Alamut (17 page)

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.”