Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

Ibn Vakas rode in among them. Instantaneously he was surrounded on all sides. He was too close to be able to use his lance. He threw it on the ground and drew his saber.

“Come, al-Mahdi!”

With this cry he threw himself at his attackers. The closest retreated, frightened by so much intensity. Ibn Tahir went pale and everything in him shrank. He recalled the first battle outside the castle, the time he had seized the Turks’ flag from them. In his mind he saw Suleiman throwing himself to the ground and howling in fury, because Abu Soraka wouldn’t let him fight. He could see the rising might and extent of the Ismailis. The sultan’s army of thousands had just scattered outside Alamut. A new prophet had spoken to Iran. A great and terrible prophet.… He lay his head down on his horse’s neck and quietly began to cry.

In the meantime, ibn Vakas had almost forced his way out with his boldness. His saber blows hailed down on the shields and helmets of his attackers. Then one of them jumped off his horse, picked up the feday’s lance and shoved it into his horse’s belly. The horse rose up on its hind legs and then collapsed, burying its rider beneath it. Ibn Vakas quickly managed to dig his way back out. But just then a mace blow to his head knocked him to the ground. The men tied him up while he was still unconscious. Then they washed his wound and brought him to with water.

When he opened his eyes he saw ibn Tahir before him. He remembered that he had just been proclaimed a saint the day before and he was horrified.

“Am I dead?” he asked timidly.

When the commander of the enemy detachment approached him, ibn Vakas’s eyes widened. Then he was overcome by exhaustion again, and he fell back unconscious.

Ibn Tahir shook him by the shoulder.

“Wake up, ibn Vakas. Don’t you recognize me anymore?”

They brought the wounded youth water, which he drank greedily.

“You’re ibn Tahir? And you’re not dead? What are you doing with them?”

He pointed toward the enemy officer.

“I’m coming back to Alamut to kill the greatest liar and fraud of all time. Hasan ibn Sabbah isn’t a prophet, he’s just a cheap fraud. The paradise he sent us to is on the far side of the castle, in the gardens of the former kings of Daylam.”

Ibn Vakas listened carefully. Then he contorted his face in a dismissive sneer.

“Traitor!”

Ibn Tahir’s face flushed red.

“You don’t believe me?”

“All I believe in is the oath I’ve sworn to Sayyiduna.”

“But he’s deceived us! How can an oath like that be binding?”

“It’s helped us beat the sultan’s army. All our enemies tremble in fear of us now.”

“You have us to thank for that. I killed the grand vizier.”

“That’s what they say. And that’s why the supreme leader proclaimed you a martyr. And now you’re coming back to murder him too?”

“If I had known before what I know now, I would have killed only him.”

“Killed him?! At his order and in front of all of us, Suleiman stabbed himself and Yusuf jumped off the top of the tower. And both of their faces looked blissful when they were dead.”

“Oh, that heartless murderer! Let’s go, quickly! The sooner I drive a knife into his guts, the sooner the world will be spared his horrors!”

They continued on. About a half parasang from Alamut, they stopped.

“You go into the fortress now,” the unit commander told him. “We’ll take the prisoner with us as a hostage. Good luck with your revenge, and may Allah give you an easy death.”

Ibn Tahir forded the river on his horse. Once on the other side, he looked for the place where he had hidden his clothing when he left the castle. He changed into it and then rode toward the canyon. The eyes of his escorts followed him until he was no longer visible. Then the commander ordered them to return to Rai.

The guard atop the tower outside the canyon entrance recognized him and let him through. The fortress bridge was let down for him. When the soldiers caught sight of him, they stared at him as though he had returned from the other world.

“I have to speak with Sayyiduna. Immediately!” he said to the officer on duty. “I bring very important news from the sultan’s camp.” The officer rushed the news to Abu Ali, who took it to Hasan.

Ibn Tahir waited, grim and determined. His desire to settle accounts with the impostor was stronger than his fear. Instinctively he felt the short sword he was carrying under his cloak. He had a dagger hidden under his belt, and in his sleeve he had the poisoned writing implement with which he had stabbed the grand vizier.

At the news that ibn Tahir had returned, Hasan was speechless. He stared at Abu Ali and forgot he was standing there. Like a mouse looking for a way out of a trap, his thoughts darted among all the possibilities, trying to understand this extraordinary event.

“Go. Have ibn Tahir come see me. Order the guard to let him through unhindered.”

He had five of his eunuchs hide behind the curtain in his antechamber. He ordered them to seize the man when he walked in, disarm him, and tie him up.

Then he waited.

When ibn Tahir heard that the supreme commander had summoned him and that he had free access to him, he instantly pulled himself together. “I have to complete my mission,” he said to himself, “and Allah help me.” He remembered their lessons with Abdul Malik. He reckoned with the possibility that Hasan was setting a trap for him. All he needed was to get to his room!

Pale and determined, he entered the commander’s tower. With one hand he touched the handle of the sword beneath his cloak, while he kept the other ready to grab for the dagger quickly. His pace barely lagged as he walked past the Moorish guards. They stood motionless at all the doorways and at the head of each corridor. He forced himself not to look back, and so his pace accelerated.

He climbed the staircase to the top. Even the terrible mace-bearing guard at the end of it didn’t seem to notice him. Now he had to act with all decisiveness, whatever might happen. He crossed the length of the corridor swiftly. A guard was standing outside the leader’s antechamber. He drew back the curtain and motioned to him to proceed.

An icy chill ran down his spine. Quickly, quickly! he thought, and get it over with . Cautiously, decisively, his lips pressed tight, he walked in.

Suddenly a barrage of fists descended on him. They tried to seize him by the wrist, but he managed to wrench himself free and draw his sword. A blow to the back of his head knocked him to the floor. Several of the giants jumped on him and bound his hands and legs.

“What an idiot!” he howled. He gritted his teeth in fear and powerless rage.

Hasan came out of his room.

“As you ordered, Sayyiduna.”

“Good. Go wait in the corridor.”

He looked at ibn Tahir, who lay bound on the floor in front of him, and gave him a peculiar smile.

“Criminal! Murderer of innocents! Haven’t you had enough blood yet?”

As though he hadn’t heard these rebukes, Hasan asked him, ““Did you carry out my order?”

“Why do you bother to ask, you fake? You know perfectly well you tricked me.”

“All right. How did you manage to come back?”

Ibn Tahir grimaced painfully.

“What do you care? What matters is I’m here… to shove a dagger into your guts.”

“Not so easily done, hero.”

“So I see. So I was twice an idiot.”

“Why? As a feday you were committed to dying. We even proclaimed you a martyr. And now you come back trying to frighten us. Now we’re going to have to make sure you go to paradise.”

“I know. Liar! You took us to the gardens of the kings of Daylam and then, like some cheap huckster, you fooled us into believing you’d opened up the gates to paradise. And because of that I went and stabbed a decent man, who in the hour of his death did me the kindness of opening my eyes. What a nightmare!”