Alamut (25 page)

“Outstanding,” Abu Ali praised him.

But no one was a match for Suleiman at sword fighting. They were matched up in pairs, and whichever of the two was defeated dropped out of the competition. Ibn Tahir defeated Obeida and ibn Vakas, but then succumbed to Yusuf’s more powerful assault. Suleiman forced his competitors out, one after the other. Finally, he and Yusuf had to square off. He hid behind his shield, with his eyes looking out over it, mocking his opponent.

“Now show you’re a hero,” he taunted him.

“Don’t rejoice too soon, my fleet-footed grasshopper,” Yusuf replied. “You didn’t do so well at spear throwing.”

They faced off. Yusuf knew that weight was his advantage, so he lunged at his competitor with all his might. But Suleiman, with his long legs, had planted his feet far apart and was able to evade the attacks by shifting his torso without losing his footing. With a sudden feint he was able to trick his opponent into moving his shield to the wrong side, at which point he dealt an elegant blow to his rib cage.

The novices and commanders all laughed. Yusuf snorted with rage.

“One more time, if you’ve got it in you!” he shouted. “You won’t trick me this time.”

Manuchehr was about to intervene, but Abu Ali signaled to leave them alone. The two crossed swords again.

Yusuf lunged like a raging bull and began hacking away at Suleiman’s shield. Suleiman smiled at him from behind it. He stood puffed up on his long legs, adroitly shifting his weight. Suddenly he stretched far forward and jabbed Yusuf straight in the chest from under his shield.

He garnered loud approval.

Abu Ali rose, took the sword and shield from his neighbor’s hands, and called on Suleiman to fight with him.

All eyes turned toward them. Abu Ali was an old man and no one would have guessed he was still capable of fighting. Confused, Suleiman looked toward the captain.

“Carry out the order,” came the reply.

Suleiman hesitantly assumed his stance.

“Don’t let it bother you that I’m not wearing any armor, my boy,” the grand dai said benevolently. “I’d like to see if I’m still in practice. I think I may still be.”

He struck Suleiman’s shield in provocation. But Suleiman obviously didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

“What are you waiting for? Go to it!” the grand dai said angrily.

Suleiman prepared to attack. But before he knew it, his sword went flying out of his hand. An elbow as big as a child’s head had sprung out of his opponent’s cloak.

A whisper of amazement coursed through the ranks. Abu Ali laughed roguishly.

“Shall we try once more?” he asked.

This time Suleiman got seriously ready. He lifted his shield up to his eyes and carefully studied his dangerous opponent from over the top of it.

They began. For a time Abu Ali expertly repulsed his lunges. Then he attacked forcefully himself. Suleiman started to evade him, hoping to trick him with his feints. But the old man was ready for anything. Finally he struck unexpectedly, and Suleiman’s sword went flying out of his hand a second time.

Smiling in satisfaction, Abu Ali returned the sword and shield.

“You’ll make a fine warrior, Suleiman,” he said, “once you have a few dozen battles behind you, like I do.”

He waved to Manuchehr to indicate that he was satisfied with their progress. Then he turned toward the novices, who were assembled in two smart rows, and spoke to them.

“Now you’ll get a chance to show how much progress you’ve made in controlling your willpower. Your teacher Abdul Malik is away, so I will test you in his absence.”

He approached them, coolly sizing them up with a glance, and ordered, “Hold your breath!”

Ali’s gaze went from one face to the next. He watched the novices turn red, the veins on their necks and at their temples swell, and their eyes bulge in their sockets. Suddenly the first one tipped over. Ali walked right up to him and watched him with interest. When he saw him breathing again, he nodded in satisfaction.

One after the other the novices pitched to the ground. Abu Ali looked at the dais and the captain and mockingly observed, “What do you know, like pears in autumn.”

Finally only three were left: Yusuf, Suleiman and ibn Tahir. The grand dai approached them and studied their nostrils and mouths.

“No, they’re not breathing,” he said quietly.

Then Yusuf started to sway. First he dropped gently to his knees, then he crashed to the ground, hard. He began breathing again, opened his eyes, and stared blankly around.

Suddenly, like a felled tree, Suleiman collapsed.

Ibn Tahir lasted a few seconds longer. Abu Ali and Manuchehr exchanged approving glances. Finally he also began to sway and fell over.

Abu Ali was about to give the order for the next exercise, when a messenger from the castle rode up at a wild gallop and called for him to return to the supreme commander immediately. The exercises would continue in the school building that afternoon.

The grand dai ordered them to mount and was the first to gallop off into the canyon.

Soon after the novices had ridden out from the castle that morning, a lookout atop one of the towers noticed a strange pigeon flying around the dovecote. He informed the keeper of the messenger pigeons, and the keeper rushed up the tower with his crossbow loaded. But meanwhile the little creature had settled down and tamely let itself be caught. A silken envelope was wrapped around one of its legs. The dovecote keeper ran to the building of the supreme commander and handed the pigeon to one of Hasan’s bodyguards.

Hasan opened the envelope and read.

“To Hasan ibn Sabbah, commander of the Ismailis, greetings! The emir of Hamadan Arslan Tash has attacked our forces with a large army. The fortresses west of Rudbar have already surrendered to him. We were prepared and repulsed a cavalry attack, but that force has proceeded on toward Alamut. An army is approaching to lay siege to the fortress. Awaiting your immediate orders. Buzurg Ummid.”

This pigeon was dispatched before my messenger reached Rudbar
, Hasan
thought.
Or else the Turks intercepted the messenger on the way. The battle dance has begun
.

He smiled at his composure.

“If only the boys were already initiated,” he told himself.

From a cabinet he took a swath of silk similar to the one the pigeon had around its leg and wrote an order on it for Buzurg Ummid to ride to Alamut immediately. He was about to send for one of the Rudbar pigeons, when the guard brought him yet another winged messenger, which had one of the keeper’s arrows through its throat. Hasan took the message from its leg. It was covered with tiny writing.

“To Hasan ibn Sabbah, commander of the Ismailis, greetings! Emir Kizil Sarik has set out against us with the entire army of Khorasan and Khuzestan. The smaller fortresses have surrendered to him and the faithful have fled to us at Gonbadan, where we are under siege by the enemy. The heat is unrelenting and our water will soon run out. Food is also running short. I have given the order to hold out, but your son Hosein tries to persuade our men to cede the fortress to the sultan’s men in exchange for safe passage. Awaiting your decisive instructions. Husein Alkeini.”

Hasan went blue in the face. His lips contracted in a terrible rage. His whole body shook. He began to fly around the room like a man possessed.

“That criminal son!” he shouted. “I’ll throw him in chains. I’ll strangle him with my own hands!”

When the grand dai arrived, he wordlessly handed him both letters. Abu Ali read them carefully. Then he spoke.

“For the life of me, I can’t think of any way to save these two fortresses. But you said you’re keeping a powerful weapon in reserve, and I trust you.”

“Good,” Hasan replied. “I’m sending several pigeons to Rudbar and Gonbadan with instructions. My treacherous son and all other malcontents are to be put in chains. Let them starve and go thirsty. Everyone else is to hold out to the last man.”

He wrote a second letter and sent for pigeons for both fortresses. With Abu Ali he attached the silken patches with orders around their legs, then carried them up to the top of his tower and released them.

When he returned he addressed the grand dai.

“First, the novices have to be initiated. They’re the rock on which I plan to build the fortress of our power. How did they do at the tests?”

“I’m satisfied with them,” Abu Ali replied. “Manuchehr and Abdul Malik have turned them into warriors without equal.”

“If only Buzurg Ummid were already here,” Hasan muttered half to himself. “Then the two of you could see the surprise I’ve prepared for you.”

“Indeed, I’ve been having to stifle my curiosity for too long as it is,” Abu Ali said, laughing.

After third prayers the novices resumed their examinations. They gathered with their instructors in the dining hall, and when Abu Ali arrived, the questioning began.

Right away they noticed a change in the grand dai since morning. He sat on pillows, leaning against the wall and staring grimly at the floor in front of him. He seemed not to be listening to what the novices were saying, but pondering something completely different instead.

Abu Soraka began with questions about the history of the Ismailis. The first four of them had already answered, and it seemed as though the exams were going to run as seamlessly as they had in the morning. But as the fifth youth was speaking, the grand dai suddenly interrupted him and began asking the questions himself.

“Poor,” he said when he didn’t get an absolutely precise answer.

Abu Soraka quickly resorted to ibn Tahir, who answered everything well.

“Let’s move on,” the grand dai commanded. “I’d also like to hear the ones who are less well versed.”

Jafar and Obeida safely negotiated the danger. When Abu Soraka called on Suleiman, Abu Ali laughed scornfully to himself.

Suleiman’s answers were short and abrupt, as though he were infallible in everything. But nearly everything he said was insufficient or even completely wrong.

“You do a poor job of dueling with the truth, my boy,” Abu Ali said, shaking his head. “A feday has to have a mind that never misses.”

Suleiman stepped back, exasperated.

Finally it was Yusuf’s turn. Although the novices were nervous for him, they also found him good sport.

Abu Soraka had saved the easiest question for him. He had to name the imams from Ali to Ismail. But Yusuf was so flustered that the name of the third imam stuck in his throat.

“By the beard of the martyr Ali!” the grand dai shouted. “I wash my hands of so much ignorance.”

Abu Soraka looked furiously at Yusuf, who had slumped back down, half dead.

After Abu Soraka came al-Hakim, who had an easier time avoiding this predicament. He knew that Abu Ali wasn’t familiar with his philosophical theories of human nature, so he nodded approval at every answer, no matter how wrong it was.

The novices were thoroughly versed in geography. The captain smiled in satisfaction and Abu Ali quickly passed over this subject.

Soon grammar, account-keeping and poetry were also taken care of. The grand dai didn’t intervene again until the topic was dogma, on which he placed a great deal of importance. Ibrahim posed his clear and simple questions, which the novices answered well, for the most part.

“Now let’s probe the extent of our novices’ native intelligence,” Abu Ali said, interrupting the questioning. “Yusuf, our great spear-throwing champion, tell us who is closer to Allah: the Prophet or the archangel Gabriel?”

Yusuf got up and stared at him with a look of desperation on his face. Abu Ali asked each of his neighbors on down the line. One answered the Prophet, the next the archangel. But none of them was able to explain his choice.

The grand dai grinned malevolently.

“You decide, ibn Tahir,” he said at last.

Ibn Tahir rose and calmly proceeded to respond.

“Allah sent the archangel Gabriel to Mohammed with the announcement that he had been selected as Prophet. If Allah hadn’t meant to distinguish Mohammed above all others, he could have entrusted his archangel with the prophet’s mission directly. Because he didn’t do that, Mohammed now stands ahead of the archangel Gabriel in heaven.”

“That’s the right answer,” Abu Ali said. “Now explain this to us: what is the relationship between the Prophet and Sayyiduna?”

Ibn Tahir smiled. He thought for a moment and then answered.

“The relationship between Sayyiduna and the Prophet is a relationship of younger to older.”

“Fine. But who holds greater power over the faithful now?”

“Sayyiduna. Because he has the key that opens the gates to paradise.”

Abu Ali rose and all the others stood up after him. His gaze went from one novice to the other. Then he spoke in a solemn voice.

“Go and bathe and put on your ceremonial clothes. Be glad. The greatest moment of your lives is approaching. At the time of fifth prayers you will all be initiated.”

With a faint smile he bowed, then strode quickly out of the room.

A messenger from Rai came rushing in and announced to Hasan that the cavalry Muzaffar was supposed to send him was already on the way. They could expect it to arrive at the castle that night. Right behind him one of the scouts rode in and informed Hasan that the Turkish vanguard was moving toward Alamut with great speed and could be outside the walls by late that night or early in the morning.

Hasan at once had Abu Ali and Manuchehr summoned to him. He received them in his antechamber and told them the news. He spread a map out on the floor and the three of them reviewed the best options for showing their teeth to the sultan’s forces.

“I’ll send a messenger to intercept Muzaffar’s people,” Hasan said. “The best thing will be for them not to join us in the castle at all. Instead, Abdul Malik will guide them toward the road that leads from Rudbar. They’ll wait in ambush there until the Turks ride past. Then they’ll follow them at a safe distance. We’ll meet the enemy outside of Alamut, while they press them from behind. It will be like grinding them between two millstones.”

Abu Ali and the captain agreed with the plan. They selected an officer to ride with several men to meet Muzaffar’s people. Manuchehr left to issue the necessary orders. Hasan asked the grand dai how things were going with the novices.