Vladimir Bartol - Alamut

Manuchehr and the officers stood some ten paces away from them. He looked provocatively at the emissaries, now and then exchanging a few whispered words with his aides-de-camp and stealing glances up in the direction of the supreme command.

But no sign of any decision was coming from there, as though Hasan had forgotten that the whole army and three enemy emissaries were waiting down here for his nod.

The sun bore down mercilessly on the men and the animals. Yet no one showed the least sign of impatience. They watched indifferently as the enemy messengers began to show signs of unease.

Finally Abu Jafar grew tired of the long wait. He turned to Manuchehr and asked him with mock courtesy, “Is it your custom to leave your visitors waiting outside in the baking sun?”

“We have just one custom here, and that’s to obey the orders of our supreme commander.”

“Then I have no choice but to report this delay to His Excellency, my master Arslan Tash, as part of your master’s answer.”

“As your lordship wishes.”

They fell silent again. Furious, Abu Jafar kept looking up at the sky, wiping the sweat from his face. He began to grow uncertain. Why had they put him in the midst of their army? What was this waiting about? What did their supreme commander have in store for him? His imagination got the best of him, and he was again plagued with fear.

Meanwhile, the commanders had put on their ceremonial white robes. They pulled billowing white coats on over their shoulders. They left the building, accompanied by bodyguards.

This would be the first time Hasan had appeared before his believers since he had seized Alamut. He knew what this would mean for them. Despite himself, he was also feeling agitated.

A trumpet announced his approach. All eyes turned toward the upper terrace. Three men appeared there dressed in dazzling white and surrounded by half-naked, black, mace-bearing guards. The men held their breath. One of the three was unfamiliar. They guessed it was Sayyiduna.

Yusuf and Suleiman’s eyes widened.

“Sayyiduna!” they whispered.

The word spread from man to man.

Sayyiduna had appeared! Something extraordinary was going to happen. The unease that had seized the men passed to the animals too. They started and became impatient.

The three emissaries also sensed the unusual tension. When they caught sight of the three commanders in their ceremonial clothing, they instinctively stood at attention. The blood drained from their faces.

Hasan and his entourage reached the edge of the upper level. It was unusually silent. The only sound was the muffled roar of Shah Rud, the perpetual companion of all life at Alamut.

Hasan raised his arm as a sign that he was about to speak. Then, in a clear voice, he asked Abu Jafar, “Who are you, stranger? And what have you come to Alamut for?”

“Sir! I am Captain Abu Jafar, son of Abu Bakr. I come on the orders of my master, His Excellency the emir Arslan Tash, who has been sent by His Majesty, the Glory and Grace of the state, the omnipotent sultan Malik Shah, to wrest back from you the fortress of Alamut, which you seized by dishonest means. His Majesty views you as his subject. He orders you to turn the castle over to his general, the emir Arslan Tash, within three days. My master guarantees safe passage for you and your men… However, if you do not fulfill this order, His Excellency will view you as an enemy of the state. My master will pursue you relentlessly until he utterly destroys you. For the grand vizier himself, His Excellency Nizam al-Mulk, is approaching Alamut with a great army, and he will show no mercy toward the Ismailis. This is what my master has commanded me to tell you.”

At these final threats his voice shook slightly.

Hasan jeered at him. In his response he mocked the other’s solemn delivery.

“Abu Jafar, son of Abu Bakr! Tell your master, His Excellency the emir Arslan Tash, this: Alamut is well prepared to receive him. However, we are in no way his enemies. Still, if he keeps clattering around these parts with his weapons, the same thing could happen to him as happened to the commander of his vanguard. His head will be stuck on a stake and planted on that tower over there.”

Abu Jafar’s face flushed red. He came forward a step and reached for his sword.

“You dare shame my master? Impostor! Egyptian hireling! Do you know there are thirty thousand of us outside this castle?”

The Ismailis who heard this answer started rattling their weapons. A wave of indignation spread through their ranks.

Hasan remained totally cool and asked, “Is it the custom among the sultan’s men to offend foreign leaders?”

“No. Our custom is to take an eye for an eye.”

“You said something about there being thirty thousand men outside the castle. Tell me, have these men come to catch butterflies or to hear the new prophet?”

“If the Ismailis are butterflies, then they’ve come to catch butterflies. If there’s some new prophet close by here, it’s news to me.”

“So you haven’t heard anything about Hasan ibn Sabbah, the master of heaven and earth? Whom Allah has given the power to open the gates of paradise to the living?”

“I’ve heard about some Hasan ibn Sabbah who is an infidel leader. If my senses don’t deceive me, I’m standing in front of him now. But I don’t know anything about his being master of heaven and earth, or about Allah giving him that kind of power.”

Hasan sought out Suleiman and Yusuf with his eyes. He called to them. They left their positions within the ranks and went toward the steps that led to the upper terrace. He asked them, “Can the two of you swear by all the prophets and martyrs that you have been in paradise, alive, whole, and fully conscious?”

“We can, Sayyiduna.”

“Swear it.”

They so swore, clearly and distinctly.

Abu Jafar was tempted to laugh. But such firm faith and sincere conviction showed in their voices that a shiver went down his spine. He looked at his two aides and could tell from their faces they were happy not to be in his shoes. Clearly he had let things take a wrong turn. Now he spoke with much less firmness than before.

“Sir, I haven’t come here to engage in religious disputes with you. I have brought you the order of His Excellency, my master the emir Arslan Tash, and I await your response.”

“Why are you being evasive, friend? Don’t you care whether you’re fighting for a true prophet or not?”

“I’m not fighting for any prophet. I simply serve His Majesty.”

“Those are exactly the words of the men who fought in the service of other rulers against the Prophet. Which is why they met with destruction.”

Abu Jafar stubbornly looked at the ground. He remained silent.

Hasan turned toward Yusuf and Suleiman. They stood as if bolted to the foot of the steps, gazing at him with gleaming eyes. He descended partway down the steps toward them, reached inside his cloak, and pulled out a bracelet.

“Do you recognize this bracelet, Suleiman?”

Suleiman went as white as a sheet. Froth gathered at the corners of his mouth. In a voice quavering with mindless bliss, he murmured, “I do, master.”

“Go and return it to its owner.”

Suleiman’s knees went weak. Hasan reached inside his cloak again. This time he brought forth a pellet, which he handed Suleiman.

“Swallow it,” he ordered.

Then he turned to Yusuf.

“Would you be happy, Yusuf, if I sent you along with Suleiman?”

“Oh… Sayyiduna.”

Yusuf’s eyes shone with happiness. Hasan handed him a pellet too.

The emir’s emissaries watched this scene with growing trepidation. Soon they noticed both youths getting a remote, absent look in their eyes, as though they were looking at a completely foreign world that was invisible to the others.