Alamut (64 page)

In Baghdad the intrigues began on the very day of the sultan’s death. Suddenly supporters of every possible pretender to the Iranian throne began to sprout up. Nearly each of the dead sultan’s brothers and sons had his own advocate, all of whom immediately began agitating for their respective candidates and pressuring the poor caliph to lend his support. But with time it became apparent that there were really only two opposing camps: Barkiarok’s and Mohammed’s. Toward the end the sultan had been leaning toward the latter, and this is precisely why the sultana and Taj al-Mulk now had the advantage. All of the many princes and grandees, high officials and religious leaders who had been overshadowed and hampered by the murdered grand vizier’s ruthless and imperious rule now came out in favor of the underaged Mohammed. Soon they managed to win the caliph to their side. The struggle between the two camps grew more and more embittered. Finally, Barkiarok’s supporters began to feel threatened in Baghdad. Some of them hid, while others fled the city. Mohammed’s supporters waited eagerly for news from the sultana and Taj al-Mulk. They kept doing their utmost to pressure the weak caliph into proclaiming their candidate sultan, thus dealing the other side a mortal blow.

Together with the news of the sultan’s death, the units that were gathering around Nehavend and Hamadan and were meant to battle the Ismailis also received an order to abandon their original plan and set out for Isfahan. When they were halfway there, they were met by emissaries of the sultan’s widow. The commanders were given extravagant gifts in her name, and the men were promised double their usual pay if they agreed to support her son. Other messengers set out for Baghdad with promises and priceless gifts to win the caliph to their side so he would proclaim Mohammed as sultan and
decree that all of Iran should pray the khutba for him. In the meantime, Barkiarok arrived in Isfahan with part of his forces. He had no idea yet that his father had been murdered in the same fashion as the grand vizier. He came upon a scene of utter confusion. Soldiers were streaming into the city from all sides and proclaiming the underaged Mohammed as sultan.

Barkiarok realized he had arrived several days too late. He tried to offer some resistance to the sultan’s widow and her vizier. But just then the news hit from Baghdad that the caliph had proclaimed Mohammed the new sultan. He quickly assembled the remainder of his forces and hurried with them to Sava, where, as he expected, he found refuge with the emir Tekeshtegin, who had been his friend since earliest boyhood.

Now he had to establish contact with his supporters and all those elements that were unhappy with the new sultan. Five of Nizam’s sons joined him, and he immediately named one of them his vizier. Suddenly he was in command of a sizable army.

Amid the general chaos the sultana and her vizier had thought of everything, with one exception—their erstwhile ally, Hasan. Emir Tekeshtegin and Muzaffar were good neighbors. Barkiarok now worked through Muzaffar to establish contact with the leader of Alamut and the Ismailis.

With the Seljuk realm—until yesterday one of the most powerful empires on earth—now in ruins, and with the sons, brothers, uncles and nephews of the murdered sultan battling each other for the throne, and with no one anywhere in Iran quite clear who was in charge, the institution of the Ismailis stood as firm and unshakable as the rock on which Alamut was built.

The news of the death of Sultan Malik Shah was cause for genuine celebration among Hasan’s supporters. The lands from Rai, Rudbar and Qazvin to Firuz Kuh, Damagan and all the way to Girdkuh and Gonbadan were now safe, and Ismaili messengers, and even whole divisions, could practically stroll from fortress to fortress. A new wave of believers came streaming into Alamut, seeing it as the best guarantee of their religious freedom and well-being. The fortress itself soon became too small for them. Dai Abu Soraka chose the strongest and most capable of them to keep at the castle. He had the rest swear their allegiance, gave them gifts, and—pledging that they would be fully protected by the supreme leader—he let them return to their homes. After nearly a century, practically the whole north of Iran was at last free to venerate Ali in public and to recognize the caliph of Cairo as its spiritual leader.

Hasan’s network of informants was built to an even greater level of perfection than before. He was constantly receiving news about the struggles and battles for the Iranian throne. He learned that the caliph had proclaimed Mohammed as the new sultan and that Barkiarok had returned to Isfahan. He gained a precise sense of how the pillars of Seljuk rule, which he had undermined, were swaying. The dream of his distant youth had been fulfilled.

“All of this is like a fairy tale,” he said to himself. “If I myself weren’t the cause of all these convulsions, I wouldn’t believe them. It’s true, some wishes
have a miraculous power. They function as though they had substance, as though they were a hammer made of actual steel.”

He was conscious of a strange emptiness, as though everything around him had fallen silent all at once. Something huge, terrible and yet beautiful had left him and found its place in the sun outside of him. He felt homesick for his strong, restless days. Now the moment had come for him to inspect his edifice one more time, distinguish it from everything that surrounded it, define the limits of its power, and ensure its survival for that time when he was no longer.

And just as he had half a year ago, at the beginning of winter, reis Abul Fazel Lumbani arrived at the castle from Rai with an important message. He reported that the emir of Sava, Tekeshtegin, had taken Barkiarok in and put all his forces at his disposal. He wanted to use Rai, the old capital of Iran, to proclaim him sultan, so he asked Muzaffar for help and support. Muzaffar advised him to consult with Hasan first and get his approval. And for that purpose he, Abul Fazel, had come to Alamut. As soon as he was proclaimed sultan, Barkiarok would set out with his whole army for Isfahan and depose Mohammed.

Both of the grand dais, Manuchehr and Abul Fazel Lumbani, met with the supreme leader in council.

“This is a moment of crucial importance,” Hasan said. “The caliph and almost all the generals and their forces have sworn allegiance to Mohammed. We mustn’t deceive ourselves. If the sultana’s faction were to win, then we Ismailis would be the first of Taj al-Mulk’s targets. Like any new ruler, he’s going to try to get rid of the shield-bearers who helped him to power—and that’s us. He’s already proven to us that that’s the kind of man he is. Barkiarok will also try to shake us off as soon as he doesn’t need us anymore. But we have to prevent that from the very outset. So our watchword should be: no ruler must ever again attain unlimited power in Iran! I think that for now we can afford to help Barkiarok overthrow Mohammed. Let Tekeshtegin proclaim him sultan in Rai. When he moves against Isfahan, we’ll cover his back. But as the saying goes, let us strike while the iron is hot. Barkiarok has to give us a written commitment that if he’s successful, he will not attack our castles or persecute our followers anywhere in the country. And just so he’s very clear about the extent of our power, we’re going to demand a yearly tax from him for our support. The time has come when rulers and potentates have to know that their lives are in our hands.”

None of the leaders contradicted him or had any comments to make. They composed a letter to Barkiarok, listing their conditions.

After that, the conversation turned to more pleasant things. A jug of wine passed from hand to hand. Suddenly Hasan turned to reis Lumbani
and asked him, smiling, “What came of that cure for my madness, after all? Have you still not brought it along with you?”

Abul Fazel scratched behind his ear.

“You know, ibn Sabbah,” he replied, “I’ve gotten old, and I’m no longer amazed by anything in the world. I’ve seen that something I thought was wise seven years ago has turned out to be stupid, and that apparent madness has proven to be the highest wisdom. There’s nothing I understand anymore, so I’ve given up making judgments. I’ve served my time.”

Hasan laughed again for the first time in ages.

“My dear reis, my dear reis!” he said. “Now you see what brittle legs were supporting the edifice you once thought had been built to last an eternity. All it took was a handful of men whom I could trust unconditionally, and I was able to cut down the Seljuk oak. Let me ask you: is there any other ruler or religious dignitary, prophet or wise man, any kingdom or institution that we here at Alamut ought to be afraid of?”

“No, there’s none, ibn Sabbah. Because your living daggers can reach anyone who crosses you. With weapons like that, who would want to be your enemy?”

“There are such people, dear friend. But the time will come when even princes on the far side of the world will live in fear of our power. And then we’ll collect tribute from all the emperors, kings and potentates beyond the seas.”

Abul Fazel only shook his head.

“I believe you, because I have to believe. But I don’t understand. How are you able to find youths who are so willing to sacrifice their lives at your command?”

“It’s because they know that death will immediately transport them to a place of heavenly delights.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe in your fairy tales about paradise?”

Hasan winked at him playfully.

“Would you like to convince yourself with your own senses that it exists?”

“Allah forbid I should be so curious!” he exclaimed. “Because you’re capable of anything, and if you finally did convince me that your paradise exists, I’d probably attack some sultan or vizier with a dagger, even despite these old bones and this gray beard.”

The leaders all laughed heartily.

The next morning Abul Fazel left Alamut, heavily laden with gifts and sitting comfortably on a camel’s back.

A week hadn’t yet passed when a messenger brought Hasan a letter from
Barkiarok, in which he consented to the conditions. And lo and behold, Tekeshtegin proclaimed Barkiarok sultan in Rai. At that point both of them planned to move against Isfahan with their army, but Taj al-Mulk and his forces had already launched an assault against Sava. At Barugjir, between Hamadan and Harb, the armies collided. Taj al-Mulk was defeated. He was captured, and Barkiarok ordered him beheaded. Now the road to Isfahan was clear. He arrived outside the city at the beginning of the year one thousand and ninety three. Hasan, the second-born of the murdered grand vizier, arrived from Khorasan with his forces and joined him. Barkiarok appointed him to be his secretary. They welcomed a swelling tide of deserters from the camp of the sultan’s widow. Finally she had to negotiate with him and sue for peace. He even defeated and beheaded his uncle, Ismail ibn Yakuti, the regent of Azerbaijan who had sold out to Turkan Khatun. But he had barely done that when Ismail’s half-brother, Tutush of Damascus, rebelled against him. Tutush attacked Antioch and joined forces with the regent of Aleppo, Aksonkor. He occupied Mosul and demanded that the terrified caliph proclaim him sultan.

All of the outlying provinces of Iran were suddenly ablaze with rebellion. One after the other, the subjugated kings and princes proclaimed their sovereignty. Even the regents threw off the central authority of Isfahan, seeking complete independence. The conflicts between individual authorities worsened. An indescribable chaos that no one had experienced before came to dominate Iran. The poor caliph had to proclaim first one man sultan, then another, depending on the proximity and military might of a given pretender to the throne. Thus, there were months in Baghdad when the khutba had to be prayed for several sultans in a row.

This was the moment for Hasan to issue his final decree and to put the final touches on his edifice.

He assembled the leaders of all his fortresses at Alamut and invited his friends and adherents from far and wide.

It was a splendid winter day. Snow hadn’t yet fallen, except on the highest mountains. The chill air was dry and crisp. But as the sun rose over the peaks, it grew pleasantly warmer.

Very early, while it was still pitch dark, the drums had sounded, rousing the men from their sleep. Everyone—soldiers, fedayeen, the faithful and the leaders—dressed in their ceremonial clothes. Word went around that important and far-reaching events would take place at Alamut that very day.

After the first prayer, the leaders and their guests assembled in the great hall. They took their places all around the hall on divans covered with pillows.

Hasan entered with the two grand dais. He was garbed in his white
cloak, which reached down to his feet. A splendid white turban covered his head. The leaders and guests all rose. They bowed to him. He went from one person to the next, politely greeting each one. When he got to Muzaffar, he asked, “How are my daughters doing? Are they diligent? Are they earning their bread?”

Muzaffar proceeded to praise them lavishly.

“Fine,” Hasan said. “As long as they make themselves useful somehow. Should worthy suitors appear, marry them off.”

Muzaffar promised to do so.

Then he caught sight of reis Abul Fazel. He couldn’t suppress a smile and greeted him heartily.

“It’s a pleasure to see you so often,” he said. “How would you feel about staying here at Alamut? I could appoint you keeper of my gardens. There are plenty of beautiful houris in them.”

“No, no,” the former reis declined. “Anyway, it won’t be long before I’m knocking at the gates of the real paradise.”

Hasan laughed. Once he had welcomed everyone, he invited all present to be seated. Then he spoke.

“Ismaili friends and leaders! I have invited you here today to talk in clear and unambiguous terms about the essence and goals of our institution. Everything we have undertaken since gaining control of this castle has turned out successfully—a sign that we have laid a solid foundation. We have tested and proven our strength in battle. Despite the unity and precision of our efforts, there are still some things that remain unclear, particularly concerning our relations to the rest of the world. However, this is quite understandable. For the ultimate success of any action is always dependent on its original conception and all those foreseen and unforeseeable factors that impinge on its realization. When we seized this fortified castle from the late sultan, we pointed to the caliph of Egypt as having given us the authority to do so. That was an indispensable necessity, because at that point our prestige was so minimal—or rather, let’s say, nonexistent. But times have changed significantly since then. Our worst enemies are dead. The mighty Seljuk realm is in ruins. Egypt is far away. And we have developed and grown into a force of iron. We have educated and trained a phalanx of believers, the likes of which no other ruler has known. Their fanaticism is legendary. Their determination is unequalled. Their devotion is unprecedented. What is Cairo to them? Nothing. And what is Alamut? Everything.