Alamut

  As long as Halima still slept with Zainab and Sara, she had remained afraid of the night. Now she couldn’t wait for it to come. On the evening of the second day Miriam said to her, “Don’t ask me about anything and don’t tell anyone anything. I’m here to watch over all of you.”

  These mysterious words provoked any number of thoughts in Halima. But for the moment she simply observed quietly. Miriam always came to bed last. Beforehand Halima arranged her bed nicely for her, then undressed and climbed into it, pretending she’d already fallen asleep. But through the barest slit of her eyelids she would watch Miriam come into the room, undress distractedly, and put out the candles. Then she would listen as she approached and gently kissed her. Finally, in a state of supreme bliss, she’d fall asleep.

  Once, in the middle of the night, she awoke with the sense that something was amiss. She became afraid and was about to call for Miriam. But when she looked toward her bed, she saw nobody was in it. A mysterious panic seized her.

  “Where has she gone?” she wondered. Maybe she’s looking in on the others, she thought. No, she’s with Sayyiduna, something inside of her answered with utter certainty.

  With Sayyiduna? Chasms of mystery opened up within her soul. Acutely, she sensed her own frailty. She hunched together into a tight ball and held her breath. And she listened.

  But Miriam refused to appear. Sleep abandoned her entirely. She thought, she shuddered with fear, and she enjoyed her shivers of curiosity, since she felt she had finally struck on the nerve of the mystery. The stars began to fade and the first birds began to chirp. Then the curtain that covered the doorway was gently pulled aside. Like a ghost Miriam noiselessly entered, dressed in a cloak that was trimmed in sable. She warily glanced in Halima’s direction, then tiredly unfastened her cloak, letting it drop from her shoulders. Standing before her bed in her nightgown, she unfastened her sandals and sank into her pillows.

  Halima was unable to fall asleep until the moment the gong sounded, signaling time to get up. Then for a moment she sank into a brief, deep sleep. When she awoke, Miriam was standing beside her bed as usual, smiling at her.

  “You tossed in your sleep a lot last night,” she told her sweetly. “You must have had some bad dreams.”

  And at that instant Halima really couldn’t say whether it had all just been a dream or not. She got up, pale and exhausted, and was reluctant to look anyone in the eye all that day.

  Since that night Miriam became more trusting toward Halima. In their free time she would teach her writing and have her practice her reading. They both enjoyed this process. Halima would muster all her ability to avoid embarrassing herself in front of her teacher, and as a result she made quick progress. Miriam was generous with praise. As an incentive she would tell her stories from her childhood, about life in her father’s house in Aleppo, about the battles between the Christians and the Jews, about the wide seas and the ships that came from far-off lands. Through all this they grew quite close, becoming like older and younger sisters.

  One evening when Miriam entered the bedroom and undressed, she said to Halima, “Stop pretending you’re asleep. Come over here.”

  “What? Over there? Me?” Halima asked, startled.

  “Or maybe you don’t want to? Come on. I have something to tell you.”

  Trembling all over, Halima crawled in beside her. She lay on the very edge of the bed for fear of giving away her excitement, and out of some incomprehensible reluctance to touch her. But Miriam pulled her close anyway, and only at this point did Halima feel free to press close.

  “I’m going to tell you about the sorrows of my life,” Miriam began. “You already know that my father was a merchant in Aleppo. He was very rich and his ships sailed far to the west, laden with precious wares. As a child I had everything my heart desired. They dressed me in exquisite silks, adorned me with gold and gems, and three slaves were at my command. I got used to giving commands and it only seemed natural that everybody should submit to me.”

  “How happy you must have been!” Halima sighed.

  “Would you believe that I wasn’t particularly?” Miriam replied. “At least it strikes me that way now. My every wish was fulfilled immediately. But what kind of wishes? Only those that could be satisfied with money. The silent, secret ones that a girl’s heart loves to dream about so much had to stay buried deep inside me. You see, I’d learned the limits of human powers early on. When I wasn’t yet fourteen, a series of misfortunes befell my father, one after the other. It began with my mother’s death, which sent my father into a period of profound grief. He didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. From his first wife he had three sons who had become merchants in their own right. One of them lost his entire fortune and the other two stepped in to rescue him. They dispatched their ships to the shores of Africa and waited for their earnings. But then came the news that a storm had destroyed their vessels. All three of them turned to their father. He reunited with them and they sent more ships to the Frankish kingdom. But pirates seized them and overnight we became beggars.”

  “Oh, you’d have been better off poor from the beginning!” Halima exclaimed.

  Miriam smiled. She drew Halima closer to her and continued.

  “All these misfortunes struck us before two years had passed. And then Moses, a Jew who was considered the richest man in Aleppo, came to visit my father. He said to him, ‘Look here, Simeon’—that was my father’s name. ‘You need money, and I need a wife.’ ‘Go on, get out,’ my father laughed at him. ‘You’re so old your son could be my daughter’s father. It would be more seemly for you to be thinking of death.’ Moses refused to let himself be put off—at that time, you see, the whole town was saying I was the prettiest girl in Aleppo. ‘You can borrow from me as much as you want,’ he continued. ‘Just give me Miriam. She’ll be fine with me.’ My father took all this talk of courtship as a joke. But when my half-brothers found out about it, they begged him to strike a deal with Moses. Father’s situation was hopeless. He was also a good Christian and didn’t want to give his child to a Jew. But as frail and depressed as he was after all those misfortunes, he finally relented and let Moses take me as his wife. No one ever asked me about it. One day they signed a contract and I had to move into the Jew’s house.”

  “Poor, poor Miriam,” Halima said through tears.

  “You know, in his way my husband loved me. I would have preferred a thousand fold for him to hate me or be indifferent. He tormented me with his jealousy—he locked me inside my chambers, and because he could tell that I found him disgusting and was cold to him, he’d gnash his teeth and threaten to stab me. There were times when I thought he was crazy, and I was terribly afraid of him.”

  Miriam fell silent, as though she had to gather her strength for what she was about to say. Halima sensed a secret approaching and she trembled. She pressed her cheeks, burning like white-hot iron, to Miriam’s breast and she held her breath.

  “My husband,” Miriam resumed presently, “had a habit that deeply injured my modesty. The fact that I had finally become his property after all completely impaired his faculties. He would tell his business associates about me, describe my virtues, my modesty, my physical features in the most vivid terms, and boast that he had become master of the greatest beauty far and wide. Obviously he wanted them to envy him. You see, he would tell me repeatedly of an evening about how his friends had gone green with envy when he described my virtues and his enjoyment of them. You can imagine, Halima, how much I hated him then, and how revolting I found him. When I had to go to him, I felt as though I were going to my execution. But he would laugh and make fun of the greenhorns, as he called his younger associates, and say, ‘Ah, but for money everything is available, my dear. Even an old hen won’t look twice at a poor man, no matter how handsome he is.’ All this talking made me terribly angry and bitter. Oh, if I’d known just one of those greenhorns then, I would have shown Moses how much he was deluding himself! But what happened was the last thing I would ha
ve expected. One day one of my maid servants pressed a tiny letter into my hand. I unrolled it and my heart began to race at its very first words. Even today I remember it down to the last syllable. Listen and I’ll tell you what it said.”

  Halima trembled in rapt attention, and Miriam continued.

  “The letter said: ‘Sheik Mohammed to Miriam, the flower of Aleppo, the silver-shining moon delighting the night and illuminating the world! I love you and have loved you endlessly ever since I heard Moses, your accursed jailer, exalt your beauty and virtues to the heavens. Just as wine goes to an infidel’s head and intoxicates him, so has word of your perfection intoxicated my heart. Oh, silver-shining moon. If you knew how many nights I have spent in the desert dreaming of your virtues, how vividly you’ve stepped before my eyes, and how I’ve watched you like the rosy dawn ascending. I thought that distance would cure me of longing for you, but it has only intensified it. Now I have returned and bring you my heart. Know, flower of Aleppo, that sheik Mohammed is a man and does not fear death. And that he comes close to inhale the air that you exhale. Farewell!’

  “At first I thought the letter was a trap. I called the servant who had delivered the letter to me and insisted that she tell me everything honestly. She started crying and showed me the silver piece that some son of the desert had given her as payment for delivering the letter to me. What sort of son of the desert? I asked. Young, and handsome too. My whole body trembled. I was already falling in love with Mohammed. Of course, I thought, how would he have dared to write me the letter otherwise, if he weren’t young and handsome? And then I suddenly became afraid that he might be disappointed when he saw me. I reread that letter over a hundred times. By day I kept it next to my breast, and at night I carefully locked it away in a chest. Then came a second one, even more passionate and beautiful than the first. I was aflame with my secret love. And finally Mohammed arranged a nighttime meeting on the terrace outside my window. That’s how familiar he already was with my surroundings. Oh, Halima, how can I explain to you how I felt then? That day I changed my mind a dozen times. I’ll go, I won’t go—back and forth endlessly, it seemed. Finally I decided not to go, and I held to that all the way up until the appointed time, when I went out onto the terrace, as if obeying a secret command. It was a marvelous night. Dark and moonless, although the sky was littered with tiny shining stars. I felt feverish and chilled by turns. I waited on the terrace like that for some time. I was just starting to think, what if all this is just a ruse? what if someone wanted to play a trick on me and taunt old Moses? when I heard a voice whispering, ‘Don’t be afraid. It’s me, sheik Mohammed.’ A man in a gray cloak vaulted over the railing as light as a feather, and, before I knew it, he had me in his arms. I felt as though worlds were being born and I was seeing infinity. He didn’t ask if I wanted to go with him. He took me by the waist and carried me as he climbed down a ladder into the garden. On the other side of the fence I could see several horsemen. They took hold of me so he could scale the wall. Then he pulled me up into the saddle with him. Off we galloped, out of the city and into the dark of night.”

  “And all that happened to you?” Halima gasped. “Lucky, lucky Miriam!”

  “Oh, don’t say that, Halima. It breaks my heart when I think of what happened after that. We rode all night. The moon rose from behind the hills and shone on us. I felt horrible and wonderful all at the same time, like when you listen to a fairy tale. For a long time I didn’t dare look in the face of the horseman who had me in his embrace. I only gradually relaxed and turned my eyes toward him. His gaze, like an eagle’s, was fixed on the road ahead of us. But when he turned to look at me, it became soft and warm like a deer’s. I fell in love with him so hard that I would have died for him on the spot. He was a magnificent man, my sheik Mohammed. He had a black mustache and a short, thick beard. And red lips. Oh, Halima! While we were on the road I became his wife … They chased us for three days. My stepbrothers, my husband’s son and a whole pack of armed townsmen. Later I found out that, as soon as they discovered I’d escaped, they interrogated all the servants. They discovered Mohammed’s letter, and my husband Moses had a stroke, the pain and humiliation were so great. Both families immediately took up arms, mounted their horses, and set out in pursuit. We had gotten quite a ways out into the desert when we caught sight of the band of riders on the horizon. Mohammed only had seven men with him. They called out for him to drop me so that his horse could gallop faster. But he just brushed them off. We changed horses, but even so our pursuers kept getting closer and closer. Then Mohammed called on his friends to turn their horses around and charge at our pursuers. He set me down on the ground and, saber in hand, led the seven in their charge. The groups of horsemen collided, and superior numbers prevailed. One of my half brothers was killed, but so was Mohammed. When I saw that I howled in agony and started to run. They caught me right away and bound me to the saddle, and they tied Mohammed’s dead body to the horse’s tail.”

  “Horrible, horrible,” Halima moaned, covering her face in her hands.

  “I can’t tell you what I felt then. My heart became hard as stone and stayed open to one passion alone—the passion for revenge. I still had no inkling of the humiliation and shame that awaited me. When we arrived back in Aleppo I found my husband dying. Still, when he saw me, his eyes came to life. At that moment he seemed like a demon to me. His son tied me to the deathbed and lashed me with a whip. I gritted my teeth and kept silent. When Moses died I felt relieved. It was as though the first part of the revenge had been fulfilled.

  “I’ll only briefly describe what they did with me then. When they felt they’d tortured me enough, they took me to Basra and sold me there as a slave. That’s how I became the property of Our Master. And he promised to take revenge for me on the Jews and the Christians.”

  Halima was silent a long time. In her eyes Miriam had grown to the stature of a demigod, and she felt that through their friendship she had also gained immeasurably.

  Finally she asked, “Is it true that Christians and Jews eat little children?”

  Miriam, still lost in her terrible memories, suddenly shook loose from them and laughed aloud.

  “It’s not out of the question,” she said. “They’re heartless enough.”

  “How lucky that we’re among true believers! Miriam, tell me, are you still a Christian?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Maybe a Jew then?”

  “No, I’m not a Jew either.”

  “Then you’re a true believer, like me!”

  “Whatever you say, sweet child.”

  “Does Sayyiduna like you very much?”

  “I told you not to ask me questions,” she frowned at her in mock displeasure. “But since I’ve told you so much already, I’ll tell you this. It’s possible that he likes me, but what’s certain is that he needs me.”

  “How does he need you? I don’t understand.”

  “He’s alone and he doesn’t have anyone he can open up to.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. He’s not sheik Mohammed, but he’s definitely not Moses either. He’s a great prophet and I admire him a lot.”

  “He must be very handsome.”

  “Silly kitten! Are you trying to make yourself jealous by asking me these things?”

  “Oh, in spite of everything, you’re so lucky, Miriam,” Halima said, the thought coming from the bottom of her heart.

  “Be quiet, cricket. It’s late and you’ve got to sleep. Now go back to bed.”

  She kissed her, and Halima quietly slipped into her own bed. But she was unable to fall asleep for a long, long time. In her mind she went over everything she had heard from Miriam. And she imagined the abduction and horse ride in Mohammed’s embrace so vividly that she could feel his breath and the touch of his mustache on her cheek.

  She shuddered from some strange sweetness, and she was glad it was dark and no one could see her. But when, in her imagination, she saw
the dead body of Mohammed tied to the horse’s tail and being dragged along, she buried her little face in her pillow and sobbed. And, crying, she fell asleep.

  Once, not long after that, she came upon a scene that filled her with a strange revulsion. She was roving around the gardens and exploring the underbrush as usual, when she suddenly heard some odd whispering coming from behind a bush. Quietly she approached the place. Sara and the eunuch Mustafa were lying in the grass, doing things that Apama usually talked about in her lessons. She shuddered. She wanted to flee, but some invisible power bound her to the spot. It took her breath away, and she was unable to look away from the pair. She stayed put until they rose to leave.

  She wondered if she should tell Miriam what she had seen, to avoid having to keep another secret from her. But hadn’t she already betrayed Sara once before? No, she couldn’t accuse her again. Instead she’d pretend she hadn’t seen anything. It was just an accident that she’d discovered this anyway.

  And when, subsequently, she actually managed to keep quiet, she felt relieved. She was able to look Sara in the eye again. It was as though she were settling an old debt to her with her silence.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In the castle, meanwhile, ibn Tahir was undergoing the greatest transformation of his life. For several days after his arrival everything kept spinning and going hazy before his eyes, as though someone had struck him on the head with a heavy club. But he quickly adapted to the new order. After a fortnight had passed, not only was he one of the best novices, but he had also become a passionate and fervent adherent of Ismaili teachings. His face also underwent a striking change. The softness and roundness of his cheeks disappeared. They collapsed, and the expression of his face became harsh and determined. He appeared to be a full ten years older than when he had arrived.

  During this time he had gotten to know his companions, their superiors, and the school’s overall curriculum thoroughly.