Alamut (48 page)

A competition developed among the other fedayeen to see who could do the best job of performing his assigned duties. Obeida returned from Rudbar, where he had been sent to deliver an order to Buzurg Ummid’s deputy ibn Ismail, the military commander of the fortress, whom Hasan had since named regional dai. He brought with him detailed reports on the movements of Emir Arslan Tash’s army, which was camped outside of Qazvin and Rai. From Qazvin, ibn Vakas was in steady contact with the emir’s soldiers, while Halfa did the same from Rai. Many Ismailis on the outside reported to them on the slightest details of the enemy’s units.

To all appearances the emir was in no particular hurry to reach Alamut. The handsome Persian had brought along a whole harem of wives. He invited the local grandees to attend festive banquets, or had himself invited to theirs. He drank with his officers, enjoying his veritable swarm of songstresses and dancers. The army adjusted to this slow pace. The noncommissioned officers and the men instigated their own excursions in all directions. They seized and extorted everything they saw. The people cursed them along with the sultan and the grand vizier for sending them.

From his next exploit Obeida brought back encouraging news. The released captives had been telling the emir’s men about the wondrous life of the Ismailis at the castle of Alamut, and about their omnipotent commander with the power to send his believers to paradise. The soldiers, long since tired of being idle, listened to them with relish. In the evenings they would discuss these things. Many of them were becoming enthusiastic about the Ismaili teachings and didn’t even bother to hide it. Now only their curiosity still drove them to get to Alamut, which was ruled by the “commander of the mountain,” or the “old man of the mountain.” And now the Ismaili scouts could openly circulate among the emir’s forces. They discussed religious and political issues with them, providing passionate proofs that only their commander taught the one true faith. Even the ones who didn’t believe them, or even scoffed at them, let them come and go freely. What could a little fortress with five hundred men do against an army of thirty thousand, sent against it by the master of all Iran? And so the scouts reported back to Alamut that the emir’s encircling forces were completely undermined and that the enemy army was close to collapsing.

When Abu Ali brought this news to Hasan, the latter said, “The disarray of the enemy’s army is the result of two factors, to wit, the defeat of the Turkish cavalry and our successful experiment with paradise. The former
forced the emir to be more cautious and consolidate his campaign, which is now dependent on slow-moving quartermaster wagons. But while its effect diminishes from day to day—and that kind of defeat practically demands to be forgotten—the news of our miracle is spreading among the simple soldiery by evident and not so evident means. Really, this sort of fairy tale is the best fuel for the people’s imagination.”

After the visit of the fedayeen, life in the gardens changed considerably too. Those girls who had previously lived in harems saw their old memories awakened. They compared them with the most recent ones, with those girls who had gotten short shrift during the youths’ visit making a great deal of their earlier experiences. The rest praised this most recent night of love. Fights and arguments resulted, and they all felt a certain irritability. Now almost all they did was weave, sew, and do other handicrafts, so the conversations stretched from morning to evening.

They spent a lot of time speculating about whether the same visitors would come back next time. Many of them didn’t care, or even preferred a change, to the extent they hadn’t received enough attention from the lovers on the last visit. They hoped they wouldn’t be overlooked next time. Most of them thought Hasan would send new people. Even Zuleika, who had spent the first few days crying relentlessly for Yusuf, gradually accepted this thought. Only Halima couldn’t and wouldn’t understand that she and Suleiman would probably never see each other again.

Her state caused Miriam a great deal of concern. In a few days the flourishing color of her little face faded. Her eyes grew red from sleeplessness and crying. Dark circles appeared around them. She comforted her as best she could.

But Miriam’s heart was unsettled too. She constantly worried about ibn Tahir’s fate. She waited for Hasan to summon her for a conversation again. But it was as though he had become deliberately absent. She felt an almost maternal concern for ibn Tahir. It was as if she were personally responsible for his and Halima’s fate.

A month after the victory over the sultan’s vanguard, a division of Muzaffar’s men brought back to Alamut a messenger sent to Hasan by the new grand vizier and secretary to the sultana, Taj al-Mulk.

Hasan received him immediately. The messenger told him that news of the defeat of the emir’s vanguard had reached the sultan on the road to Baghdad, in the vicinity of Nehavend. The deposed grand vizier arrived immediately after this news. The sultan had become violently angry. He had already given the order deposing Arslan Tash as emir and requiring him to appear before him to defend himself. But Nizam al-Mulk persuaded the
sultan that the new grand vizier was at fault for everything, since he and the sultana were secretly allied to the Ismailis. They came to an agreement and the sultan once again named Nizam al-Mulk as his vizier. But the sultana was insisting that Taj al-Mulk retain that office. Nizam was now encamped near Nehavend and was assembling forces to strike against Isfahan, depose his rival, and restore the sultan’s and his own prestige. He had sent emir Arslan Tash an order to take and destroy Alamut within a month at the latest. Otherwise he would indict him for high treason. He issued a similar order to Kizil Sarik, who still had the fortress of Gonbadan in Khuzestan under siege. The sultana and her vizier sent him this message under oath and asked him to provide them with help and support in this crisis.

Hasan replied to the messenger immediately.

“First of all, give my greetings to your masters. Then tell them that I was quite surprised when they recently broke their promise to me. Now they’re in need and appealing to me again. And despite the fact that they broke their word, I’ll jump to their aid once again. But tell them to think carefully next time before disappointing me again. Let what is about to happen to their enemy and mine serve as a warning to them.”

Hasan dismissed him and ordered Muzaffar’s adjutants to dine him royally and shower him with gifts.

“This is the decisive moment,” he told the two grand dais. He appeared to be exceptionally calm—calm as only a person who has just made an irreversible decision can be.

“So Nizam al-Mulk is back at the helm. That means he’s going to be ruthless toward us and do everything he can to crush and destroy us. So we need to hurry our course of action along.”

The grand dais looked at him inquisitively.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Destroy my mortal enemy once and for all.”

During these days ibn Tahir channeled his anxiety, his longing, and all the alienation of his soul into poems. He wrote them on fragments of parchment that he carefully concealed from all other eyes. He found at least a shred of consolation for all the travails and torments of his heart in constantly revising each individual line. Under the pretext that he was preparing an assignment for his students, he would retreat to his room and write verses there, or yield to his loneliness and daydreams.

Some of his poems went like this:

In the evening Hasan had ibn Tahir summoned to him.

“Is your faith solid now?”

“It is, Sayyiduna.”

“Do you believe I can open to gates to paradise for you whenever I want?”

“I do, Sayyiduna.”

They were alone in the room. Hasan inspected ibn Tahir closely. What a change since that evening when he sent him to the gardens! He had grown thinner, his cheeks had sunken, and his eyes were deep set. A feverish, doleful fire shone in them. He could see it: his machine worked with a fearsome dependability.

“Do you want to earn eternal joy for yourself?”

Ibn Tahir trembled. He looked at Hasan brightly, imploringly.

“Oh, … Sayyiduna!”

Hasan lowered his eyes. He could almost feel his heart drop. Now he realized why he had always been reluctant to get to know the fedayeen better.