Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

The novices and commanders all laughed. Yusuf snorted with rage.

“One more time, if you’ve got it in you!” he shouted. “You won’t trick me this time.”

Manuchehr was about to intervene, but Abu Ali signaled to leave them alone. The two crossed swords again.

Yusuf lunged like a raging bull and began hacking away at Suleiman’s shield. Suleiman smiled at him from behind it. He stood puffed up on his long legs, adroitly shifting his weight. Suddenly he stretched far forward and jabbed Yusuf straight in the chest from under his shield.

He garnered loud approval.

Abu Ali rose, took the sword and shield from his neighbor’s hands, and called on Suleiman to fight with him.

All eyes turned toward them. Abu Ali was an old man and no one would have guessed he was still capable of fighting. Confused, Suleiman looked toward the captain.

“Carry out the order,” came the reply.

Suleiman hesitantly assumed his stance.

“Don’t let it bother you that I’m not wearing any armor, my boy,” the grand dai said benevolently. “I’d like to see if I’m still in practice. I think I may still be.”

He struck Suleiman’s shield in provocation. But Suleiman obviously didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

“What are you waiting for? Go to it!” the grand dai said angrily.

Suleiman prepared to attack. But before he knew it, his sword went flying out of his hand. An elbow as big as a child’s head had sprung out of his opponent’s cloak.

A whisper of amazement coursed through the ranks. Abu Ali laughed roguishly.

“Shall we try once more?” he asked.

This time Suleiman got seriously ready. He lifted his shield up to his eyes and carefully studied his dangerous opponent from over the top of it.

They began. For a time Abu Ali expertly repulsed his lunges. Then he attacked forcefully himself. Suleiman started to evade him, hoping to trick him with his feints. But the old man was ready for anything. Finally he struck unexpectedly, and Suleiman’s sword went flying out of his hand a second time.

Smiling in satisfaction, Abu Ali returned the sword and shield.

“You’ll make a fine warrior, Suleiman,” he said, “once you have a few dozen battles behind you, like I do.”

He waved to Manuchehr to indicate that he was satisfied with their progress. Then he turned toward the novices, who were assembled in two smart rows, and spoke to them.

“Now you’ll get a chance to show how much progress you’ve made in controlling your willpower. Your teacher Abdul Malik is away, so I will test you in his absence.”

He approached them, coolly sizing them up with a glance, and ordered, “Hold your breath!”

Ali’s gaze went from one face to the next. He watched the novices turn red, the veins on their necks and at their temples swell, and their eyes bulge in their sockets. Suddenly the first one tipped over. Ali walked right up to him and watched him with interest. When he saw him breathing again, he nodded in satisfaction.

One after the other the novices pitched to the ground. Abu Ali looked at the dais and the captain and mockingly observed, “What do you know, like pears in autumn.”

Finally only three were left: Yusuf, Suleiman and ibn Tahir. The grand dai approached them and studied their nostrils and mouths.

“No, they’re not breathing,” he said quietly.

Then Yusuf started to sway. First he dropped gently to his knees, then he crashed to the ground, hard. He began breathing again, opened his eyes, and stared blankly around.

Suddenly, like a felled tree, Suleiman collapsed.

Ibn Tahir lasted a few seconds longer. Abu Ali and Manuchehr exchanged approving glances. Finally he also began to sway and fell over.

Abu Ali was about to give the order for the next exercise, when a messenger from the castle rode up at a wild gallop and called for him to return to the supreme commander immediately. The exercises would continue in the school building that afternoon.

The grand dai ordered them to mount and was the first to gallop off into the canyon.

Soon after the novices had ridden out from the castle that morning, a lookout atop one of the towers noticed a strange pigeon flying around the dovecote. He informed the keeper of the messenger pigeons, and the keeper rushed up the tower with his crossbow loaded. But meanwhile the little creature had settled down and tamely let itself be caught. A silken envelope was wrapped around one of its legs. The dovecote keeper ran to the building of the supreme commander and handed the pigeon to one of Hasan’s bodyguards.

Hasan opened the envelope and read.

“To Hasan ibn Sabbah, commander of the Ismailis, greetings! The emir of Hamadan Arslan Tash has attacked our forces with a large army. The fortresses west of Rudbar have already surrendered to him. We were prepared and repulsed a cavalry attack, but that force has proceeded on toward Alamut. An army is approaching to lay siege to the fortress. Awaiting your immediate orders. Buzurg Ummid.”

This pigeon was dispatched before my messenger reached Rudbar , Hasan thought. Or else the Turks intercepted the messenger on the way. The battle dance has begun .

He smiled at his composure.

“If only the boys were already initiated,” he told himself.

From a cabinet he took a swath of silk similar to the one the pigeon had around its leg and wrote an order on it for Buzurg Ummid to ride to Alamut immediately. He was about to send for one of the Rudbar pigeons, when the guard brought him yet another winged messenger, which had one of the keeper’s arrows through its throat. Hasan took the message from its leg. It was covered with tiny writing.

“To Hasan ibn Sabbah, commander of the Ismailis, greetings! Emir Kizil Sarik has set out against us with the entire army of Khorasan and Khuzestan. The smaller fortresses have surrendered to him and the faithful have fled to us at Gonbadan, where we are under siege by the enemy. The heat is unrelenting and our water will soon run out. Food is also running short. I have given the order to hold out, but your son Hosein tries to persuade our men to cede the fortress to the sultan’s men in exchange for safe passage. Awaiting your decisive instructions. Husein Alkeini.”

Hasan went blue in the face. His lips contracted in a terrible rage. His whole body shook. He began to fly around the room like a man possessed.

“That criminal son!” he shouted. “I’ll throw him in chains. I’ll strangle him with my own hands!”

When the grand dai arrived, he wordlessly handed him both letters. Abu Ali read them carefully. Then he spoke.

“For the life of me, I can’t think of any way to save these two fortresses. But you said you’re keeping a powerful weapon in reserve, and I trust you.”

“Good,” Hasan replied. “I’m sending several pigeons to Rudbar and Gonbadan with instructions. My treacherous son and all other malcontents are to be put in chains. Let them starve and go thirsty. Everyone else is to hold out to the last man.”

He wrote a second letter and sent for pigeons for both fortresses. With Abu Ali he attached the silken patches with orders around their legs, then carried them up to the top of his tower and released them.

When he returned he addressed the grand dai.

“First, the novices have to be initiated. They’re the rock on which I plan to build the fortress of our power. How did they do at the tests?”

“I’m satisfied with them,” Abu Ali replied. “Manuchehr and Abdul Malik have turned them into warriors without equal.”

“If only Buzurg Ummid were already here,” Hasan muttered half to himself. “Then the two of you could see the surprise I’ve prepared for you.”

“Indeed, I’ve been having to stifle my curiosity for too long as it is,” Abu Ali said, laughing.