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weaknesses.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Thank you.”
He returned to the girls.
“Zuleika!”  he  called  out.  “Pick  seven  companions.  They’ll  help  you  welcome  Yusuf,  and
you’ll be responsible for your success.”
“Yes, Our Master.”
She turned to face the others and began boldly calling out.
“Hanafiya! Asma! Habiba! Little Fatima! Rokaya! Zofana!”
“And take that little one that fainted too,” Hasan said. “Then you’ll have enough.”
Next it was Fatima’s turn.
“Zainab! Khanum! Turkan! Shehera! Sara! Leila! Aisha!”
Halima looked beseechingly at Fatima. When she didn’t call her, she insisted.
“Take me too!”
At the same instant Hasan spoke.
“That will be enough.”
But when he heard the girls laughing at Halima’s plea, he said with a gleeful grin, “Go on,
take her too, Fatima.”
With Fatima, Sara and Zainab, whom should she be afraid of now? She rushed up to Hasan,
fell to her knees, and kissed his hand.
“Just be smart, tadpole,” he said.
He patted her kindly on the cheek and sent her back to join the others. She got back in line,
blushing and dizzy with happiness.
Miriam checked to see who was left. Safiya, Khadija, Sit, Jovaira, Rikana and Taviba were
still there. Now she had herself under control again.
Hasan called the leaders to join him.

---

“The eunuchs will bring the heroes to the gardens while they’re asleep. Fortify them with
milk and fruit to begin with. Before the visitors arrive, each girl is allowed to drink one cup
of  wine  for  courage.  No  more  than  that!  You  can  have  more  after  the  youths  are  drunk
themselves,  but  don’t  overdo  it!  You’ll  report  to  me  about  everything  in  detail  afterwards.
Listen for the signal to wrap things up. The horn will sound three times. Then you should take
a cup of wine and dissolve a substance in it that you’ll get from Apama. The youths are to
drink it immediately. They’ll fall asleep and the eunuchs will carry them back out.”
When he had made all these arrangements, he looked toward the girls one more time. Then
he bowed slightly in farewell. Adi and Apama were waiting for him by the boats. He gave
them his final instructions.
“Give this to the leaders. Don’t let the visitors see you. But keep an eye on Miriam. She
mustn’t be left alone with her hero.”
Then, with his entourage, he returned to the castle.
Once in the castle, Hasan dismissed his two friends. He had himself hoisted to the top of the
second  tower,  where  his  bodyguards,  the  eunuchs,  lived.  A  horn  announced  his  arrival.
Captain Ali came running toward him and reported that everything was ready.
Fifty black giants stood in two rows the length of the hallway. Armed, motionless and erect,
they stared fixedly ahead. Hasan reviewed them without saying a word. Every time he stood
before them, a sense of danger came over him. It wasn’t a disagreeable feeling, in fact it gave
him a peculiar kind of pleasure. He knew that if a single one of those hundred arms reached
out, he would never again see the light of day. And yet, why didn’t any of them do that?
Because all fifty eunuchs had been prepared to execute his every order blindly? Where did he
get this power that he exerted over people? “That’s the power of intellect,” he explained it to
himself. These castrated beasts feared nothing in the world, except strength of character.
When he had finished reviewing all his men, he called Captain Ali aside to issue orders.
“After last prayers wait for me in the cellar with nine men. I’ll bring you three sleeping
youths from my tower. You’ll take them to the gardens on litters. Adi will be waiting for you
there.  Tell  him  the  names  of  the  sleeping  heroes,  and  he’ll  show  you  where  to  take  them.
Don’t let it bother you if they moan or toss and turn on the way there. But if any of them lifts
the cover or gives a sign that he’s woken up, have whoever is accompanying that litter cut his
throat.  The  same  holds  for  the  trip  back.  You  can  turn  any  corpses  over  to  me.  Do  you
understand everything?”
“I understand, Sayyiduna.”
“After last prayers, then.”
He gestured to the captain farewell, walked back past the motionless rows of guards, and
took one lift down and the other up into his tower.
Abu Ali lived in rooms within the center of the supreme command building. He had given
one  of  his  rooms  to  Buzurg  Ummid  when  the  latter  had  arrived  at  the  castle.  When  they
returned  from  the  gardens,  they  changed  clothes  and  then  locked  themselves  in  Abu  Ali’s
quarters.
For a while they looked at each other silently, trying to guess each other’s thoughts. Finally
Abu Ali asked, “What’s your feeling about this?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

---

“Ibn Sabbah is a great man, no doubt about it.”
“Yes, a great man …”
“But sometimes I think … this is just between the two of us, what we say here. Agreed?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sometimes I think he must be terribly overwrought, that maybe he’s not completely right
in the head …”
“Indeed, sometimes his ideas strike me as insane … at least the ones that are alien to us
ordinary mortals and even provoke horror in us.”
“What  do  you  think  of  his  plan,  this  unusual  testament  that  he  plans  to  leave  us  as  his
legacy?” Abu Ali queried.
“King Naaman comes to mind for me in this case. Senamar built the magnificent palace at
Habernak for him. In gratitude, the king ordered him thrown over the battlements of his own
building.”
“Right, the fedayeen are going to get Senamar’s reward for their devotion.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Me?”
Abu Ali thought for a moment. His life had been empty since he had lost his two wives and
his  two  children.  Some  fifteen  years  ago,  because  of  his  proselytizing,  he  had  had  to  flee
Qazvin for Syria. He had left two wives at home: Habiba, who had borne him two children,
and the younger Aisha, who was the joy of his life. Three years later he went back. Habiba
told  him  that  during  his  absence  Aisha  had  had  an  affair  with  a  rich  youth  from  the
neighborhood. Abu Ali went mad with jealousy. First he slaughtered the seducer, and then his
unfaithful wife. He also hated Habiba for revealing Aisha’s unfaithfulness to him. In his first
flush of anger he loaded her and the two children onto camels and took them to Basra. There
he sold them into slavery. Later he searched everywhere for them, but in vain. Finally Hasan
had  called  on  him  to  unite  with  him.  Now  his  work  for  the  Ismaili  cause  was  the  entire
substance of his life.
He replied, “It’s not for me to choose. I’ve said ‘a’ and that means I’ll say ‘b,’ as well.”
Buzurg Ummid stared gloomily at the floor. He was a tough soldier at heart. In Rudbar he
had  once  ordered  fifteen  men  beheaded  for  breaking  their  vows  and  trying  to  leave  the
Ismaili ranks. Against an enemy he found any trick, any violence permissible. But pulling a
trick like this on your own most faithful adherents?
“What does he plan to do with the fedayeen when they come back from the gardens?” he
asked.
“I don’t know. If the experiment succeeds, I imagine he’ll use these ‘ashashin’ as a terrible
weapon against his enemies.”
“And do you think he’ll succeed?”
“That is written in the stars. I think his idea is crazy. But his plan for taking over Alamut
seemed crazy to me too. And yet, he succeeded.”
“He’s so alien to me that I can barely follow him.”
“The madness of great men works wonders.”
“I have a son who is dear to me. I’d been planning to send him to Hasan’s school. Allah
himself has guided me not to do that. Now I’m going to send him to the opposite side of the
world. A messenger should reach him tonight.”

---

Buzurg  Ummid  loved  his  life  and  his  wives.  His  first,  Mohammed’s  mother,  had  died  in
childbirth. He had been disconsolate for many years. Later he took a second one, then a third
and a fourth, and now he had a whole haremful of them in Rudbar. The favors of all of them
put  together  barely  compensated  for  his  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  first  one.  He  was  from  an
Ismaili family and so was unable to advance in the sultan’s service. He had traveled to Egypt,
and  the  caliph  there  had  sent  him  to  Hasan,  who  provided  him  with  means,  position  and
power.  He  was  an  outstanding  commander,  but  he  lacked  any  creativity,  so  he  needed
someone from whom he could get precise orders.
“It’s true, we have no choice but to stand by Hasan. If he perishes, we’ll perish with him.
But if he succeeds, that success will offset the harshness of his means.”
“I don’t suppose we really have any other choice. I admire Hasan, which makes it easier for
me to go through thick and thin with him.”
Following this conversation, Buzurg Ummid hurried to his room and wrote his son a letter.
“Mohammed, my son, joy of my life! I urge you not to come to Alamut. Leave for Syria or,
if possible, for Egypt. Look up my friends there and tell them I’ve sent you. They will take you
in. Listen to a father’s love speaking. My heart won’t rest until I know that you’ve arrived
there.”
He found a messenger and dispatched him to Muzaffar in Rai.
“Keep to the east,” he warned him, “so that the sultan’s vanguard doesn’t take you captive.
Muzaffar will tell you where you can find my son Mohammed. Seek him out and give him
this letter. If you do this, when you return you’ll get a handsome reward.”
He gave him some money for the road. When he saw him leaving the castle, he felt a great
weight lifting from his shoulders.
Toward evening the doctor and Abu Soraka settled down on the roof of their empty harems.
They  had  large  pieces  of  roast  and  plenty  of  wine  before  them.  They  reached  heartily  for
both,  gazing  through  the  foliage  of  the  trees  at  the  commotion  in  front  of  the  castle,  and
philosophizing.
“Now here’s a colorful life for you,” the Greek said in good spirits. “Years ago, when I was
studying  in  Byzantium,  I  would  never  have  dreamed  that  in  my  old  age  I  would  be
celebrating some Ismaili victory in some fortress far away in the north of Iran. I thought those
noisy banquets back in Sodom and Gomorrah would go on forever. And then, for a handful of
gold pieces, you practically lose your head. They put me in chains and threw me in prison.
Instead of paying my debts for me, my pals just vanished, so I wound up on a galley. Later I
was sold into slavery and wound up as physician to the caliph of Cairo. Ibn Sabbah’s prestige
at the court was high then, and I had the good luck to be assigned to him. Something he saw
in me made him buy me and take me with him as a free man. And today I’d be a perfectly
happy man, if only Hasan hadn’t made us empty the harems.”
Abu Soraka smiled.
“The only consolation is that we’ve all been equally deprived.”
The doctor winked at him.
“You think? What’s that back there, behind the castle? Perhaps mosques for Hasan and his
grand dais?”
Abu Soraka looked at him carefully.

---

“Do you still think that Hasan built harems for himself back there?”
“What else? I’ve learned that caravans have brought many beauties to the castle. Did any of
us see them?”
“I don’t believe that. I know there have been some preparations back there. But I’ve never
doubted that they were intended for an absolute emergency, for an escape, in case a siege
lasted too long.”
“You’re an easy touch. I know Hasan. He’s a philosopher. And, as such, he knows that the
quest for pleasure is the first and foremost purpose of life. He’d have to be some kind of an
idiot otherwise, when he has everything at his disposal. What else is there besides what we
perceive  with  our  senses?  That  alone  is  the  truth  and  that’s  why  it’s  wise  to  follow  your
passions.  Because  the  worst  misfortune  is  not  to  be  able  to  attain  something  that  your
instincts drive you to want. In that regard I have to praise ibn Sabbah as a wise man. He’s
found  a  way  to  provide  himself  with  everything.  Husein  Alkeini  spent  an  eternity  looting
caravans for him all through Khorasan and Khuzestan. Now he’s even collecting a tax from
his believers for him. Not a bad idea!”
“He’s a great master,” Abu Soraka said. Privately he worried that some invisible ears might
hear them talking about the supreme commander so irreverently.
The Greek laughed loudly.
“A great and excellent master, even! Just think: when he and I were in Egypt,  he  had  a
terrible falling out with the commander of the caliph’s bodyguard, Badr al-Jamali. Everyone
was afraid for his life. But he just up and went to the caliph and made him a great bargain.
You see, he knew they were planning to put him on a ship that night. So he promised the
caliph that he would recruit followers for him in Iran and help bring down Baghdad. He got
three heavy bags of gold pieces for that. And he’s still got the caliph in a vice. If too much
time goes by with no caravans from Egypt, he sends a messenger there and tells him he’ll
start working for himself. Then suddenly the caliph gets all busy. He squeezes his people for
more tax and the solicitous rayah in Egypt pays so that Our Master can afford God knows
what luxuries beneath the castle of Alamut. That’s why I really have to consider him a true
philosopher.  While  you  and  I,  meanwhile,  can  sit  and  wipe  our  tears  over  our  absent
wives …”
Abu Ali suddenly appeared on the rooftop.
The dai and the doctor were visibly frightened.
“Peace  be  with  you,  friends,”  he  greeted  them  amiably,  smiling  at  their  embarrassment.
“I’ve come for you, Abu Soraka. You need to inform Yusuf, Suleiman and ibn Tahir that I’ll
expect  them  between  fourth  and  fifth  prayers  in  front  of  the  supreme  command.  They’re
going to appear before Sayyiduna, so they need to get themselves ready appropriately. Good
evening!”
The  fedayeen  were  excited  when  they  heard  that  three  of  them  were  going  to  see
Sayyiduna that evening. They wondered and tried to guess why he would have summoned
them.
“He’s planning to reward them for their courage in battle,” ibn Vakas ventured.
“What courage?” Obeida jeered. “I’m not referring to ibn Tahir. He actually seized the flag
from the Turks. But what business do Suleiman, who let himself get thrown from his horse
with his saddle, and Yusuf, who vanquished his fear by roaring—what business do they have

---

with Sayyiduna?”
“Suleiman had the most kills. And Yusuf helped him open a path for the others,” Jafar said.
“Yes, that’s right,” Naim confirmed. “I was there.”
“You?” Obeida mocked him. “You were hiding behind Yusuf’s back so the Turks wouldn’t
see you.”
“You Moorish eyesore!”
Naim walked off angrily.
During this time, the chosen three bathed and prepared for their audience that evening. All
three of them were excited, but Yusuf was practically shaking.
“How are we supposed to behave?” he asked in a voice that was both timid and childlike.
“However the grand dai tells us to,” ibn Tahir offered.
“By  the  beard  of  the  martyr  Ali,”  Suleiman  exclaimed,  goose  bumps  and  cold  sweats
coming over him in anticipation. “I would never have dreamed I would soon have the honor
of  standing  before  Sayyiduna.  We  must  have  done  something  this  morning  to  deserve  this
distinction.”
“Do you really think that’s what he’s summoned us for?” Yusuf wanted to know.
“I think you have a bad conscience,” Suleiman laughed. “Maybe he’s just summoned ibn
Tahir  and  me  for  that.  And  you,  so  he  can  scold  you  for  sounding  off  without  shooting  a
single arrow.”
“Stop trying to scare me. You’re the one the Turk unsaddled.”
Suleiman bit his lip.
“Wait  till  you’re  standing  in  front  of  Sayyiduna,”  he  said  a  while  later.  “We’ll  see  how
clever your responses are then.”
Yusuf got upset.
“Do  you  think  Sayyiduna  is  Abu  Soraka,  and  that  he’ll  be  asking  me  about  the  seven
imams?”
“Both of you be careful you don’t go too far,” ibn Tahir intervened.
They put on white cloaks and close-fitting white pants. Then they put tall white fezzes on
their heads, and in this ceremonial dress they rejoined their comrades.
They  were  unable  to  eat.  The  other  fedayeen  inspected  them  jealously.  As  they  were
leaving, Naim asked ibn Tahir, “When you get back, are you going to tell us what it was like
and what Sayyiduna is like?”
“Anything you want to know,” ibn Tahir impatiently replied.
Abu Ali was waiting for them outside the entrance to the supreme command. He noticed that
their  faces  were  feverishly  preoccupied.  If  only  they  knew  what  they’re  getting  into!  was  the
thought that flashed through his mind. Then he spoke.
“Be brave. When you go in, bow deeply until Sayyiduna gives you permission to stand back
up.  Whomever  he  speaks  to  must  kiss  his  hand  reverently.  Be  brief  and  sincere  in  your
responses. Because Sayyiduna sees into everyone’s soul.”
They climbed up the tower steps. As they reached the Moor at the top, Suleiman practically
ran into him. He leapt back in fright, then scanned the floor ahead of him as though he were
looking for whatever he had bumped into.
“Even I’d be afraid of this one,” Yusuf whispered to ibn Tahir.

---

They entered the antechamber, and all three were seized with a great anxiety.
The curtain rose and a resonant voice called out.
“Come in!”
Abu Ali went ahead, and Suleiman followed him boldly. Yusuf’s teeth were chattering. He
waited for ibn Tahir to go ahead of him. Then he had no choice but to go in after them.
Next  to  Buzurg  Ummid,  whom  they  already  knew,  stood  a  man  wearing  a  simple  gray
burnoose. A white turban covered his head. He was not tall, nor did he seem fearsome or