Toward evening the doctor and Abu Soraka settled down on the roof of their empty harems. They had large pieces of roast and plenty of wine before them. They reached heartily for both, gazing through the foliage of the trees at the commotion in front of the castle, and philosophizing.
“Now here’s a colorful life for you,” the Greek said in good spirits. “Years ago, when I was studying in Byzantium, I would never have dreamed that in my old age I would be celebrating some Ismaili victory in some fortress far away in the north of Iran. I thought those noisy banquets back in Sodom and Gomorrah would go on forever. And then, for a handful of gold pieces, you practically lose your head. They put me in chains and threw me in prison. Instead of paying my debts for me, my pals just vanished, so I wound up on a galley. Later I was sold into slavery and wound up as physician to the caliph of Cairo. Ibn Sabbah’s prestige at the court was high then, and I had the good luck to be assigned to him. Something he saw in me made him buy me and take me with him as a free man. And today I’d be a perfectly happy man, if only Hasan hadn’t made us empty the harems.”
Abu Soraka smiled.
“The only consolation is that we’ve all been equally deprived.”
The doctor winked at him.
“You think? What’s that back there, behind the castle? Perhaps mosques for Hasan and his grand dais?”
Abu Soraka looked at him carefully.
“Do you still think that Hasan built harems for himself back there?”
“What else? I’ve learned that caravans have brought many beauties to the castle. Did any of us see them?”
“I don’t believe that. I know there have been some preparations back there. But I’ve never doubted that they were intended for an absolute emergency, for an escape, in case a siege lasted too long.”
“You’re an easy touch. I know Hasan. He’s a philosopher. And, as such, he knows that the quest for pleasure is the first and foremost purpose of life. He’d have to be some kind of an idiot otherwise, when he has everything at his disposal. What else is there besides what we perceive with our senses? That alone is the truth and that’s why it’s wise to follow your passions. Because the worst misfortune is not to be able to attain something that your instincts drive you to want. In that regard I have to praise ibn Sabbah as a wise man. He’s found a way to provide himself with everything. Husein Alkeini spent an eternity looting caravans for him all through Khorasan and Khuzestan. Now he’s even collecting a tax from his believers for him. Not a bad idea!”
“He’s a great master,” Abu Soraka said. Privately he worried that some invisible ears might hear them talking about the supreme commander so irreverently.
The Greek laughed loudly.
“A great and excellent master, even! Just think: when he and I were in Egypt, he had a terrible falling out with the commander of the caliph’s bodyguard, Badr al-Jamali. Everyone was afraid for his life. But he just up and went to the caliph and made him a great bargain. You see, he knew they were planning to put him on a ship that night. So he promised the caliph that he would recruit followers for him in Iran and help bring down Baghdad. He got three heavy bags of gold pieces for that. And he’s still got the caliph in a vice. If too much time goes by with no caravans from Egypt, he sends a messenger there and tells him he’ll start working for himself. Then suddenly the caliph gets all busy. He squeezes his people for more tax and the solicitous rayah in Egypt pays so that Our Master can afford God knows what luxuries beneath the castle of Alamut. That’s why I really have to consider him a true philosopher. While you and I, meanwhile, can sit and wipe our tears over our absent wives …”
Abu Ali suddenly appeared on the rooftop.
The dai and the doctor were visibly frightened.
“Peace be with you, friends,” he greeted them amiably, smiling at their embarrassment. “I’ve come for you, Abu Soraka. You need to inform Yusuf, Suleiman and ibn Tahir that I’ll expect them between fourth and fifth prayers in front of the supreme command. They’re going to appear before Sayyiduna, so they need to get themselves ready appropriately. Good evening!”
The fedayeen were excited when they heard that three of them were going to see Sayyiduna that evening. They wondered and tried to guess why he would have summoned them.
“He’s planning to reward them for their courage in battle,” ibn Vakas ventured.
“What courage?” Obeida jeered. “I’m not referring to ibn Tahir. He actually seized the flag from the Turks. But what business do Suleiman, who let himself get thrown from his horse with his saddle, and Yusuf, who vanquished his fear by roaring—what business do they have with Sayyiduna?”
“Suleiman had the most kills. And Yusuf helped him open a path for the others,” Jafar said.
“Yes, that’s right,” Naim confirmed. “I was there.”
“You?” Obeida mocked him. “You were hiding behind Yusuf’s back so the Turks wouldn’t see you.”
“You Moorish eyesore!”
Naim walked off angrily.
During this time, the chosen three bathed and prepared for their audience that evening. All three of them were excited, but Yusuf was practically shaking.
“How are we supposed to behave?” he asked in a voice that was both timid and childlike.
“However the grand dai tells us to,” ibn Tahir offered.
“By the beard of the martyr Ali,” Suleiman exclaimed, goose bumps and cold sweats coming over him in anticipation. “I would never have dreamed I would soon have the honor of standing before Sayyiduna. We must have done something this morning to deserve this distinction.”
“Do you really think that’s what he’s summoned us for?” Yusuf wanted to know.
“I think you have a bad conscience,” Suleiman laughed. “Maybe he’s just summoned ibn Tahir and me for that. And you, so he can scold you for sounding off without shooting a single arrow.”
“Stop trying to scare me. You’re the one the Turk unsaddled.”
Suleiman bit his lip.
“Wait till you’re standing in front of Sayyiduna,” he said a while later. “We’ll see how clever your responses are then.”
Yusuf got upset.
“Do you think Sayyiduna is Abu Soraka, and that he’ll be asking me about the seven imams?”
“Both of you be careful you don’t go too far,” ibn Tahir intervened.
They put on white cloaks and close-fitting white pants. Then they put tall white fezzes on their heads, and in this ceremonial dress they rejoined their comrades.
They were unable to eat. The other fedayeen inspected them jealously. As they were leaving, Naim asked ibn Tahir, “When you get back, are you going to tell us what it was like and what Sayyiduna is like?”
“Anything you want to know,” ibn Tahir impatiently replied.
Abu Ali was waiting for them outside the entrance to the supreme command. He noticed that their faces were feverishly preoccupied. If only they knew what they’re getting into! was the thought that flashed through his mind. Then he spoke.
“Be brave. When you go in, bow deeply until Sayyiduna gives you permission to stand back up. Whomever he speaks to must kiss his hand reverently. Be brief and sincere in your responses. Because Sayyiduna sees into everyone’s soul.”
They climbed up the tower steps. As they reached the Moor at the top, Suleiman practically ran into him. He leapt back in fright, then scanned the floor ahead of him as though he were looking for whatever he had bumped into.
“Even I’d be afraid of this one,” Yusuf whispered to ibn Tahir.
They entered the antechamber, and all three were seized with a great anxiety.
The curtain rose and a resonant voice called out.
“Come in!”
Abu Ali went ahead, and Suleiman followed him boldly. Yusuf’s teeth were chattering. He waited for ibn Tahir to go ahead of him. Then he had no choice but to go in after them.
Next to Buzurg Ummid, whom they already knew, stood a man wearing a simple gray burnoose. A white turb
an covered his head. He was not tall, nor did he seem fearsome or particularly stern. This was Sayyiduna, the unseen commander of the Ismailis.
They stood next to each other and bowed.
“Fine, that’s fine, friends,” he said.
He approached them, smiling half ironically, half in encouragement.
“I’ve heard about your exploits in the battle with the sultan’s vanguard,” he began. “I’ve called you here to reward you for your loyalty.”
“You, ibn Tahir,” he said, turning toward him, “you have entertained me as much with your poems as you have with the seizure of the enemy’s flag.”
“And you, Suleiman, you have proven yourself to be a daring warrior and an incomparable swordsman. We’ll need you again.”
“And you, dear Yusuf,” he continued with a very peculiar smile, “for assailing the enemy like a roaring lion, you have also earned my praise!”
He offered each one his hand, but so hastily that they barely had time to kiss it.
Their eyes shone with pride. How could he have recognized each one of them without having ever seen them before? Had Abu Ali described them to him so precisely? In that case, their achievements must have been considerable.
The grand dais stood off to the side. Their faces revealed nothing aside from intent curiosity.
Hasan continued.
“Yesterday we tested your abilities, this morning your courage. But we haven’t yet tested you in the most important thing. We have saved this test for this evening. I want to find out how firm your faith is.”
He straightened up and approached Yusuf.
“Do you believe in everything your instructors have taught you?”
“I do, Sayyiduna.”
His voice was timid, but it conveyed genuine conviction.
“And the two of you, ibn Tahir and Suleiman?”
“I believe, Sayyiduna.”
“Do you firmly believe, Yusuf, that the martyr Ali was the Prophet’s sole legitimate heir?”
“I firmly believe, Sayyiduna.”
Yusuf was almost amazed he was asking him these kinds of things.
“And you, Suleiman, do you believe that his sons Hasan and Husein were wrongly deprived of their legacy?”
“Of course I believe, Sayyiduna.”
“And you, ibn Tahir, do you believe that Ismail is the seventh true imam?”
“I do, Sayyiduna.”
“And do you believe that al-Mahdi will come as the last great prophet and bring truth and justice to the world?”
“I believe that too, Sayyiduna.”
“And you, Yusuf, do you believe that I, your commander, have been given powers by Allah?”
“I believe, Sayyiduna.”
“And you, Suleiman, that I do everything that I do in His name?”
“I believe, Sayyiduna.”
Now Hasan walked right up to ibn Tahir.
“Do you believe, ibn Tahir, that I have been given the power to admit anyone I want into paradise?”
“I believe, Sayyiduna.”
Hasan listened closely. Ibn Tahir’s voice still conveyed unwavering conviction.
“Yusuf! Is your faith so firm that you would rejoice if I said to you, ‘Go to the top of the tower and throw yourself into the depths, because you will go to paradise?’ ”
Yusuf’s face lost its color. Hasan gave a barely perceptible smile. He looked at the grand dais. They were smiling too.
After a brief hesitation, Yusuf spoke.
“I would rejoice, Sayyiduna.”
“If now, this instant, I commanded you, ‘Go to top of the tower and throw yourself off!’ Yusuf, oh my Yusuf! I can see into your heart. How small is your faith! And you, Suleiman, would you truly rejoice?”
Suleiman replied in a resolute voice.
“I would truly rejoice, Sayyiduna.”
“If I ordered you this instant? Look, you’ve gone pale. Your tongue is decisive, but your trust wavers. It’s easy to believe in things that require no sacrifice from us. But when we have to prove our faith with our lives, then it begins to waver.”
He turned toward ibn Tahir.
“Now let’s have a look at you, poet. Do you assuredly believe that I have been given the key to the gates of paradise?”
“I assuredly believe, Sayyiduna, that you have the power to admit into paradise anyone you consider worthy.”
“But what about the key? I asked you about it.”
Ibn Tahir twitched.
“I’m trying to believe, but I don’t know what the nature of that key is supposed to be.”
“So all you believe in is the doctrine of Ali and the imams?” Hasan exclaimed. “But we need believers who believe in everything our laws say.”
A silence followed that was unbearable for the fedayeen. Their knees shook in agitation. Cold sweat beaded on their foreheads.
Finally Hasan spoke in a hollow voice.
“Then you consider me a liar?”
All three of them went pale.
“No, Sayyiduna. We believe everything you say, Sayyiduna.”
“And if I tell you that I really do have the key to the gates of paradise?”
“Then we believe, Sayyiduna.”
“I can see into your hearts. You would like to believe, but you can’t. Why is that, ibn Tahir?”
“You know everything and see everything, Sayyiduna. It’s hard to believe in something that our mind can’t grasp. The spirit is willing, but the intellect resists.”
“You’re sincere and I like that. But what would you say if I really took you to paradise, so you could test it with those hands of yours, with those eyes and ears of yours, with that mouth of yours? Would you believe then?”
“How could I deny it then, Sayyiduna?”
“That’s gratifying. This morning you proved yourselves in battle. But I knew your weakness, and I’ve summoned you now to make you firm and decisive in your faith as well. And so I have decided to open the gate to paradise to you tonight.”
The youths’ eyes widened in unspeakable amazement. They were terrified and didn’t think they had heard right.
“What are you staring at me for? Aren’t you glad that I’m marking you out this way?”
“You said that …”
Ibn Tahir stammered to a halt.
“I said that I would open paradise up to you, and that is what I’m going to do. Are you ready?”
Some invisible force put all three of them on their knees. They touched their foreheads to the floor in front of Hasan and stayed that way.
For a moment Hasan glanced at his friends. Their faces conveyed stern interest.
“Stand up!” he commanded.
They obeyed. He pulled a candle out of a chandelier and used it to light an area behind the lift. Three low cots had been prepared there. They were covered with rugs that reached down to the floor.
“Lie down on the cots!” he ordered.
He handed the candle to Abu Ali and gave Buzurg Ummid a jug of wine to hold. He took a gold box off a shelf and unlocked it. He approached the fedayeen, who, pale and miserable, were trembling on the cots.
“The way to paradise is long and arduous. Here are food and drink to fortify you. Take them from my hands.”
He went from one youth to the next, putting into each one’s mouth a tiny ball that he took from the gold box. Yusuf was so excited that at first he couldn’t open his jaws. Suleiman and ibn Tahir tried to swallow the ball as quickly as possible.
At first it tasted pleasantly sweet. Then came a disgustingly bitter taste. Hasan ordered them to drink wine to get rid of it. Then he watched closely for the effects.
First to intoxicate the youths was the strong wine, to which they weren’t accustomed. Everything spun before their eyes, so that they had to lie down flat. Yusuf groaned like a felled ox. Then he began to yield to a dizzy slumber.
For his comrades, drunkenness battled with a terrible curiosity. What if I’ve swallowed poison? was the thought that came
to ibn Tahir. But countless fantastic images that began chasing each other were already pressing down on him. He could only follow them with his gaze like a mesmerized young ox.
Hasan saw his timid, wide-open eyes.
“What are you looking at, ibn Tahir?”
Ibn Tahir didn’t hear him. He was staring at the images drawing him along, until he submitted to them completely.
Suleiman was angrily battling the phantoms that threatened to distort his reality. Just a moment earlier he had seen the faces of the three commanders intently looking at him. But in the next instant a marvelous apparition was enticing him to watch it. At first he suspected Hasan had given him poison. But soon he forgot that thought. His internal battle had exhausted him, and the images had become so strong that he finally succumbed to them completely.
Yusuf moaned and tossed for a while. Then he fell fast asleep. Soon Suleiman and ibn Tahir followed him.
Hasan took thin, black blankets and threw them over the youths. Then he gave a sign and all six of them descended to the base of the tower.
Hasan’s bodyguard met them. Hasan quietly gave Captain Ali several more instructions. Then, in teams of two, the Moors picked the cots up by their handles and, accompanied by a third, carried the youths into the gardens.
The commanders waited silently for them to come back. Hasan asked them quietly, “Is everything in order?”
“Everything is fine, Sayyiduna.”
Hasan gave a deep sigh.
“Let’s go to the top of the tower,” he said. “All of this is unfolding like a Greek tragedy. Praise be to Allah, the first act is over now.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By evening, preparations in the gardens had been completed. The girls dispersed just as the supreme commander had determined. Miriam and her companions remained on the central island. The eunuchs rowed Fatima and Zuleika and their entourages to their designated gardens. Viewed from the castle, Fatima was to the left and Zuleika to the right of their permanent residence. Canals separated the three areas. Shah Rud embraced them at their circumference, drowning out voices in its roar, so that sounds from one island didn’t carry over to the others.
With the girls’ help, the eunuchs strung cords from shrub to shrub and from tree to tree around the pavilion, and then hung from them the lanterns that had been fashioned that morning. They were all sizes and shapes, and of varying designs and colors. When night fell, they set about lighting them. The surroundings came to life in a thoroughly new light, in new shapes and shadows. Everything was changed. The girls stared in amazement. They looked at each other. As they strolled down the paths, their faces and bodies glowed first in one color, then another. Spider-like shadows danced over them. Everything was quite wonderful and unreal. It was as though an image that they normally only saw in dreams had materialized. All around, where the band of light ended, everything was dense, impenetrable darkness. Neither the mountains nor the castle nor the stars could be seen.