Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

Suleiman jumped to his feet, bowed to the old man, and said, “I’ll make sure, reverend dai.”

He invited ibn Tahir to follow him, and the two of them descended to the lower level. Halfway down a narrow hallway Suleiman lifted the curtain covering a doorway and let ibn Tahir through.

They entered a spacious bedroom. Along one wall there were about twenty low-lying beds. They consisted of big linen ticks stuffed with dried grass and covered with horsehair blankets. Each had a horse saddle for a pillow. Above them was a series of wooden shelves affixed to the wall. These held a variety of essentials arranged in strict order: earthen dishes, prayer rugs, and washing and cleaning implements. At the foot of each bed stood a wooden framework which supported a bow, a quiver with arrows, and a lance and spear. Jutting out from the wall opposite were three bronze candelabras with many branches, a wax candle stuck in each of them. In the corner stood a pedestal supporting a jug of oil. Twenty heavy, curved sabers hung on pegs beneath the candles. Beside them were as many round woven shields with bosses made of bronze. The room had ten small, grated windows. Everything in it was clean and kept in perfect order.

“This one is vacant,” Suleiman said, pointing to one of the beds. “Its former occupant had to join the infantry a few days ago. Here’s where I sleep, next to you, and Yusuf of Damagan sleeps on the other side. He’s the biggest and strongest novice in our group.”

“You say my predecessor had to join the infantry?” ibn Tahir asked.

“Right. He wasn’t worthy of becoming a feday.”

Suleiman took a neatly folded white cloak, white trousers and a white fez off a shelf.

“Come to the washroom,” he said to ibn Tahir.

They proceeded to the next room, which had a stone tub with running water. Ibn Tahir bathed quickly. Suleiman handed him the clothes and ibn Tahir slipped into them.

They returned to the bedroom, and ibn Tahir said, “My father has sent his greetings to the supreme commander. When do you think I’ll be able to see him?”

Suleiman laughed.

“You might as well forget that idea, friend. I’ve been here for a full year and I still don’t know what he looks like. None of us novices has ever seen him.”

“Then he’s not in the castle?”

“Oh, he’s here. But he never leaves his tower. You’ll hear more about him over time. Things that will make your jaw drop. You said you’re from Sava. I’m from Qazvin.”

While he spoke ibn Tahir had a chance to study him closely. He could scarcely imagine a more handsome youth. He was as slim as a cypress, with a sharply angular but attractive face. His cheeks were ruddy from sun and wind and a healthy blush permeated his dark skin. His velvety brown eyes gazed out at the world with the pride of an eagle. A light down of a beard showed on his upper lip and around his chin. His entire expression projected courage and daring. When he smiled he showed a row of strong white teeth. His smile was sincere, with just a shade of scorn, yet not at all offensive. Like some Pahlavan from the Book of Kings , ibn Tahir thought.

“I’ve noticed that you all have sharp, hard faces, as though you were thirty. But judging by your beards you can’t be more than twenty.”

Suleiman laughed and replied, “Just wait a fortnight and you won’t look any different from us. We don’t spend our time picking flowers or chasing butterflies.”

“I’d like to ask you something,” ibn Tahir resumed. “A while ago down below I saw them whipping a man who was tied to a pillar. I’d like to know what he did to deserve that punishment.”

“He committed a grievous crime, my friend. He’d been assigned to accompany a caravan traveling to Turkestan. The drivers weren’t Ismailis and drank wine on the journey. They offered him some and he accepted it, even though Sayyiduna has strictly forbidden it.”

“Sayyiduna forbids it?” ibn Tahir asked in amazement. “That injunction holds for all believers and comes straight from the Prophet!”

“You wouldn’t understand yet. Sayyiduna can forbid or permit whatever he wants. We Ismailis are bound to obey only him.”

Ibn Tahir was incredulous, and he began to feel vaguely anxious. He probed further.

“Earlier you said that my predecessor got sent to the infantry. What did he do wrong?”

“He talked about women, and very indecently.”

“Is that forbidden?”

“Absolutely. We’re an elite corps, and when we’re inducted we’ll serve only Sayyiduna.”

“What are we being inducted into?”

“I already told you—the fedayeen. Once we finish school and pass all the tests, that’s the level we’ll be at.”

“What are fedayeen?”

“A feday is an Ismaili who’s ready to sacrifice himself without hesitation at the order of the supreme commander. If he dies in the process, he becomes a martyr. If he completes the assignment and lives, he’s promoted to dai and even higher.”

“All of this is completely new to me. Do you think the test will be very hard?”

“No question about it. Otherwise why would we be preparing for it from dawn to dusk every day? Six have already failed under the load. One of them dropped dead on the spot. The other five asked to be demoted to the infantry.”

“Why didn’t they just leave Alamut instead of letting themselves be humiliated like that?”

“Listen, Alamut is not to be trifled with, my friend. Once you’re in the castle you don’t just walk back out alive as you please. There are too many secrets around here.”

The novices came storming into the room. On the way they had washed in the washroom and gotten themselves ready for evening prayers. A giant almost a head taller than ibn Tahir collapsed on the bed next to his.

“I’m Yusuf of Damagan. I’m not a bad person, but I don’t advise anyone to provoke or make fun of me, or you’ll get to know my other side.”

He stretched his powerful limbs as if to underscore what he’d said.

Ibn Tahir smiled.

“I’ve heard you’re the biggest and strongest in the group.”

The giant sat up instantly.

“Who told you that?”

“Suleiman.”

Disappointed, Yusuf stretched back out on his bed.

The youths were ribbing each other. Obeida walked over to ibn Tahir and opened his Moorish lips.

“How do you like it here so far, ibn Tahir? Of course, it’s hard to say when you’ve just arrived. But once you’ve been in the castle for four months like me, everything you’ve brought with you from outside will evaporate.”

“Did you hear what that black ass said?” Suleiman sneered. “He’s hardly dipped his beak in Alamut’s honey and he’s already giving lessons to others.”

“Maybe I should give you some, you stupid blockhead,” Obeida responded, enraged.

“Easy, brothers,” Yusuf growled from his bed. “Don’t set a bad example for the new guy.”

A broad-shouldered, bowlegged youth with an earnest face approached ibn Tahir.

“I’m Jafar of Rai,” he introduced himself. “I’ve been in the castle for a year, and if you need any help with lessons, just let me know.”

Ibn Tahir thanked him. One after the other the novices approached him to introduce themselves. Afan, Abdur Ahman, Omar, Abdallah, ibn Vakas, Halfa, Sohail, Ozaid, Mahmud, Arslan… Finally the littlest one of them stood in front of him.

“I’m Naim, from near Demavend,” he said.

The others all laughed.

“No doubt one of the demons that live inside the mountain,” Suleiman teased him.

Naim looked at him angrily.

“We go to school a lot,” he continued, “and there’s a lot we have to learn. Do you know our teachers? The one who agreed to accept you is the reverend dai Abu Soraka. He’s a famous missionary who’s traveled through all the lands of Islam, teaching. Sayyiduna appointed him as our superior. He teaches us the history of the Prophet and of the holy martyrs who’ve fallen for the Ismaili cause. Also grammar and poetry in our native Pahlavi.”