Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

“Why did you want to kill me?”

Ibn Tahir tried to stand up straight. But his voice was weak when he spoke.

“I was carrying out Sayyiduna’s order.”

“But didn’t you know that death would await you?”

“Yes, I knew.”

“And you weren’t afraid?”

“For a feday, death in the course of fulfilling his duty means happiness.”

“What madness!” the vizier moaned.

Then he was seized with anger.

“You’ve been duped. You don’t know what you’re doing. Do you know the governing principle of the Ismailis?”

“I do. Carry out your commander’s orders.”

“Idiot! Fanatical fool! Don’t you know that even I know your master’s doctrine?”

“Of course. You’re an apostate. A traitor.”

The vizier smiled indulgently.

“Listen to me, boy. The supreme principle of the Ismailis is this: Nothing is true, everything is permitted.”

“That’s a lie!”

Ibn Tahir shook with indignation.

“You don’t know who Sayyiduna is,” he said. “Sayyiduna is the most brilliant and powerful of all people. Allah gave him the power to open the gates of paradise to his faithful.”

“O Allah, forgive him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“You think I don’t know what I’m saying? I was one of ones he sent to paradise.”

The grand vizier held his breath. With difficulty he raised himself up on one elbow. He looked ibn Tahir intently in the eye. He knew he wasn’t lying. He shook his head incredulously.

Then he recalled the legends about Alamut. About the youths who claimed they had spent a night in paradise. Things began to dawn on him.

“So you say you were in paradise?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, felt it with my own hands.”

“And you’ll go back there when you die?”

“Yes, death will take me back there.”

The vizier collapsed back onto his pillows.

“Allah! Allah!” he groaned in a frail voice. “What a sin! So that’s why he needed so many beautiful slaves! That’s why he bought so many of them at the bazaars!”

Ibn Tahir listened closely. His whole face was taut in attention.

The vizier asked him, “Has it never occurred to you that you’ve been caught in a deception? That you were in a paradise of Hasan’s making? That you never left Alamut?”

“There aren’t any gardens like that at Alamut. The gardens I was in are exactly like the ones described in the Koran.”

One of those present, a senior officer who knew practically all of the fortresses in Iran, interrupted.

“Those could be the gardens of the kings of Daylam, who built them behind the castle for their entertainment. I’ve heard tell about them.”

Ibn Tahir’s eyes widened. Childlike fear showed in them.

“You’re making that up…”

The officer flushed red with anger.

“Hold your tongue, murderer! Anyone who served in the north of the country years ago will tell you that there are beautiful gardens behind Alamut, designed by the kings of Daylam.”

Everything started dancing before ibn Tahir’s eyes. He tried to grab onto one last straw.

“I saw a leopard in the gardens that was as tame as a lamb and followed its mistress around like a dog.”

The men all laughed.

“Princes and grandees have as many of those tamed leopards as you could want. Hunters use them instead of hounds.”

“And the dark-eyed houris who served me?”

“Dark-eyed houris?” The grand vizier gave a painful laugh. “Hasan’s slaves and concubines, bought at all the markets of Iran. My offices have precise records of all of those purchases.”

It was as though a veil fell from ibn Tahir’s eyes. Suddenly everything became clear to him. Miriam—Hasan’s slave and concubine. He, ibn Tahir, the helpless victim of their intrigue, their deception. He felt like his head was about to explode.

His knees weakened. He dropped to the floor and cried.

“O Allah, forgive me!”

The grand vizier lost consciousness from the strain. His throat emitted heavy gasps. The scribe dropped to his knees beside him.

“He’s dying,” he whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes.

The physicians hurried to the victim’s aid. They brought him back to consciousness with water and incense.

“What a crime!” he whispered.

He saw ibn Tahir on his knees before him.

“Do you see through it now?” he asked him.

Ibn Tahir only nodded, unable to produce a single word. His life’s edifice had crumbled within him.

“I’m dying because of your blindness.”

“O Allah! Allah! What have I done!”

“Are you repentant?”

“I am, Excellency.”

“You’re a brave boy. Do you have the courage to make amends for your crime?”

“If only I could.”

“You can. Go back to Alamut and rescue Iran from that Ismaili Satan.”

Ibn Tahir couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He smiled through his tears childishly and looked around. He saw nothing but grim, hateful faces.

“Are you afraid?”

“No, I’m not afraid. I just don’t know what you’re going to do with me.”

“We’re going to let you go back to Alamut.”

The men present protested. The criminal had to accept his punishment! They couldn’t let him go.

The vizier gave an exhausted wave of his hand.

“I know people,” he said. “If anyone can deal with Hasan, this boy can.”

“But it’s unheard of to give a criminal free passage. What will His Highness say?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m still alive and I take the responsibility. Scribe, write!”

He dictated an order.

The men present exchanged glances, shaking their heads.

“This youth who stabbed me is a greater victim of the henchman of Alamut than I am. He has seen the truth. Now he will avenge both himself and me. Have a detachment of men take him to the castle. Have him go in. There he will do what he feels to be his duty.”

“I’ll plant a dagger in his guts.”

Ibn Tahir got up, his eyes glinting with hatred.

“I swear I won’t rest until I’ve either gotten revenge or died.”

“Did you hear? That’s as it should be… Now wash him and bandage his wounds. Give him some new clothes… I’m tired.”

He closed his eyes. The blood in his veins scorched him as though it were embers. He began to shake.

“The end is near,” the doctor whispered.

He gave a signal and everyone left the room. Ibn Tahir’s guards led him away to a separate tent. They washed him, bound his wounds and dressed him, and then tied him to a stake.

What a nightmare life was! The man venerated by all his followers as a saint was in fact the basest of frauds. He toyed with people’s happiness and lives like a child with pebbles. He abused their trust. He calmly encouraged them to see him as a prophet and an emissary of Allah. Was this even possible? He had to go to Alamut! To make sure he wasn’t mistaken. If he wasn’t, then it would be the greatest pleasure to shove the poisoned blade into his body. His life was played out anyway. Allah’s will would be done.

The vizier spent the night with a severe fever. He remained almost continually unconscious. If he came to now and then, horrible visions tormented him. He moaned and called for Allah to help him.

Toward morning his strength had been almost completely sapped. He wasn’t aware of anything. Toward noon his heart stopped beating.

Messengers carried the news to the far corners of the world: “Nizam al-Mulk, Governor of the Empire and the world, Jelal-u-dulah-al-dinh, the honor of the Empire and the faith, the grand vizier of Sultan Alp Arslan Shah and his son Malik, the greatest ruler of Iran, has fallen victim to the master of Alamut!”