Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

“I understand, I understand,” Hasan said. The old mischievous smile played around his mouth and eyes. “So where does His Excellency advise me to retreat to?”

“That was precisely the subject of our most heated discussions,” the reis observed. He acted as though he hadn’t noticed Hasan’s devilishness. “There are only two routes open to you: a shorter one to the west, leading through the untamed Kurdish lands to Byzantium and from there to Egypt, and a longer one to the east. Muzaffar recommends the eastern route. At Merv, or even as soon as Nishapur, Husein Alkeini could join you with his army, and then the two of you could retreat toward Kabul and on to India, where any one of the local princes would be glad to give you asylum.”

“An excellent plan,” Hasan said, encouraged. “But what if my army isn’t able to hold out against the Turkish cavalry?”

“We talked about that possibility too,” the reis said, moving close to Hasan. “If a retreat with your full contingent seems out of the question, then Muzaffar offers you and those closest to you refuge with him. That’s why he sent me here.”

“Muzaffar has a sharp mind and I won’t forget his consideration for me by any means. But he can’t see into my mind or into my heart.”

Hasan’s voice abruptly turned dry and realistic.

“Alamut cannot be taken,” he continued. “So we stay. We’ll wipe out the Turkish cavalry, and by the time the sultan’s army reaches the fortress, we’ll be ready.”

Abu Ali looked at Hasan with shining eyes, eyes full of trust. But Abul Fazel was frightened.

“I’ve always seen you as a deft and capable man, my dear Hasan,” he said. “Lately your reputation has risen so much that you’re talked about throughout all of Iran. And with your intrigues at court you’ve proven that you’re a highly gifted statesman. But what you’re proposing now fills me with real concern and trepidation.”

“My work is only half completed,” Hasan replied. “Until now I’ve trusted to my statesmanship. But now I’m going to see what faith can accomplish.”

He gave that word particular stress. He turned toward the grand dai and spoke.

“Go call the commanders to council. All men should go to battle stations immediately. Tomorrow our novices are going to have to pass a test so they can be sworn in as fedayeen. They need to know everything.

“You will conduct the grand council in my absence. Tell the commanders that we have visitors approaching, and that I have ordained that we will wait for them here. Have each of them share his thoughts. Once you’ve heard them out, come back and report everything to me. Have the captain order his men to make all preparations for the defense of the castle.”

“Everything will be done as you command,” the grand dai said, and hurried out.

The rumble of drums and a blast from the horn called the men to arms and the commanders to assembly. With a serious mien, Abu Ali awaited them in the great hall. The dais and the officers filed in.

When they were assembled, the grand dai looked them over and spoke.

“The sultan has deposed the grand vizier and ordered him to crush the Ismailis. The emir of Hamadan, Arslan Tash, has set out for Alamut with thirty thousand men. A vanguard of Turkish cavalry will reach Rudbar today or tomorrow. Within a few days black flags could be waving outside our castle. The mayor of Rai, Muzaffar, has promised us help. But our own preparedness is an even surer thing. Sayyiduna has sent me to find out how you think we can best resist an attack. Once he hears your recommendations he will take the necessary steps.”

Sitting on their pillows, the commanders exchanged surprised glances with each other. Here and there some of them whispered remarks to their neighbors, but for a long time none of them rose to speak.

“Captain, you’re an experienced soldier,” Abu Ali finally said to Manuchehr. “What do you think is our first priority?”

“We don’t have anything to fear from the Turkish cavalry,” the captain replied. “The fortress is ready for an attack, and anyone who takes it on will be badly burned. But how long we can hold out under siege against thirty thousand men with machines and assault equipment—that’s a difficult question.”

“How long will our food stores last?” the Greek asked.

“A good half year,” the captain replied. “But if we can dispatch a caravan to Rai, then Muzaffar will supply us for another half year.”

“That’s important,” Abu Ali commented, noting something down on his tablet.

Abdul Malik spoke next.

“Here’s what I think,” he said. “We mustn’t let ourselves get locked up in the fortress too soon. We can wallop the Turks on an open battlefield, especially if Muzaffar really does send help. The core of the sultan’s army is still a long way off.”

The young officers who were present enthusiastically supported his plan.

“We mustn’t rush into things,” Abu Soraka commented. “We have to bear in mind that we have our wives and our children with us in the castle. They’d be finished if we were foolhardy enough to risk a battle in the open.”

“Haven’t I always said,” Ibrahim said, losing his temper, “that women and children don’t belong in the fortress with warriors?”

“I’m not the only one who has his family here,” Abu Soraka countered. By this he was referring to Hasan’s two daughters.

Dai Ibrahim angrily compressed his lips.

“I have the perfect suggestion,” al-Hakim said, laughing. “Let’s put our wives and children on the camels and donkeys and send them to Muzaffar. We can use that same caravan to bring needed foodstuffs back to the castle. There you’d accomplish three things at one blow. We’d reduce the number of mouths to feed, we’d rid ourselves of painful concerns for our families, and the caravan wouldn’t make half its trip for no purpose.”

“Good idea,” Abu Ali acknowledged, making some more notes on his tablet.

The discussion grew more and more impassioned. They tallied all the things they would need at the castle, argued about the rightful duties of various commanders, and recommended first one thing, then its opposite.

At last Abu Ali gave a sign that the assembly was over. He told the commanders to wait for their precise instructions and returned to join Hasan at the top of the tower.

In the meantime Hasan had learned from the former mayor of Isfahan what recent changes at the court had caused the sultan to move so suddenly. Up until that point he had had very good connections to court circles, considering that Taj al-Mulk, vizier to the young sultana Turkan Khatun, had been his confidant.

Sultan Malik Shah had legally designated his first-born son, Barkiarok, heir to the throne. He was the sultan’s son by his first wife. Just then the twenty-year-old heir apparent was conducting a military campaign against a number of rebellious princes on the border with India. The young sultana used this absence to secure the Iranian throne for her four-year-old son Mohammed. Most strongly opposed to this plan was Nizam al-Mulk. The sovereign vacillated, submitting first to the influence of his old vizier, then to the charms of his young wife. The grand vizier had powerful support, primarily in the caliph of Baghdad and the entire Sunni clergy. The sultana had the support of Nizam’s numerous enemies and the many individuals whom his power had reduced to insignificance. But so that her side could gain a counterweight against the Sunni clergy as well, the sultana’s vizier sought out contacts with the Shia, among whom Hasan’s Ismaili sect had the greatest influence. This court intrigue was practically made to order for the master of Alamut. He assured the sultana that his adherents throughout Iran would support her cause. Taj al-Mulk promised him that he and Turkan Khatun would try to prevail on the sultan not be too concerned about Hasan’s exploits in the north of Iran.