Alamut

CHAPTER TEN

The girls rushed to their bedrooms and quickly prepared for their audience. They changed clothes and put on various adornments. Then they assembled in front of the building. They were terribly excited. Some of them were shaking from head to toe. Miriam arranged them in a broad semicircle and calmed them down. Apama, beside herself, was running back and forth in front of them and desperately grabbing at her head.

“Look at them! Just look at them!” she sighed. “They’ll be the ruin of me. What will Sayyiduna say? He’s such a strict and exacting master.”

Suddenly she came to a stop in front of Halima.

“O all the Prophets and Martyrs! Look at you, Halima! One pant leg down to your heels and the other barely covering your knee.”

Frightened, Halima quickly adjusted her clothes.

Some of the girls looking at Apama began to grin. She had done a poor job of fastening her pant belt, leaving half her belly visible. Miriam went over to her and quietly brought her attention to the mistake.

“I knew it! They’ll ruin me.”

She ran into the building and adjusted things there. She came back with an expression of great dignity.

The boats landed and Hasan disembarked with his entourage. The eunuchs arranged themselves four abreast, drums beat, and horns and trumpets sounded.

“Whoever is addressed by Sayyiduna, kneel and kiss his hand!” Apama whispered angrily.

“Should we fall to our knees when he appears?” Fatima asked.

“No,” Miriam replied. “Just bow deeply and stay there until he orders you to straighten up.”

“I’m going to faint, I know it,” Halima whispered to Jada.

Jada said nothing. She was pale and swallowing hard.

Along the way, Hasan and his retainers inspected the gardens.

“Neither Khosrow nor Bahram Gur installed such luxurious gardens,” Buzurg Ummid observed.

“Nushirvan could have learned from you,” Abu Ali remarked.

Hasan smiled.

“These are all just preparations, means to the end that we’re planning to test this evening.”

They reached the middle of the garden and caught sight of the girls gathered in their semicircle in front of the building. Apama and Miriam stood in front of them. They gave a sign and the girls all bowed to the waist at one time.

“That old woman is the famous Apama,” Hasan said to his friends and laughed.

“Such is the end of worldly fame,” Abu Ali sighed quietly and with a slight sneer.

“Enough bowing!” Hasan proclaimed. “Greetings!”

Apama and Miriam approached him and kissed his hand.

Now Hasan and his friends inspected the girls.

“What do you think, will this look enough like paradise?”

“If anybody had sent me among houris like these when I was young, I wouldn’t have needed that ashash of yours to believe in paradise,” Abu Ali grumbled in response.

“It’s true, all perfect beauties,” Buzurg Ummid remarked.

The musicians fell silent, and Hasan signaled that he was about to speak.

“Girls from our gardens,” he began. “Your superiors have taught you what we expect from you. We will tell you right now that we will know no mercy for any one of you who violates our commandments. But to all of you who faithfully carry them out, we will be merciful and magnanimous. This morning our army defeated the sultan’s forces, which are in service to the false caliph. The whole castle has celebrated the victory with us. We have come to give you a treat as well. Wine and other delicacies will be made available to you. But we have also decided to send you the three young heroes who most distinguished themselves in yesterday’s battle. Welcome them as your husbands and lovers! Be gentle with them and deny them no kindness. We are granting them this favor at the command of Allah. One night God’s messenger came for us and led us through the seven heavens to the throne of God. ‘Ibn Sabbah, our prophet and vicar,’ the Lord said. ‘Take a good look at our gardens. Then return to earth and build an exact replica of them behind your castle. Gather young beauties in them and in my name command them to behave as houris. Into these gardens you will send the most valiant heroes who have fought for the just cause. As a reward, let them believe that we have received them into our dwelling place. For it is given to no one, save the Prophet and you, to cross over into our domain during his lifetime. But because your gardens will be identical to ours, the visitors to them will be deprived of nothing, if they believe. When they die, a resumption of those joys will await them in our realm for all eternity.’ Thus spoke the Lord, and we have carried out his order. We expect that you will behave toward your visitors like real houris. For only if that happens will their reward be complete. There are three of these heroes: Yusuf, fearsome to enemies, good to his friends. Suleiman, handsome as Suhrab, bold as a lion. Ibn Tahir, brilliant as Farhad, solid as bronze. And a poet, as well. Yesterday these three seized the enemy’s flag. Yusuf cleared the way, Suleiman attacked, ibn Tahir reached for it. They are deserving that we send them to paradise. If you should reveal yourselves and disillusion them, you will be beheaded this night. This is my immutable will.”

The girls trembled in fear. Everything was spinning before Jada’s eyes. She dropped down to her knees and passed out. Hasan pointed to her. Miriam ran for a jug of water and brought her to.

Hasan called Apama and Miriam aside.

“So, the three gardens are ready,” he said. “How are things going with the girls?”

“They’re all ready,” Apama replied.

“Good. In each of the gardens one of them is to be the leader and assume responsibility for success. Which are the bravest and most capable ones?”

“I would name Fatima first,” Miriam said. “She’s adroit and skilled in all the arts.”

“Fine. And after her?”

“I’d say Zuleika. She’s first in dancing and isn’t bad in other areas.”

“Excellent. She sounds made to order for Yusuf. Suleiman should get Fatima. The third one will be you, Miriam.”

Miriam went pale.

“You’re joking, ibn Sabbah.”

“Today’s not the time for jokes. It will be as I’ve said. Ibn Tahir is as quick as a snake, and if I trusted him to anybody else, he’d see through the deception.”

“Hasan!”

Tears welled up in Miriam’s eyes. For Apama, satisfaction battled with sympathy. She withdrew.

Hasan continued with mild irony.

“Who told me recently that nothing in the world gave her joy anymore, and that only some risky game could allay her terrible boredom?”

“So you’ve never loved me in the slightest?”

“Far more than that. I’ve needed you and still do. But why don’t you answer my question?”

“The game you’re playing with me is painful.”

“But think what a unique opportunity I’m giving you tonight,” Hasan went on in the same ironic tone. “You’re going to need all your intellect, all your skill, all your charm if you want to ensure that this young man believes in paradise.”

“You’ve destroyed me.”

“I didn’t think my feelings were that important to you. But what’s decided is decided. I expect you to carry out your assignment. Otherwise I won’t be able to make an exception.”

Miriam collected herself. I’ve got to be strong, she told herself. I can’t let him see all of my weaknesses.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Thank you.”

He returned to the girls.

“Zuleika!” he called out. “Pick seven companions. They’ll help you welcome Yusuf, and you’ll be responsible for your success.”

“Yes, Our Master.”

She turned to face the others and began boldly calling out.

“Hanafiya! Asma! Habiba! Little Fatima! Rokaya! Zofana!”

“And take that little one that fainted too,” Hasan said. “Then you’ll have enough.”

Next it was Fatima’s turn.

“Zainab! Khanum! Turkan! Shehera! Sara! Leila! Aisha!”

Halima looked beseechingly at Fatima. When she didn’t call her, she insisted.

“Take me too!”

At the same instant Hasan spoke.

“That will be enough.”

But when he heard the girls laughing at Halima’s plea, he said with a gleeful grin, “Go on, take her too, Fatima.”

With Fatima, Sara and Zainab, whom should she be afraid of now? She rushed up to Hasan, fell to her knees, and kissed his hand.

“Just be smart, tadpole,” he said.

He patted her kindly on the cheek and sent her back to join the others. She got back in line, blushing and dizzy with happiness.

Miriam checked to see who was left. Safiya, Khadija, Sit, Jovaira, Rikana and Taviba were still there. Now she had herself under control again.

Hasan called the leaders to join him.

“The eunuchs will bring the heroes to the gardens while they’re asleep. Fortify them with milk and fruit to begin with. Before the visitors arrive, each girl is allowed to drink one cup of wine for courage. No more than that! You can have more after the youths are drunk themselves, but don’t overdo it! You’ll report to me about everything in detail afterwards. Listen for the signal to wrap things up. The horn will sound three times. Then you should take a cup of wine and dissolve a substance in it that you’ll get from Apama. The youths are to drink it immediately. They’ll fall asleep and the eunuchs will carry them back out.”

When he had made all these arrangements, he looked toward the girls one more time. Then he bowed slightly in farewell. Adi and Apama were waiting for him by the boats. He gave them his final instructions.

“Give this to the leaders. Don’t let the visitors see you. But keep an eye on Miriam. She mustn’t be left alone with her hero.”

Then, with his entourage, he returned to the castle.

Once in the castle, Hasan dismissed his two friends. He had himself hoisted to the top of the second tower, where his bodyguards, the eunuchs, lived. A horn announced his arrival. Captain Ali came running toward him and reported that everything was ready.

Fifty black giants stood in two rows the length of the hallway. Armed, motionless and erect, they stared fixedly ahead. Hasan reviewed them without saying a word. Every time he stood before them, a sense of danger came over him. It wasn’t a disagreeable feeling, in fact it gave him a peculiar kind of pleasure. He knew that if a single one of those hundred arms reached out, he would never again see the light of day. And yet, why didn’t any of them do that? Because all fifty eunuchs had been prepared to execute his every order blindly? Where did he get this power that he exerted over people? “That’s the power of intellect,” he explained it to himself. These castrated beasts feared nothing in the world, except strength of character.

When he had finished reviewing all his men, he called Captain Ali aside to issue orders.

“After last prayers wait for me in the cellar with nine men. I’ll bring you three sleeping youths from my tower. You’ll take them to the gardens on litters. Adi will be waiting for you there. Tell him the names of the sleeping heroes, and he’ll show you where to take them. Don’t let it bother you if they moan or toss and turn on the way there. But if any of them lifts the cover or gives a sign that he’s woken up, have whoever is accompanying that litter cut his throat. The same holds for the trip back. You can turn any corpses over to me. Do you understand everything?”

“I understand, Sayyiduna.”

“After last prayers, then.”

He gestured to the captain farewell, walked back past the motionless rows of guards, and took one lift down and the other up into his tower.

Abu Ali lived in rooms within the center of the supreme command building. He had given one of his rooms to Buzurg Ummid when the latter had arrived at the castle. When they returned from the gardens, they changed clothes and then locked themselves in Abu Ali’s quarters.

For a while they looked at each other silently, trying to guess each other’s thoughts. Finally Abu Ali asked, “What’s your feeling about this?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“Ibn Sabbah is a great man, no doubt about it.”

“Yes, a great man…”

“But sometimes I think… this is just between the two of us, what we say here. Agreed?”

“Absolutely.”

“Sometimes I think he must be terribly overwrought, that maybe he’s not completely right in the head…”

“Indeed, sometimes his ideas strike me as insane… at least the ones that are alien to us ordinary mortals and even provoke horror in us.”

“What do you think of his plan, this unusual testament that he plans to leave us as his legacy?” Abu Ali queried.

“King Naaman comes to mind for me in this case. Senamar built the magnificent palace at Habernak for him. In gratitude, the king ordered him thrown over the battlements of his own building.”

“Right, the fedayeen are going to get Senamar’s reward for their devotion.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Me?”

Abu Ali thought for a moment. His life had been empty since he had lost his two wives and his two children. Some fifteen years ago, because of his proselytizing, he had had to flee Qazvin for Syria. He had left two wives at home: Habiba, who had borne him two children, and the younger Aisha, who was the joy of his life. Three years later he went back. Habiba told him that during his absence Aisha had had an affair with a rich youth from the neighborhood. Abu Ali went mad with jealousy. First he slaughtered the seducer, and then his unfaithful wife. He also hated Habiba for revealing Aisha’s unfaithfulness to him. In his first flush of anger he loaded her and the two children onto camels and took them to Basra. There he sold them into slavery. Later he searched everywhere for them, but in vain. Finally Hasan had called on him to unite with him. Now his work for the Ismaili cause was the entire substance of his life.

He replied, “It’s not for me to choose. I’ve said ‘a’ and that means I’ll say ‘b,’ as well.”

Buzurg Ummid stared gloomily at the floor. He was a tough soldier at heart. In Rudbar he had once ordered fifteen men beheaded for breaking their vows and trying to leave the Ismaili ranks. Against an enemy he found any trick, any violence permissible. But pulling a trick like this on your own most faithful adherents?

“What does he plan to do with the fedayeen when they come back from the gardens?” he asked.

“I don’t know. If the experiment succeeds, I imagine he’ll use these ‘ashashin’ as a terrible weapon against his enemies.”

“And do you think he’ll succeed?”

“That is written in the stars. I think his idea is crazy. But his plan for taking over Alamut seemed crazy to me too. And yet, he succeeded.”

“He’s so alien to me that I can barely follow him.”

“The madness of great men works wonders.”

“I have a son who is dear to me. I’d been planning to send him to Hasan’s school. Allah himself has guided me not to do that. Now I’m going to send him to the opposite side of the world. A messenger should reach him tonight.”

Buzurg Ummid loved his life and his wives. His first, Mohammed’s mother, had died in childbirth. He had been disconsolate for many years. Later he took a second one, then a third and a fourth, and now he had a whole haremful of them in Rudbar. The favors of all of them put together barely compensated for his grief at the loss of his first one. He was from an Ismaili family and so was unable to advance in the sultan’s service. He had traveled to Egypt, and the caliph there had sent him to Hasan, who provided him with means, position and power. He was an outstanding commander, but he lacked any creativity, so he needed someone from whom he could get precise orders.

“It’s true, we have no choice but to stand by Hasan. If he perishes, we’ll perish with him. But if he succeeds, that success will offset the harshness of his means.”

“I don’t suppose we really have any other choice. I admire Hasan, which makes it easier for me to go through thick and thin with him.”

Following this conversation, Buzurg Ummid hurried to his room and wrote his son a letter.

“Mohammed, my son, joy of my life! I urge you not to come to Alamut. Leave for Syria or, if possible, for Egypt. Look up my friends there and tell them I’ve sent you. They will take you in. Listen to a father’s love speaking. My heart won’t rest until I know that you’ve arrived there.”

He found a messenger and dispatched him to Muzaffar in Rai.

“Keep to the east,” he warned him, “so that the sultan’s vanguard doesn’t take you captive. Muzaffar will tell you where you can find my son Mohammed. Seek him out and give him this letter. If you do this, when you return you’ll get a handsome reward.”

He gave him some money for the road. When he saw him leaving the castle, he felt a great weight lifting from his shoulders.

Toward evening the doctor and Abu Soraka settled down on the roof of their empty harems. They had large pieces of roast and plenty of wine before them. They reached heartily for both, gazing through the foliage of the trees at the commotion in front of the castle, and philosophizing.

“Now here’s a colorful life for you,” the Greek said in good spirits. “Years ago, when I was studying in Byzantium, I would never have dreamed that in my old age I would be celebrating some Ismaili victory in some fortress far away in the north of Iran. I thought those noisy banquets back in Sodom and Gomorrah would go on forever. And then, for a handful of gold pieces, you practically lose your head. They put me in chains and threw me in prison. Instead of paying my debts for me, my pals just vanished, so I wound up on a galley. Later I was sold into slavery and wound up as physician to the caliph of Cairo. Ibn Sabbah’s prestige at the court was high then, and I had the good luck to be assigned to him. Something he saw in me made him buy me and take me with him as a free man. And today I’d be a perfectly happy man, if only Hasan hadn’t made us empty the harems.”

Abu Soraka smiled.

“The only consolation is that we’ve all been equally deprived.”

The doctor winked at him.

“You think? What’s that back there, behind the castle? Perhaps mosques for Hasan and his grand dais?”

Abu Soraka looked at him carefully.

“Do you still think that Hasan built harems for himself back there?”

“What else? I’ve learned that caravans have brought many beauties to the castle. Did any of us see them?”

“I don’t believe that. I know there have been some preparations back there. But I’ve never doubted that they were intended for an absolute emergency, for an escape, in case a siege lasted too long.”

“You’re an easy touch. I know Hasan. He’s a philosopher. And, as such, he knows that the quest for pleasure is the first and foremost purpose of life. He’d have to be some kind of an idiot otherwise, when he has everything at his disposal. What else is there besides what we perceive with our senses? That alone is the truth and that’s why it’s wise to follow your passions. Because the worst misfortune is not to be able to attain something that your instincts drive you to want. In that regard I have to praise ibn Sabbah as a wise man. He’s found a way to provide himself with everything. Husein Alkeini spent an eternity looting caravans for him all through Khorasan and Khuzestan. Now he’s even collecting a tax from his believers for him. Not a bad idea!”

“He’s a great master,” Abu Soraka said. Privately he worried that some invisible ears might hear them talking about the supreme commander so irreverently.

The Greek laughed loudly.

“A great and excellent master, even! Just think: when he and I were in Egypt, he had a terrible falling out with the commander of the caliph’s bodyguard, Badr al-Jamali. Everyone was afraid for his life. But he just up and went to the caliph and made him a great bargain. You see, he knew they were planning to put him on a ship that night. So he promised the caliph that he would recruit followers for him in Iran and help bring down Baghdad. He got three heavy bags of gold pieces for that. And he’s still got the caliph in a vice. If too much time goes by with no caravans from Egypt, he sends a messenger there and tells him he’ll start working for himself. Then suddenly the caliph gets all busy. He squeezes his people for more tax and the solicitous rayah in Egypt pays so that Our Master can afford God knows what luxuries beneath the castle of Alamut. That’s why I really have to consider him a true philosopher. While you and I, meanwhile, can sit and wipe our tears over our absent wives…”

Abu Ali suddenly appeared on the rooftop.

The dai and the doctor were visibly frightened.

“Peace be with you, friends,” he greeted them amiably, smiling at their embarrassment. “I’ve come for you, Abu Soraka. You need to inform Yusuf, Suleiman and ibn Tahir that I’ll expect them between fourth and fifth prayers in front of the supreme command. They’re going to appear before Sayyiduna, so they need to get themselves ready appropriately. Good evening!”

The fedayeen were excited when they heard that three of them were going to see Sayyiduna that evening. They wondered and tried to guess why he would have summoned them.

“He’s planning to reward them for their courage in battle,” ibn Vakas ventured.

“What courage?” Obeida jeered. “I’m not referring to ibn Tahir. He actually seized the flag from the Turks. But what business do Suleiman, who let himself get thrown from his horse with his saddle, and Yusuf, who vanquished his fear by roaring—what business do they have with Sayyiduna?”

“Suleiman had the most kills. And Yusuf helped him open a path for the others,” Jafar said.

“Yes, that’s right,” Naim confirmed. “I was there.”

“You?” Obeida mocked him. “You were hiding behind Yusuf’s back so the Turks wouldn’t see you.”

“You Moorish eyesore!”

Naim walked off angrily.

During this time, the chosen three bathed and prepared for their audience that evening. All three of them were excited, but Yusuf was practically shaking.

“How are we supposed to behave?” he asked in a voice that was both timid and childlike.

“However the grand dai tells us to,” ibn Tahir offered.

“By the beard of the martyr Ali,” Suleiman exclaimed, goose bumps and cold sweats coming over him in anticipation. “I would never have dreamed I would soon have the honor of standing before Sayyiduna. We must have done something this morning to deserve this distinction.”

“Do you really think that’s what he’s summoned us for?” Yusuf wanted to know.

“I think you have a bad conscience,” Suleiman laughed. “Maybe he’s just summoned ibn Tahir and me for that. And you, so he can scold you for sounding off without shooting a single arrow.”

“Stop trying to scare me. You’re the one the Turk unsaddled.”

Suleiman bit his lip.

“Wait till you’re standing in front of Sayyiduna,” he said a while later. “We’ll see how clever your responses are then.”

Yusuf got upset.

“Do you think Sayyiduna is Abu Soraka, and that he’ll be asking me about the seven imams?”

“Both of you be careful you don’t go too far,” ibn Tahir intervened.

They put on white cloaks and close-fitting white pants. Then they put tall white fezzes on their heads, and in this ceremonial dress they rejoined their comrades.

They were unable to eat. The other fedayeen inspected them jealously. As they were leaving, Naim asked ibn Tahir, “When you get back, are you going to tell us what it was like and what Sayyiduna is like?”

“Anything you want to know,” ibn Tahir impatiently replied.

Abu Ali was waiting for them outside the entrance to the supreme command. He noticed that their faces were feverishly preoccupied. If only they knew what they’re getting into! was the thought that flashed through his mind. Then he spoke.

“Be brave. When you go in, bow deeply until Sayyiduna gives you permission to stand back up. Whomever he speaks to must kiss his hand reverently. Be brief and sincere in your responses. Because Sayyiduna sees into everyone’s soul.”

They climbed up the tower steps. As they reached the Moor at the top, Suleiman practically ran into him. He leapt back in fright, then scanned the floor ahead of him as though he were looking for whatever he had bumped into.

“Even I’d be afraid of this one,” Yusuf whispered to ibn Tahir.

They entered the antechamber, and all three were seized with a great anxiety.

The curtain rose and a resonant voice called out.

“Come in!”

Abu Ali went ahead, and Suleiman followed him boldly. Yusuf’s teeth were chattering. He waited for ibn Tahir to go ahead of him. Then he had no choice but to go in after them.

Next to Buzurg Ummid, whom they already knew, stood a man wearing a simple gray burnoose. A white turban covered his head. He was not tall, nor did he seem fearsome or particularly stern. This was Sayyiduna, the unseen commander of the Ismailis.

They stood next to each other and bowed.

“Fine, that’s fine, friends,” he said.

He approached them, smiling half ironically, half in encouragement.

“I’ve heard about your exploits in the battle with the sultan’s vanguard,” he began. “I’ve called you here to reward you for your loyalty.”

“You, ibn Tahir,” he said, turning toward him, “you have entertained me as much with your poems as you have with the seizure of the enemy’s flag.”

“And you, Suleiman, you have proven yourself to be a daring warrior and an incomparable swordsman. We’ll need you again.”

“And you, dear Yusuf,” he continued with a very peculiar smile, “for assailing the enemy like a roaring lion, you have also earned my praise!”

He offered each one his hand, but so hastily that they barely had time to kiss it.

Their eyes shone with pride. How could he have recognized each one of them without having ever seen them before? Had Abu Ali described them to him so precisely? In that case, their achievements must have been considerable.

The grand dais stood off to the side. Their faces revealed nothing aside from intent curiosity.

Hasan continued.

“Yesterday we tested your abilities, this morning your courage. But we haven’t yet tested you in the most important thing. We have saved this test for this evening. I want to find out how firm your faith is.”

He straightened up and approached Yusuf.

“Do you believe in everything your instructors have taught you?”

“I do, Sayyiduna.”

His voice was timid, but it conveyed genuine conviction.

“And the two of you, ibn Tahir and Suleiman?”

“I believe, Sayyiduna.”

“Do you firmly believe, Yusuf, that the martyr Ali was the Prophet’s sole legitimate heir?”

“I firmly believe, Sayyiduna.”

Yusuf was almost amazed he was asking him these kinds of things.

“And you, Suleiman, do you believe that his sons Hasan and Husein were wrongly deprived of their legacy?”

“Of course I believe, Sayyiduna.”

“And you, ibn Tahir, do you believe that Ismail is the seventh true imam?”

“I do, Sayyiduna.”

“And do you believe that al-Mahdi will come as the last great prophet and bring truth and justice to the world?”

“I believe that too, Sayyiduna.”

“And you, Yusuf, do you believe that I, your commander, have been given powers by Allah?”

“I believe, Sayyiduna.”

“And you, Suleiman, that I do everything that I do in His name?”

“I believe, Sayyiduna.”

Now Hasan walked right up to ibn Tahir.

“Do you believe, ibn Tahir, that I have been given the power to admit anyone I want into paradise?”

“I believe, Sayyiduna.”

Hasan listened closely. Ibn Tahir’s voice still conveyed unwavering conviction.

“Yusuf! Is your faith so firm that you would rejoice if I said to you, ‘Go to the top of the tower and throw yourself into the depths, because you will go to paradise?’”

Yusuf’s face lost its color. Hasan gave a barely perceptible smile. He looked at the grand dais. They were smiling too.

After a brief hesitation, Yusuf spoke.

“I would rejoice, Sayyiduna.”

“If now, this instant, I commanded you, ‘Go to top of the tower and throw yourself off!’ Yusuf, oh my Yusuf! I can see into your heart. How small is your faith! And you, Suleiman, would you truly rejoice?”

Suleiman replied in a resolute voice.

“I would truly rejoice, Sayyiduna.”

“If I ordered you this instant? Look, you’ve gone pale. Your tongue is decisive, but your trust wavers. It’s easy to believe in things that require no sacrifice from us. But when we have to prove our faith with our lives, then it begins to waver.”

He turned toward ibn Tahir.

“Now let’s have a look at you, poet. Do you assuredly believe that I have been given the key to the gates of paradise?”

“I assuredly believe, Sayyiduna, that you have the power to admit into paradise anyone you consider worthy.”

“But what about the key? I asked you about it.”

Ibn Tahir twitched.

“I’m trying to believe, but I don’t know what the nature of that key is supposed to be.”

“So all you believe in is the doctrine of Ali and the imams?” Hasan exclaimed. “But we need believers who believe in everything our laws say.”

A silence followed that was unbearable for the fedayeen. Their knees shook in agitation. Cold sweat beaded on their foreheads.

Finally Hasan spoke in a hollow voice.

“Then you consider me a liar?”

All three of them went pale.

“No, Sayyiduna. We believe everything you say, Sayyiduna.”

“And if I tell you that I really do have the key to the gates of paradise?”

“Then we believe, Sayyiduna.”

“I can see into your hearts. You would like to believe, but you can’t. Why is that, ibn Tahir?”

“You know everything and see everything, Sayyiduna. It’s hard to believe in something that our mind can’t grasp. The spirit is willing, but the intellect resists.”

“You’re sincere and I like that. But what would you say if I really took you to paradise, so you could test it with those hands of yours, with those eyes and ears of yours, with that mouth of yours? Would you believe then?”

“How could I deny it then, Sayyiduna?”

“That’s gratifying. This morning you proved yourselves in battle. But I knew your weakness, and I’ve summoned you now to make you firm and decisive in your faith as well. And so I have decided to open the gate to paradise to you tonight.”

The youths’ eyes widened in unspeakable amazement. They were terrified and didn’t think they had heard right.

“What are you staring at me for? Aren’t you glad that I’m marking you out this way?”

“You said that…”

Ibn Tahir stammered to a halt.

“I said that I would open paradise up to you, and that is what I’m going to do. Are you ready?”

Some invisible force put all three of them on their knees. They touched their foreheads to the floor in front of Hasan and stayed that way.

For a moment Hasan glanced at his friends. Their faces conveyed stern interest.

“Stand up!” he commanded.

They obeyed. He pulled a candle out of a chandelier and used it to light an area behind the lift. Three low cots had been prepared there. They were covered with rugs that reached down to the floor.

“Lie down on the cots!” he ordered.

He handed the candle to Abu Ali and gave Buzurg Ummid a jug of wine to hold. He took a gold box off a shelf and unlocked it. He approached the fedayeen, who, pale and miserable, were trembling on the cots.

“The way to paradise is long and arduous. Here are food and drink to fortify you. Take them from my hands.”

He went from one youth to the next, putting into each one’s mouth a tiny ball that he took from the gold box. Yusuf was so excited that at first he couldn’t open his jaws. Suleiman and ibn Tahir tried to swallow the ball as quickly as possible.

At first it tasted pleasantly sweet. Then came a disgustingly bitter taste. Hasan ordered them to drink wine to get rid of it. Then he watched closely for the effects.

First to intoxicate the youths was the strong wine, to which they weren’t accustomed. Everything spun before their eyes, so that they had to lie down flat. Yusuf groaned like a felled ox. Then he began to yield to a dizzy slumber.

For his comrades, drunkenness battled with a terrible curiosity. What if I’ve swallowed poison? was the thought that came to ibn Tahir. But countless fantastic images that began chasing each other were already pressing down on him. He could only follow them with his gaze like a mesmerized young ox.

Hasan saw his timid, wide-open eyes.

“What are you looking at, ibn Tahir?”

Ibn Tahir didn’t hear him. He was staring at the images drawing him along, until he submitted to them completely.

Suleiman was angrily battling the phantoms that threatened to distort his reality. Just a moment earlier he had seen the faces of the three commanders intently looking at him. But in the next instant a marvelous apparition was enticing him to watch it. At first he suspected Hasan had given him poison. But soon he forgot that thought. His internal battle had exhausted him, and the images had become so strong that he finally succumbed to them completely.

Yusuf moaned and tossed for a while. Then he fell fast asleep. Soon Suleiman and ibn Tahir followed him.

Hasan took thin, black blankets and threw them over the youths. Then he gave a sign and all six of them descended to the base of the tower.

Hasan’s bodyguard met them. Hasan quietly gave Captain Ali several more instructions. Then, in teams of two, the Moors picked the cots up by their handles and, accompanied by a third, carried the youths into the gardens.

The commanders waited silently for them to come back. Hasan asked them quietly, “Is everything in order?”

“Everything is fine, Sayyiduna.”

Hasan gave a deep sigh.

“Let’s go to the top of the tower,” he said. “All of this is unfolding like a Greek tragedy. Praise be to Allah, the first act is over now.”