Captain Manuchehr didn’t just train them in military maneuvers, he served as their geography instructor as well. Leaving the castle, he would ride so far south with them that when they turned to face their point of departure they could see the peak of Demavend jutting above the surrounding mountains. This he chose as the orientation point for his explanations. When he still served in the sultan’s army, he had traveled across this entire realm several times. Now, on a huge sheet of parchment, he drew all the major mountain ranges, all the most important cities and markets, and all the military and caravan routes. He spread the map on the ground before the novices, using Demavend to determine the compass points, and began describing the location of individual geographic features and crossroads. To bring the lesson to life and heighten his listeners’ zeal, he wove recollections of his life in the military into his descriptions. And each novice was assigned the task of determining the location of and distance to his hometown. As a result, these lessons were among everybody’s favorites.
A new subject that al-Hakim taught was particularly unusual. Formerly this man had moved in court circles in the West. He was familiar with the life of the courts in Byzantium and Cairo, as well as in Baghdad. He had been the guest of many powerful princes and had seen numerous peoples, whose ways and traditions he had thoroughly studied. Now he distilled all this experience into a particular subject which he imparted to his students. He taught them how the Greeks, Jews, Armenians and Arabs greeted each other, what their customs were, how they ate, drank and enjoyed themselves, and what they did for a living. He showed them how to appear before this or that prince, what various rulers’ ceremonies required, and he provided them with the basics of the Greek, Hebrew and Armenian languages. Through all of this he performed like some Greek tragedian, playing first an exalted prince, then a meek petitioner, walking about tall and proud one minute, then falling face first to the floor or bowing low before phantoms, while smiling half-ingratiatingly and half-slyly. The novices had to imitate him, playing parts with him and exchanging greetings in foreign languages. Every now and then the proceedings were interrupted by riotous laughter, and the learned Greek would willingly join in.
Besides dogma and Arabic grammar, dai Ibrahim also explicated the Koran and taught algebra and mathematical disciplines. Ibn Tahir soon came to feel genuine admiration for him. He felt as though dai Ibrahim knew everything. When he interpreted the Koran, he would also make philosophical digressions, talk about other faiths, and share the basics of Christianity, Judaism, and even the mysterious Indian teachings proclaimed by the Buddha, alongside other pagan beliefs. He would explain in detail why all those faiths were in error, and demonstrate how much truer were the teachings of the Prophet, which found their most perfect expression in the doctrine of the Ismailis. In conclusion he would condense all these reflections into concise sentences, which the novices had to write down and then memorize.
Once dai Abu Soraka came to class with a thick paper package under his arm. He unwrapped it carefully, as though it contained something mysterious and valuable, then pulled out a stack of minutely inscribed sheets of parchment. He set these down on the rug before him and put his heavy hand over them.
“Today I will begin to teach you about the life of Our Master. You will hear about his suffering, his struggles, and the great sacrifices he has made for the Ismaili cause. This stack of writings in front of me now is the result of his untiring efforts. All of this was written carefully by his hand for you, so that you can learn from his life what it means to sacrifice yourself for the just cause. That’s why I want you to take careful notes on everything you’re going to hear, and then learn it well. Behold, here is the fruit of his labors on your behalf.”
The novices stood and approached the writings that lay in front of the dai. In silent admiration they looked at the beautifully inscribed sheets, which rustled as they slid through their teacher’s fingers. Suleiman wanted a closer look and reached for one of the sheets. But Abu Soraka quickly stretched his hand out, as if protecting the writings from desecration.
“Have you lost your mind?!” he exclaimed. “This is the manuscript of a living prophet.”
The novices gradually returned to their places. In a reverent voice, the dai started to introduce them to the life and achievements of their supreme commander. To begin with, he wanted to provide them with a brief outline of the external events, so it would then be easier to shift to the details that were described in the sheets before him. They heard that Sayyiduna, their commander, had been born sixty years ago in Tus, that his name was Hasan and that his father Ali came from the famous Arab clan of Sabbah Homairi. In his early youth he had gotten to know several Ismaili teachers and missionaries and immediately sensed the absolute rightness of their doctrine. His father himself had secretly been a devotee of Ali. In order not to awaken suspicion, he had sent the young Hasan to Nishapur to study with the Sunni refiq Muafiq Edin. It was there that Hasan become acquainted with the present grand vizier Nizam al-Mulk and with the astronomer and mathematician Omar Khayyam. They were fellow students who, when they fully realized the falseness of the Sunni faith and the vanity of its exponents, resolved to devote their lives to the Ismaili cause. They swore that whichever of them first attained success in public life would help the other two advance, so that they could more effectively serve the one true cause.
The grand vizier failed to keep his promise. On the contrary! He lured Sayyiduna to the sultan’s court, where he had set a dangerous trap for him. But Allah protected his chosen one. He wrapped him in the cloak of night and led him to Egypt and the caliph there. But even there, jealous individuals rose up against him. He overcame them and, after much wandering, returned to his homeland. Allah gave him the fortress of Alamut so that he could use it to launch the struggle against false teachings and ultimately overcome the false rulers and despots. His entire life is strewn with miracles, mortal danger and the grace of Allah. Abu Soraka continued.
“Once you hear all these wondrous stories, which seem more like legends than truth, you’ll know Our Master to be a true and powerful prophet.”
And in the following days he began recounting in detail the most improbable events and experiences from the life of the supreme commander. The novices’ picture of a strong prophet gradually took shape, and it became their most fervent wish to see him in person someday, and to prove themselves to him through some feat or great sacrifice, because meaning something in his eyes meant the same thing for them as rising far above the mass of humanity.
By day, ibn Tahir no longer marveled at anything. He was a keen observer and an obedient student. He did everything the moment demanded of him, and he felt that everything had to be precisely the way it was.
In the evening, however, when he lay with his hands clasped behind his head and stared at the reddish flame emanating from the oil dish on its stand in the corner, he suddenly realized that he was living in some strange, mysterious world. He felt anxious and often he would wonder, “Are you, lying here, really the same Avani who used to tend father’s herd in Sava?” He felt that the world he was now living in and his former world were divided by the same kind of abyss that divides the world of dreams from the waking world.
He escaped from those dreams by writing poems. During poetry lessons, dai Abu Soraka asked the novices to celebrate in verse some personage or event of significance to the Ismailis. They had to write poems about the Prophet, about Ali, about Ismail and the glorious martyrs and their feats.
Ibn Tahir felt most drawn to Ali, the Prophet’s son-in-law, and he composed a poem about him that so impressed Abu Soraka that he showed it to Sayyiduna. His fellow disciples learned it too, and soon ibn Tahir was known throughout Alamut as a poet.
ALI
First to know the Prophet, after his bride,
At the time when he wasn’t yet ten,
In every battle he stood by his side,
And for him he selflessly bled.
The Prophet gave him his dau
ghter to wife,
Fatima, the most beautiful girl,
He chose him to serve as caliph for life,
And then he let history unfurl.
Betrayed and defrauded of all of his rights
At the death of the Prophet he was.
And this was not the end of his plight:
He gave up his life as Allah’s.
His holy relics lie in Najaf,
Enshrined in a gold-covered dome,
And the faithful who go there to worship Allah
Shed tears in the martyr’s name.
Encouraged by his first success, ibn Tahir continued his experiments with poetry. Suddenly he felt that he had discovered a means both of expressing something of that eerie feeling that frightened him in the evenings and getting rid of it at the same time. He tried to fit everything that had seemed alien and obscure to him into verse, so that he could face it directly. Some of these efforts eventually became common property among the residents of Alamut, many of whom could recite them by heart. Two poems about Alamut and Sayyiduna were particular favorites.
ALAMUT
Where the Elburz rise up to the sky,
Where untamed waters flow,
Where mountain torrents froth and spray
Enough to thwart every foe—
A mysterious castle stands on a rock,
Going back to the kings of Daylam.
Enclosed on all sides by a powerful wall,
It stands fast against arrows and storms.
At one time eagles nested there,
And hawks perched with their prey.
All predators found it a suitable lair,
So Alamut is its name.
Four towers guard the keep on the cliff,
Holding its mystery safe
From unholy hands grasping to pry
The sacred mystery away.
SAYYIDUNA
A powerful ruler controls Alamut
Like an eagle in its nest.
He guides and judges his followers,
For the sultan he cares not a whit.
Unseen, unheard, yet everywhere
You can sense his all-powerful hand.
There’s no telling when and even less where
His retribution will land.
He was chosen by Allah and sent into the world.
He has suffered at numberless hands;
If you don’t count the Prophet and Ali,
There has not been a holier man.
Around him so many wonders take place
That would baffle a Christian or Jew.
For his loyalty, faith, and his countless travails,
He opens heaven’s gate to a few.
Poetry also played a role in their rhetoric lessons. Suleiman and ibn Tahir would compete with each other in front of all the others. Suleiman was the quicker, ibn Tahir the more reasoned speaker. Yusuf was most miserable of all during these lessons. He often claimed to ibn Tahir that he would rather spend the whole day doing maneuvers in the sun for stern Manuchehr, or even lash himself, jump around on a white hot metal plate, and perform all ten excruciating breathing exercises, which they had begun to master. There was only one thing that he feared as much as poetry, rhetoric, grammar and algebra, and that was Abdul Malik’s fast. That was the one time when he felt that life and everything they did in the castle was senseless and empty. He would be overcome with a desire to lie down, go to sleep, and never wake up again.
Otherwise there were no particular issues that bothered Yusuf, and very little that surprised him, with the exception, perhaps, of ibn Tahir’s ability to compose poems that he hadn’t read anywhere and that hadn’t been dictated to him. Publicly he called him a magician, but in private his earthbound imagination insisted that ibn Tahir had to have some secret source somewhere that he drew his art from. That the poems he knew had been composed by poets, this much he understood. But that had been in the dim, dark past, back when heroes still walked the earth and did battle with demons and other supernatural beings. But that his companion, who slept in the bed next to his and was a head shorter and a lot weaker than him—that this person could be one of those poets was something his simple brain refused to accept. He could more or less understand that Sayyiduna was a great prophet, despite the fact that the two of them lived in the same castle. Sayyiduna was invisible and found it unnecessary to appear to anyone. Ibn Tahir argued and joked with Yusuf every day. Despite these doubts he sincerely admired him and was proud of their friendship.
Although he was a peerless swordsman and snare thrower and always the first to volunteer for any dangerous ordeal, Suleiman easily got jealous of the successes of others. Once, when somebody praised Yusuf and ibn Tahir to him, he replied, “One’s a fool and the other’s full of himself.”
Even so, the three of them were inseparable. Whenever others attacked Suleiman’s companions, he defended them. He would become furious and refute them.
“When you’re able to withstand as much exertion and throw a spear as far as Yusuf, then you can talk.”
Or regarding ibn Tahir, he might say, “If you had just a fraction of his intellect in your heads, you wouldn’t just be full of yourselves, your heads would be so puffed up they would have exploded long ago.”
But nobody held these taunts against him, because it wasn’t just Yusuf and ibn Tahir who liked him, but the whole school, including the teachers.
One of the strictest injunctions was against any discussion of women or matters of sexuality in general. Thus it was that it took the novices’ breath away when Ibrahim unexpectedly touched on this delicate subject in one of his lessons. He had just spoken about the Prophet’s wives. Then he cleared his throat, lowered his gaze, and fixed it on the young men sitting in front of him. He began in a grave voice.
“The Prophet himself did not forbid believers to marry and enjoy a life shared with the opposite sex. He himself provided the model of a steadfast spouse and good father. And yet at the same time he set a luminous goal before all believers—martyrdom for the holy faith and the greatest reward for this sacrifice—eternal joy in the gardens of paradise. Following his august example, the earliest believers were able to combine the two—a pleasant life with women and courageous sacrifice for his teachings. But when the Prophet died, dissension grew among his believers. The men just wallowed around in harems and fought for power and other earthly possessions. Forgotten was the Prophet’s commandment to sacrifice for the great cause, to fight sword in hand, even to die a martyr’s death for it … Now Sayyiduna has drawn a line between that and his own actions. On that side are Baghdad and the Seljuk tyrants with their depraved adherents. On this side are you and us. You who are about to be consecrated as fedayeen are an elite corps whose ultimate purpose is sacrifice and martyrdom for the holy cause. You must therefore be different from them in every way. This is why Sayyiduna has issued the strictest injunction for you: you must neither marry nor otherwise succumb to any kind of debauchery. As if you already inhabited the heavenly gardens that have been created for you, you are forbidden to speak of impure things. You are also forbidden to think about them or secretly submit to them in your imagination. Nothing is hidden from Allah! And Sayyiduna has been chosen by Him and designated to be your guide. The strictest punishments await any who would violate this injunction. Whoever is caught in an unseemly conversation will be immediately demoted to foot soldier. One of your rank has already met with that punishment. Once you’ve been consecrated, whoever has intercourse with a woman or, still worse, marries, will be put to a hideous death. First, the executioner will put out his eyes with a red-hot iron. Once the worst pain has passed, his limbs will be pulled out of his living body, one by one. The supreme commander has deemed these punishments appropriate for anyone who violates his commandment.”
The novices felt an icy shudder at these words. They didn’t dare look each other in the eye. Some of them vividly imagined the horrific punishments. They tensed up, and barely stifled sighs escaped from a few of
them.
When dai Ibrahim saw the effects of his words, an imperceptible smile passed over his unmoving face. He continued in a much gentler voice.
“Don’t be frightened by Sayyiduna’s injunction. It only appears to be cruel. Because who among you would even think of trading the reward that awaits you for your sacrifices, for the dubious pleasure that violating Sayyiduna’s commandments could offer you? Each of you who is steadfast in carrying out what you’re commanded to do will be given eternal delights! And what delights! As martyrs for the holy cause you will enter into gardens where streams flow clear as crystal. You’ll recline on soft pillows amid pavilions of glass and stroll in the shade of lush, leafy trees through perfectly tended gardens. You’ll be surrounded by flower beds full of exquisitely shivering blossoms. Fair-limbed girls with dark eyes shaped like almonds will serve you the choicest food and drink. They’ll be at your service! Allah specially created these girls so that they will retain their youth and virginity, even though they submit completely to your wishes … Once you are consecrated, you’ll be ready to earn these delights. Allah has given Sayyiduna the key to the gardens intended for you. Sayyiduna will open the gates to paradise for whoever carries out his commandments faithfully. How can anything deter you from the path to this reward?”
That evening the novices gathered on the rooftop and ibn Tahir said, “Our teachers have encouraged us to use our free time to talk about anything we’ve learned in the course of the day. Today dai Ibrahim explained why Sayyiduna forbids us to be unchaste in word and thought as well as action. I don’t think we’d be violating that injunction if we discuss everything we’ve heard, the way we usually do, and come to some conclusions about how to act so that we can avoid temptations more easily.”
These words frightened some of the novices.