Alamut

  “I’m afraid there’s something far more dangerous lurking behind this,” the Greek suggested. “Do you remember our conversation about the harems behind the castle? What if he created them for these boys?”

  “But why hasn’t he confided in us? He must know that the less we’re informed, the more we’re bound to speculate.”

  “Would you like to hear some wise advice, my dear dai? Drop the speculations and forget what you’ve heard. Otherwise I’m not sure your head will be worth very much. Because it’s not in him to trifle with the commanders, much less with those crazy, young fanatics. I’ve seen a few things in my lifetime. But there’s something in ibn Sabbah that surpasses my understanding and my experience.”

  Agitated, Abu Soraka left to attend to his business. However much he resisted, in his thoughts he constantly came back to the three boys’ strange nocturnal tale.

  Dai Ibrahim’s reaction to the news was entirely different. At first he was also taken by surprise. Then he clarified everything in his mind. “Sayyiduna knows what he’s doing,” he said. “We serve him, and if he chose not to share his plan with us, then I’m sure he has good reasons.”

  Discussion of the matter was all the more animated in the barracks. The sergeants and some of the men who served meals to the fedayeen overheard them talking and returned with news of this unprecedented miracle. Because no one who believed what the fedayeen said had any doubt that the threesome’s visit to the gardens of paradise had been a miracle.

  “Our Master must be a great prophet if Allah gave him so much power,” they said.

  “But what if the fedayeen invented the whole thing?” a doubter worried.

  “Out of the question,” insisted one of the men who had listened to the fedayeen. “They’re all still obsessed with what the three had to say.”

  “Then that’s the best proof that only Ismailism is the true faith. Only a criminal dog would still doubt in Sayyiduna’s mission after miracles like that.”

  “From now on I give no leeway to infidels. I’ll hack in two anybody who refuses to recognize Sayyiduna as a great prophet.”

  “Now it’s going to be a real pleasure to fight those infidel dogs. Let them all perish by our sabers.”

  Emir Manuchehr walked in. For a time he listened to the conversations without speaking. Then he had them tell him everything from the beginning.

  The soldiers watched him attentively. But not a muscle on his face moved. When he saw they expected a statement from him, he spoke.

  “If the fedayeen claim that they were in paradise by the grace of the supreme commander, and he doesn’t contradict that, then it’s our duty to believe and act accordingly.”

  But when he returned to his rooms, his brow was deeply furrowed. He also wondered why the commander hadn’t informed him of his plans. He was even more disturbed by the wild fanaticism that he had observed among his men. He didn’t doubt there was some deception lurking at the bottom of this, but he couldn’t quite imagine what that might be. He could just feel that his old, experienced soldiers were turning into herds of wild fanatics who no longer looked to him as their most immediate commander, but were instead falling more and more under the invisible influence of the leader of the faith. There didn’t appear to be any alternative but for him to adapt to this new trend himself. Hasan had named him emir, but this was more of a religious distinction than a military one. Now the inexorably functioning machine that Hasan controlled had absorbed him entirely. He had become a part of it, one of the cogs in Hasan’s institution.

  All day and all evening until late in the night the fedayeen talked about their three comrades’ visit to paradise. They discussed every fine point and kept asking questions about this or that detail.

  “So the animal that leapt at you was called Ahriman?” Naim asked. “Then it must have been one of the tamed demons. It has to serve your houris as punishment.”

  “Possibly. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find out more about it. But there were so many unusual things that there wasn’t time for all of them.”

  That night none of them could fall asleep for a long time. It was humid and hot. The fedayeen tossed and turned in their beds, their thoughts revolving around paradise, and their imaginations portraying in vivid colors the delights awaiting the chosen ones there. They saw half-naked girls singing and dancing around them. They imagined they could feel their warm breath, that they were lying beside them on pillows and that they were there to serve them. There were sounds of muffled moaning and teeth being gritted.

  Soon after midnight the moon peered into the room through a window. Ibn Tahir looked to his right and his left. Suleiman and Yusuf were fast asleep. They’re doing all right, he thought. He felt anxious, though. Agonizing doubts assailed him. Could everything he had experienced the night before have just been a dream? But could he doubt that Miriam, whom he loved with all his soul, was real?

  It was almost morning when he made a decision and got up. Carefully he crept over to Naim’s bed.

  “Are you asleep, Naim?” he asked quietly.

  “No, I can’t sleep. What is it?”

  He sat up in bed and looked warily at ibn Tahir.

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  Naim almost got frightened.

  “Don’t worry. There’s no danger in it for you. I just want to tell you something.”

  “I won’t tell, you can count on me.”

  “Swear by the holy name of Ali?”

  “I swear, ibn Tahir.”

  “Good. Come to the window with me.”

  At the window ibn Tahir showed him Miriam’s tooth marks.

  “Do you see it?”

  “Yes. It looks like someone bit you.”

  “Look closer.”

  “O Allah! What a small mouth!”

  “Those are her tooth marks, Naim.”

  “Miriam’s?”

  An icy chill ran down his spine.

  “Yes, that’s what she left me as a keepsake. Before long it will fade away. Take a piece of candle and soften the wax. You’re going to help me make an impression.”

  “Glad to help, Avani.”

  Soon the wax was ready. Ibn Tahir kneaded a sheet out of it, and when it was soft enough, Naim pressed it onto his chest. Then he slowly pulled it back off. On its surface the imprint of Miriam’s teeth appeared like a gentle breath.

  “O Allah!” ibn Tahir exclaimed. He was beside himself with happiness. “As of today, this is my most precious treasure. I’ll guard it like the relics of the Prophet himself.”

  Then he embraced Naim.

  “Thanks, friend. You’re the only person who knows my secret. I’m depending on you.”

  “You’re lucky,” Naim sighed. “I’d like to have a love like that too.”

  “Maybe it’s best that you haven’t had those feelings. This love is heaven and hell all at the same time.”

  They parted and each lay back in his own bed.

  “You’re a horrible master,” Miriam said when Hasan came on his nocturnal visit. “You command over the lives and deaths of all of us. What are you going to do with yesterday’s visitors?”

  Hasan looked at her pensively.

  “I don’t know. Circumstances will decide.”

  He noticed her sunken cheeks.

  “It looks like last night was strenuous for you,” he said, with barely concealed mockery.

  “You force me to think too much, ibn Sabbah.”

  “When a woman starts thinking, she becomes dangerous.”

  “I wish I were, now.”

  “And what would you do?”

  “I’d shout to the fedayeen to watch out for you.”

  “Then it’s a good thing my tower separates you from them.”

  “I don’t know about good. But that’s how it is. And I’m powerless.”

  “Oh, woman, woman. You’re wonderful with words, but when it comes to action, you get the shakes. Once I thought we were so close. It made me so happy. Now I’m alone again.?
??

  “I can’t help it. Your actions terrify me.”

  They were silent for a long time.

  Then she asked, “What will you do with the girls if there are any results from last night?”

  “Apama knows substances and herbs that can take care of that. If that doesn’t work, we can just let nature take its course. We can always use fresh blood.”

  “Poor children, without any fathers!”

  “They won’t be the only ones, dear Miriam.”

  He cast a stern look at her.

  “I sense you’d like to ask me something,” he said, smiling.

  “I don’t want you to take this wrong.”

  “Go ahead, speak.”

  “How is ibn Tahir?”

  The blood rushed to his face.

  “Do you care for him that much? I think he’s daydreaming and suffering from heartsickness.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  “Cruel? All I did was answer your question as precisely as I could.”

  “Do something for me.”

  Hasan looked at her. He said nothing, just nodded for her to speak.

  “Please be merciful to him for my sake.”

  “Merciful? What do you mean by that? I’m neither cruel nor merciful. I’m just carrying out my plan.”

  “I understand. All I ask is that when you decide about ibn Tahir in connection with your plan, you keep my request in mind.”

  “You’re asking too much. What would be the point of these two decades’ worth of preparations?”

  “Look. I’ve always obeyed you and I always will. Just promise me this.”

  “I can’t promise you anything. It’s beyond my powers.”

  “And what would you do if, for instance, he figured things out on his own?”

  He cast her a distrustful look.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t give anything away, even though it might have been best that way.”

  “If he figured things out on his own? What you mean is, if he’s already half-grasped my plan? Then he’d understand me. He’d be a son of my own spirit in that case. No. No. He’d see me as a fraud. He’d proclaim to the whole world that I’m a cheat. How could he understand at his age what it’s taken me a whole lifetime to see?”

  “Still, what if he did?”

  “You ask too many questions. We’re both tired. It’s late.”

  He got up. His face was gloomy.

  Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “But he’s still just a child!”

  Wordlessly he went toward the water’s edge, where Adi was waiting for him with the boat.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The results of the defeat of the sultan’s vanguard outside of Alamut became evident almost immediately. Reports on the evolving state of affairs began streaming into the fortress from all sides. On the day after the battle, Abdul Malik set out with twenty horsemen for the fortress of Rudbar. That evening they waited at a reasonable distance. Their scouts reported that there were no more than a hundred Turks. At dawn he gave the order to attack. Hawk-like, they raced down the hillside and cut down almost half of the enemy in the first assault. The rest fled to all sides.

  Abdul Malik then dispatched his scouts to intercept the sultan’s army, and with his own detachment, he set out at a swift gallop toward Qazvin and beyond, to Rai. From there he returned to Alamut, bringing along some thirty prisoners that he had captured on his campaign. In all, he was on the road for four days.

  There was ferment throughout the entire region of Rudbar. The people, who for ages had quietly been worshipping Ali and hated the sultan just as much as they hated the caliph of Baghdad, celebrated the Ismaili victory as their own. In the first days following the battle, new believers began arriving at the castle to enter the service of the supreme commander. Abu Ali had his hands full dealing with them. He selected the youngest and strongest for the school for fedayeen. Manuchehr used the others to form new units. Many of the older soldiers who had distinguished themselves in the battle were promoted to sergeant. Former sergeants and corporals advanced to still higher grades. Barely ten days after the victory, the army had been augmented by three new units of a hundred men each.

  “We’re going to have to rework the whole system from scratch and issue new rules,” Hasan told his two grand dais, “so that these disorderly mobs turn into a unified army that recognizes a single doctrine and just one common leader. Mohammed was right to forbid wine to the faithful. We’d be stupid not to follow his example in this regard. Because we need hardened units and outstanding, decisive individuals more than we need huge masses, our commandments need to be as strict and precise as possible. And we have to make sure that they’re carried out, at all costs.”

  And so on the day when the three new units were sworn in, instead of the noisy celebration that everyone expected, Abu Ali read aloud a series of new laws and regulations.

  “The death penalty applies to anyone who opposes an officer; to anyone who fails to carry out an order, unless prevented from so doing by a higher power; to anyone who kills another Ismaili premeditatedly or in a fit of passion; to anyone who speaks disrespectfully of the supreme commander or criticizes him; to anyone who drinks wine or any other intoxicating drink; to anyone who indulges in debauchery.”

  Strict corporal and moral punishments were also decreed for those who indulged in worldly entertainments; who produced or listened to fine music; who danced or enjoyed the dancing of others; who read corrupting books or listened to others reading from them.

  New ranks were introduced into the hierarchy itself. Regional dais were established between dais and grand dais. Every able-bodied believer was automatically a soldier. A special school was established for the refiqs who were to educate them. A new curriculum was devised for all of the men. In addition to military arts, they would be required to study dogma and Ismaili history.

  Henceforth the fedayeen received independent assignments that corresponded to each individual’s abilities. Jafar became the regular express messenger between Alamut and Muzaffar in Rai. Naim taught the new recruits dogma, ibn Tahir taught them history and geography, and Yusuf and Suleiman trained fedayeen novices in the military arts. Every morning they led them out of the castle to the plateau, as Manuchehr had once done. Cunning Obeida became the leader of a small unit of scouts and kept track of the movements of the sultan’s army with their help. Abdur Ahman, ibn Vakas, Abdallah and Halfa were assigned to him as assistants, and soon they knew every footpath between Qazvin, Rai and Alamut. Within no time they guessed the intentions of Emir Arslan Tash, who had split his forces between Qazvin and Rai in order to cut Alamut off from the rest of the world completely and trap it in the foothills of the Elburz Mountains, across which there was no escaping.

  The captured Turks, nearly all of them heavily wounded, were treated well, to their considerable surprise. Under the skilled hands of the doctor and his assistants, their wounds healed quickly. They spent the days in their quarters, but in the evenings they came out to take in the cool air in a caged area behind one of the barracks.

  The medics and the soldiers who brought them food and water came to engage them in conversation more and more often. The prisoners listened wide-eyed to tales about the fedayeen who had spent a night in paradise, and about the unprecedented power that Allah had given to Sayyiduna. They were amazed by the Ismailis’ unwavering faith in victory. They asked them about the evidence and causes of that confidence. The answer was always the same: that Sayyiduna was a great prophet who would come to rule over the Islamic world.

  Occasionally this or that dai, or even Abu Ali himself, visited the prisoners. He would ask them about particulars of the sultan’s army, but also about their education and religious convictions. He would explain Ismaili doctrine, with the help of which their commander was going to establish the rule of justice and truth on earth. This, but even more the candor and good treatment, had the effect of shaking their convictions and
creating fertile ground in them for the acceptance of Ismaili teachings.

  Hasan ordered the release of those prisoners who, because of wounds, had had to have an arm or a leg amputated or were otherwise severely crippled. He wanted them to tell their comrades in the sultan’s army about Alamut and the Ismaili faith and thus imperceptibly undermine their resolve. They prepared litters for them on camels, and an armed guard escorted them to Qazvin, where they were given free passage.

  Although Suleiman and Yusuf had slept well the first night after their visit to the gardens, toward evening on the following day they began to feel unusually anxious. They were both irritable, they felt as though something were missing, and they couldn’t go to sleep. Each of them took a separate walk through the trenches and eventually met there.

  “I’m thirsty,” Yusuf said.

  “There’s enough water in Shah Rud.”

  “You’re welcome to drink that.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten addicted to wine.”

  Suleiman sneered at him, and Yusuf glowered back.

  “The trumpet has already sounded lights out.”

  “Why are you telling me that? You go ahead.”

  They sat down on the battlements and listened to the roar of the river for a while without speaking.

  “I sense that you want to tell me something.”

  Suleiman asked the question half mockingly, half out of curiosity.

  Yusuf kept testing the waters.

  “Don’t you miss anything?”

  “Talk plainly. What’s bothering you?”

  “I feel like I’ve got embers moving through my guts. My head aches. I’m unbearably thirsty.”

  “So why won’t you drink some water?”

  “I do, over and over, and it’s like I’m drinking air. I’m still thirsty.”

  “I know. It’s those damned pellets. If I could have one now, I’d calm down again.”

  “Do you think Sayyiduna is going to send us back to paradise soon?”

  “How should I know? When I think of that night, I get so feverish I could melt.”