commander and said, "Sir! I have urgent news!"
"What happened?"
"The reconnaissance units have reported that an estimated number of over 30,000 Persian troops are crossing from Yerevan Khanate into Karabakh, and they seem to be heading to Yelizavetpol (Ganja)."
Hearing the news, the general was surprised. Although their numbers were higher than the estimate, it was still very much manageable, even with the 10,000 troops under his command, not to mention with the reinforcements. The fact that the enemy's movements were predicted by the documents he read sent a chill down his spine, as if the enemy was being played with.
Suddenly, an inspiration struck him, and an audacious and incredibly risky plan formed in his mind. Smiling and with a glint in his eyes, he told the soldier, "Bring all the sub-commanders here immediately, along with as detailed a map of Yelizavetpol as soon possible! Tell them it's urgent and that I'm calling for a meeting!"
"Yes sir!"