Alamut

CHAPTER FOUR

In the castle, meanwhile, ibn Tahir was undergoing the greatest transformation of his life. For several days after his arrival everything kept spinning and going hazy before his eyes, as though someone had struck him on the head with a heavy club. But he quickly adapted to the new order. After a fortnight had passed, not only was he one of the best novices, but he had also become a passionate and fervent adherent of Ismaili teachings. His face also underwent a striking change. The softness and roundness of his cheeks disappeared. They collapsed, and the expression of his face became harsh and determined. He appeared to be a full ten years older than when he had arrived.

During this time he had gotten to know his companions, their superiors, and the school’s overall curriculum thoroughly.

Captain Manuchehr didn’t just train them in military maneuvers, he served as their geography instructor as well. Leaving the castle, he would ride so far south with them that when they turned to face their point of departure they could see the peak of Demavend jutting above the surrounding mountains. This he chose as the orientation point for his explanations. When he still served in the sultan’s army, he had traveled across this entire realm several times. Now, on a huge sheet of parchment, he drew all the major mountain ranges, all the most important cities and markets, and all the military and caravan routes. He spread the map on the ground before the novices, using Demavend to determine the compass points, and began describing the location of individual geographic features and crossroads. To bring the lesson to life and heighten his listeners’ zeal, he wove recollections of his life in the military into his descriptions. And each novice was assigned the task of determining the location of and distance to his hometown. As a result, these lessons were among everybody’s favorites.

A new subject that al-Hakim taught was particularly unusual. Formerly this man had moved in court circles in the West. He was familiar with the life of the courts in Byzantium and Cairo, as well as in Baghdad. He had been the guest of many powerful princes and had seen numerous peoples, whose ways and traditions he had thoroughly studied. Now he distilled all this experience into a particular subject which he imparted to his students. He taught them how the Greeks, Jews, Armenians and Arabs greeted each other, what their customs were, how they ate, drank and enjoyed themselves, and what they did for a living. He showed them how to appear before this or that prince, what various rulers’ ceremonies required, and he provided them with the basics of the Greek, Hebrew and Armenian languages. Through all of this he performed like some Greek tragedian, playing first an exalted prince, then a meek petitioner, walking about tall and proud one minute, then falling face first to the floor or bowing low before phantoms, while smiling half-ingratiatingly and half-slyly. The novices had to imitate him, playing parts with him and exchanging greetings in foreign languages. Every now and then the proceedings were interrupted by riotous laughter, and the learned Greek would willingly join in.

Besides dogma and Arabic grammar, dai Ibrahim also explicated the Koran and taught algebra and mathematical disciplines. Ibn Tahir soon came to feel genuine admiration for him. He felt as though dai Ibrahim knew everything. When he interpreted the Koran, he would also make philosophical digressions, talk about other faiths, and share the basics of Christianity, Judaism, and even the mysterious Indian teachings proclaimed by the Buddha, alongside other pagan beliefs. He would explain in detail why all those faiths were in error, and demonstrate how much truer were the teachings of the Prophet, which found their most perfect expression in the doctrine of the Ismailis. In conclusion he would condense all these reflections into concise sentences, which the novices had to write down and then memorize.

Once dai Abu Soraka came to class with a thick paper package under his arm. He unwrapped it carefully, as though it contained something mysterious and valuable, then pulled out a stack of minutely inscribed sheets of parchment. He set these down on the rug before him and put his heavy hand over them.

“Today I will begin to teach you about the life of Our Master. You will hear about his suffering, his struggles, and the great sacrifices he has made for the Ismaili cause. This stack of writings in front of me now is the result of his untiring efforts. All of this was written carefully by his hand for you, so that you can learn from his life what it means to sacrifice yourself for the just cause. That’s why I want you to take careful notes on everything you’re going to hear, and then learn it well. Behold, here is the fruit of his labors on your behalf.”

The novices stood and approached the writings that lay in front of the dai. In silent admiration they looked at the beautifully inscribed sheets, which rustled as they slid through their teacher’s fingers. Suleiman wanted a closer look and reached for one of the sheets. But Abu Soraka quickly stretched his hand out, as if protecting the writings from desecration.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he exclaimed. “This is the manuscript of a living prophet.”

The novices gradually returned to their places. In a reverent voice, the dai started to introduce them to the life and achievements of their supreme commander. To begin with, he wanted to provide them with a brief outline of the external events, so it would then be easier to shift to the details that were described in the sheets before him. They heard that Sayyiduna, their commander, had been born sixty years ago in Tus, that his name was Hasan and that his father Ali came from the famous Arab clan of Sabbah Homairi. In his early youth he had gotten to know several Ismaili teachers and missionaries and immediately sensed the absolute rightness of their doctrine. His father himself had secretly been a devotee of Ali. In order not to awaken suspicion, he had sent the young Hasan to Nishapur to study with the Sunni refiq Muafiq Edin. It was there that Hasan become acquainted with the present grand vizier Nizam al-Mulk and with the astronomer and mathematician Omar Khayyam. They were fellow students who, when they fully realized the falseness of the Sunni faith and the vanity of its exponents, resolved to devote their lives to the Ismaili cause. They swore that whichever of them first attained success in public life would help the other two advance, so that they could more effectively serve the one true cause.

The grand vizier failed to keep his promise. On the contrary! He lured Sayyiduna to the sultan’s court, where he had set a dangerous trap for him. But Allah protected his chosen one. He wrapped him in the cloak of night and led him to Egypt and the caliph there. But even there, jealous individuals rose up against him. He overcame them and, after much wandering, returned to his homeland. Allah gave him the fortress of Alamut so that he could use it to launch the struggle against false teachings and ultimately overcome the false rulers and despots. His entire life is strewn with miracles, mortal danger and the grace of Allah. Abu Soraka continued.

“Once you hear all these wondrous stories, which seem more like legends than truth, you’ll know Our Master to be a true and powerful prophet.”

And in the following days he began recounting in detail the most improbable events and experiences from the life of the supreme commander. The novices’ picture of a strong prophet gradually took shape, and it became their most fervent wish to see him in person someday, and to prove themselves to him through some feat or great sacrifice, because meaning something in his eyes meant the same thing for them as rising far above the mass of humanity.

By day, ibn Tahir no longer marveled at anything. He was a keen observer and an obedient student. He did everything the moment demanded of him, and he felt that everything had to be precisely the way it was.

In the evening, however, when he lay with his hands clasped behind his head and stared at the reddish flame emanating from the oil dish on its stand in the corner, he suddenly realized that he was living in some strange, mysterious world. He felt anxious and often he would wonder, “Are you, lying here, really the same Avani who used to tend father’s herd in Sava?” He felt that the world he was now living in and his former world were divided by the same kind of abyss that divides the world of dreams from the waking world.

He escaped from those dreams by writing poems. During poetry lessons, dai Abu Soraka asked the novices to celebrate in verse some personage or event of significance to the Ismailis. They had to write poems about the Prophet, about Ali, about Ismail and the glorious martyrs and their feats.

Ibn Tahir felt most drawn to Ali, the Prophet’s son-in-law, and he composed a poem about him that so impressed Abu Soraka that he showed it to Sayyiduna. His fellow disciples learned it too, and soon ibn Tahir was known throughout Alamut as a poet.

Encouraged by his first success, ibn Tahir continued his experiments with poetry. Suddenly he felt that he had discovered a means both of expressing something of that eerie feeling that frightened him in the evenings and getting rid of it at the same time. He tried to fit everything that had seemed alien and obscure to him into verse, so that he could face it directly. Some of these efforts eventually became common property among the residents of Alamut, many of whom could recite them by heart. Two poems about Alamut and Sayyiduna were particular favorites.

Poetry also played a role in their rhetoric lessons. Suleiman and ibn Tahir would compete with each other in front of all the others. Suleiman was the quicker, ibn Tahir the more reasoned speaker. Yusuf was most miserable of all during these lessons. He often claimed to ibn Tahir that he would rather spend the whole day doing maneuvers in the sun for stern Manuchehr, or even lash himself, jump around on a white hot metal plate, and perform all ten excruciating breathing exercises, which they had begun to master. There was only one thing that he feared as much as poetry, rhetoric, grammar and algebra, and that was Abdul Malik’s fast. That was the one time when he felt that life and everything they did in the castle was senseless and empty. He would be overcome with a desire to lie down, go to sleep, and never wake up again.

Otherwise there were no particular issues that bothered Yusuf, and very little that surprised him, with the exception, perhaps, of ibn Tahir’s ability to compose poems that he hadn’t read anywhere and that hadn’t been dictated to him. Publicly he called him a magician, but in private his earthbound imagination insisted that ibn Tahir had to have some secret source somewhere that he drew his art from. That the poems he knew had been composed by poets, this much he understood. But that had been in the dim, dark past, back when heroes still walked the earth and did battle with demons and other supernatural beings. But that his companion, who slept in the bed next to his and was a head shorter and a lot weaker than him—that this person could be one of those poets was something his simple brain refused to accept. He could more or less understand that Sayyiduna was a great prophet, despite the fact that the two of them lived in the same castle. Sayyiduna was invisible and found it unnecessary to appear to anyone. Ibn Tahir argued and joked with Yusuf every day. Despite these doubts he sincerely admired him and was proud of their friendship.

Although he was a peerless swordsman and snare thrower and always the first to volunteer for any dangerous ordeal, Suleiman easily got jealous of the successes of others. Once, when somebody praised Yusuf and ibn Tahir to him, he replied, “One’s a fool and the other’s full of himself.”

Even so, the three of them were inseparable. Whenever others attacked Suleiman’s companions, he defended them. He would become furious and refute them.

“When you’re able to withstand as much exertion and throw a spear as far as Yusuf, then you can talk.”

Or regarding ibn Tahir, he might say, “If you had just a fraction of his intellect in your heads, you wouldn’t just be full of yourselves, your heads would be so puffed up they would have exploded long ago.”

But nobody held these taunts against him, because it wasn’t just Yusuf and ibn Tahir who liked him, but the whole school, including the teachers.

One of the strictest injunctions was against any discussion of women or matters of sexuality in general. Thus it was that it took the novices’ breath away when Ibrahim unexpectedly touched on this delicate subject in one of his lessons. He had just spoken about the Prophet’s wives. Then he cleared his throat, lowered his gaze, and fixed it on the young men sitting in front of him. He began in a grave voice.

“The Prophet himself did not forbid believers to marry and enjoy a life shared with the opposite sex. He himself provided the model of a steadfast spouse and good father. And yet at the same time he set a luminous goal before all believers—martyrdom for the holy faith and the greatest reward for this sacrifice—eternal joy in the gardens of paradise. Following his august example, the earliest believers were able to combine the two—a pleasant life with women and courageous sacrifice for his teachings. But when the Prophet died, dissension grew among his believers. The men just wallowed around in harems and fought for power and other earthly possessions. Forgotten was the Prophet’s commandment to sacrifice for the great cause, to fight sword in hand, even to die a martyr’s death for it… Now Sayyiduna has drawn a line between that and his own actions. On that side are Baghdad and the Seljuk tyrants with their depraved adherents. On this side are you and us. You who are about to be consecrated as fedayeen are an elite corps whose ultimate purpose is sacrifice and martyrdom for the holy cause. You must therefore be different from them in every way. This is why Sayyiduna has issued the strictest injunction for you: you must neither marry nor otherwise succumb to any kind of debauchery. As if you already inhabited the heavenly gardens that have been created for you, you are forbidden to speak of impure things. You are also forbidden to think about them or secretly submit to them in your imagination. Nothing is hidden from Allah! And Sayyiduna has been chosen by Him and designated to be your guide. The strictest punishments await any who would violate this injunction. Whoever is caught in an unseemly conversation will be immediately demoted to foot soldier. One of your rank has already met with that punishment. Once you’ve been consecrated, whoever has intercourse with a woman or, still worse, marries, will be put to a hideous death. First, the executioner will put out his eyes with a red-hot iron. Once the worst pain has passed, his limbs will be pulled out of his living body, one by one. The supreme commander has deemed these punishments appropriate for anyone who violates his commandment.”

The novices felt an icy shudder at these words. They didn’t dare look each other in the eye. Some of them vividly imagined the horrific punishments. They tensed up, and barely stifled sighs escaped from a few of them.

When dai Ibrahim saw the effects of his words, an imperceptible smile passed over his unmoving face. He continued in a much gentler voice.

“Don’t be frightened by Sayyiduna’s injunction. It only appears to be cruel. Because who among you would even think of trading the reward that awaits you for your sacrifices, for the dubious pleasure that violating Sayyiduna’s commandments could offer you? Each of you who is steadfast in carrying out what you’re commanded to do will be given eternal delights! And what delights! As martyrs for the holy cause you will enter into gardens where streams flow clear as crystal. You’ll recline on soft pillows amid pavilions of glass and stroll in the shade of lush, leafy trees through perfectly tended gardens. You’ll be surrounded by flower beds full of exquisitely shivering blossoms. Fair-limbed girls with dark eyes shaped like almonds will serve you the choicest food and drink. They’ll be at your service! Allah specially created these girls so that they will retain their youth and virginity, even though they submit completely to your wishes… Once you are consecrated, you’ll be ready to earn these delights. Allah has given Sayyiduna the key to the gardens intended for you. Sayyiduna will open the gates to paradise for whoever carries out his commandments faithfully. How can anything deter you from the path to this reward?”

That evening the novices gathered on the rooftop and ibn Tahir said, “Our teachers have encouraged us to use our free time to talk about anything we’ve learned in the course of the day. Today dai Ibrahim explained why Sayyiduna forbids us to be unchaste in word and thought as well as action. I don’t think we’d be violating that injunction if we discuss everything we’ve heard, the way we usually do, and come to some conclusions about how to act so that we can avoid temptations more easily.”

These words frightened some of the novices.

“I’m against it,” Naim said. “Dai Ibrahim forbade us to talk about unchaste things. You heard the punishments for violators.”

“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Naim,” Jafar countered. “We are allowed to discuss anything our teachers have lectured about on the same day. Nobody can punish us for discussing the subject intelligently and matter-of-factly.”

“Just as long as the subject’s not women and other indecent things!” Naim grew excited.

Yusuf lost his temper.

“Over the parapets with the runt!”

Frightened, Naim backed away toward the exit.

“Stay here!” Suleiman yelled at him. “That way you can’t claim later that you weren’t here. And if you don’t stop being a pest, some of your fur is going to fly tonight after the lights go out.”

Ibn Tahir began.

“Let me speak frankly and directly so that we get these things out in the open at once. I’m convinced that none of us would even think of actually having an affair with a woman. We wouldn’t even talk about it, from here on out. We can control our actions and our tongue. But how are we supposed to govern our thoughts when they attack us in moments of weakness—not to mention our dreams? For while Iblis doesn’t hold power over our will, he does hold power over our imagination and our dreams. For instance, on a number of occasions I’ve deliberately tried to refrain from indecent thoughts. And I’ve been on the verge of thinking that I’d won. But then a lewd dream comes to you, as if inspired by some evil spirit, and the whole following day your imagination is its prisoner. So you start over, until you slip again. But the injunction is ironclad and refuses to recognize this natural weakness. How do we deal with that?”

Suleiman responded, “Why worry our heads over this? Dreams are just that: dreams. Nobody can be held accountable for them, any more than for every thought that runs through your head.”

“He’s right!” Yusuf exulted. “It’s like he took the words right out of my mouth.”

“No, I don’t know if that works,” ibn Tahir mused. “The injunction is definite and clear, so there has to be some way for us to overcome our weakness.”

Jafar joined in.

“You’ve hit on it exactly, ibn Tahir. If the injunction is as it is, then it has to be possible for us not to violate it. Each of us has to resist the insinuations of the evil spirit with all his might. That way we can liberate our thoughts and even our dreams from its influence.”

“I’ve tried that,” ibn Tahir said. “But human weakness is enormous.”

“It’s not smart to pick a fight with a more powerful opponent,” Yusuf grumbled.

Then Obeida, who had been listening silently until then, smiled knowingly.

“Why all the speeches and arguments, friends,” he said, “when in fact the matter is much simpler than that? Do you think Sayyiduna could give us a commandment we couldn’t fulfill? I don’t think so. So listen. Hasn’t Sayyiduna promised us a reward for our endurance, for our sacrifice? He has, and it’s the heavenly delights in the gardens of the beyond. Let me ask you: is a righteous man allowed to look forward to his future reward? You’ll all say, of course! So we also have every right to look forward to the joys that Sayyiduna has promised as our share after death. In our thoughts we can look forward to the beautiful gardens and the bubbling springs, we can imagine the choice food and drink that we’ll be served, and finally, in our imagination we can also enjoy the embrace of the dark-eyed maidens who will be assigned to serve us there. Where’s the impurity in that? If the evil spirit ever assaults us with its temptations, we can elegantly sidestep it with thoughts of the exquisite heavenly gardens where we’ll be able to lord over things to our heart’s content, without having a bad conscience to spoil our fun. That way we can please both Allah, who will have prepared the gardens for us, and Sayyiduna, who will reward us by opening the gates that lead into them—and ourselves, because we can give free rein to our imagination without sinning.”

The novices approved loudly and in high spirits.

“You’re incredible, Obeida!” Yusuf exclaimed. “How come I didn’t think of that myself?”

“Obeida draws an ingenious conclusion,” ibn Tahir suggested. “Formally there’s nothing wrong with it. But in my opinion impure desires are still indecent, even if we set them in the framework of the heavenly gardens.”

“I think you’re upset you didn’t think of it yourself,” Obeida snapped.

“No, ibn Tahir is right,” Jafar said. “Sin is still sin, wherever you do it. You can’t get around as clear an injunction as Sayyiduna has given us with some trick.”

“You’re trying to spoil everything for us with your brooding,” Yusuf said angrily. “As far as I’m concerned, Obeida is right, and nobody can keep us from looking forward to the reward that’s going to be rightfully ours.”

“As you see fit,” Jafar observed and shrugged his shoulders.

In the evenings, when torches flickered in front of the supreme commander’s building, when the gurgling of Shah Rud could be heard in the distance, and when the evening horn sounded its call to prayer and bed, a painful melancholy would come over the novices. The day’s hard schooling with its demanding tasks and discipline was behind them, and their thoughts could roam free. Some of them sought solitude where they could indulge their feelings of homesickness, while others talked about what it was like out there, where life was completely different.

“I wish I were a bird,” Suleiman said one night. “I’d fly to see what my two sisters are doing. Our mother is dead, and father has two other wives who also have children. My sisters will be a burden to them, and I suspect they’ll treat them badly. They’ll want to get rid of them. I’m afraid they’ll persuade my father to sell them to the first suitor who comes by. Oh, I can’t tell you how this is eating at me.”

He clenched his fists and buried his head in them.

“My mother is very old,” Yusuf said, brushing his heavy paw across his eyes. “She has a hard time tending the livestock and pastures, and I’m afraid the neighbors cheat her because she’s all alone. Why did I ever leave her?”

“That’s right, why?” ibn Tahir asked.

“It was her wish. She said to me, ‘You’re a strong Pahlavan, my son. The Prophet himself would be proud of you. And if your father, who cherished the martyr Ali more than anything in the world—if your father were still alive, he’d surely send you to study the true faith with one of the dais who serve the true caliph …’ At that time the grand dai Husein Alkeini was traveling through our area, recruiting for Our Master. I went to him and he sent me here, to Alamut.”

“And you, Naim, what brought you to the fortress?” ibn Tahir pursued.

“My village isn’t far from here,” Naim replied. “I heard that a powerful dai at Alamut was assembling an army to lead against the infidel sultan. Back home we were all true believers, so my father didn’t have any objection to my leaving to serve Sayyiduna.”

“And you, Suleiman?”

“What is there to say? People were saying there was going to be a war and that a grand dai who had caused a lot of miracles to happen had taken over Alamut in the name of the caliph of Egypt, and that he was planning to attack the sultan from there. ‘Things are going to happen here, Suleiman,’ I told myself. Dai Abdul Malik was traveling through our area and I joined him.”

“Our clan had always been faithful to Ali,” Obeida said. “There were nine of us brothers and someone had to leave home. I asked my father and he gave me his blessing.”

“How about you, Jafar?”

“I studied the Koran, the Sunna and the history of Islam scrupulously, and I realized that Ali had been wrongly deprived of the Prophet’s legacy, and that the caliph of Baghdad was unjustly occupying the regent’s throne. An Ismaili dai visited our area—it turned out to be our superior, Abu Soraka—and I had some learned discussions with him. I agreed with his teachings and I asked my father for permission to go with the missionary. When he heard that my teacher was headed for Alamut, to join Sayyiduna, he gladly consented. People were already saying about our supreme commander that he was a very holy man.”

These conversations helped them get over their homesickness, their feelings of loneliness and their isolation from the world. When the sound of the horn roused them from their sleep the next morning, the vulnerabilities of the evening were already forgotten. The cold water in which they washed was a foretaste of the new day’s rigor. Once again they stood with both feet firmly in Alamut. Their only concern was whether they would be able to answer their teachers’ questions well and whether their superiors’ expectations would be too great. Their spirits untroubled and high, they devoted themselves to working for the Ismaili cause.

One morning, when the novices and Manuchehr returned to Alamut from their maneuvers, Abu Soraka addressed them.

“Today you have a free day. The dais from the surrounding fortresses have come to get further instructions from the supreme commander. Also, we will report to them on your successes and failures. Keep quiet and use the time to study.”

The novices were overjoyed. They ran to their sleeping quarters to fetch their tablets and notes. Some of them took them out onto the ramparts, while others, more curious, sat around the courtyard in the shade of the buildings and kept a watchful eye on the building of the supreme commander.

The guard out front had been reinforced. The black spear carriers stood as motionless as statues. From time to time some dai or other would dart past, dressed in his ceremonial white cloak. The novices would immediately whisper to each other whatever they knew about him. If it was someone they didn’t recognize, they would try to guess who it might be.

There was a commotion in front of the guard tower on the lower terrace. A group of horsemen had ridden in through the main gate. Soldiers bounded toward them and held their horses so they could dismount. An unassuming little man in a billowy cloak who had jumped off a short, shaggy white horse hurried up the steps, surrounded by others who followed him with evident respect.

“Abu Ali! The grand dai! I know him,” Suleiman exclaimed, instinctively rising to his feet.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yusuf proposed.

“No, let’s wait!” ibn Tahir said. “I’d like to see him close up.”

In the meantime the group had drawn closer to them. Soldiers who happened to be nearby were turning toward the new arrival and bowing respectfully.

“They’re all of them dais,” Suleiman whispered, his voice trembling excitedly. “Abu Ali went to get them himself.”

“Look! Dai Ibrahim and dai Abdul Malik are in the crowd,” Yusuf exclaimed.

In his billowy cloak Abu Ali strode across the terrace with great dignity, his whole body swaying solemnly as he went. He smiled affably at the soldiers saluting him. It was obvious he was aware of how much a friendly smile from him meant to his devotees. His face was covered with wrinkles. A sparse, grayish beard and drooping mustache to match surrounded his almost toothless mouth. When he walked past the novices, they bowed to him tautly. His little eyes beamed with joy. He drew one hand out from beneath his cloak and waved kindly to them. He bore an uncanny resemblance to a little old woman.

When the group of dais had gone past, the novices straightened back up.

“Did you see! We were the only ones he waved to!” Suleiman exclaimed, his voice shaking with happiness. “Abu Ali is second only to Sayyiduna!”

“It’s a shame he isn’t a little more imposing,” Yusuf suggested.

“Do you really think intelligence depends on height?” Naim countered.

“Looking at you, I could believe it.”

“I like his simplicity,” ibn Tahir said. “He smiled at us as if we were all old friends of his.”

“Even so, he has a lot of dignity,” Naim continued.

“He’s a learned and accomplished man,” Suleiman observed. “But I can’t imagine he was ever much of a soldier.”

“Could that be because he didn’t come storming in with a saber?” Naim said angrily. “Most of the dais I’ve seen have a frail appearance. They’re the leaders, and the muscular louts are their helpers.”

“I’d like to see Abdul Malik get his hands on them,” Suleiman snorted. “Then we’d see how frail the dais are.”

“What does Sayyiduna look like?” ibn Tahir asked.

They looked at each other.

Naim spoke.

“Nobody has ever told us.”

The great assembly hall occupied almost all of the ground floor of an entire wing of the supreme commander’s building. All morning long teachers, missionaries and other Ismaili dignitaries congregated there. They came from Rudbar and Qazvin, Damagan and Shahdur, and even from far-off Khuzestan, where grand dai Husein Alkeini led the Ismaili cause. As they waited for instructions from the supreme commander, they chatted with the locals and exchanged news with each other.

Heavy curtains covered the windows. The candles of numerous chandeliers illuminated the hall. Set atop tall stands in the corners were pans with resin, from which small flames flickered and crackled, sending a pleasant, heady scent throughout the room.

Beneath one of these lamp stands several people had gathered around the Greek Theodoros. These included the military commander of the castle at Rudbar, Captain ibn Ismail, the portly and whimsical dai Zakariya, and the young Egyptian Obeidallah, who knew the doctor from his days in Cairo. They were in a jocular mood, and laughter frequently punctuated their conversation.

“So you were with ibn Sabbah when he took over the castle, doctor?” the Egyptian asked his host. “Some incredible stories have been circulating about how it was taken. One has it that ibn Sabbah tricked the former castle commander into handing it over to him. Then there’s another that has him bribing the commander. I still don’t know what the truth is.”

The Greek laughed loudly, but said nothing.

Captain ibn Ismail signaled to the men to draw close. Then he spoke.

“I suspect it would be all right to explain to the young man how ibn Sabbah got Alamut into our hands. I wasn’t present myself, but one of my subalterns who at the time was assisting our commander has told me the story.”

Obeidallah and the portly Zakariya listened attentively. Theodoros frowned scornfully and kept at a distrustful distance.

“As you know,” ibn Ismail continued, “the sultan’s representative at the castle of Alamut was the stalwart Captain Mehdi. I didn’t know him personally, but I’ve heard that he wasn’t especially bright. Ibn Sabbah had luckily escaped the traps set by the grand vizier and had finally fought his way through to Rai, where the commandant of the city, Muzaffar, was one of his great friends. Muzaffar helped him muster a force of seventy men, which included the subaltern who told me this story. Well, our commander got the notion of taking over Alamut, which had far and away the strongest fortifications of any castle in the region. He conferred with Muzaffar and finally came up with the following scheme…”

While the Egyptian and the portly dai attentively followed this story, the doctor chuckled ambiguously. The captain noticed this, and it made him both flustered and angry.

“Why don’t you tell the story if you know better?” he asked, offended.

“But you can see, I’m all ears,” the Greek apologized with more than a touch of sarcasm.

“Let him make faces,” the Egyptian said, growing impatient. “We know him. He’s always pretending to know more than others.”

Ibn Ismail continued.

“So our commander devised his scheme and visited Mehdi in the castle of Alamut. He told him, ‘I am a dai and I have traversed half the known world. Now I’ve had enough of traveling and I’ve come here to find a peaceful retreat for myself. Sell me as much land outside of your walls as an ox hide will cover. I’ll give you five thousand gold pieces for the land.’ Mehdi practically burst with laughter. ‘If you really can give me that much money, I’ll give you the land you want on the spot.’ He assumed it was impossible for a poor dai to have that much wealth. Ibn Sabbah reached beneath his cloak, pulled out a bagful of gold pieces and started counting out the money. Mehdi couldn’t believe his eyes, and he thought, ‘What can it hurt the castle if I sell the old dai a scrap of land beneath its walls? And I’ll get rich overnight.’ So they took an ox hide, let the bridge down over Shah Rud, and walked across it out onto the rocks under the castle walls. Ibn Sabbah pulled a sharp blade out from under his belt and started using it to cut the hide into thin strips. One after the other, officers and soldiers came over to stare at what the odd stranger was doing. No one even imagined what the dai might have in mind. When the hide was completely cut up, ibn Sabbah tied the strips together, drove a stake into a crevice, and fastened to it one end of the cord he’d created. Then, with the other end of the cord in hand, he began to circle the fortress. It was only at this point that it dawned on Mehdi. ‘Thief! Swindler!’ he shouted at ibn Sabbah and reached for his sword. At that instant there was a thundering sound over their heads. They looked up in fright. A band of horsemen with sabers drawn was galloping across the bridge and into the fortress. Ibn Sabbah laughed. ‘Too late, friends,’ he said. ‘The castle is mine now, and if you so much as touch a hair on my head, none of you will escape alive. But I keep my deals, Mehdi! Take the five thousand gold pieces and go with your people wherever you want.’”

Al-Hakim burst out laughing. He held his well-fed belly while tears streamed from his eyes, and he giggled so much that it hurt.

The Egyptian and the corpulent dai also laughed, though half at a loss. They couldn’t understand what the Greek was making fun of. Only Captain ibn Ismail challenged the doctor, with a furious stare.

“Oh, how naïve can you get?” the Greek brayed through his laughter. “So you’ve fallen for it too, old fellow! And Hasan and I actually cooked that morsel up just for the sultan.”

“So the subaltern tricked me?” The captain lost his temper, the blood racing to his cheeks and eyes. A vein on his forehead bulged with anger. “I’ll strangle him, I’ll thrash him like a dog!”

“You’d wrong him if you did, ibn Ismail,” the Greek said. “Because what he told you was the pure truth, at least as far as he was concerned. But not as far as you’re concerned. You rank higher. You should be able to guess what really happened.”

“Stop being so arrogant. Tell us!” the captain said angrily.

“First of all you should know that the previous commander of this castle, Mehdi, was from the line of Ali. To win him over to his side, the sultan appointed him to be his representative, a high post, before he was even thirty. But to keep any possible danger at arm’s length, he posted him to the edge of the world, which is to say here, to Alamut. And here the aspiring young man was bored to death. From morning to evening he would drink, gamble and fight with his officers and subalterns. For the evenings he assembled a huge harem of women, dancers, singers and other performers, and the people in Rai could only whisper about what went on there. He tamed a whole flock of falcons, and leopards went hunting with them in the neighboring mountains and forests. And all the time he’d curse the sultan and the caliph and swear that he would wreak bloody revenge against them. Word of his doings undoubtedly reached Shah Malik, but the ruler thought, ‘Let him curse me as much as he wants, but when the barbarians attack from across the border, he’ll have to defend against them, if he values his own head.’ When ibn Sabbah arrived in Rai, Muzaffar told him about all of this. I was also there, and once Muzaffar arranged for us to meet with Mehdi on one of his hunts. Hasan had received a nice sum of gold coins from the caliph of Cairo. He offered the commander five thousand to turn the castle over to him. He could use the money to travel to Cairo, where ibn Sabbah had recommended him to his friends and where the young pleasure seeker could take advantage of life in the big city. Mehdi was immediately ready. They just needed to find a cover for the sell-out, so that the sultan wouldn’t persecute his kin. Ibn Sabbah just happened to be ready to play another of his old tricks on the sultan. He said, ‘I’d like to seize Alamut at one truly amazing but nonetheless ridiculous stroke, so that all of Iran talks about it and the sultan laughs and thinks to himself: ibn Sabbah is still the same old clown. However you look at him, he’s a jokester through and through. Let him have his fun for now.’ We weighed a dozen options. Then the old legend of how Dido took Carthage came to me. I mentioned it to Hasan and he immediately seized on it. He exclaimed, ‘That’s just what I needed, brother!’ So he and Mehdi devised a plan down to the minutest details. In the process the three of us laughed so much that we practically choked. And then, my dear captain, everything happened precisely the way your valiant soldier told you.”

At this tale they all nearly split their sides laughing.

“What came of Mehdi?” the Egyptian asked after the initial hilarity had settled.

“You came from Cairo, he went to Cairo,” the Greek replied. “And this minute he’s probably living it up with the same maidens you enjoyed before him.”

“I would have wagered a hundred to one,” the corpulent dai said, “that our ibn Sabbah had turned into a serious man ever since the grand vizier banished him from the court at Isfahan. Everywhere people speak about him with nothing but the greatest respect, and many consider him a living saint. But judging from what you’ve just told us, he’s still the same old prankster and buffoon.”

“It’s not good to talk about that too much,” the Greek said much more quietly. “There’s been a change in our commander ever since he settled at Alamut. He stays in his tower night and day and won’t receive anyone except Abu Ali. All of his orders go through him. It’s an uneasy feeling when you never know what he’s doing.”

Abu Ali entered the hall where the newly arrived dais were assembled. They all rose from their pillows and bowed. The grand dai smiled at them graciously and greeted them. He called on them to seat themselves so they wouldn’t be too far away, and then he addressed them.

“Honorable assembly of Ismaili dais and commanders! Our Master Hasan ibn Sabbah sends you his blessing. At the same time he asks you to excuse his absence. The administration of our vast brotherhood, the drafting of new laws and decrees, and age prevent him from physically participating in our assembly. He will be present in spirit, and he has authorized me to handle all important matters. Likewise, I will report our discussions to him and any particular wishes you may have.”

The news that the supreme commander would not take part in the assembly had a painful effect on the visiting dais. They thought he was slighting them, that he had set up a barrier between them and himself, and that he had retreated to some remote and rarefied place.

Heavyset dai Zakariya whispered to the Greek, “Is this another one of his pranks?”

The Greek replied, “It’s possible. I’m just afraid this prank might cost us our necks.”

The grand dai called on the teachers to report on their novices’ successes and failures. The school supervisor Abu Soraka went first. He began by describing the overall curriculum to the visiting commanders, then he explained what they had learned from him so far.

“The most outstanding of all the novices,” he said, “is a young man from Sava, the grandson of Tahir, whom the grand vizier had beheaded some twenty years ago. Not only is he exceptionally bright, with a good memory, but he also has a gift for poetry. Next after him, I would single out Jafar, an exceptionally serious young man who is a scrupulous student of the Koran. Then Obeida, who is clever, if not always dependable. Then Naim for his industriousness…”

Abu Ali jotted the names down and added comments after each one. Ibrahim also accorded ibn Tahir first place. But Captain Manuchehr praised Yusuf and Suleiman ahead of all the others. In Abdul Malik’s assessment, Suleiman held first place, followed immediately by ibn Tahir. The doctor was by and large satisfied with all of them and didn’t name specific names.

The visiting dais were astonished to hear about such demanding and extensive schooling. What they heard filled them with a vague distrust, because the ultimate meaning and purpose of this education were incomprehensible.

Once the teachers were through with their reports, Abu Ali rubbed his hands in satisfaction.

“As you’ve just heard, we at Alamut are by no means asleep. All of Our Master’s calculations since he took hold of this castle two years ago have proven correct. The sultan is still in no hurry to cut short our ownership of this fortress, just as Hasan ibn Sabbah predicted two years ago. And the barbarians across the border don’t care who controls it. If they want to invade, they’ll have to attack it, whether it’s us or the sultan’s forces sitting here. And we would have to defend it, just as they would. We have made good use of the time the sultan has granted us at the castle out of these considerations. Our commander has carried out a complete reorganization of Ismaili life. Every believer has been trained to be an unyielding soldier, and every soldier is also a fervent believer. But of all our initiatives, the supreme commander considers the one that founded our school for fedayeen to be the most important. This school will produce our elite, who will be ready to make any sacrifice. It is still too early for us to foresee the full implications of this institution. I can only tell you this in the name of Our Master: the axe that will cut down the tree of the Seljuk line will soon be sharpened. The day may not be far off when the first blow will ring. This entire region as far as Rai is sympathetic to the Ismaili cause. And if, as our delegates from Khuzestan tell us, the grand dai Husein Alkeini is about to incite a mass rebellion against the sultan that will engulf that entire region, then we already know approximately when we will have to put our power to the test. But most likely some time still remains until that happens, and, until then, honored dais and commanders, act as you’ve acted until now. Which is to say, recruit new followers to our cause, one man at a time.”

While he had begun his address in an ordinary, steady voice, as he progressed he grew more and more impassioned. He gesticulated, winked knowingly, and smiled. Then he rose up from the pillows on which he had so far been sitting cross-legged, and he stepped out into the midst of the dais. He continued.

“My friends! I bring you a special order from Sayyiduna. Don’t let your success in recruiting new adherents dim your vision! Right now every individual counts. Don’t let the large numbers of our coreligionists seduce you into thinking, ‘Why should we still try to recruit this or that individual if he doesn’t have status or wealth?’ That individual may be the one person who will tip the balance in our favor. Don’t shy away from the effort! Go from person to person and try to persuade them. The most important thing is that you first gain their trust. Don’t go at it the same way each time, but alter your tactics from one case to the next. If you see that one person is strictly religious and has unbounded faith in the Koran, show the same qualities in yourself. Tell him that under the Seljuk sultans the faith is degenerating, and that the caliph of Baghdad has become their slave. If he counters that the imam of Cairo is a foreigner and a pretender, agree with him, but keep insisting that things are not right with the representative in Baghdad either. Your job will be easier if the object of your recruitment is a devotee of Ali or at least sympathetic to those teachings. If you see that he’s proud of his Iranian ancestry, tell him that our movement has nothing in common with the Egyptian regime. But if he has been unjustly slighted by the locals, reassure him that if the Egyptian Fatimids come to rule over us, he’ll find full justice. Whenever you come across a more intelligent man who secretly or even publicly mocks the Koran and its articles of faith, tell him that Ismaili doctrine is fundamentally identical to free thought, and that the teaching of the seven imams is just sand in the eyes and bait for the ignorant masses. Work each individual in accordance with his nature and his views, unobtrusively leading him to doubt the rightness of the existing order. At the same time, show yourselves to be modest and content with little, behaving in accordance with the ways and customs of whichever land you’re in and whichever class you’re dealing with, and in all insignificant things concur with your partner in conversation. He should have the impression that, although you may be learned and experienced, you still value him highly and place a great deal of weight on guiding him to the one true way. Once you’ve won his trust in this way, you may proceed to the second step of the plan. You will explain to him that you belong to a religious order that aims to establish justice and truth in the world and settle accounts with foreign rulers. Involve him in passionate discussions, pique his curiosity, appear mysterious, hint and promise until you’ve completely confused him. Then demand that he swear an oath of silence, explain the doctrine of the seven imams, if he believes in the Koran you should demolish his faith, talk about our readiness and the unbeatable army just waiting for the order to attack the sultan. Force him to swear more oaths, confide in him that there is a great prophet at Alamut who has the fealty of thousands and thousands of believers, and so prepare him to vow his loyalty to us. If he’s wealthy, or if his financial circumstances are at least bearable, extract large sums of money from him, so that he feels bound to us. Because long experience has shown that men hold tightly to whatever they’ve invested their money in. Out of those funds distribute trivial amounts to the poor among your followers, and do this at rare intervals, so that you keep them on a string. Tell them that these are just advance payments on the reward that they will receive from our supreme commander for their loyalty to the Ismaili cause. Once the individual is entirely in your hands, keep entangling him even more securely in your nets. Tell him about the horrible punishment that awaits apostates, about the saintly life of our leader and about the miracles that take place around him. From time to time return to that region and don’t overlook a single one of the alliances you’ve established. For as Our Master has said, no one is so small that he can’t serve our cause.”

The dais and commanders listened to his speech with intense interest. From time to time he focused on one or the other of them, speaking and gesticulating as though he were communicating just with him.

“Now or never!” he cried out toward the end. “Let that be our motto. You are hunters and fishers of souls. Our Master chose you for that, and now he’s sending you back into the world to carry out his instructions. Be fearless, for all of our strength, all of our believers, and all of our warriors stand behind each one of you.”

Then he brought out a chest of money and began to settle accounts. Abdul Malik sat down beside him and opened a large book containing a record of who had already received how much, and how much additionally the supreme commander was allotting each of them now.

“From now on each one of you will receive a fixed wage every year,” Abu Ali said, “which you should view as a reward for your loyalty and your work. The greater an individual’s successes and accomplishments, the higher the amount allotted to him will be.”

The commanders began making their various requests. One of them had several wives and children, another had a long trip ahead of him. A third wanted to take the money for his comrade who had been unable to come, and a fourth lived in a region noted for its exceptional poverty. Only the representative of the grand dai of Khuzestan, Husein Alkeini, had actually brought something—three full bags of gold pieces—and asked nothing for himself or his superior.

“Here’s a man who can serve as a model for you all,” Abu Ali said, heartily embracing the delegate from Khuzestan.

“Robbery’s good business,” al-Hakim whispered to dai Zakariya with a knowing wink. Word had it that Husein Alkeini, on instructions from the supreme commander himself, preyed on the caravans that plied the routes out of Turkestan, and that this was one of the principal revenue sources that allowed Hasan ibn Sabbah to maintain his far-flung brotherhood.

When the disbursals were complete, the local commanders hosted a banquet of roasts and wine for their visitors and engaged them in more confidential discussions. They unburdened their cares and concerns to each other, and more than a few of them expressed serious doubts in the ultimate success of the Ismaili cause. They talked about their family concerns. One had a daughter at Alamut, another had a son someplace else, and between them they weighed the possibilities of marrying them off. Each one wanted to keep his family under his protection, and so they spent a long time arguing about who would have to let go of his child. And when these old friends had finally drawn close enough again, they turned to examine the supreme commander and his personal affairs.

Both of Hasan’s daughters, Khadija and Fatima, lived under Abu Soraka’s care in his harem. Khadija was thirteen, Fatima eleven. Hasan never called for them or asked about them since turning them over to Abu Soraka.

The dai told the delegate from Khuzestan, his guest, that the two girls were completely cowed, and that they shook at the mere mention of their father’s name. Abu Soraka couldn’t approve of that kind of treatment and was a very gentle father himself. What had become of Hasan’s wives, nobody knew. They weren’t at the castle.

The delegate from Khuzestan in turn described how the fortress of Gonbadan, which Husein Alkeini had conquered, was inhabited by the commander’s son Hosein. He and his father had quarreled, and as punishment his father turned him over to the grand dai of Khuzestan to serve as a common foot solider.

“That Hosein really is like a wild animal,” the delegate said. “But if I were his father, I would have kept him close by. Because if you can keep an eye on him, you’ll have the best chance of reforming him, or at least making some difference. But this humiliation has just reinforced Hosein in his stubbornness and spite. And Husein Alkeini has more than enough problems with him.”

The guests stayed at Alamut for three days, and at dawn on the fourth day they left, each to his own destination.

Life at the castle settled back into its routines, until an unexpected visit turned them inside out again.