Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

“So you were with ibn Sabbah when he took over the castle, doctor?” the Egyptian asked his host. “Some incredible stories have been circulating about how it was taken. One has it that ibn Sabbah tricked the former castle commander into handing it over to him. Then there’s another that has him bribing the commander. I still don’t know what the truth is.”

The Greek laughed loudly, but said nothing.

Captain ibn Ismail signaled to the men to draw close. Then he spoke.

“I suspect it would be all right to explain to the young man how ibn Sabbah got Alamut into our hands. I wasn’t present myself, but one of my subalterns who at the time was assisting our commander has told me the story.”

Obeidallah and the portly Zakariya listened attentively. Theodoros frowned scornfully and kept at a distrustful distance.

“As you know,” ibn Ismail continued, “the sultan’s representative at the castle of Alamut was the stalwart Captain Mehdi. I didn’t know him personally, but I’ve heard that he wasn’t especially bright. Ibn Sabbah had luckily escaped the traps set by the grand vizier and had finally fought his way through to Rai, where the commandant of the city, Muzaffar, was one of his great friends. Muzaffar helped him muster a force of seventy men, which included the subaltern who told me this story. Well, our commander got the notion of taking over Alamut, which had far and away the strongest fortifications of any castle in the region. He conferred with Muzaffar and finally came up with the following scheme…”

While the Egyptian and the portly dai attentively followed this story, the doctor chuckled ambiguously. The captain noticed this, and it made him both flustered and angry.

“Why don’t you tell the story if you know better?” he asked, offended.

“But you can see, I’m all ears,” the Greek apologized with more than a touch of sarcasm.

“Let him make faces,” the Egyptian said, growing impatient. “We know him. He’s always pretending to know more than others.”

Ibn Ismail continued.

“So our commander devised his scheme and visited Mehdi in the castle of Alamut. He told him, ‘I am a dai and I have traversed half the known world. Now I’ve had enough of traveling and I’ve come here to find a peaceful retreat for myself. Sell me as much land outside of your walls as an ox hide will cover. I’ll give you five thousand gold pieces for the land.’ Mehdi practically burst with laughter. ‘If you really can give me that much money, I’ll give you the land you want on the spot.’ He assumed it was impossible for a poor dai to have that much wealth. Ibn Sabbah reached beneath his cloak, pulled out a bagful of gold pieces and started counting out the money. Mehdi couldn’t believe his eyes, and he thought, ‘What can it hurt the castle if I sell the old dai a scrap of land beneath its walls? And I’ll get rich overnight.’ So they took an ox hide, let the bridge down over Shah Rud, and walked across it out onto the rocks under the castle walls. Ibn Sabbah pulled a sharp blade out from under his belt and started using it to cut the hide into thin strips. One after the other, officers and soldiers came over to stare at what the odd stranger was doing. No one even imagined what the dai might have in mind. When the hide was completely cut up, ibn Sabbah tied the strips together, drove a stake into a crevice, and fastened to it one end of the cord he’d created. Then, with the other end of the cord in hand, he began to circle the fortress. It was only at this point that it dawned on Mehdi. ‘Thief! Swindler!’ he shouted at ibn Sabbah and reached for his sword. At that instant there was a thundering sound over their heads. They looked up in fright. A band of horsemen with sabers drawn was galloping across the bridge and into the fortress. Ibn Sabbah laughed. ‘Too late, friends,’ he said. ‘The castle is mine now, and if you so much as touch a hair on my head, none of you will escape alive. But I keep my deals, Mehdi! Take the five thousand gold pieces and go with your people wherever you want.’”

Al-Hakim burst out laughing. He held his well-fed belly while tears streamed from his eyes, and he giggled so much that it hurt.

The Egyptian and the corpulent dai also laughed, though half at a loss. They couldn’t understand what the Greek was making fun of. Only Captain ibn Ismail challenged the doctor, with a furious stare.

“Oh, how naïve can you get?” the Greek brayed through his laughter. “So you’ve fallen for it too, old fellow! And Hasan and I actually cooked that morsel up just for the sultan.”

“So the subaltern tricked me?” The captain lost his temper, the blood racing to his cheeks and eyes. A vein on his forehead bulged with anger. “I’ll strangle him, I’ll thrash him like a dog!”

“You’d wrong him if you did, ibn Ismail,” the Greek said. “Because what he told you was the pure truth, at least as far as he was concerned. But not as far as you’re concerned. You rank higher. You should be able to guess what really happened.”

“Stop being so arrogant. Tell us!” the captain said angrily.

“First of all you should know that the previous commander of this castle, Mehdi, was from the line of Ali. To win him over to his side, the sultan appointed him to be his representative, a high post, before he was even thirty. But to keep any possible danger at arm’s length, he posted him to the edge of the world, which is to say here, to Alamut. And here the aspiring young man was bored to death. From morning to evening he would drink, gamble and fight with his officers and subalterns. For the evenings he assembled a huge harem of women, dancers, singers and other performers, and the people in Rai could only whisper about what went on there. He tamed a whole flock of falcons, and leopards went hunting with them in the neighboring mountains and forests. And all the time he’d curse the sultan and the caliph and swear that he would wreak bloody revenge against them. Word of his doings undoubtedly reached Shah Malik, but the ruler thought, ‘Let him curse me as much as he wants, but when the barbarians attack from across the border, he’ll have to defend against them, if he values his own head.’ When ibn Sabbah arrived in Rai, Muzaffar told him about all of this. I was also there, and once Muzaffar arranged for us to meet with Mehdi on one of his hunts. Hasan had received a nice sum of gold coins from the caliph of Cairo. He offered the commander five thousand to turn the castle over to him. He could use the money to travel to Cairo, where ibn Sabbah had recommended him to his friends and where the young pleasure seeker could take advantage of life in the big city. Mehdi was immediately ready. They just needed to find a cover for the sell-out, so that the sultan wouldn’t persecute his kin. Ibn Sabbah just happened to be ready to play another of his old tricks on the sultan. He said, ‘I’d like to seize Alamut at one truly amazing but nonetheless ridiculous stroke, so that all of Iran talks about it and the sultan laughs and thinks to himself: ibn Sabbah is still the same old clown. However you look at him, he’s a jokester through and through. Let him have his fun for now.’ We weighed a dozen options. Then the old legend of how Dido took Carthage came to me. I mentioned it to Hasan and he immediately seized on it. He exclaimed, ‘That’s just what I needed, brother!’ So he and Mehdi devised a plan down to the minutest details. In the process the three of us laughed so much that we practically choked. And then, my dear captain, everything happened precisely the way your valiant soldier told you.”

At this tale they all nearly split their sides laughing.

“What came of Mehdi?” the Egyptian asked after the initial hilarity had settled.

“You came from Cairo, he went to Cairo,” the Greek replied. “And this minute he’s probably living it up with the same maidens you enjoyed before him.”