Alamut (45 page)

He had known Suleiman long enough. There really was no joking with him. But he had never seen him as he was at this moment. Something told him that he had changed last night in some dangerous way.

“Those houris are mine! Do you understand? They’re mine now and for all eternity. I’m not giving up a single one of them, not for anything. Oh, my sweet little gazelles! Source of my joy! Spring of my happiness! None of you has any right to want any of them. Allah made them for me. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be with them forever.”

Each of them sensed this: that Suleiman had become a completely different
person overnight. They looked at him distrustfully and almost with fear.

Perhaps Yusuf was the only one who didn’t notice this change, or rather, for whom the change seemed only natural. He understood it instinctively, because a similar transformation had taken place in him.

Suleiman continued describing his experiences with the girls of paradise.

Suddenly Yusuf lost his temper.

“You’re not trying to make us think that you made all nine of the houris your wives in just one night?”

“Why should I have to make you think anything? Didn’t you?”

Yusuf scoffed angrily.

“A serious thing like this, and Suleiman can’t help exaggerating.”

Suleiman bored through him with his eyes.

“Hold your tongue! I’m not exaggerating any more than the Koran does.”

“Then the Koran exaggerates.”

The fedayeen laughed.

Suleiman bit his lip.

“My wives composed a song about my love. Are you going to tell me that the houris lie?”

“Recite it.”

He tried to collect his memory of it, but soon he got stuck.

Yusuf burst out in a loud guffaw and slapped his knees, laughing.

The others laughed with him.

At that point Suleiman went flying like an arrow over ibn Tahir’s bed. He slugged Yusuf in the face with all his might.

Yusuf instinctively reached for the injured area. He stood up slowly, looking stunned. The blood had rushed to his face.

“What? That grasshopper is going to hit me in the face?”

Lightning-fast he lunged and pinned Suleiman to the opposite wall. The sabers hanging on it rattled. Suleiman drew one of them and fixed Yusuf with malevolent eyes.

“Son of a dog! This time it’s to the death.”

Yusuf went white. In an instant all his anger was gone.

But before Suleiman could do anything else, ibn Tahir leapt at him, grabbing the arm that held the saber. Jafar, ibn Vakas and others came to his aid and pried the weapon out of the madman’s hand.

“Are you out of your mind? Last night in paradise by the grace of Sayyiduna, today a massacre among your friends!”

With a firm hand, ibn Tahir sat him back down on his bed.

“And you, Yusuf, what’s the idea of interrupting him while he’s
talking? We’re not all made of the same stuff. Each of us lives his life in his own way.”

“You’re right, ibn Tahir,” Jafar said. “Let’s have Suleiman tell his story to the end, then you and Yusuf will have your turns.”

Now they all begged Suleiman to go on. Yusuf stubbornly crossed his arms on his chest and stared at the ceiling. Suleiman cast a scornful look at him, then proceeded to tell the rest of his story.

No one doubted any longer that the threesome had actually been in paradise. They took an interest in the details, and soon each of them became intimately familiar with the place and the girls that Suleiman had visited. Soon they began privately daydreaming about the beautiful houris, and some fell in love with one or the other of them against his will.

“So you woke up in that same dark cell you’d fallen asleep in?”

Naim asked questions like a child.

“That’s right. Everything was just like it had been the night before. Except that when I patted my robe, I felt the bracelet that Halima had given to me in paradise.”

“Why did Sayyiduna take it away from you?”

“Maybe he was afraid I might lose it. But he promised he’d return it to me the next time he sends me to paradise.”

“When are you going back?”

“I don’t know. Allah willing, as soon as possible.”

Now it was Yusuf’s turn to tell about his experiences. They already knew the beginning and the ending. He had to focus on his time in paradise. He described the girls’ singing and dancing. He grew particularly passionate when he came to speak about Zuleika. He described her beauty, her skill as a dancer, and her virtues, and as he did so, he realized how tremendously in love with her he was. Now he felt sorry that he had tried to cheat on her with Jada. Without realizing that it hadn’t exactly been so, he told them how faithful he had been to Zuleika.

“She’s my only real wife,” he said. “All the others are just her slaves, put there to serve us. Because even though they’re all amazingly attractive, none of them compares with her in beauty.”

But Suleiman had already achieved the greatest possible suspense by telling his story first. Yusuf’s account didn’t seem half as interesting to them. Only once did it manage to take the fedayeen’s breath away: when he described his stroll through the mysteriously illuminated gardens. Suleiman hadn’t experienced that. Now he silently regretted letting himself be so awestruck by the sumptuousness of the pavilion that it didn’t even occur to him to look outside.

Ibn Tahir’s account was the most laconic of all. He told them that he had been welcomed in paradise by Miriam. That she led him through the gardens and showed him the wall of al-Araf. That a shadow had moved atop
it, probably that of a hero who had fallen while fighting for Islam against the will of his parents. Ibn Tahir said of Miriam that she was wiser than dai Ibrahim. He also described how he had attacked her in a moment of doubt, and how some huge cat named Ahriman had knocked him to the ground. This animal, al-Araf and the shadow on top of it were the things that intrigued the fedayeen most. They would have gladly learned about more details, but ibn Tahir wasn’t especially talkative.

“Give us a chance to rest up,” he said. “Eventually you’ll get to hear anything you want to know.”

And so they turned instead to Yusuf and Suleiman, who were more generous with their descriptions. All three of them grew in their eyes into powerful Pahlavans, practically on the scale of true demigods.

All night long Apama had been unable to close her eyes. The past had risen up out of the darkness, the grand days of her youth and the heavenly nights. She remembered everything with a fearful precision. She suffered infernal torments. It is unbearable to know that you were once first, and then to have to observe your fall, little by little, straight to the bottom. Now others reigned in the kingdom of love.

She got up when the sun’s first rays began to gild the peaks of the Elburz. Gray, disheveled and sunken-cheeked, she looked out from beneath the bushy branches that spread over the entrance to her house. Up ahead was Alamut, which blocked her return to the world forever. But what would she do there, anyway, now that she was old and shriveled? Praise be to Allah that Hasan had rescued her from poverty and oblivion! Here she had her kingdom. True, it was a bitter kingdom, since it continually reminded her of days past. But the bitter greatness of a fallen angel was better than vanishing on a garbage heap.

During the long nights she wondered what Hasan meant to her. Once, many years ago, a youthful lover, part enthusiast, part prophet, he had been almost completely erased from memory by time and many far more excellent men. She might even have forgotten his name, if she hadn’t heard it from time to time in connection with various plots and religious disputes. Then, not quite two years ago, when she had hit rock bottom, a stranger suddenly brought her a letter from him. He wrote that he was master of a large fortress, and that he wanted her to join him, because he needed her. She had nothing to lose. She decided instantly. Against her will, dim, pale hopes crept into her heart. Now she saw Hasan in all his power. Once it had been her role to grant and deny. Now it was Hasan’s. Did she love him? She didn’t know. All she knew was how bitter it was to be near someone who once loved you with all his ardor, but who now cared so little about you that he didn’t even bother to hide his passion for another.

She stepped out of the house. Birds were chirping in the bushes. Dew
glistened on the grass, the leaves, and on the heads of flowers. It was such a magnificent summer morning that she felt sick at heart.

She shook off her melancholy thoughts. She washed her face from a bucket of water and arranged her disheveled hair. She took pains to conceal the traces of a sleepless night. Then she set out for the building that stood opposite.

This was where the eunuchs slept. Their loud snoring was audible through the door, which had been left slightly open. This peaceful, carefree sleep of theirs made her furious. She shrieked into the house that it was morning and time to work.

“Oh, you damned witch!”

Mustafa was livid with rage.

Adi laughed.

“Loathsome witch, not worth a stitch.”

Incensed, she threw the door wide open. A sandal came zipping through the air and smacked her on the head.

She swiftly retreated.

“Just wait, you curs! Sayyiduna is going to make belt straps out of your backs.”

A mighty wave of laughter came thundering out of the house.

“Down to the boats, you animals! Get the girls home, so that Sayyiduna doesn’t take them by surprise.”

They stood up, yawning, and put on their colored robes. Sloppily dressed, they came out of the house at a crawl. They made a point of not looking at the old woman, to make their disrespect clear. Neither side knew why it hated the other. They went to the canal and washed there. Then they sat down in the boats and reached for the oars.

Apama sat next to Adi. The eunuchs made sure they handled the oars clumsily, splashing water on her.

“Just you wait, you riff-raff!” said Apama. “We’ll see who laughs last. O Allah knew what he was doing when he let them clip off your manhood.”

Adi began rocking the boat dangerously, singing:

The eunuchs laughed, seeing Apama clutch on to the sides of the boat to avoid a real baptism.

They reached the island where Fatima and her companions were asleep. Apama left the boat and walked up a path toward the pavilion.

All of nature was awakened. The illuminated band on the mountainside grew broader and broader.

She looked through the glass into the hall. The girls lay in disarray, fast asleep among the pillows.

Furious, she leapt through the entrance and grabbed the mallet. The gong echoed wildly throughout the pavilion.

Frightened, the girls jumped to their feet.

“You whores! So you’ve been rutting all night, and now you sleep half the day away. Into the boats and home with you, now! I’m not letting Sayyiduna find you like this!”

They covered themselves in their coats and hurried off toward the canal. They hadn’t even managed to wake up completely. Their heads ached from the incessant banging on the gong that woke them up and from the previous night’s drunkenness. They sat down in the boats, bleary-eyed, unkempt and totally disheveled.

On the central island Miriam came out to meet them. She was already made up. But despite the color on her cheeks and lips, they noticed that she must have slept poorly. She and Apama exchanged glances. Both had a sudden sense that they understood each other. It was perhaps the first time they had felt close.

Soon the girls in that pavilion were also on their feet. Apama and the eunuchs left to fetch the girls from the third garden.

Miriam accompanied her to the water’s edge.

“Didn’t you sleep at all?” Apama asked her.

“No. And you?”

“Me neither.”

“Yes, yes, it’s a strange life we have.”

She had wanted to say “terrible,” but Apama had understood her even so.

Soon Zuleika and her companions arrived back home. They ran to dress themselves and get rid of the last traces of the night. By the time of the third prayer everything was back to normal. Their everyday life had resumed.

In mid-afternoon Hasan arrived unannounced, accompanied by four mace-bearing guards. Once again, the girls assembled in a semicircle. He wanted to hear details of the previous night. They answered him with trembling voices.

He pulled the gold bracelet out from under his robe. He showed it to the girls and asked them, “Whose is this jewelry?”

Halima recognized her property immediately. She practically dropped to the ground in fright. She was unable to utter a single word.

The others were frightened too. Miriam looked from one face to the next. When she came to Halima, she immediately understood everything. She looked at Hasan imploringly. The mischievous smile on his face put her at ease.

“So this bracelet doesn’t belong to any of you? Then that means the feday lied to me.”

He gazed at Halima intently.

Tears came welling up out of her eyes. She was shaking so badly that her teeth chattered as she cried. In her mind’s eye she could already see herself setting her head down on the block, the axe rising above her.

“A fine thing, Halima. Do you realize I should have you beheaded? And I would do it remorselessly, if this thing had betrayed our secret to the boy. This time I’ll grant you your life. But if it happens again, your head will not escape the axe.”

He put the bracelet back under his robe.

Miriam nodded to Halima, who ran up to Hasan, overjoyed, and fell to her knees before him. She wanted to thank him, but she couldn’t produce a single word. She just kissed his hand.

“I want you all to try harder next time,” he said, bidding them farewell. “Last night you gained some experience which should be useful to you in the future. Be ready at any time, day or night.”

He nodded to them and called for Miriam to accompany him.

“Expect me tonight. I have a lot to talk to you about.”

“As you say,” she replied. For the first time the prospect of meeting with him didn’t cheer her in the slightest.