Alamut

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The following morning the grand dais joined Hasan, as agreed. He told them, “I was just with the boys. They’re all still asleep. It’s time for us to rouse them.”

They entered his chambers. He pulled the curtains aside, letting sunlight pour into the room. They looked inside the lift. The youths lay on their cots sleeping peacefully, just as they had the night before. The commanders approached them. Hasan inspected them closely.

“They haven’t changed a bit on the outside since last night. What their souls are like is something we’re about to find out.”

He shook Yusuf by the shoulder.

“Yusuf, do you hear me?! It’s broad daylight outside and you’re still asleep!”

Yusuf opened his eyes in alarm. He lifted himself up on his elbows and shook his head in confusion. He stared at the commanders dully and without understanding.

Gradually things began to dawn on him. His face took on an expression of utter astonishment.

“What on earth were you up to last night that you’ve slept so late?”

Hasan smiled roguishly. Yusuf timidly raised his eyes.

“I was in paradise by your grace, Our Master.”

“Must have been quite a pleasant dream, my boy.”

“No, no, I really was in paradise.”

“Go on! Your friends are going to laugh at you if you tell them that.”

“I know what I know, Sayyiduna. I really was in paradise.”

“Then do you believe that I’ve been given the key to the gates of paradise?”

“I know it now, Sayyiduna.”

The loud talking woke Suleiman. He sat up on his cot and furrowed his brow. His eyes went from Hasan’s face to Yusuf’s.

Suddenly he remembered everything. His hands eagerly fumbled over his body, and he felt Halima’s bracelet under his robe. His face also showed tremendous amazement.

“See, now Suleiman is awake too. What on earth were you doing last night that you’ve slept so long?”

“I was in paradise by the grace of Our Master.”

“Oh, go on. Who’s going to believe that?”

“Let anybody just try to doubt me… What I mean is, I have proof that I was really there…”

“Proof? Show it to me.”

Suleiman realized too late that he had misspoken. He tried to talk his way out of it.

“I don’t even know how this got into my hand. I was feeling weak, I tried to grab onto something, and suddenly I was holding a bracelet in my hand. After that I don’t remember anything.”

“Show it to me!”

Reluctantly Suleiman handed Hasan his prize. The commander inspected at it from all sides and then handed it to the grand dais.

“Remarkable, indeed,” he said. “It appears to be a genuine heavenly bracelet.”

“Zuleika had one like it,” Yusuf interrupted. “But she told me I couldn’t bring it back with me to this world.”

“Suleiman, Suleiman,” Hasan said, shaking his head. “It seems rather strange to me how you came by this jewelry. Are you sure you didn’t rob paradise itself?”

Suleiman turned pale.

“I was afraid that Naim and Obeida wouldn’t believe me. So I kept it…”

“Do you have a reputation among your comrades for being such a liar?”

“I myself wouldn’t believe them if they ever told me anything like this.”

“In any event, I’m keeping the bracelet. The next time I send you back to paradise, I’ll give it to you to take along. You be sure to apologize to them then.”

In the meantime ibn Tahir had also awakened. He shook off his dizziness. He listened to the conversation wide-eyed.

Gradually his memory of the evening’s events also returned. Suddenly he felt his chest under his heart. He shuddered. He felt the impression of Miriam’s teeth.

Hasan turned toward him.

“I’ve been hearing some remarkable things from your comrades. Last night I left them in this room alongside you, and now they’re trying to make me believe that they didn’t spend the night here at all, but traveled straight into the beyond. At least you have always been a deliberate, cool thinker. Rescue me from the obligation of believing them. Otherwise I’ll be terrified of staying in this place, knowing that night phantoms can grab you by the arms and legs any minute and carry you off into God knows what unknown lands.”

“I know you’re joking, Sayyiduna. You yourself know full well who caused our nighttime journey, and now you want to put me to a test.”

“What? Ibn Tahir, even you claim you didn’t spend the night here? Then would that mean it’s not just symbolic that I hold the key to paradise in my hands?”

“Forgive me, Sayyiduna. Doubt will never creep into my heart again.”

“Fine. Well, friends, what will you tell your comrades if they ask you where you spent the night?”

“We’ll tell them that we were in paradise by the grace of Our Master.”

“Very good. I hope that from now on your faith will remain firm and unshaken. That it will be that kind of faith about which it has been said that it can move mountains. Go back to your comrades now.”

He called a guard and ordered him to lead them out of the tower.

When he was left alone with the grand dais, he relaxed visibly.

“That turned out the way I expected.”

Abu Ali leapt toward him.

“On my word,” he exclaimed. “You’ve found the Archimedean point.”

Both of them embraced him.

“I was skeptical about your success right up to the last minute,” Buzurg Ummid confessed. “Now I think you’ve actually succeeded in changing human nature. You’ve forged a terrible new weapon in these ashashin!”

“The third act is now at a close,” Hasan said and laughed. “We could give it the title ‘Awakening’ or perhaps ‘Return from Paradise.’”

The invitation to the three comrades to meet the supreme commander, and even more their absence overnight, caused the fedayeen to engage in some lively speculation and discussion. They talked about it in their sleeping quarters until late in the night, expecting the invitees would return and satisfy their curiosity.

“At last we’ll hear what Sayyiduna is like,” Obeida said.

“Why on earth do you suppose he summoned them?” Naim wondered.

“Why? Probably so he can scold them for seizing the Turks’ flag this morning.”

Obeida grinned.

“I wasn’t asking you. I was hoping to hear some more intelligent opinions.”

“You can’t be thinking he was going to send them off to heaven?” Abdullah mocked. “He called them so they could join the commanders for the banquet as a reward.”

“You could be right,” Jafar said.

“So why are they taking so long to come back?” Obeida speculated. “Maybe he gave them some special assignment and they’ve already left the castle?”

“Why hash through all this over and over?” Abdur Ahman commented. “Until they come back and tell us themselves where they’ve been and what they’ve seen, we can’t guess a thing. So it’s better that we go to sleep and get a well-deserved night’s rest.”

The next morning they had already been on their feet for a long time when the three absentees suddenly reappeared. They ran toward them as they approached, and surrounded them.

“Let’s head into our quarters,” Suleiman said. “We’ll talk there. I’m hungry and my arms and legs feel like they’ve been ground up in a mortar. I can barely stay on my feet.”

They entered their quarters and the three of them collapsed on their beds. They brought them some milk and bread.

Suleiman asked, “Who wants to speak?”

“You go ahead and start,” Yusuf replied. “I’m too impatient. I don’t think I could get it across to them. If I saw they weren’t following me, I’d get angry. And that wouldn’t be right either.”

They crowded together around their beds.

“Do you believe in miracles?” Suleiman asked.

The fedayeen looked at each other.

“The ancient ones, sure,” Naim said. “The Prophet forbids us to believe in new ones.”

“Oh, you spoil-sport! What does Sayyiduna teach?”

“I’m not aware he’s said anything about miracles.”

As Suleiman kept questioning them, Naim grew cautious.

“Haven’t you learned that Allah delivered the key to the gates of paradise into Sayyiduna’s hands?”

A tense silence followed. Suleiman looked victoriously from one face to the next. When at last he had sated himself on their curiosity, he continued.

“Fedayeen, last night Sayyiduna was gracious and opened the gates of paradise to us.”

They looked at each other. Nobody said a word.

Suddenly Obeida burst out in a loud guffaw. Then all the others became convulsed in laughter too. Only the three nocturnal travelers remained serious.

“They’ve made a plot to pull the wool over our eyes,” Abdur Ahman said.

“Suleiman’s making a fool of us as he always has,” Naim added.

“Let’s leave them alone,” ibn Vakas suggested haughtily. “They got drunk last night and then had to sleep it off in a barn somewhere. You can see it in their faces. They’re ashamed now and they’re trying to turn it all into a joke.”

“I knew it would be this way,” Suleiman growled angrily. “Ibn Tahir, you tell them. They’re most likely to believe you.”

“Enough of this game already,” Obeida said, growing angry. “I want to know if you had a chance to see Sayyiduna.”

Now it was ibn Tahir’s turn.

“Friends, it’s hard to talk about such incredible things as the three of us experienced last night. I understand you completely if you laugh at us. But everything Suleiman said is the absolute truth. So please, be patient and listen. He’ll continue now.”

His face was utterly serious. There was no trace of humor in his voice. Even so, the fedayeen wondered if the threesome might not be playing some practical joke.

“I’d accuse my own father of lying,” Jafar said, “if he made claims like that. But it seems strange to me that you, ibn Tahir, would join in this kind of nonsense. Go ahead and speak, Suleiman. At least we’ll hear what you were planning to tell us.”

Suleiman sat up on his bed. He looked around menacingly, then he began to speak.

He started at the very beginning, with their ascent of the tower, their encounter with the mace-bearing giants, and Abu Ali ushering them in to meet Sayyiduna. Whenever he missed a detail, Yusuf jumped in to supply it. In this way they described the supreme commander and their strange conversation with him in detail.

The fedayeen followed their narrative with mounting suspense. Yusuf’s interruptions were the best involuntary confirmation of the accuracy of their unusual report.

When Suleiman reached the point where Sayyiduna ordered the three of them to enter the cell containing the three cots, his listeners held their breath. Their eyes were glued to his lips.

Even ibn Tahir listened to him carefully. Instinctively he fingered his chest where Miriam’s tooth marks remained. Now, when he was back in the midst of his everyday life, he became seized by a horror at the memory of that inexplicable nighttime event. For the first time he felt moved by true faith, the kind of faith that experience and reason deny.

Then Suleiman told them how Sayyiduna had given them miraculous pellets that gave them the sense of flying through unknown landscapes. He told them what he had dreamed then, until he had completely lost consciousness.

He reached the point where he woke up in paradise. The faces of the fedayeen glowed and their eyes shone feverishly. They shifted restlessly on their seats. He told them what he had first seen around him. He described the pavilion precisely, without leaving a single detail out. Then he came to a description of the girls.

“Maybe you just dreamt all of this.”

Obeida was trying to relax his extremely taut nerves.

The others were also finding this intense strain on their imaginations to be unbearable. They exchanged glances, breathing heavily. Naim crouched at the head of ibn Tahir’s bed, hunched over and pale with delectable horror. He was getting shivers down his spine in broad daylight, as though he were listening to gruesome ghost stories.

“I’m sure that everything I saw in that place was just as real as you are, sitting around me,” Suleiman continued. “You couldn’t imagine a more beautiful hall. Everything gold and silver. The couches are covered with rugs that are softer than moss. Strewn with pillows that you just sink into. As many choice foods as you could want. Sweet wine that cheers you up and doesn’t rob you of your reason. Everything exactly as it’s written in the Koran. And guys, the houris! Skin like milk and satin. Big, clear eyes. And their breasts, O Allah! Just thinking about them, I start to feel like there’s fire inside of me.”

He described his amorous adventures in detail.

“Oh, if only I could have been there”—the words came from the bottom of Obeida’s heart.

“If you’d so much as touched one of them, I would have ripped your guts out with my bare hands.”

Suleiman’s eyes flashed like a madman’s.

Obeida instinctively drew away.

He had known Suleiman long enough. There really was no joking with him. But he had never seen him as he was at this moment. Something told him that he had changed last night in some dangerous way.

“Those houris are mine! Do you understand? They’re mine now and for all eternity. I’m not giving up a single one of them, not for anything. Oh, my sweet little gazelles! Source of my joy! Spring of my happiness! None of you has any right to want any of them. Allah made them for me. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be with them forever.”

Each of them sensed this: that Suleiman had become a completely different person overnight. They looked at him distrustfully and almost with fear.

Perhaps Yusuf was the only one who didn’t notice this change, or rather, for whom the change seemed only natural. He understood it instinctively, because a similar transformation had taken place in him.

Suleiman continued describing his experiences with the girls of paradise.

Suddenly Yusuf lost his temper.

“You’re not trying to make us think that you made all nine of the houris your wives in just one night?”

“Why should I have to make you think anything? Didn’t you?”

Yusuf scoffed angrily.

“A serious thing like this, and Suleiman can’t help exaggerating.”

Suleiman bored through him with his eyes.

“Hold your tongue! I’m not exaggerating any more than the Koran does.”

“Then the Koran exaggerates.”

The fedayeen laughed.

Suleiman bit his lip.

“My wives composed a song about my love. Are you going to tell me that the houris lie?”

“Recite it.”

He tried to collect his memory of it, but soon he got stuck.

Yusuf burst out in a loud guffaw and slapped his knees, laughing.

The others laughed with him.

At that point Suleiman went flying like an arrow over ibn Tahir’s bed. He slugged Yusuf in the face with all his might.

Yusuf instinctively reached for the injured area. He stood up slowly, looking stunned. The blood had rushed to his face.

“What? That grasshopper is going to hit me in the face?”

Lightning-fast he lunged and pinned Suleiman to the opposite wall. The sabers hanging on it rattled. Suleiman drew one of them and fixed Yusuf with malevolent eyes.

“Son of a dog! This time it’s to the death.”

Yusuf went white. In an instant all his anger was gone.

But before Suleiman could do anything else, ibn Tahir leapt at him, grabbing the arm that held the saber. Jafar, ibn Vakas and others came to his aid and pried the weapon out of the madman’s hand.

“Are you out of your mind? Last night in paradise by the grace of Sayyiduna, today a massacre among your friends!”

With a firm hand, ibn Tahir sat him back down on his bed.

“And you, Yusuf, what’s the idea of interrupting him while he’s talking? We’re not all made of the same stuff. Each of us lives his life in his own way.”

“You’re right, ibn Tahir,” Jafar said. “Let’s have Suleiman tell his story to the end, then you and Yusuf will have your turns.”

Now they all begged Suleiman to go on. Yusuf stubbornly crossed his arms on his chest and stared at the ceiling. Suleiman cast a scornful look at him, then proceeded to tell the rest of his story.

No one doubted any longer that the threesome had actually been in paradise. They took an interest in the details, and soon each of them became intimately familiar with the place and the girls that Suleiman had visited. Soon they began privately daydreaming about the beautiful houris, and some fell in love with one or the other of them against his will.

“So you woke up in that same dark cell you’d fallen asleep in?”

Naim asked questions like a child.

“That’s right. Everything was just like it had been the night before. Except that when I patted my robe, I felt the bracelet that Halima had given to me in paradise.”

“Why did Sayyiduna take it away from you?”

“Maybe he was afraid I might lose it. But he promised he’d return it to me the next time he sends me to paradise.”

“When are you going back?”

“I don’t know. Allah willing, as soon as possible.”

Now it was Yusuf’s turn to tell about his experiences. They already knew the beginning and the ending. He had to focus on his time in paradise. He described the girls’ singing and dancing. He grew particularly passionate when he came to speak about Zuleika. He described her beauty, her skill as a dancer, and her virtues, and as he did so, he realized how tremendously in love with her he was. Now he felt sorry that he had tried to cheat on her with Jada. Without realizing that it hadn’t exactly been so, he told them how faithful he had been to Zuleika.

“She’s my only real wife,” he said. “All the others are just her slaves, put there to serve us. Because even though they’re all amazingly attractive, none of them compares with her in beauty.”

But Suleiman had already achieved the greatest possible suspense by telling his story first. Yusuf’s account didn’t seem half as interesting to them. Only once did it manage to take the fedayeen’s breath away: when he described his stroll through the mysteriously illuminated gardens. Suleiman hadn’t experienced that. Now he silently regretted letting himself be so awestruck by the sumptuousness of the pavilion that it didn’t even occur to him to look outside.

Ibn Tahir’s account was the most laconic of all. He told them that he had been welcomed in paradise by Miriam. That she led him through the gardens and showed him the wall of al-Araf. That a shadow had moved atop it, probably that of a hero who had fallen while fighting for Islam against the will of his parents. Ibn Tahir said of Miriam that she was wiser than dai Ibrahim. He also described how he had attacked her in a moment of doubt, and how some huge cat named Ahriman had knocked him to the ground. This animal, al-Araf and the shadow on top of it were the things that intrigued the fedayeen most. They would have gladly learned about more details, but ibn Tahir wasn’t especially talkative.

“Give us a chance to rest up,” he said. “Eventually you’ll get to hear anything you want to know.”

And so they turned instead to Yusuf and Suleiman, who were more generous with their descriptions. All three of them grew in their eyes into powerful Pahlavans, practically on the scale of true demigods.

All night long Apama had been unable to close her eyes. The past had risen up out of the darkness, the grand days of her youth and the heavenly nights. She remembered everything with a fearful precision. She suffered infernal torments. It is unbearable to know that you were once first, and then to have to observe your fall, little by little, straight to the bottom. Now others reigned in the kingdom of love.

She got up when the sun’s first rays began to gild the peaks of the Elburz. Gray, disheveled and sunken-cheeked, she looked out from beneath the bushy branches that spread over the entrance to her house. Up ahead was Alamut, which blocked her return to the world forever. But what would she do there, anyway, now that she was old and shriveled? Praise be to Allah that Hasan had rescued her from poverty and oblivion! Here she had her kingdom. True, it was a bitter kingdom, since it continually reminded her of days past. But the bitter greatness of a fallen angel was better than vanishing on a garbage heap.

During the long nights she wondered what Hasan meant to her. Once, many years ago, a youthful lover, part enthusiast, part prophet, he had been almost completely erased from memory by time and many far more excellent men. She might even have forgotten his name, if she hadn’t heard it from time to time in connection with various plots and religious disputes. Then, not quite two years ago, when she had hit rock bottom, a stranger suddenly brought her a letter from him. He wrote that he was master of a large fortress, and that he wanted her to join him, because he needed her. She had nothing to lose. She decided instantly. Against her will, dim, pale hopes crept into her heart. Now she saw Hasan in all his power. Once it had been her role to grant and deny. Now it was Hasan’s. Did she love him? She didn’t know. All she knew was how bitter it was to be near someone who once loved you with all his ardor, but who now cared so little about you that he didn’t even bother to hide his passion for another.

She stepped out of the house. Birds were chirping in the bushes. Dew glistened on the grass, the leaves, and on the heads of flowers. It was such a magnificent summer morning that she felt sick at heart.

She shook off her melancholy thoughts. She washed her face from a bucket of water and arranged her disheveled hair. She took pains to conceal the traces of a sleepless night. Then she set out for the building that stood opposite.

This was where the eunuchs slept. Their loud snoring was audible through the door, which had been left slightly open. This peaceful, carefree sleep of theirs made her furious. She shrieked into the house that it was morning and time to work.

“Oh, you damned witch!”

Mustafa was livid with rage.

Adi laughed.

“Loathsome witch, not worth a stitch.”

Incensed, she threw the door wide open. A sandal came zipping through the air and smacked her on the head.

She swiftly retreated.

“Just wait, you curs! Sayyiduna is going to make belt straps out of your backs.”

A mighty wave of laughter came thundering out of the house.

“Down to the boats, you animals! Get the girls home, so that Sayyiduna doesn’t take them by surprise.”

They stood up, yawning, and put on their colored robes. Sloppily dressed, they came out of the house at a crawl. They made a point of not looking at the old woman, to make their disrespect clear. Neither side knew why it hated the other. They went to the canal and washed there. Then they sat down in the boats and reached for the oars.

Apama sat next to Adi. The eunuchs made sure they handled the oars clumsily, splashing water on her.

“Just you wait, you riff-raff!” said Apama. “We’ll see who laughs last. O Allah knew what he was doing when he let them clip off your manhood.”

Adi began rocking the boat dangerously, singing:

The eunuchs laughed, seeing Apama clutch on to the sides of the boat to avoid a real baptism.

They reached the island where Fatima and her companions were asleep. Apama left the boat and walked up a path toward the pavilion.

All of nature was awakened. The illuminated band on the mountainside grew broader and broader.

She looked through the glass into the hall. The girls lay in disarray, fast asleep among the pillows.

Furious, she leapt through the entrance and grabbed the mallet. The gong echoed wildly throughout the pavilion.

Frightened, the girls jumped to their feet.

“You whores! So you’ve been rutting all night, and now you sleep half the day away. Into the boats and home with you, now! I’m not letting Sayyiduna find you like this!”

They covered themselves in their coats and hurried off toward the canal. They hadn’t even managed to wake up completely. Their heads ached from the incessant banging on the gong that woke them up and from the previous night’s drunkenness. They sat down in the boats, bleary-eyed, unkempt and totally disheveled.

On the central island Miriam came out to meet them. She was already made up. But despite the color on her cheeks and lips, they noticed that she must have slept poorly. She and Apama exchanged glances. Both had a sudden sense that they understood each other. It was perhaps the first time they had felt close.

Soon the girls in that pavilion were also on their feet. Apama and the eunuchs left to fetch the girls from the third garden.

Miriam accompanied her to the water’s edge.

“Didn’t you sleep at all?” Apama asked her.

“No. And you?”

“Me neither.”

“Yes, yes, it’s a strange life we have.”

She had wanted to say “terrible,” but Apama had understood her even so.

Soon Zuleika and her companions arrived back home. They ran to dress themselves and get rid of the last traces of the night. By the time of the third prayer everything was back to normal. Their everyday life had resumed.

In mid-afternoon Hasan arrived unannounced, accompanied by four mace-bearing guards. Once again, the girls assembled in a semicircle. He wanted to hear details of the previous night. They answered him with trembling voices.

He pulled the gold bracelet out from under his robe. He showed it to the girls and asked them, “Whose is this jewelry?”

Halima recognized her property immediately. She practically dropped to the ground in fright. She was unable to utter a single word.

The others were frightened too. Miriam looked from one face to the next. When she came to Halima, she immediately understood everything. She looked at Hasan imploringly. The mischievous smile on his face put her at ease.

“So this bracelet doesn’t belong to any of you? Then that means the feday lied to me.”

He gazed at Halima intently.

Tears came welling up out of her eyes. She was shaking so badly that her teeth chattered as she cried. In her mind’s eye she could already see herself setting her head down on the block, the axe rising above her.

“A fine thing, Halima. Do you realize I should have you beheaded? And I would do it remorselessly, if this thing had betrayed our secret to the boy. This time I’ll grant you your life. But if it happens again, your head will not escape the axe.”

He put the bracelet back under his robe.

Miriam nodded to Halima, who ran up to Hasan, overjoyed, and fell to her knees before him. She wanted to thank him, but she couldn’t produce a single word. She just kissed his hand.

“I want you all to try harder next time,” he said, bidding them farewell. “Last night you gained some experience which should be useful to you in the future. Be ready at any time, day or night.”

He nodded to them and called for Miriam to accompany him.

“Expect me tonight. I have a lot to talk to you about.”

“As you say,” she replied. For the first time the prospect of meeting with him didn’t cheer her in the slightest.

Toward evening the girls gathered around the pond and chatted about the previous night. They shared their impressions from the various gardens. Halima sat off to one side, wordlessly listening. For the first time she felt a real desire to be alone. She bore a great secret in her heart. Nobody knew about it, and she wouldn’t have dared to reveal it to anyone. She loved Suleiman. She loved him to distraction. An ominous question had been weighing down on her spirit. For a long time she didn’t dare ask it. At last she turned to Fatima.

“I didn’t quite understand. Are the same visitors going to come next time?”

Fatima looked at her. She understood everything at once. She felt sorry for her to the bottom of her heart.

“Nobody knows, dear child.”

Halima stared at her with curious eyes. She sensed that Fatima was evading her. Was she really not going to see Suleiman ever again? Doubts had plagued her all night. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Now she had her own grown-up worries. She had ceased being a child.

On that same day news spread throughout the fortress that Hasan had opened the gates to paradise for three fedayeen, and that they had spent the night there. Abu Soraka came to see if Suleiman, Yusuf and ibn Tahir had come back. He found them asleep, but their comrades told him what they had learned from them.

Abu Soraka broke out in a sweat. He immediately reported to Abu Ali, telling him what the fedayeen were saying.

A mischievous smile crossed Abu Ali’s face.

“If that’s what they’re saying, then that’s what must have happened. Why should we try to hide the truth?”

Abu Soraka bowed in fright. He sought out the doctor and told him the news.

“I think Hasan invented this as a trick to intimidate us,” he said. “But I wonder how he bribed those boys to start lying so baldly, since they’ve always been so dedicated to the truth until now?”

“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.