Samarkand pdfdrive com

CHAPTER 17
Alamut. A fortress on a rock six thousand feet high in a countryside of bare
mountains, forgotten lakes, sheer cliffs and narrow passes. The greatest army
could only reach it in single file and the most powerful catapults could not graze
its walls.
The Shahrud River, nicknamed the ‘mad river’, dominated the mountains,
swelling up in springtime with the melted snow of the Elburz mountains and
snatching up trees and stones as it sped down its course. Woe to him who dared
approach it! Woe to the army which dared pitch camp on its banks!
Every evening a thick, woolly mist rose from the river and the lakes, stopping
half-way up the cliffs. To those who were there, the castle of Alamut was at such
times an isle in an ocean of clouds. Seen from below, it was the abode of the
jinns.
In the local dialect, Alamut means ‘the eagle’s lesson’. It was told that a
prince who wanted to build a fortress to control these mountains released a
trained bird of prey. The bird, after flying around in the sky, came to land on this
rock. The master understood that no other site would be better.
Hassan Sabbah had imitated the eagle. He had searched the length and
breadth of Persia for somewhere to gather, teach and organize his faithful. He
had learnt from his misadventure in Samarkand that it would be unrealistic to try
and seize a large city, for confrontation with the Seljuks would be immediate and
would inevitably turn out to the empire’s advantage. He thus needed something
else, a mountain redoubt which was inaccessible and impregnable, a sanctuary
from which he could develop his activity in all directions.
Just as the flags captured in Transoxania were being unfurled in the streets of

---

Isfahan, Hassan was in the vicinity of Alamut. The site had been a revelation for
him. From the moment he first saw it from in the distance, he understood that it
was here, and nowhere else, that his task would be accomplished and that his
kingdom would arise. Alamut was at that time one fortified village among so
many others, where a few soldiers lived with their families along with some
artisans, farmers and a governor, named by Nizam al-Mulk, who was a
courageous nobleman called Mahdi the Alawite, whose only concerns were his
irrigation water and his harvest of nuts, raisins and pomegranates. The turmoil
taking place in the empire did not disturb his slumber.
Hassan started by sending out some companions, local men, to join the
garrison, preach and convert. Some months later they were ready to announce to
the master that the ground was prepared and that he could come. Hassan turned
up disguised as a Sufi dervish as was his practice. He strolled around, inspecting
and checking everything. The governor received the holy man and asked him
what would please him.
‘I need this fortress,’ said Hassan.
The governor smiled, thinking that the dervish certainly did not lack humour.
His guest, however, was not smiling.
‘I have come to take possession of this place. I have won over all the men of
the garrison.’
The outcome of this exchange was, admittedly, as extraordinary as it was
incredible. Orientalists, who have consulted the chronicles of the time,