Alamut (40 page)

“Absolutely. I’ve scrupulously studied all types of rule known to history. I’ve tried to discern their strengths and weaknesses. No ruler has ever been wholly independent. The chief obstacles to his sway have always been time and space. Alexander of Macedon swooped down on half the world with his armies and subjugated it. But he hadn’t yet attained the apogee of his potential when death took him. The rulers of Rome expanded their power, generation by generation. They had to conquer every inch of ground by the sword. If space didn’t thwart them, it was time that clipped their wings. Mohammed and his heirs settled on a better method. They sent out missionaries to enslave spirits. This way they softened up the resistance, and lands fell into their laps like ripe apples. But wherever the spirit was strong—among the Christians, for instance—their advance broke down. The church in Rome employs an even better system. Its succession isn’t dependent on kinship and blood, as it is for the Muslim caliphs, but on nobility of intellect. Only the best mind ascends to the position of leadership. Intellect is also what binds
the faithful together in such a strong system. So it appears that the church has overcome the slavery of time. But it’s still dependent on space. Wherever its influence doesn’t extend, it has no power and it has to make do with that. It has to negotiate and compromise with its opponents and seek out powerful allies.

“I’ve conceived of an institution that’s powerful enough in itself that it won’t need any allies. Until now, rulers have fought with each other through their armies. They’ve also used their armies to conquer new lands and subdue powerful opponents. Thousands of soldiers have fallen for an inch of land. The rulers, however, have rarely had to fear for their own heads, but they are the ones our blows are meant for. Strike the head, and the body will fall. A ruler who fears for his own head is ready to make concessions. So the greatest power would belong to whoever can keep the rulers of the world in fear. But in order for fear to be effective, it has to have a real basis. Rulers are well protected and guarded. Only beings who not only do not fear death, but who passionately desire it can really threaten them in these circumstances. Tonight’s experiment is about creating such beings. My plan is to fashion them into my living daggers, able to overcome time and space. They’re to spread fear and awe, not among the masses, but among the crowned and anointed heads of the world. Let every potentate who opposes them live in mortal terror.”

There was a long silence on top of the tower. The grand dais didn’t dare look at Hasan or each other. Finally, Buzurg Ummid broke the silence.

“Everything you’ve told us so far, ibn Sabbah, is perfectly clear and simple on the one hand, yet so unprecedented and horrible on the other, that I almost have to think that this plan couldn’t have been concocted in a mind dealing with the actual laws of the known world. I’d sooner ascribe it to one of those grim loners who confuse dreams with reality.”

Hasan smiled.

“Apparently you too think I’m a madman, like Abul Fazel once did. But that’s only because you’re seeing reality from a well-worn path. Indeed, that’s the reality of mediocrity. How much more realistic is the person who crafts a plan that’s never been tried before—and still realizes it. Take Mohammed, for instance. Everyone in his district of Mecca laughed at him at first when he told them his idea. All they saw in him was a half-crazy dreamer. His ultimate success showed that his calculations were more realistic than the hesitations of all the doubters. I’ll submit my plan to the same test.”

“All these consequences would be obvious to me, if I could believe that the change you’ve predicted is really going to take place in the fedayeen,” Abu Ali said. “But how can I believe that a living person would ever long for death, no matter how convinced he is that paradise is waiting for him in the beyond?”

“My assumption isn’t just founded on my knowledge of the human soul, but also on my knowledge of how the human body functions. I’ve traveled through more than half the world, either on horseback, or on donkeys or camels, on foot or by boat, and I’ve gotten to know countless peoples, their ways and traditions. I’ve experimented with all kinds of human behaviors, and today I can tell you that the entire human organism, spiritual and physical, lies before me like an open book. When the fedayeen wake up again in Alamut, their first feeling will be regret that they’re no longer in paradise. They’ll be able to mitigate that regret by talking about the experience with their colleagues. In the meantime, the poison of the hashash will be at work in their bodies, awakening an irrepressible desire to enjoy it again. That desire will be inseparable from their assumptions of heavenly bliss. In their mind’s eye they’ll see their beloved girls and virtually die longing for them. The erotic humors will regenerate in their systems and awaken new passion verging on madness. Eventually this condition will become unbearable. Their fantasies, their stories and visions will infect their surroundings completely. Their churning blood will blot out their reason. They’ll no longer reflect, they’ll no longer make judgments, they’ll just pine away with desire. We’ll provide them with comfort. And when the time comes, we’ll give them their assignment and promise them that paradise will be open to them if they carry it out and perish. They’ll look for death and they’ll die with a blissful smile on their lips …”

At that moment a eunuch called him from the tower entrance.

“Sayyiduna! Apama asks that you come to the central garden immediately.”

“All right.”

Hasan dismissed him.

When he returned to the platform, he spoke excitedly.

“Apparently something is not right with ibn Tahir. Wait for me here.”

He wrapped his cape more tightly around himself and from his room descended to the base of the tower.

It was deathly quiet in Miriam’s pavilion when the eunuchs brought ibn Tahir in. They set him down and then, as silently as evil spirits, went out again with the litter.

Safiya pressed close to Khadija and sank her frightened eyes into the motionless body that lay under the black blanket. The other girls sat around the pool, petrified. Miriam knelt in an elevated area, leaning against her harp. She was staring ahead vacantly.

Her pain had just reintensified. So, Hasan really cared so little for her that he had sent her a lover! O, if she were to betray him without his knowing it, how much more she would love him afterward! Yes, she hated him now, she had to hate him. And along with him she also hated this youth, this blind, naive creature he had delivered into her care this evening. Her beauty and her skill were supposed to seduce him into believing he was in paradise! How thoroughly she despised him!

The body moved under the blanket. The girls held their breath.

“Rikana! Uncover him.”

Miriam’s voice was cold and firm.

Rikana obeyed her hesitantly. They were amazed when they saw ibn Tahir’s face. He seemed to be almost a child still. A first light down had barely begun to grow on his chin. His white fez had slipped off his head. He had a high forehead and thick hair cut short. Long lashes covered his eyes. His red lips pressed lightly together.

“That’s ibn Tahir, the poet!” Khadija whispered.

“He’s the one who seized the Turks’ flag this morning,” Sit said.

“He’s handsome,” Safiya observed.

Now Miriam looked at the sleeping guest. A smile passed over her lips. This is not how she had pictured her victim.

And this business about his being a hero and a poet? It seemed ridiculous to her.

“Why, he’s still a child,” she said to herself.

She felt somewhat relaxed now, after all. The challenge of convincing him he was in heaven began to appeal to her. Actually, the task Hasan had assigned her was fairly interesting. What a strange and wonderful man, that master of hers! His idea was either insane or magnificently horrible. Now he had set the apparatus in motion. She was one of its most important cogs. Wasn’t that a sign of his trust? Wasn’t it just petty vanity that had kept her from understanding him? After all, high drama had always been her passion. Hadn’t Hasan given her the perfect opportunity to get back into it? What did life have to offer her otherwise, except broad farce?

The other girls also felt a weight lift from their shoulders when they saw ibn Tahir’s young face. Even timid Safiya observed, “It won’t be hard convincing him he’s in paradise.”

Miriam drew her fingers over the strings of her harp.

“Start singing and dancing!”

The atmosphere in the pavilion grew relaxed. The girls picked up their instruments and their drums and got ready to dance. It was a delight to watch them free their limbs from their veils. Miriam smiled at them once they were moving and undulating seductively, as though their new guest were already watching them.

“He’s still not going to wake up,” Sit observed in frustration, setting down her drum and little bells.

“Let’s sprinkle some water on him,” Rikana suggested.

“Are you crazy?” Khadija scolded her. “What kind of first impression of paradise would he have then?”

“Keep singing and dancing,” Miriam said. “Let me try to bring him to.”

She knelt down beside him and gazed intently at his face. His features struck her as handsome and aristocratic.

She lightly touched his shoulder with her hand. He twitched. She heard some incoherent muttering. She felt both fear and intense curiosity at the same time. What would he say, what would he do, when he found himself in this strange place?

Softly she called him by name.

He shot up lightning-fast. He opened his eyes wide and looked around confused.

“What is this?”

His voice was shy and trembling.

The girls’ singing and dancing came to a halt. Their faces expressed intense strain.

Miriam quickly regained her footing.

“You’re in paradise, ibn Tahir.”

He looked at her astonished. Then he lay back down.

“I was having a dream,” he muttered.

“Did you hear that? He can’t believe he’s in paradise,” Khadija whispered, distraught.

Not a bad start
, Miriam thought. Once again she touched him and called his name.

He sat up this time too. His eyes remained fixed on Miriam’s face. His lips began to quiver. His eyes expressed amazement verging on terror. He looked at himself, felt himself, and began looking at the room around him. Then he drew a hand across his eyes. His face was as pale as wax.

“This can’t be true,” he whispered. “This is crazy! This is a trick!”

“Doubting ibn Tahir! Is this how you repay Sayyiduna’s trust?”

Miriam looked at him reproachfully, but with a smile.

He stood up and his eyes began darting from object to object. He went up to the wall and touched it. He went up to the pool and dipped a finger in its water. Then he cast a frightened look at the girls and returned to Miriam.

“I don’t understand,” he said in a trembling voice. “Last night Sayyiduna summoned us and ordered us to swallow some bitter-tasting little balls. I fell asleep and had all kinds of strange dreams. And now I’m suddenly awake in some completely different place. What’s that out there?”

“Those are the gardens you know about from the Koran.”

“I want to see them.”

“I’ll take you there. But wouldn’t you like to bathe and have something to eat first?”

“There will be plenty of time for that later. First I have to know where I am.”

He went to the doorway and drew the curtain aside.

Miriam accompanied him. She took him by the arm and led him through the vestibule. They came outside and paused at the top of the steps.

“What an amazing sight!” he exclaimed when he saw the fabulously illuminated gardens before him. “No, there’s nothing like this at Alamut. And I don’t know a place like it anywhere nearby. I must have been asleep a long time for them to carry me this far away!”

“Aren’t you afraid of being so irreverent, ibn Tahir? Do you still refuse to believe you’re in paradise? Hundreds of thousands of parasangs separate you from your world. And yet, when you reawake at Alamut, just one night will have passed.”

He stared at her. Again he passed his hands over his body.

“So I’m dreaming? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve sworn that something I was dreaming was for real. I remember how one time, back at my father’s house, I discovered a jug full of gold pieces. ‘I used to just dream that I’d discovered treasure,’ I told myself. ‘But today it’s really happened.’ I
poured the gold pieces out of the jug, counted them, and laughed to myself. ‘Praise be to Allah that this time it’s no dream,’ I sighed. Then I woke up. It really had been a dream. You can imagine how disappointed I was. This time I’m not going to be fooled. Though this dream is amazing and very lifelike. But that could be due to Sayyiduna’s pellets. I’d rather not be disappointed when I wake up.”

“Do you think I’m just an image in your dream, ibn Tahir? Wake up, then! Here, look at me, feel me!”

She took his hand and ran it over her whole body.

“Can’t you feel that I’m a living being like you?”

She took his head in her hands and looked deep into his eyes.

He shuddered.

“Who are you?” he asked uncomprehendingly.

“Miriam, a girl of paradise.”

He shook his head. He went down the steps and continued past the dozens of multicolored lanterns with moths and bats darting around them. Unfamiliar plants grew alongside the path, strange flowers and fruit he had never before seen.

“Everything seems enchanted. It’s a regular dreamscape,” he murmured.

Miriam walked at his side.

“So you still haven’t figured it out? You’re not on earth now, you’re in heaven.”

Music and singing came from the pavilion.

He paused and listened.

“Those voices are just like on earth. And you, you have perfectly human traits. It can’t be like this in heaven.”

“Are you really so ignorant of the Koran? Doesn’t it say that in paradise all things will be as they were on earth, so that the faithful will feel they’ve come home? Why are you surprised, if you’re a believer?”