CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

With the Seljuk realm—until yesterday one of the most powerful empires on earth—now in ruins, and with the sons, brothers, uncles and nephews of the murdered sultan battling each other for the throne, and with no one anywhere in Iran quite clear who was in charge, the institution of the Ismailis stood as firm and unshakable as the rock on which Alamut was built.

The news of the death of Sultan Malik Shah was cause for genuine celebration among Hasan’s supporters. The lands from Rai, Rudbar and Qazvin to Firuz Kuh, Damagan and all the way to Girdkuh and Gonbadan were now safe, and Ismaili messengers, and even whole divisions, could practically stroll from fortress to fortress. A new wave of believers came streaming into Alamut, seeing it as the best guarantee of their religious freedom and well-being. The fortress itself soon became too small for them. Dai Abu Soraka chose the strongest and most capable of them to keep at the castle. He had the rest swear their allegiance, gave them gifts, and—pledging that they would be fully protected by the supreme leader—he let them return to their homes. After nearly a century, practically the whole north of Iran was at last free to venerate Ali in public and to recognize the caliph of Cairo as its spiritual leader.

Hasan’s network of informants was built to an even greater level of perfection than before. He was constantly receiving news about the struggles and battles for the Iranian throne. He learned that the caliph had proclaimed Mohammed as the new sultan and that Barkiarok had returned to Isfahan. He gained a precise sense of how the pillars of Seljuk rule, which he had undermined, were swaying. The dream of his distant youth had been fulfilled.

“All of this is like a fairy tale,” he said to himself. “If I myself weren’t the cause of all these convulsions, I wouldn’t believe them. It’s true, some wishes have a miraculous power. They function as though they had substance, as though they were a hammer made of actual steel.”

He was conscious of a strange emptiness, as though everything around him had fallen silent all at once. Something huge, terrible and yet beautiful had left him and found its place in the sun outside of him. He felt homesick for his strong, restless days. Now the moment had come for him to inspect his edifice one more time, distinguish it from everything that surrounded it, define the limits of its power, and ensure its survival for that time when he was no longer.


And just as he had half a year ago, at the beginning of winter, reis Abul Fazel Lumbani arrived at the castle from Rai with an important message. He reported that the emir of Sava, Tekeshtegin, had taken Barkiarok in and put all his forces at his disposal. He wanted to use Rai, the old capital of Iran, to proclaim him sultan, so he asked Muzaffar for help and support. Muzaffar advised him to consult with Hasan first and get his approval. And for that purpose he, Abul Fazel, had come to Alamut. As soon as he was proclaimed sultan, Barkiarok would set out with his whole army for Isfahan and depose Mohammed.

Both of the grand dais, Manuchehr and Abul Fazel Lumbani, met with the supreme leader in council.

“This is a moment of crucial importance,” Hasan said. “The caliph and almost all the generals and their forces have sworn allegiance to Mohammed. We mustn’t deceive ourselves. If the sultana’s faction were to win, then we Ismailis would be the first of Taj al-Mulk’s targets. Like any new ruler, he’s going to try to get rid of the shield-bearers who helped him to power—and that’s us. He’s already proven to us that that’s the kind of man he is. Barkiarok will also try to shake us off as soon as he doesn’t need us anymore. But we have to prevent that from the very outset. So our watchword should be: no ruler must ever again attain unlimited power in Iran! I think that for now we can afford to help Barkiarok overthrow Mohammed. Let Tekeshtegin proclaim him sultan in Rai. When he moves against Isfahan, we’ll cover his back. But as the saying goes, let us strike while the iron is hot. Barkiarok has to give us a written commitment that if he’s successful, he will not attack our castles or persecute our followers anywhere in the country. And just so he’s very clear about the extent of our power, we’re going to demand a yearly tax from him for our support. The time has come when rulers and potentates have to know that their lives are in our hands.”

None of the leaders contradicted him or had any comments to make. They composed a letter to Barkiarok, listing their conditions.

After that, the conversation turned to more pleasant things. A jug of wine passed from hand to hand. Suddenly Hasan turned to reis Lumbani and asked him, smiling, “What came of that cure for my madness, after all? Have you still not brought it along with you?”

Abul Fazel scratched behind his ear.

“You know, ibn Sabbah,” he replied, “I’ve gotten old, and I’m no longer amazed by anything in the world. I’ve seen that something I thought was wise seven years ago has turned out to be stupid, and that apparent madness has proven to be the highest wisdom. There’s nothing I understand anymore, so I’ve given up making judgments. I’ve served my time.”

Hasan laughed again for the first time in ages.

“My dear reis, my dear reis!” he said. “Now you see what brittle legs were supporting the edifice you once thought had been built to last an eternity. All it took was a handful of men whom I could trust unconditionally, and I was able to cut down the Seljuk oak. Let me ask you: is there any other ruler or religious dignitary, prophet or wise man, any kingdom or institution that we here at Alamut ought to be afraid of?”

“No, there’s none, ibn Sabbah. Because your living daggers can reach anyone who crosses you. With weapons like that, who would want to be your enemy?”

“There are such people, dear friend. But the time will come when even princes on the far side of the world will live in fear of our power. And then we’ll collect tribute from all the emperors, kings and potentates beyond the seas.”

Abul Fazel only shook his head.

“I believe you, because I have to believe. But I don’t understand. How are you able to find youths who are so willing to sacrifice their lives at your command?”

“It’s because they know that death will immediately transport them to a place of heavenly delights.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe in your fairy tales about paradise?”

Hasan winked at him playfully.

“Would you like to convince yourself with your own senses that it exists?”

“Allah forbid I should be so curious!” he exclaimed. “Because you’re capable of anything, and if you finally did convince me that your paradise exists, I’d probably attack some sultan or vizier with a dagger, even despite these old bones and this gray beard.”

The leaders all laughed heartily.

The next morning Abul Fazel left Alamut, heavily laden with gifts and sitting comfortably on a camel’s back.


A week hadn’t yet passed when a messenger brought Hasan a letter from Barkiarok, in which he consented to the conditions. And lo and behold, Tekeshtegin proclaimed Barkiarok sultan in Rai. At that point both of them planned to move against Isfahan with their army, but Taj al-Mulk and his forces had already launched an assault against Sava. At Barugjir, between Hamadan and Harb, the armies collided. Taj al-Mulk was defeated. He was captured, and Barkiarok ordered him beheaded. Now the road to Isfahan was clear. He arrived outside the city at the beginning of the year one thousand and ninety three. Hasan, the second-born of the murdered grand vizier, arrived from Khorasan with his forces and joined him. Barkiarok appointed him to be his secretary. They welcomed a swelling tide of deserters from the camp of the sultan’s widow. Finally she had to negotiate with him and sue for peace. He even defeated and beheaded his uncle, Ismail ibn Yakuti, the regent of Azerbaijan who had sold out to Turkan Khatun. But he had barely done that when Ismail’s half-brother, Tutush of Damascus, rebelled against him. Tutush attacked Antioch and joined forces with the regent of Aleppo, Aksonkor. He occupied Mosul and demanded that the terrified caliph proclaim him sultan.

All of the outlying provinces of Iran were suddenly ablaze with rebellion. One after the other, the subjugated kings and princes proclaimed their sovereignty. Even the regents threw off the central authority of Isfahan, seeking complete independence. The conflicts between individual authorities worsened. An indescribable chaos that no one had experienced before came to dominate Iran. The poor caliph had to proclaim first one man sultan, then another, depending on the proximity and military might of a given pretender to the throne. Thus, there were months in Baghdad when the khutba had to be prayed for several sultans in a row.

This was the moment for Hasan to issue his final decree and to put the final touches on his edifice.


He assembled the leaders of all his fortresses at Alamut and invited his friends and adherents from far and wide.

It was a splendid winter day. Snow hadn’t yet fallen, except on the highest mountains. The chill air was dry and crisp. But as the sun rose over the peaks, it grew pleasantly warmer.

Very early, while it was still pitch dark, the drums had sounded, rousing the men from their sleep. Everyone—soldiers, fedayeen, the faithful and the leaders—dressed in their ceremonial clothes. Word went around that important and far-reaching events would take place at Alamut that very day.

After the first prayer, the leaders and their guests assembled in the great hall. They took their places all around the hall on divans covered with pillows.

Hasan entered with the two grand dais. He was garbed in his white cloak, which reached down to his feet. A splendid white turban covered his head. The leaders and guests all rose. They bowed to him. He went from one person to the next, politely greeting each one. When he got to Muzaffar, he asked, “How are my daughters doing? Are they diligent? Are they earning their bread?”

Muzaffar proceeded to praise them lavishly.

“Fine,” Hasan said. “As long as they make themselves useful somehow. Should worthy suitors appear, marry them off.”

Muzaffar promised to do so.

Then he caught sight of reis Abul Fazel. He couldn’t suppress a smile and greeted him heartily.

“It’s a pleasure to see you so often,” he said. “How would you feel about staying here at Alamut? I could appoint you keeper of my gardens. There are plenty of beautiful houris in them.”

“No, no,” the former reis declined. “Anyway, it won’t be long before I’m knocking at the gates of the real paradise.”

Hasan laughed. Once he had welcomed everyone, he invited all present to be seated. Then he spoke.

“Ismaili friends and leaders! I have invited you here today to talk in clear and unambiguous terms about the essence and goals of our institution. Everything we have undertaken since gaining control of this castle has turned out successfully—a sign that we have laid a solid foundation. We have tested and proven our strength in battle. Despite the unity and precision of our efforts, there are still some things that remain unclear, particularly concerning our relations to the rest of the world. However, this is quite understandable. For the ultimate success of any action is always dependent on its original conception and all those foreseen and unforeseeable factors that impinge on its realization. When we seized this fortified castle from the late sultan, we pointed to the caliph of Egypt as having given us the authority to do so. That was an indispensable necessity, because at that point our prestige was so minimal—or rather, let’s say, nonexistent. But times have changed significantly since then. Our worst enemies are dead. The mighty Seljuk realm is in ruins. Egypt is far away. And we have developed and grown into a force of iron. We have educated and trained a phalanx of believers, the likes of which no other ruler has known. Their fanaticism is legendary. Their determination is unequalled. Their devotion is unprecedented. What is Cairo to them? Nothing. And what is Alamut? Everything.

“Men! I am old, yet there is still much to be done. Our doctrine must be elaborated to the last detail and written down for those yet to come. It must be specially adapted for each of the eight grades. Today I will make my last appearance to the faithful. After that I will withdraw to my tower for good. I would welcome any suggestions about what I’ve just told you.”

His eyes sought out Abu Ali. The grand dai stood up and spoke.

“Supreme leader, Ismaili leaders and friends, I recommend that we break all ties with Cairo and proclaim our complete independence. By doing this, we will on the one hand show the whole world that we’re confident of our power. On the other hand, this will help us win over many of those good Iranians who would have liked to join us but have been put off by our allegiance to Cairo.”

The Ismaili leaders enthusiastically welcomed this proposal. Muzaffar, however, exchanged a startled glance with Abul Fazel and remarked, “By Allah! Have you given any thought to the response of our many followers who believe that the caliph of Egypt is the true descendant of Ali and Fatima? All of them will turn away from Alamut.”

“Don’t worry, Muzaffar,” Buzurg Ummid countered. “Those followers aren’t much use to us. The ones our power depends on recognize just one battle cry: Alamut!”

“The power of our institution doesn’t depend on the number of followers we have,” Hasan explained, “but rather their quality. And it doesn’t depend on the extent of our holdings, but rather on our fortified castles. And we are the complete masters of those. A split with Cairo would signal our real birth. It would allow us to cut the umbilical cord and free ourselves completely from our mother’s body.”

Muzaffar relented. Then Abu Ali proposed that they solemnly proclaim Hasan as the founder and supreme leader of the new regime, which would continue to have its seat at Alamut. The proposal was adopted unanimously. They composed a formal document in which they proclaimed the complete independence of the Ismaili realm and named Hasan as its leader. Everyone present signed it.

Hasan rose. He thanked them for their confidence in him and named Abu Ali and Buzurg Ummid as his deputies and successors. He entrusted internal control to the former and external control to the latter.

“So,” Hasan began, “now we have clarified the relationship between ourselves and the rest of the world. We still need to think about how to increase and extend our power. Because any institution that intends to stay vital and tough can never rest. It has to remain constantly in motion and flux to preserve its agility. I know of many fine castles which are now in foreign hands but which could serve us as important footholds if we appropriated them. You’re all familiar with the fortress of Lamasar. Truly a strong, solid bastion. But the garrison that’s in it now is weak and tired of the monotony of fortress life. Buzurg Ummid, you will take as many men as you need to seize the castle. You’re to attack it without delay. Abdul Malik, with your courage and youth, you are to set out with a force of our best warriors and attack the magnificent castle of Shahdiz outside of Isfahan, which the sultan built practically to order for us before he died. You must take the castle. This way we will have any future ruler of Iran in our hands. Abu Ali, I have saved the most difficult but also the most glorious task for you. You are from Syria. There is an impregnable fortress there, Masyaf, a second Alamut, as you yourself have told me. Take as many soldiers and fedayeen as you need. With things in Iran as unstable as they are now, you should be able to fight your way there. Remember, Masyaf must fall into your hands. I want you to establish a school for fedayeen there on the model of Alamut. You will control it as you see fit, keeping me constantly informed of your initiatives. Ibn Atash, I am appointing you grand dai. You are to return to Khuzestan and take back command of Gonbadan. You will fortify the city of Girdkuh. Seize all of the fortresses in the region. If you should need a feday for any particular task, I will send you one… All of you dais who command individual forts are to be promoted from this day forward to regional dais. You will report directly to the grand dai whose seat is closest to you. This takes care of the external aspect of the hierarchy. Once you return to your castles, you will receive its internal structure in the form of a set of regulations, once those are completed. Now go join the men. Abu Ali, you will explain the action we’ve taken here and announce my arrival. Today they’ll see me for the last time.”

The Ismailis cheered enthusiastically at the news that Alamut had become a sovereign state. Abu Ali promised them new military campaigns and new victories. They whooped with joy and battle fervor. They all felt that the fortress of Alamut had long since gotten too small for them.

The supreme leader appeared on the upper terrace. A hush descended. In a voice that reached all the way down to the last horseman on the lower terrace, he proclaimed, “Faithful Ismailis! My grand dai has just announced the decisions that our council of leaders adopted today. We have truly grown powerful. But this power of ours depends completely on you and all of us being obedient. You carry out the orders of your immediate superiors, and they carry out my orders. I, in turn, remain obedient to the direction of the All-Highest who sent me here. Directly or indirectly, all of us fulfill His commands. Now go back to your duties, and quit waiting for the Mahdi. Because al-Mahdi has come!”

He didn’t wait for the cheering to subside. He withdrew with the leaders to the assembly hall and bade each of them farewell there. Then he and the grand dais withdrew to his chambers.


“So, now the fifth and final chapter of our tragedy is over,” he said with an almost melancholy smile. “There’s no one left over us, except for Allah and the unknown heavens. But we know incredibly little about either of them. So we might as well close the book of unsolved riddles once and for all.

“I’ve had enough of the world for the time being. While I wait in this retreat for the solution to the final riddle, I can’t think of a better way to occupy my time than by filling in the last details of the fairy tales for our faithful children. It’s fitting for an old man who knows the world to reveal it to the people in the form of tales and parables. There’s so much work still ahead of me! For the simplest believers I have to invent a thousand and one tales about the origins and beginning of the world, heaven and hell, the prophets, Mohammed, Ali and the Mahdi. The second grade, the fighting faithful, will need more than anything a clear rule book giving them all the commandments and prohibitions. I’ll have to embed the fairy tales into basic principles and provide them with a whole catechism. For the fedayeen I will have to reveal the first great Ismaili mysteries: the Koran is a complicated book and requires a special key to interpret it. Still higher up, those who advance to the level of dais will learn that even the Koran doesn’t contain the ultimate mysteries, and that those are equally distributed among all the different faiths. Those worthy enough to become regional dais will learn the awful supreme Ismaili principle: that nothing is true, and everything is permitted. But those of us who hold all the threads of this mechanism in our hands will save our ultimate thoughts for ourselves.”

“What a pity that you plan to shut yourself off from the world!” Buzurg Ummid exclaimed. “Now, of all times, when you’ve reached the zenith of your life’s path.”

“A man who fulfills a great mission only really comes to life once he’s dead. Especially a prophet. I’ve fulfilled mine and now it’s time to start thinking of myself. I’m going to die to other people so that I can come to life for myself. This way I’ll be able to see what will endure after me. Do you understand?”

They nodded.

“But if you were to ask me what the purpose of all this has been and why it’s been necessary, I wouldn’t be able to answer you,” he continued. “We just grow because there’s strength in us to do that. Like a seed that germinates in the earth and shoots up out of the ground, that blooms and bears fruit. Suddenly we’re here, and suddenly we’ll be gone.”

“Let’s go have a last look at the gardens!” he at last invited them.

They entered the lift and descended to the base of the tower. A eunuch lowered the bridge and Adi ferried them over to the central garden.

The deciduous trees were bare and the flower beds were deserted. There was no fresh greenery, no flowers. Only a cypress grove darkly withstood the winter.

“If you sent somebody to the gardens now,” Abu Ali said, “he’d have a hard time believing he was in paradise.”

“The world consists of color, light and warmth,” Hasan replied. “They are the food for our senses. A ray of light on the landscape, and it’s completely transformed in our eyes! With its transformation our feelings, thoughts and moods are also transformed. This, you see, is the eternally self-renewing miracle of all life.”

Apama joined them.

“How are the girls doing?” Hasan asked.

“They talk a lot, and they work a lot, they laugh a lot and they even cry a lot. They just don’t think very much.”

“That’s for the best. Otherwise they might realize they’re in prison. It can’t be helped. You women are used to harems and prison. A person can spend his whole life between four walls. If he doesn’t think or feel that he’s a prisoner, then he’s not a prisoner. But then there are people for whom the whole planet is a prison, who see the infinite expanse of the universe, the millions of stars and galaxies that remain forever inaccessible to them. And that awareness makes them the greatest prisoners of time and space.”

They walked silently down the deserted paths.

“Is there anything new here?”

“No, except that we’re expecting a few babies.”

“That’s fine. We’ll need them. Make sure that everything goes well.”

Then he turned to his grand dais and said, “Those will be the only creatures in the world who were conceived by their fathers in the firm belief that their mothers were heavenly maidens, unearthly beings.”

They walked around the pond.

“Spring will come again, and then summer after it,” Hasan continued. “Stay as warm as you can through the winter, so you can experience the luxury of nature renewing itself again in the gardens. And we should withdraw to our chambers too, because the sky has clouded over ominously and it might even snow tomorrow. It’s going to get colder.”

When they returned to the castle, Hasan bade his grand dais farewell with these words:

“The earth has barely made half a circuit around the sun, just half of one of the hundreds and hundreds of thousands it has made until now. And yet we can say that a fair amount has changed on its surface in that time. The empire of Iran no longer exists. Our institution has emerged from the night. What course will it take from here? We call for an answer in vain. The stars above us are silent.”

For the last time he embraced both of his friends. Then he entered the lift. They felt a strange sadness as they watched him ascend.

He locked himself inside his chambers and died to the world.

And legend enfolded him in its wings.

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