Alamut

CHAPTER NINE

At the same time that the army of Alamut was battling with the sultan’s vanguard, the gardens behind the castle were becoming as busy as an anthill.

At first light Adi ferried Apama over to the girls. The old woman was furious when she saw they were all still asleep. She grabbed a mallet and began banging the gong wildly.

The girls rushed terror-stricken from their bedrooms, a hail of curses greeting them.

“Lazy monkeys! Sayyiduna will be here any minute, and you’re all lazing about in your beds as though it were a holiday. He’ll have all our heads if he catches you like this.”

They dressed quickly. A feverish feeling came over them as they realized that their master would be visiting the gardens. Apama and Miriam assigned them their work. They set to it enthusiastically.

Apama flew among them like a woman possessed.

“If I could only tell them what’s in store for them,” she murmured loudly enough for the girls nearest her to hear. She managed to fuel real chaos among them, and Miriam had to work hard to maintain order.

Hasan had sent parchment, dyes, candles and everything else needed for making the lanterns. Apama explained to Fatima what needed to be done. Fatima immediately set to work, and within a short time the first lamp was ready. They made the room dark and lit a candle in the lantern.

The girls squealed in delight.

“Stupid geese! Stop wasting time gawking and get to work!” Apama scolded them.

Fatima immediately divided the labor. One group of girls transferred her designs onto parchment, another mixed the dyes, a third used them to paint the sides of the lamps, a fourth cut them out, and a fifth pasted the various parts together. They carried the finished lamps out to the fish pond to let them dry in the sun. They quickly grew in number.

The whole time, they talked about the arrival of Sayyiduna.

“I imagine him coming here like a king,” Jada said. “He’ll be dressed all in gold and scarlet.”

“He’ll come like a prophet,” Halima contradicted.

“I suppose he told you that himself,” Jada teased her.

Halima was just on the verge of revealing what Miriam and Adi had confided to her. But at last she managed to control herself. Apama was close by and could start questioning her.

“Mohammed was a prophet and a king at the same time,” Fatima said.

“Are you talking about Sayyiduna?” asked Apama, who was walking by. She grinned maliciously.

“Some of you may lose your heads before the night is over,” she added. “This evening you’ll be getting another visit, and any one of you who gives away who you are and where you are will be beheaded immediately. Which of you has enough sense in her head not to blurt that out?” Terrified, they turned to look at Miriam.

“Apama is right,” she explained to them. “Sayyiduna has had these gardens modeled on paradise itself. From now on you’re going to have to behave as though you really are in heaven. You’re not ordinary girls anymore, you’re houris. You need to take on that role, which shouldn’t be so hard if you try. But if any one of you gives us away to our visitors, she’ll have to die immediately.”

“I’m not even going to open my mouth,” Sara said. “That way I won’t have to worry about letting anything slip.”

“You’re going to have to respond in detail to everything they ask you about,” Apama retorted.

Halima burst into tears.

“I’m going to hide so nobody sees me.”

“Just try,” Apama upbraided her. “We’ll put you on the rack.”

The girls were seized with fear. They kept quiet and worked diligently.

“Oh, what’s the use,” Fatima remarked at last. “What will be, will be. I’ve been in a harem where we had to act and pretend constantly. Men, especially when they’re still young, aren’t all that bright. It’s easy to fool them. Playing houris in these gardens won’t be that difficult either.”

“I just had a thought,” Zuleika said. “Maybe this is why we had to learn those passages in the Koran that describe life in paradise. What do you think?”

Miriam smiled. She herself hadn’t made that connection before. Now she had to acknowledge again how carefully Hasan had thought through every small detail.

He really is the horrible dreamer from hell, she thought.

“You’re right, Zuleika. Let’s review what we know from the Koran,” Zainab suggested.

“Girls! You’ve all got imaginations!” Fatima said, encouraging them. “Imagine you’re in paradise and everything else will come of its own accord.”

“The more naturally you behave, the easier it will be to do a good job,” Miriam added, coaching them. “Don’t overdo anything. Act as though it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’re houris. So don’t even talk about it, unless you’re asked.”

Halima had calmed down in the meantime. Her old curiosity drove her to ask, “But why does Sayyiduna want us to pretend we’re in paradise?”

“Because,” Apama said, dismissing her, “that way little monkeys like you will learn to keep their mouths shut.”

Moad and Mustafa returned with hunting bags full of partridges, quail, water fowl and fish. Apama and her assistants went to the kitchen to clean and prepare them.

The girls began breathing easy again.

But Halima’s curiosity kept troubling her.

“And the visitors we have to tell that we’re houris—what will they be like?”

Her question was met with laughter.

“First of all, you mustn’t tell them that,” Miriam scolded her playfully, “because it has to be obvious and go without saying. Second, Sayyiduna is visiting us to give us detailed instructions. But just so you don’t trouble your head about it, I’ll tell you what I think about our visitors. They could be handsome young men.”

Halima turned as red as a poppy. All the others looked at her. She lowered her eyes and stamped her foot on the floor.

“I’m not going to be there.”

“You’ll have to be,” Miriam said sternly.

Halima banged her foot on the floor once more.

“I won’t be there.”

“Halima?!”

Miriam flushed red with anger.

“So you’re going to ignore Sayyiduna’s command?”

Halima kept silent and compressed her lips. Finally she relented.

“And what will happen then?” she asked tamely.

Miriam laughed.

“You’ll see.”

The other girls started to tease her.

“You’re going to have to kiss them,” Fatima said.

“And do all those things you learned from Apama,” Sara added.

“I’ll throw something at both of you if you don’t leave me alone,” she threatened them.

“Get to work!” Miriam admonished them. “Let’s not waste time chattering.”

In a corner, Sara pasted and sewed the lamps together. Halima took refuge with her. Lately they had become friends again, but on a different basis, as Halima would say. Fatima had carved some dice for her out of hardwood and Halima had developed a real passion for gambling. Sara became her faithful partner in this. They played for all kinds of things: nuts, bananas, oranges, candy, kisses. They would even play to decide who loved whom. If one of the girls invited Halima to spend the afternoon nap with her, she would pull the dice out of her pants belt and throw them to decide what to do.

Even now she got them out and asked Sara to play with her. They hid behind sheets of parchment that they had set up. Sara had saved a few leftover nuts and bet those. If she lost, they went to Halima. If she won, Halima would have to give her a kiss for each one. Sara soon lost all of the nuts. Now she had to let her ear be pulled as a penalty.

Halima always won.

“I get to pull your ear four times,” she said meanly.

Sara began watching her suspiciously.

“Why do you squint at the dice each time before you throw them?” she asked.

“I just do.”

Sara suggested they throw the dice to find out which one of them would get the most handsome boy.

Halima got the higher number.

“You’re cheating, Halima. I saw you move the dice in your hand to get a higher number. Then you just put them on the floor. Either play like I do or I’m not going to be your partner anymore.”

Halima tried and lost.

Sara scoffed at her.

“See? When you don’t cheat, you lose.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Halima said. “It’s not fun at all when I don’t win.”

“Is that right? How about if I cheated?”

“You’d better not!”

“Well, how do you like that! So you get to cheat as much as you want, while I have to be satisfied with being your dupe?”

Miriam approached them.

“What’s going on with you two again?”

Sara quickly hid the dice with her knee.

“We were arguing about the best way to paste these together.”

Miriam used her foot to push Sara’s knee to one side.

“And what’s that down there?”

She saw the dice and got furious.

“So that’s it! Sayyiduna is coming here any minute and the two of you are just throwing dice. Well go ahead, throw them! Tonight you’ll be throwing your heads!”

She looked at Halima sharply.

“These are your dice, Halima. You’re a hopeless sinner. What am I going to do with you?”

She picked up the dice and took them away.

“Just this much for now,” she said.

Tears came to Halima’s eyes. She smiled defiantly and said, “I don’t care about the dice anyway, if you’re not going to let me win. It’s your fault for picking an argument.”

They continued with their work.

“I do think it would be nice,” Sara remarked, “if our visitors thought we were houris. That way they’d fall in love with us, don’t you think?”

Halima seized at this immediately.

“It’s a shame we don’t have the dice anymore. We could throw them to find out which one of us they’ll fall in love with most.”

“You’d just cheat again. It’s good Miriam took them away. I already know which one of us they’ll like best.”

“You think it’s you. It wouldn’t even occur to them.”

“What do you know about what men like, you innocent monkey! You’ll hide in a corner and nobody will even notice you.”

Tears streamed from Halima’s eyes.

“I’ll tell them what you’re like,” she said.

“Just try. They’ll die laughing.”

“You just wait. I’ll tell them you’re in love with me and you won’t leave me alone.”

Sara’s eyes flashed.

“You?!”

Halima got up.

“But it’s true!”

She laughed, wiped her tears away, and went to join another group.

The girls were gradually overcoming their fear of the dangerous task that awaited them. Lighthearted laughter mixed with the grating of scissors and knives.

“Tonight, when everything is lit up, it will really look like we’re in paradise,” Zuleika remarked. “I’m not afraid at all anymore. We’ll all be wearing veils, and we’ll be singing and dancing like real houris.”

“Sure, it’s easy for you. You’re pretty and you know how to dance,” Safiya sighed.

“You’re all pretty and you all know how to dance,” Miriam said.

“At least we’ll have a change from all this monotony,” Fatima said. “And we’ll be useful for something. All that work and studying would be wasted otherwise.”

“Will Sayyiduna really have us beheaded if we slip up?” Jafa still worried.

“No doubt about it,” Miriam said. “He does what he says he’ll do. So don’t be foolish. Think before you go blurting things out.”

“I don’t know, I’m not scared at all,” Fatima remarked.

“And what if one of us makes a mistake?” Safiya asked.

“Then one of the others will have to fix it,” Fatima explained.

“How do you mean, fix it?”

“Say, by turning it into a joke or shifting its meaning somehow.”

“I want to be next to you,” Jada said.

“Me too. Me too.”

They each voiced the same wish.

Fatima smiled at so much trust.

“Just don’t be too afraid, girls. When a person has to do something, she does it. I have a feeling everything’s going to go just fine.”

Whole stacks of lamps were already done.

“You see, you can make things work if you want them to,” Miriam praised them. “Now come with me. I want to show you something.”

She took them to a room that had always been kept carefully locked. She opened it. The girls’ eyes widened in astonishment.

What they saw was a warehouse full of clothing. Gowns made of silk and brocade, capes with sable linings, veils, beautifully braided sandals. All the most exquisite things that the bazaars of Samarkand and Bukhara, Kabul and Isfahan, Baghdad and Basra could offer were stacked high in this narrow space. Gold and silver diadems encrusted with jewels, pearl necklaces, gold bracelets and anklets covered with precious stones, fine turquoise jewelry, earrings with diamonds and sapphires, expensive chains—everything was here in abundance.

The girls could only gape.

“Whose is all this?” Halima asked.

“It’s all the property of Sayyiduna,” Miriam said.

“It’s true, Our Master is rich.”

“Richer than the sultan and the caliph.”

“All this is meant for you to use,” Miriam explained. “Each of you take whatever suits you best and keep it in your room.”

She had the girls start trying on the silken robes and veils. She draped heavy brocade capes around their shoulders and adorned them with rings, bracelets, anklets and earrings, passed out halters and sandals, and hung necklaces around their necks. She handed each of them an artfully crafted metal mirror and a chest containing amber and scents. She fitted them with diadems, ribbons, small turbans and other head coverings.

The girls were swimming in luxury. Each of them felt like a fairy-tale princess.

“This way it won’t be hard at all to imagine we’re houris!” Halima exclaimed. Her cheeks shone with excitement.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Fatima said. “Eventually we’ll stop believing we’re ordinary girls.”

Halima pulled on a light veil. She put on a cape and then let it slip off her shoulders, as she’d seen Miriam wear hers when she came back from visiting Sayyiduna that night.

“My goodness, how beautiful she is!” Sara exclaimed.

Halima blushed.

“When our visitors come we probably won’t be dressed like this, will we?” she asked.

“Dummy! Why do you think you’re trying them on?” Miriam laughed.

“I’ll feel ashamed.”

Each one collected her finery and took it to her room.

Suddenly the horn sounded.

Apama came rushing in from the kitchen.

“Hurry everyone, get ready! Sayyiduna is coming.”

During this time Hasan had been having an extensive discussion with the grand dais in his chamber. He lit several lamps and drew curtains over the windows. A eunuch brought in a large jug of wine. The men dropped down on the pillows and the jug made a circuit from mouth to mouth.

Hasan began.

“I’ve had you summoned from Rudbar, Buzurg Ummid, to familiarize you and Abu Ali with my last will and testament. I had wanted Husein Alkeini to be here too, but events got ahead of me and Khuzestan is too far away for me to send for him. This concerns the principles of succession within our institution.”

Abu Ali laughed.

“You talk as though you were planning to bid the world farewell tomorrow. Why the hurry with this? Maybe Buzurg Ummid and I will bite the dust before you do.”

“You mentioned Husein Alkeini,” Buzurg Ummid remarked, “but what has happened to your son Hosein that you’ve forgotten about him? After all, he’s your natural heir.”

Hasan jumped to his feet as though he’d been bitten by a snake. He began pacing around the room and shouting.

“Don’t remind me of that oafish calf! My institution is founded on reason, not on idiotic prejudices. Son! Son! What son? Do you expect me to dash my beautiful plan to pieces, to leave it to some idiot whom dumb luck made my son? I prefer to follow the example of the Roman church, which puts only its most capable in charge. Realms built on blood and kin soon go into decline. The institution of Rome has been standing for a thousand years! Sons? Brothers? In spirit you’re all my sons and brothers. It was spirit that conceived my plan.”

The grand dais almost took fright.

“If I had known I was going to upset you so much with my remark, I would have kept quiet,” Buzurg Ummid said. “But how was I to know that your views on kinship and succession were so… well, so unique?”

Hasan smiled. He was a little ashamed that he’d lost control.

“I also continued to put stock in blood relations when I came back from Egypt,” he replied, seemingly in apology. “They brought me my son, who was so beautiful and strong it was a joy to look at him. ‘I’ll see my own youth in him,’ I thought. I took him into my house and… how can I make you understand my disappointment? Where was that passion for finding the truth, where was that higher calling that shook my soul when I was his age? I couldn’t find even a trace of it in him. To begin with I told him, ‘The Koran is a book with seven seals.’ His response was, ‘It’s not up to me to unseal them.’ ‘But aren’t you just a little moved to discover a mystery known to only a few?’ ‘No, not even the slightest bit.’ I found this indifference incomprehensible. To stir him, I told him about the struggles of my youth. ‘And what has all your trouble gotten you?’ That was all the impression his father’s confessions made on him. In order to shock him, in order to jolt him out of his torpor, I decided to tell him our ultimate secret. ‘Do you know what our faith teaches as the highest wisdom?’ I called out to him. ‘Nothing is real, everything is permitted.’ He brushed it off. ‘I dealt with that when I was fourteen years old.’ The realization that I had struggled my whole life long to make, for whose ultimate confirmation I risked all dangers, visited all schools, studied all the philosophers—he had figured out and was done with by the age of fourteen. ‘Maybe he was born this wise,’ I thought. But he didn’t understand even the most elementary lessons of science. I was exasperated at so much dimwittedness. I handed him over to Husein Alkeini to serve as a foot soldier.”

The grand dais exchanged glances. Buzurg Ummid had been thinking of his son Mohammed, whom he loved dearly. Had he really been planning to send him to Hasan for schooling as a feday? He felt goose bumps down his spine.

Abu Ali asked, “Ibn Sabbah, earlier you said that our institution is based on reason. What exactly do you mean by that?”

Hasan clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing slowly back and forth.

“The concept of my rule isn’t entirely new,” he said. “Ninety years ago Caliph Hakim the First tried something similar in Cairo, when he proclaimed himself the personification of God. But apparently the self-willed distinction affected his reason. He went soft in the head and ended up believing in his divine origins. On the other hand, his dais left us with a legacy that’s all the more valuable. I’m thinking of our supreme motto, which Hakim made use of to support his doings.”

“Don’t you think, ibn Sabbah,” Abu Ali continued, “since so many people have found out about this principle of ours, that its value has depreciated?”

“There’s a strange double edge to the maxim that nothing is real and everything is permitted, as I just showed you with the pathetic example of my son. For those who by nature aren’t meant for it, all it means is a heap of empty words. But if someone is born for it, it can become the north star of his life. The Carmatians and Druzes, to which Hakim the First belonged, recognized nine grades that their novices had to fight their way through. Their dais courted new adherents with tales of Ali’s family and the coming of the Mahdi. Most of these converts were satisfied with simple legends like those. The more ambitious ones pressed the dais for more answers and were told that the Koran is a kind of wondrous metaphor for higher mysteries. Those who still weren’t satisfied had their faith in the Koran and Islam undermined by their teachers. If somebody wanted to press even further, he learned that all faiths are equal in their accuracy or inaccuracy. Until, finally, a small, elite handful was ready to learn the highest truth of all, based on the negation of all doctrines and traditions. That grade required the greatest courage and strength from a man. Because it meant that he would spend his whole life without any firm ground beneath his feet and with no support. So there’s no need to worry about our principle losing its effectiveness, even if a lot of people find out about it. Most of them won’t understand it anyway.”

“Now I see,” Abu Ali said. “Earlier you said you’d summoned us on account of your testament and the succession. What moved you to start thinking about those issues? You’re still strong and healthy.”

Hasan laughed. He continued to pace the room with deliberate steps. The grand dais followed him closely with their eyes.

“Nobody knows what the next day will bring,” he replied. “The testament I plan to leave behind is such that the one who executes it will have to familiarize himself thoroughly with certain details. And because I’ve chosen you and Husein Alkeini as my heirs, today I want to reveal the plan that will become the foundation of our institution at least to the two of you who are present. True, my idea is based in part on the experience of Hakim the First and the Roman church. But its real essence is entirely my own invention. Let me explain.”

He lay down near them and a kind of childlike smile played across his face—the kind of smile that people have when they know what they have to say could make others laugh or even view them as crazy. Grinning like this, he spoke.

“Do you recall that Mohammed promised heavenly luxuries in the beyond to those who fell fighting for Islam with sword in hand? He said they would stroll over meadows and fields and lie next to gurgling springs. Flowers would blossom around them and they would inhale their intoxicating scent. They would consume delicious foods and choice fruit. Lovely-limbed, dark-eyed maidens would serve them in glass pavilions. And despite the services these maidens would provide them, they would remain modest and virgin forever. They would pour them wine from gilt pitchers, wine that would never make them drunk. The days of eternity would pass for them in luxury and incessant pleasure…”

The grand dais watched him closely and nodded now and then.

“We’re quite familiar with all of this,” Abu Ali smiled. “Trust us.”

“Good,” Hasan said. “You see, borne along on these promises, the first believers fought like lions for their leader and his teachings. Whatever he ordered them to do, they did happily. They say some of them died with a smile on their lips, seeing in spirit the otherworldly delights that awaited them. Alas, after the Prophet’s death, this faith and trust in his promises faded. The ardor faded and the faithful began seizing on to a more dependable principle: that it’s better to have something than to seek it. Because nobody had ever returned from the beyond to say whether what the Prophet had proclaimed was really true. If we compare ourselves and our concept with the Prophet’s and with Islam’s, we see what an easy position Mohammed had in comparison with us. Because only the kind of faith typical of the first adherents of Islam can work miracles. Without it an institution of pure reason, as I’ve conceived of ours, can’t be realized. So my first objective has been to cultivate adherents who will have that kind of faith.”

“Congratulations, ibn Sabbah,” Abu Ali interrupted. “The fedayeen proved this morning that you’ve succeeded.”

“My friend, do you think I don’t know how far our fedayeen still lag behind Mohammed’s first believers? But let me also tell you this: I need to achieve more, far more than he achieved.”

The grand dais exchanged glances, smiling.

“You’re chasing us, as though you were the leopard and we were the prey,” Buzurg Ummid remarked. “You’re smiling that enigmatic smile of yours, and we’re already dying to find out where you’re headed with these strange meanderings.”

“My plan is enormous,” Hasan resumed. “That’s why I need believers who will long for death so much that they won’t be afraid of anything. In fact, they’ll have to be in love with death. I want them to chase after it, seek it out, beg it to have mercy on them, as though it were a hard and unwilling maiden.”

Abu Ali and Buzurg Ummid laughed out loud. They thought that Hasan was leading them on in his usual way, and that the cleverest thing for them to do would be to show that they didn’t believe him.

Hasan continued unperturbed.

“Our institution needs to be so strong that it can resist any foe and, if necessary, the whole world… It ought to become a kind of supreme supervisory council for the planet. Our believers’ infatuation with death will help us achieve that. Because by making it possible for them to die we’ll be demonstrating our special grace to them. Of course, they won’t be choosing the way they die. Every death we approve has to bring us a great, new victory. That is the essence of my plan and, at the same time, the testament that I want to reveal to you today.”

Despite the smile that accompanied his words, his voice resonated with a strange zeal. The grand dais didn’t know what to think.

“I wonder if today’s victory over the Turks aroused your pride and you’re joking with us now, or if…”

Abu Ali’s words got stuck in his throat.

“Yes …? Go on!” Hasan laughed. “Most likely you’ve come to the same conclusion as reis Lumbani when I was his houseguest in Isfahan. I see into your hearts. You’re thinking, ‘He’s gone mad.’ And yet wait till you see the surprises I’ve prepared for you.”

Abu Ali was silently angry.

“One way or the other,” he said irritably, “as long as people remain as they are now, nobody is going to fall in love with death, much less go chasing after it. Unless you’re able to create a new kind of human being. Everything else is a joke or insanity.”

“That’s just what I’m after!” Hasan exclaimed joyfully. “To sneak into the workshop of Allah himself, and since the man is old and feeble, take over his work. Compete with him in artistry. Take the clay in my hands. And then truly create a new human being.”

Abu Ali indignantly turned to Buzurg Ummid.

“And he calls Hakim the First crazy!”

Buzurg Ummid blinked at Hasan. He had been listening attentively to their dialog the whole time. He sensed that the supreme commander must be keeping something very special up his sleeve.

“At first you spoke of your testament,” he said, “then of the heavenly pleasures that the Prophet promised to those who fell in service to his cause, after that of a realm that will be able to withstand the whole world, and now you say you want to create a human being who will genuinely long for death. Now I’d like to hear what the connection is between all these things.”

“The connection between these things is all too simple,” Hasan replied, smiling. “As my testament I want to leave you the institution I have invented. The power of that institution will be built on a completely new kind of man. His distinctive trait will be an insane desire for death and blind devotion to the supreme commander. We can achieve both of these things through his utter faith—what faith!—his firm knowledge that the joys of paradise will be waiting for him after death.”

“That’s a good one!” Abu Ali said angrily. “Earlier you said that faith in the beyond faded after the Prophet’s death, and now you’re proposing to build our brotherhood on it. The devil take it, because I sure won’t!”

Hasan roared with laughter. It pleased him whenever he was able to make his assistant angry about something.

“Well, what do you think, Abu Ali, my friend,” he asked, “what would be needed to incite in our recruits such faith in the delights of heaven that they would be stark raving determined to die, so they could partake of them as soon as possible?”

“Open the gate to paradise and show it to them,” Abu Ali replied irritably. “Let them get a taste of it. After all, you teach that you have the key. I’d gladly die then too.”

“I’ve brought you just where I wanted you to be!” Hasan exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Come follow me, men! I’m going to show you the key that opens the gate to paradise.”

He bounded over to the wall as though he were twenty years old and drew aside the carpet that hid the passageway leading to the top of the tower.

“Let’s go!” he called out and led them to the upper platform.

The grand dais looked at each other behind his back. Abu Ali pointed to his forehead and arched his brows questioningly. Buzurg Ummid raised a hand to signal patience.

They came out onto the terrace. This was the first time even Abu Ali had been here. It was a regular observatory. A large tablet lay on the ground. The paths of the earth and the other planets around the sun and the course of the moon and the zodiac had been charted on it. Smaller tablets were densely covered with equations. Geometric figures—circles, ellipses, parabolas and hyperbolas—were drawn on some of them. Strewn all around were rulers and scales of all kinds and sizes, astrolabes, compasses and other trigonometric equipment. A sundial had been drawn on the ground in the middle of the platform, the position of its hour hand calculated precisely. A small shed had been set up for all this equipment in case of bad weather. Next to the shed was a kind of flower bed with a glass cover that had been lifted up. Nothing grew in it except for some weed on long stalks that resembled nothing so much as an upended broom.

The grand dais took all this in quickly. Then the top of the tower opposite them drew their attention. A huge, black, mace-bearing guard stood on top if it, motionless as a statue.

The sun warmed the platform, but a pleasant mountain breeze cooled the air and brought the fresh smell of snow.

“You’d think we were up in the mountains,” Buzurg Ummid said, deeply inhaling the cool air.

“Don’t tell us you’ve set up this nest so you can gaze into heaven more easily,” Abu Ali laughed. “So is this the key that opens the gate to heaven?”

“Precisely, from this observatory I can look into paradise,” Hasan replied with a knowing smile. “But the key that opens its gate is in that flower bed over there.”

He approached it and pointed to the plants growing in it.

The grand dais followed behind him. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Hasan, Hasan,” Abu Ali said. “When are you thinking of letting up on all the jokes? Bear in mind that all three of us are getting on in years. A little more seriousness wouldn’t hurt. I won’t deny, today has been a great day and a little practical joke never hurt anyone. But you’ve been toying with us all morning!”

Hasan looked him steadily in the eyes.

“This is the key that opens the gate to heavenly delights,” he said emphatically.

“That weed?”

“Yes. End of joke.”

He pointed to some pillows next to the shed and invited them to sit down with him.

“The herb that I just showed you is Indian hemp, and its sap contains some quite unusual characteristics. Just what those are, I’ll explain to you now. In Kabul I was once one of many guests of a wealthy Indian prince. The banquet lasted all night. As morning approached and the guests were leaving, the prince kept a few of us behind and led us to a special room that was draped in carpets from floor to ceiling. A few lamps glimmered dimly in the corners, leaving the room half-dark. ‘I’ve prepared something special for you, friends,’ he said. ‘Would you like to see landscapes and far-off cities that none of you has ever seen? I’ll take you there. Look! In this little box I have a magic vehicle from the Thousand and One Nights.’ He unlocked a gilt box and showed us some little balls that resembled ordinary pieces of candy. ‘Take one and eat it,’ he offered. One after the other, we did as he said. At first, when I had the ball in my mouth, I thought I was eating candy and the prince was playing a joke on us. But when the outer surface melted, I got a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘I just hope it isn’t poison,’ I thought. And in fact, a kind of dizziness started to come over me. Suddenly I noticed something very strange. The colors on the carpets were starting to become much more vivid. At this point I’d stopped thinking about poison. All my attention was focused on the unusual color phenomenon on the wall, when I noticed that even the images on the carpets had begun to change. Just a minute before I’d seen a black-bearded man sitting surrounded by odalisques. But he suddenly disappeared, and the odalisques started to dance. ‘But this is impossible, this is just a picture,’ I said to myself. When I looked closer, I saw that the odalisques were in fact depicted as dancing, but that they were completely motionless. ‘But this can’t be a picture,’ I thought. The bodies were so plastic and the pink of their skin was so vivid that I couldn’t accept that it was an illusion. In the process I completely forgot that there were several other men around me. I was so engrossed in this unusual phenomenon on the wall. The colors became more and more vivid, and people detached themselves from the wall and came staggering out into the middle of the room. There they danced and tumbled, while I began feeling warmer and more pleasant inside. ‘Maybe I’m the magician who’s causing all these changes,’ it suddenly occurred to me. As a test, I silently ordered my objects to assume new positions. My order was carried out in an instant. A feeling of infinite personal power came over me. I saw myself as a magnificent king who controlled space and the objects in it and was independent of time and the laws of the universe. I was simply amazed that I’d never before discovered these wonderful powers of mine. ‘I wonder if I’m any less powerful than Allah?’ I said to myself. I swam in enjoyment of this miraculous omnipotence. Strangely physical and plastic cubes that were dazzlingly illuminated in the most garish colors started accumulating in front of my eyes. It took my breath away when I saw they were building a city bigger and more magnificent than Cairo, more elegant than Baghdad and mightier than Alexandria. Powerful minarets shot into the sky, and gold, silver, yellow, red and green cupolas arched over the roofs. My soul bathed in magnificence and bliss. ‘Yes, now you really are Allah,’ something in me said. God! Ruler of the universe! The images before me started to break up. I sensed that I had already experienced some climax and that I was returning to normality. A terror of losing so much delight came over me. With all my might I tried to stay at my earlier high. But my limbs felt weak, the colors in the pictures were fading, my head was growing heavy, and suddenly I lost consciousness. I woke up dizzy and with a feeling of enormous disgust. I recalled the images I had seen and the feelings I’d experienced. Had I been awake? Or had I dreamt them? I couldn’t tell. I had been aware of everything as though I’d been awake. But if I’d been awake, could I have seen things that weren’t there? My head was splitting. A servant brought me cold milk. It was only then that I realized I wasn’t alone in the room. The other guests were lying around me. They were groaning and their cheeks had a strange pallor. I straightened myself up and quietly slipped out of the house…”

The grand dais hung on his lips, motionless all this time. When he paused for a moment, Abu Ali asked him, “And do you know what was in those balls that gave them such a marvelous power?”

“Listen,” Hasan continued. “Toward evening of that same day a strange sense of unease came over me. I couldn’t stay in one spot, or figure out what it was I was missing, and suddenly I found myself in our prince’s house. The master welcomed me with a smile, as though he’d been expecting me. ‘The other guests are here too,’ he told me. ‘You see, anyone who has ever had one of those balls craves to re-experience again and again the delights that he felt the first time. And if he does it again, he gradually becomes a slave to the narcotic, succumbing to it so badly that without it he’d have to die. I want to warn you about that, so I’m not going to give you any new balls or even reveal to you what they contain.’ Within a few days my sense of unease subsided. But my curiosity had been piqued, and I swore I would find out what substance was in those little balls. Luck favored me. Back then the most beautiful odalisque in Kabul was a certain Apama. I think I’ve already told you about her, and there may be a surprise in store for you on that account.”

Hasan smiled enigmatically. He continued.

“I was an enterprising, hot-blooded fellow and didn’t know of a thing or a power that could hold me back if I had a passion. The prince had acquired Apama, and it was at his place that I won her heart. We would meet in his gardens late at night and enjoy the delights of paradise in forbidden embraces. In no time she had completely ensnared her master. Once, when I told her about the curiosity that had been tormenting me, she wrung the secret from him. The substance in those little balls is called hashish, or hashash, and it’s produced precisely from the Indian hemp you see in that flower bed.”

They held close to the shed, which was protecting them from the heat of the sun. When Hasan had finished, all three of them remained silent for a while. Abu Ali wrinkled his brow and stared at the ground. Buzurg Ummid gazed out at the mountainside. At last he spoke.

“I’m beginning to see what you’re actually aiming at. I suppose that you plan to use the sap of this plant to incite wild fervor in our believers, awaken in them a passion for renewed pleasure, and in this way enslave their will.”

“And you expect some particular benefit from that?” Abu Ali grumbled. “By taking away their ashash, or whatever it’s called, you expect to influence their personalities in a way that sends them rushing into death? I’m sorry, that strikes me as a miscalculation. Even if they couldn’t live without this narcotic, there’s no law that says they have to sacrifice themselves the way you want. At your age you really could have spared yourself this little experiment. That you would expect them to believe that those little balls take them to paradise is beyond my comprehension. So instead, let’s discuss like grown men how we’re going to move against the sultan’s huge army, which is drawing closer every day.”

“I second everything you’ve said,” Hasan said with a sly smile. “Concerning the might of the enemy that’s approaching, we have two choices. Either we can quickly throw a caravan together and try to escape to Africa, as the wise Muzaffar advised us, or we can rely on a miracle. As you know, I’ve decided in favor of the miracle. But there’s still time to reconsider.”

“By Mohammed’s beard!” Abu Ali shouted. “With you an honest Muslim never knows where he stands. I’d like to hear you speak directly for once.”

“Fine, I’ll give it a try. Didn’t I mention to you a while ago that I not only have the key to paradise up here, but that I can also watch what’s going on in paradise? You already know what’s on this side of the tower. But haven’t you ever had the urge to see what’s on that side? Go ahead, step up to the battlements.”

The grand dais hurried quickly to the edge of the terrace. They leaned out over the battlements so they could look down. They were struck dumb with astonishment. They saw beneath them, as on a huge map, lovely groves and gardens in full blossom. Two arms of the river embraced them in a huge arc. Canals cut through and divided them, so that they were surrounded by water on all sides, like islands. Pebble-strewn paths shone white across them. Amid stands of cypresses, glass-covered pavilions glinted like crystal palaces. Round fish ponds with fountains were set inside them. Running around one of these were little creatures that seemed as buoyant as butterflies.

“A miracle, a real miracle,” Buzurg Ummid whispered at last.

“The poet of the Thousand and One Nights would be envious,” Abu Ali agreed.

Hasan rose and joined them. A satisfied expression came across his face.

“Imagine that you were with me at that prince’s house in Kabul,” he said. “You’ve swallowed the balls of hashish, you’ve experienced alongside of me all those wonderful delights of the spirit that I described to you, and now you’ve lost consciousness. Then you wake up, and you’re no longer in the dark room where you fell asleep. Instead you’re in these gardens below, surrounded by beautiful maidens ready to serve you in precisely the ways described in the Koran. What would you think?”

“You’re incredible, ibn Sabbah!” Abu Ali exclaimed. “If I were young and inexperienced, by the beard of the martyr Ali, I’d think I’d really wandered into the gardens of paradise.”

“But how and when did you create all of this?” Buzurg Ummid asked.

“The kings of Daylam who built Alamut also laid the foundations of these gardens. The castle’s later owners neglected them. They vanished in an overgrowth of grasses and vines. Apparently my predecessor, the noble Mehdi, didn’t even know how to get to them. But I had heard some rumors about them, and since the notion of using gardens like this had long since occurred to me, I put all my effort into getting the castle. Then I measured and calculated everything myself. I drew up a precise plan, and when the eunuchs came from Egypt, I carried it out with them. So, piece by piece I created this paradise. Apart from the eunuchs and me, the two of you are the only ones in the castle who know about it.”

“Aren’t you afraid the eunuchs could betray you?” Buzurg Ummid asked.

“You don’t know them, these eunuchs of mine,” Hasan replied. “They talk to no one but me. Their commander, Captain Ali, is blindly faithful to me. Besides that, each of them knows that if he blurted anything out, it would be his death sentence. I depend on them.”

“Don’t you think that the victims your paradise is meant for will see through your deception?”

Abu Ali gave Hasan a cunning glance.

“That’s why I’ve chosen youths who haven’t yet tasted love with a woman. There’s no one more gullible than a boy like that. Because only a woman can turn a male into a whole man. She confers knowledge on him, makes it possible for him to mature. He loses his spiritual innocence together with his physical innocence. This is why everything drives a boy toward that fateful event. Blinded by this unfamiliar passion, he’s ready to believe in anything just to attain his goal.”

“And who are these youths?”

Hasan smiled. He looked at him without responding.

“The fedayeen?”

“Your words.”

A chilly silence fell over the tower. The grand dais gazed down into the gardens. Hasan watched them with a kind of indulgent scorn.

“Can’t you speak?” he asked. “Yesterday we lost twenty-six of our men in battle with the sultan’s vanguard. If we take on the main force of his army, we’re all finished. All I need is several heroes who will make the kings and rulers of the whole world tremble. I summoned you today to show you how these men are going to be trained. Tonight you’ll join me for an experiment in altering human nature. Abu Ali, you know the fedayeen. Name the three of them who are most different from each other in terms of their abilities and character. We first have to test what kind of person is most useful to our purposes. Three gardens are waiting for their visitors.”

Abu Ali looked at Hasan and went pale.

“How do you mean, ibn Sabbah?”

“Bring me three fedayeen with completely different personalities.”

Abu Ali stared at him, unable to get a word out.

“I’ll help you. Who was the stalwart who attacked the Turks first?”

“Suleiman.”

“Who is the strongest in the group?”

“Yusuf.”

“Ibn Tahir will make three. I’m particularly curious about him. If he doesn’t see through it, nobody will.”

Buzurg Ummid broke out in a cold sweat. He recalled wanting to send his son Mohammed to the school for fedayeen as a way of demonstrating his unwavering trust in Hasan. Now he only wanted to get him as far away from Alamut as possible. He would send him to Syria or Egypt.

Hasan looked at them askance with concealed derision.

“Have you got a bone stuck in your throats?” he said. “Don’t get scared prematurely. I’ll provide you with such an argument for my actions that you’ll be the envy of any classical lover of wisdom. Now to my wardrobe! We’re going to deck ourselves out and go visit my paradise like real kings.”

He led them into a smaller space next to his room. Two eunuchs had laid out clothes. Hasan retained one of them and told the other to go give the inhabitants of the gardens a sign that Sayyiduna was approaching.

Wordlessly and with the help of the eunuch, the three of them changed clothes. They pulled on cloaks of heavy white brocade. Hasan draped a scarlet cape around his shoulders, and the grand dais put on blue ones. The capes were edged in precious white fur. Hasan set a gold tiara with various embedded jewels on his head. The grand dais put on turbans, with gold, conical caps in the middle. Hasan put on gold sandals, his companions, silver ones. They strapped on long, curved sabers with intricately carved handles. Then they returned to the commander’s room.

“By the beard of the martyr Ali,” Abu Ali exclaimed when they were alone. “Decked out like this I could actually start believing I was a king.”

“I’m going to make you more powerful than any king,” Hasan said.

He beckoned them into the chamber that he normally used to descend to the bottom of the tower alone. He gave a signal and they suddenly started to sink. Abu Ali started waving his arms and almost pulled his companions down.

“Damned magic!” he cursed when the first fright had passed. “You’re not thinking of taking us into hell?”

“You surround yourself with things that make a person feel downright haunted,” Buzurg Ummid said.

“There’s nothing unusual about this machine,” Hasan explained. “It was invented by Archimedes. Its essence is a pulley mechanism, such as you often find at desert wells.”

A detachment of the commander’s bodyguard was waiting for them in the vestibule. The soldiers were wearing armor and helmets and were armed from head to foot. Strapped around their waists was a sword, over their shoulder they held a mace, and in the other hand was a heavy spear. Drummers and trumpeters walked ahead of them.

They lowered the bridge and crossed over into the gardens, where they were greeted by eunuchs and ferried along the canals to the central garden.