Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

“Outstanding,” Abdul Malik approved.

Suleiman’s breaths could be heard again, and his eyes came back to life. Slowly he lifted himself off the ground and returned to his place.

“All right. Obeida! Let’s have you show us how much progress you’ve made with your willpower,” Abdul Malik ordered next.

Obeida’s dark face turned ashen gray. He looked around in desperation and hesitantly stepped forward.

He held his breath. His facial color turned bright brown, and he quickly began to show signs of suffocation.

Abdul Malik watched him coolly. Ibn Tahir thought he was quietly mocking him. Obeida staggered and gently fell to the ground.

Abu Malik grinned meanly. Secretly, the novices standing in formation also laughed. The dai prodded the youth with his foot and said with mock kindness, “Up now, get up, little dove. Did something bad happen to you?” Then he added severely, “What was it like?”

Obeida rose to his feet. He smiled, half timidly and half at a loss.

“I passed out, reverend dai.”

“How do the Ismailis punish a lie?”

Obeida flinched.

“I couldn’t take it anymore, reverend dai.”

“Fine. Take the whip and punish yourself.”

From the stack of equipment that the teacher had brought with him, Obeida took a short leather whip. He unfastened the buttons on his long coat at the chest and bared himself to the waist. He then tied the sleeves together to keep the clothes from slipping off his body. His brown shoulders were full and muscular. He swung the whip over his head and lashed at his back. There was a snap and a red stripe appeared etched in the dark skin. He yelped, then resumed flogging himself.

“What a delicate boy,” Abdul Malik sneered. “Lay into it, hero!”

Obeida began lashing his back from the sides. The blows became sharper and more frequent. Finally he passed into a state of frenzied self-laceration. The whip sliced into inflamed areas and his skin began to rip in places. Blood ran down his back and trickled onto his white trousers and cloak. He beat himself mercilessly, as though he were his own worst enemy.

Finally Abdul Malik raised a hand and called out, “Enough!”

Obeida let go of the whip and dropped to the ground moaning. Abdul Malik ordered Suleiman to take his companion to the washroom to clean and dress his wounds. Then, turning to the novices and looking at ibn Tahir, he spoke.

“I’ve often explained to you the meaning and purpose of our exercises. Today there’s a newcomer in your ranks, so it makes sense for me to do so once again. The spirit, mind and passion of man could fly like an eagle, if only a great obstacle hadn’t been put in their way. That obstacle is our body, with all its weaknesses. Show me a youth who doesn’t have high-flying aims! And yet only one in a thousand of them is ever realized. Why is that? Our body, which is inclined to sloth and cheap comfort, fears the difficulties that the realization of our lofty goals would pose. Its base passions cripple our will and our nobler desires. Overcoming those passions and freeing the spirit of their bonds is the purpose of our exercises. Strengthening the will and channeling it toward a definite and suitable goal. For that is the only way we become capable of great feats and efforts of self-sacrifice. Not, then, by becoming like those thousands who are imprisoned by their own body and its weaknesses, but by aspiring to the level of that chosen one among them who is the master of his body and its weaknesses. That is our goal! That is how we will be able to serve Our Master and carry out his commands.”

Ibn Tahir listened to him eagerly. Yes, this was what he had unconsciously always wanted: to overcome his weaknesses and serve a greater purpose. Nothing that he had just experienced seemed frightening to him anymore. It was with utter conviction that he now responded when Abdul Malik asked him if he had understood.

“I understand, reverend dai.”

“Step forward and hold your breath!”

Ibn Tahir obeyed without a second thought. He gazed ahead into the distance, as he had seen Suleiman do earlier, and he drew a deep breath. It seemed as though everything around and within him became suddenly quiet. His vision began to blur. He could feel his veins straining, and he wanted to breathe again, but he controlled himself. An odd buzzing started in his ears and his legs felt unusually weak. He regained consciousness for a brief moment, then surrendered to dimness, but with the last glimmer of a thought he still knew— I have to, have to hold out! —until total darkness engulfed him. He swayed and pitched to the ground, exhaling as he fell.

“How was it?” Abdul Malik asked him, laughing.

Ibn Tahir rose to his feet.

“Fine, reverend dai.”

“This boy has potential,” he said. Then, turning to ibn Tahir, he added, “That was just an introduction to breathing exercises, a test to see how much command a person has over his body. The real lessons have yet to begin. We’ve already made substantial progress.”

Obeida and Suleiman rejoined the group.

Abdul Malik gave a new order. Some of the novices began quickly digging at a certain place in the ground. They dug out a ditch that must have been made ready beforehand and then filled in with lightly packed sand. It was rectangular and not particularly deep. In the meantime, some of the others had retrieved a pan filled with glowing coals from a nearby building and dumped them into the pit. They fanned the coals, then Abdul Malik spoke.

“With sustained practice, mastery of the body and force of will can attain a level where they don’t just overcome a person’s weaknesses but even nature itself and its laws… New boy! Open your eyes and see the truth of my words!”

He stepped out of his sandals, lifted his cloak so it reached his knees, and belted it at that level. Then he rolled up his tapered pant legs and stood in front of the pit of glowing coals, staring ahead.

“He’s focusing his thoughts and mustering his will,” ibn Tahir’s neighbor whispered to him.

Ibn Tahir held his breath. Something said to him, “You’re experiencing great things now, grandson of Tahir. Things that people on the outside don’t even dream about.”

Suddenly Abdul Malik began to move. Slowly, probingly, he stepped a foot out onto the glowing coals, then quickly and as straight as a cypress waded across them. He came to a stop on the other side, gently shaking his head as if waking up from a dream. Then he returned to the novices and, with a pleased look on his face, showed them his feet. There wasn’t a trace of a burn on them.

“This is what a person can achieve if he trains his will properly,” he said. “Who would like to repeat the experiment after me?”

Suleiman volunteered.

“Always the same one,” Abdul Malik complained irritably.

“Then I’ll try,” Yusuf spoke up. There was a slight hesitation in his voice.

“Over live coals?” Abdul Malik asked, with a barely perceptible smile.

Yusuf anxiously looked around.

“Wait until we heat up the plate,” the dai said indulgently.

Just then Jafar said that he’d like to try.

“Good show,” Abdul Malik praised him. “But first tell me what you have to think about in order to focus your will.”

“Allah, great and all-powerful, keep me from being burnt. And I won’t be,” Jafar responded.

“Good. But do you have the necessary confidence?”

“I do, reverend dai.”

“Then go in the name of Allah.”

Jafar stood in front of the rectangular pit and began to focus his thoughts and his will. The novices noticed that several times he decided to start across the fire but then reconsidered.

Abdul Malik said to him, “Free yourself, shake off the convulsions and go in confidence. Allah is master of our fate.”