Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

“Did you hear that chatterbox? The littlest one in the bunch, and he’s the biggest talker.”

Suleiman laughed and the others joined him. Then he continued.

“Soon you’ll get to know your teachers first-hand, ibn Tahir. Just remember that dai Ibrahim, who teaches us dogma, algebra, Arabic grammar and philosophy, is a good friend of Sayyiduna. You’re going to have to know everything by heart for him, and you don’t want to get on his bad side. Then there’s the Greek al-Hakim. He’ll tolerate anything you blurt out, just as long as you say something. Captain Manuchehr doesn’t put up with back talk. Everything you do for him has to be done right now. The quicker you are in carrying out his commands, the more he’ll like and respect you. Dai Abdul Malik is young, but Sayyiduna puts a lot of trust in him. He’s strong and hardened, able to endure tremendous exertion and pain, and he has no patience for anyone who doesn’t know how to grit his teeth. He teaches us strength of will. His class is the most important one after dogma…”

“Hey, don’t scare our little dove here,” Yusuf interrupted, “or he might turn tail and run. Look, he’s white as a sheet.”

Ibn Tahir blushed.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “I haven’t had a thing to eat all day.”

Suleiman gave an amused laugh.

“You’re going to learn a whole new way of fasting here, friend. Just wait until you get to know dai Abdul Malik.”

They heard the drawn-out blast of a horn.

“Time for prayers!” Yusuf called out. Each of them grabbed a rolled-up rug from his shelf and hurried up to the roof. Ibn Tahir also reached for the rug that lay rolled up above his bed and followed the others.

Dai Abu Soraka was waiting for them on the rooftop. When he saw that they were all assembled and had spread their rugs out beneath them, he turned to face west, toward the holy cities, and began the sacred ceremony. Reciting the prayers aloud, he cast himself down on his face, reached his arms out, and then sat back up again, as the laws of the faithful command. When he finished, he rose back to his full height, reached his arms out toward heaven, then fell to his knees again, bending forward and touching his forehead to the ground. He prayed as follows:

“Come, al-Mahdi, anointed and awaited one. Deliver us from pretenders and save us from the infidel. O, Ali and Ismail, holy martyrs, intercede for us!”

The novices copied his gestures and repeated the words after him. Then, suddenly, it had grown dark. The steady, sustained voices of other worshippers reached them from the neighboring roofs. Ibn Tahir felt a strange, anxious thrill. It was as if everything he was experiencing at this moment wasn’t real, but rather the product of some wonderfully vivid dream he was having. And then there was the open appeal to Ali and Ismail, something the faithful outside of Alamut could only do behind securely barred doors. He was puzzled and confused.

They rose, returned to their sleeping quarters and stowed the rugs back on their shelves. Then they went to supper.

The dining room was a vast hall in a wing opposite the building’s sleeping quarters. Each novice had his own place by the wall. Small stools made of woven willow branches were set out on the floor, and they either sat down on these or crouched beside them. Three among the novices were picked out in sequence and acted as servers. They brought each of their companions a large piece of bread baked either from grain or from dried figs or apple slices. One of them poured milk from large earthen jugs. The novices were served fish several times a week, and roast ox, lamb or mutton once a week. Abu Soraka supervised and ate with them. They had their supper in silence, intent only on the meal.

After supper they broke up into smaller groups. Some of them went out onto the rooftop, while others dispersed among the fortress ramparts.

Yusuf and Suleiman took ibn Tahir along to show him the fortress.

The bustle of activity had subsided. The castle stood enveloped in silence, and now ibn Tahir could distinctly hear the roar of Shah Rud, which evoked a strange longing in him. Darkness surrounded them, while in the sky tiny stars shone with a piercing gleam.

A man with a burning torch in hand walked across the courtyard. Torch-bearing guards appeared in front of the buildings on the upper terrace and took up positions at the entrances. There was a long row of them, and they stood motionless. A light breeze floated in from the mountains, bringing an icy chill with it. As the torch flames flickered, the shadows of the buildings, trees and men danced mysteriously over the ground. All around them the fortress walls were illuminated, but with a strange light. The buildings, towers and battlements appeared completely different in it than they did by day. It all seemed like a fantastic vision, enormous and alien.

They had walked alongside most of the wall that surrounded the lower and middle terraces.

“Don’t we want to go up there too?” ibn Tahir asked, pointing toward the buildings rising behind the torchbearers.

“No one but the commanders can go up there,” Suleiman explained. “The men who guard Sayyiduna are giant Moors, eunuchs, whom the supreme commander received as a gift from the Egyptian caliph.”

“Is Sayyiduna in his service?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Suleiman replied. “It could also be the other way around.”

“What do you mean?” ibn Tahir asked, baffled. “Didn’t Sayyiduna take Alamut in the caliph’s name?”

“That’s a story in its own right,” Yusuf offered. “You hear one thing and another. I’d advise you not to ask about things like that too much.”

“I thought the caliph of Cairo was the supreme head of all Shia, including the Ismailis.”

“Sayyiduna alone is our commander and we obey no other,” both Yusuf and Suleiman intoned at the same time.

They sat down on a rampart.

“Why doesn’t the supreme commander show himself to the faithful?” ibn Tahir asked.

“He’s a holy man,” Yusuf said. “He studies the Koran all day, he prays, he writes instructions and commandments for us.”

“It’s none of our business why he doesn’t show himself to us,” Suleiman asserted. “That’s just how it is and nobody but him needs to know why it has to be that way.”

“I imagined all this very differently,” ibn Tahir admitted. “Out there people think that the Ismaili leader is gathering an army at Alamut, and that he’s going to use it to strike at the sultan and the false caliph.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Suleiman replied. “The main thing that Sayyiduna demands from us is obedience and a holy passion for the Ismaili cause.”

“Do you think I’m going to be able to catch up with you, since you’ve already made so much progress?” ibn Tahir worried.

“Do everything your superiors tell you, and do it without hesitation, and you’ll achieve what you need to,” Suleiman said. “Don’t think that obedience is an easy thing. The evil spirit of rebellion will begin speaking to you, your body will refuse to follow your will’s dictates, and your reason will whisper a thousand reservations about the orders you get from your commanders. You need to be aware that all of that resistance is just the cunning design of demons intent on turning you away from the true path. Be brave and overcome all resistance in yourself, and you’ll become a powerful sword in the hand of Our Master.”

There was a sudden burst from the horn.

“Time to sleep,” Yusuf said, getting up.

They returned to their area and headed for their sleeping quarters.

Several wax candles were alight in the room. Some of the youths were undressing, while others had already climbed into bed.