Alamut (31 page)

“Do you recall that Mohammed promised heavenly luxuries in the beyond to those who fell fighting for Islam with sword in hand? He said they would stroll over meadows and fields and lie next to gurgling springs. Flowers would blossom around them and they would inhale their intoxicating scent. They would consume delicious foods and choice fruit. Lovely-limbed, dark-eyed maidens would serve them in glass pavilions. And despite the services these maidens would provide them, they would remain modest and virgin forever. They would pour them wine from gilt pitchers, wine that would never make them drunk. The days of eternity would pass for them in luxury and incessant pleasure …”

The grand dais watched him closely and nodded now and then.

“We’re quite familiar with all of this,” Abu Ali smiled. “Trust us.”

“Good,” Hasan said. “You see, borne along on these promises, the first believers fought like lions for their leader and his teachings. Whatever he ordered them to do, they did happily. They say some of them died with a smile on their lips, seeing in spirit the otherworldly delights that awaited them. Alas, after the Prophet’s death, this faith and trust in his promises faded. The ardor faded and the faithful began seizing on to a more dependable principle: that it’s better to have something than to seek it. Because nobody had ever returned from the beyond to say whether what the Prophet had proclaimed was really true. If we compare ourselves and our concept with the Prophet’s and with Islam’s, we see what an easy position Mohammed had in comparison with us. Because only the kind of faith typical of the first adherents of Islam can work miracles. Without it an institution of pure reason, as I’ve conceived of ours, can’t be realized. So my first objective has been to cultivate adherents who will have that kind of faith.”

“Congratulations, ibn Sabbah,” Abu Ali interrupted. “The fedayeen proved this morning that you’ve succeeded.”

“My friend, do you think I don’t know how far our fedayeen still lag behind Mohammed’s first believers? But let me also tell you this: I need to achieve more, far more than he achieved.”

The grand dais exchanged glances, smiling.

“You’re chasing us, as though you were the leopard and we were the prey,” Buzurg Ummid remarked. “You’re smiling that enigmatic smile of yours, and we’re already dying to find out where you’re headed with these strange meanderings.”

“My plan is enormous,” Hasan resumed. “That’s why I need believers who will long for death so much that they won’t be afraid of anything. In fact, they’ll have to be in love with death. I want them to chase after it, seek
it out, beg it to have mercy on them, as though it were a hard and unwilling maiden.”

Abu Ali and Buzurg Ummid laughed out loud. They thought that Hasan was leading them on in his usual way, and that the cleverest thing for them to do would be to show that they didn’t believe him.

Hasan continued unperturbed.

“Our institution needs to be so strong that it can resist any foe and, if necessary, the whole world … It ought to become a kind of supreme supervisory council for the planet. Our believers’ infatuation with death will help us achieve that. Because by making it possible for them to die we’ll be demonstrating our special grace to them. Of course, they won’t be choosing the way they die. Every death we approve has to bring us a great, new victory. That is the essence of my plan and, at the same time, the testament that I want to reveal to you today.”

Despite the smile that accompanied his words, his voice resonated with a strange zeal. The grand dais didn’t know what to think.

“I wonder if today’s victory over the Turks aroused your pride and you’re joking with us now, or if …”

Abu Ali’s words got stuck in his throat.

“Yes …? Go on!” Hasan laughed. “Most likely you’ve come to the same conclusion as reis Lumbani when I was his houseguest in Isfahan. I see into your hearts. You’re thinking, ‘He’s gone mad.’ And yet wait till you see the surprises I’ve prepared for you.”

Abu Ali was silently angry.

“One way or the other,” he said irritably, “as long as people remain as they are now, nobody is going to fall in love with death, much less go chasing after it. Unless you’re able to create a new kind of human being. Everything else is a joke or insanity.”

“That’s just what I’m after!” Hasan exclaimed joyfully. “To sneak into the workshop of Allah himself, and since the man is old and feeble, take over his work. Compete with him in artistry. Take the clay in my hands. And then truly create a new human being.”

Abu Ali indignantly turned to Buzurg Ummid.

“And he calls Hakim the First crazy!”

Buzurg Ummid blinked at Hasan. He had been listening attentively to their dialog the whole time. He sensed that the supreme commander must be keeping something very special up his sleeve.

“At first you spoke of your testament,” he said, “then of the heavenly pleasures that the Prophet promised to those who fell in service to his cause, after that of a realm that will be able to withstand the whole world, and now you say you want to create a human being who will genuinely long for death. Now I’d like to hear what the connection is between all these things.”

“The connection between these things is all too simple,” Hasan replied, smiling. “As my testament I want to leave you the institution I have invented. The power of that institution will be built on a completely new kind of man. His distinctive trait will be an insane desire for death and blind devotion to the supreme commander. We can achieve both of these things through his utter faith—what faith!—his firm knowledge that the joys of paradise will be waiting for him after death.”

“That’s a good one!” Abu Ali said angrily. “Earlier you said that faith in the beyond faded after the Prophet’s death, and now you’re proposing to build our brotherhood on it. The devil take it, because I sure won’t!”

Hasan roared with laughter. It pleased him whenever he was able to make his assistant angry about something.

“Well, what do you think, Abu Ali, my friend,” he asked, “what would be needed to incite in our recruits such faith in the delights of heaven that they would be stark raving determined to die, so they could partake of them as soon as possible?”

“Open the gate to paradise and show it to them,” Abu Ali replied irritably. “Let them get a taste of it. After all, you teach that you have the key. I’d gladly die then too.”

“I’ve brought you just where I wanted you to be!” Hasan exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Come follow me, men! I’m going to show you the key that opens the gate to paradise.”

He bounded over to the wall as though he were twenty years old and drew aside the carpet that hid the passageway leading to the top of the tower.

“Let’s go!” he called out and led them to the upper platform.

The grand dais looked at each other behind his back. Abu Ali pointed to his forehead and arched his brows questioningly. Buzurg Ummid raised a hand to signal patience.

They came out onto the terrace. This was the first time even Abu Ali had been here. It was a regular observatory. A large tablet lay on the ground. The paths of the earth and the other planets around the sun and the course of the moon and the zodiac had been charted on it. Smaller tablets were densely covered with equations. Geometric figures—circles, ellipses, parabolas and hyperbolas—were drawn on some of them. Strewn all around were rulers and scales of all kinds and sizes, astrolabes, compasses and other trigonometric equipment. A sundial had been drawn on the ground in the middle of the platform, the position of its hour hand calculated precisely. A small shed had been set up for all this equipment in case of bad weather. Next to the shed was a kind of flower bed with a glass cover that had been lifted up. Nothing grew in it except for some weed on long stalks that resembled nothing so much as an upended broom.

The grand dais took all this in quickly. Then the top of the tower opposite them drew their attention. A huge, black, mace-bearing guard stood on top if it, motionless as a statue.

The sun warmed the platform, but a pleasant mountain breeze cooled the air and brought the fresh smell of snow.

“You’d think we were up in the mountains,” Buzurg Ummid said, deeply inhaling the cool air.

“Don’t tell us you’ve set up this nest so you can gaze into heaven more easily,” Abu Ali laughed. “So is this the key that opens the gate to heaven?”

“Precisely, from this observatory I can look into paradise,” Hasan replied with a knowing smile. “But the key that opens its gate is in that flower bed over there.”

He approached it and pointed to the plants growing in it.

The grand dais followed behind him. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Hasan, Hasan,” Abu Ali said. “When are you thinking of letting up on all the jokes? Bear in mind that all three of us are getting on in years. A little more seriousness wouldn’t hurt. I won’t deny, today has been a great day and a little practical joke never hurt anyone. But you’ve been toying with us all morning!”

Hasan looked him steadily in the eyes.

“This is the key that opens the gate to heavenly delights,” he said emphatically.

“That weed?”

“Yes. End of joke.”

He pointed to some pillows next to the shed and invited them to sit down with him.

“The herb that I just showed you is Indian hemp, and its sap contains some quite unusual characteristics. Just what those are, I’ll explain to you now. In Kabul I was once one of many guests of a wealthy Indian prince. The banquet lasted all night. As morning approached and the guests were leaving, the prince kept a few of us behind and led us to a special room that was draped in carpets from floor to ceiling. A few lamps glimmered dimly in the corners, leaving the room half-dark. ‘I’ve prepared something special for you, friends,’ he said. ‘Would you like to see landscapes and far-off cities that none of you has ever seen? I’ll take you there. Look! In this little box I have a magic vehicle from the
Thousand and One Nights
.’ He unlocked a gilt box and showed us some little balls that resembled ordinary pieces of candy. ‘Take one and eat it,’ he offered. One after the other, we did as he said. At first, when I had the ball in my mouth, I thought I was eating candy and the prince was playing a joke on us. But when the outer surface melted, I got a bitter taste in my mouth. ‘I just hope it isn’t poison,’ I thought. And in fact,
a kind of dizziness started to come over me. Suddenly I noticed something very strange. The colors on the carpets were starting to become much more vivid. At this point I’d stopped thinking about poison. All my attention was focused on the unusual color phenomenon on the wall, when I noticed that even the images on the carpets had begun to change. Just a minute before I’d seen a black-bearded man sitting surrounded by odalisques. But he suddenly disappeared, and the odalisques started to dance. ‘But this is impossible, this is just a picture,’ I said to myself. When I looked closer, I saw that the odalisques were in fact depicted as dancing, but that they were completely motionless. ‘But this can’t be a picture,’ I thought. The bodies were so plastic and the pink of their skin was so vivid that I couldn’t accept that it was an illusion. In the process I completely forgot that there were several other men around me. I was so engrossed in this unusual phenomenon on the wall. The colors became more and more vivid, and people detached themselves from the wall and came staggering out into the middle of the room. There they danced and tumbled, while I began feeling warmer and more pleasant inside. ‘Maybe I’m the magician who’s causing all these changes,’ it suddenly occurred to me. As a test, I silently ordered my objects to assume new positions. My order was carried out in an instant. A feeling of infinite personal power came over me. I saw myself as a magnificent king who controlled space and the objects in it and was independent of time and the laws of the universe. I was simply amazed that I’d never before discovered these wonderful powers of mine. ‘I wonder if I’m any less powerful than Allah?’ I said to myself. I swam in enjoyment of this miraculous omnipotence. Strangely physical and plastic cubes that were dazzlingly illuminated in the most garish colors started accumulating in front of my eyes. It took my breath away when I saw they were building a city bigger and more magnificent than Cairo, more elegant than Baghdad and mightier than Alexandria. Powerful minarets shot into the sky, and gold, silver, yellow, red and green cupolas arched over the roofs. My soul bathed in magnificence and bliss. ‘Yes, now you really are Allah,’ something in me said. God! Ruler of the universe! The images before me started to break up. I sensed that I had already experienced some climax and that I was returning to normality. A terror of losing so much delight came over me. With all my might I tried to stay at my earlier high. But my limbs felt weak, the colors in the pictures were fading, my head was growing heavy, and suddenly I lost consciousness. I woke up dizzy and with a feeling of enormous disgust. I recalled the images I had seen and the feelings I’d experienced. Had I been awake? Or had I dreamt them? I couldn’t tell. I had been aware of everything as though I’d been awake. But if I’d been awake, could I have seen things that weren’t there? My head was splitting. A servant brought me cold milk. It was only then that I realized I wasn’t alone in the room. The other guests were lying around me. They were groaning
and their cheeks had a strange pallor. I straightened myself up and quietly slipped out of the house …”

The grand dais hung on his lips, motionless all this time. When he paused for a moment, Abu Ali asked him, “And do you know what was in those balls that gave them such a marvelous power?”

“Listen,” Hasan continued. “Toward evening of that same day a strange sense of unease came over me. I couldn’t stay in one spot, or figure out what it was I was missing, and suddenly I found myself in our prince’s house. The master welcomed me with a smile, as though he’d been expecting me. ‘The other guests are here too,’ he told me. ‘You see, anyone who has ever had one of those balls craves to re-experience again and again the delights that he felt the first time. And if he does it again, he gradually becomes a slave to the narcotic, succumbing to it so badly that without it he’d have to die. I want to warn you about that, so I’m not going to give you any new balls or even reveal to you what they contain.’ Within a few days my sense of unease subsided. But my curiosity had been piqued, and I swore I would find out what substance was in those little balls. Luck favored me. Back then the most beautiful odalisque in Kabul was a certain Apama. I think I’ve already told you about her, and there may be a surprise in store for you on that account.”