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SONG OF YUSUF AND ZULEIKA
Zuleika’s body is taut and tumescent,
Like a bow in a hunter’s hand, ready to shoot.
Whose heart should Zuleika aim at?
Let’s make it this hero’s, Yusuf by name.
Our Zuleika is a heavenly maiden
Made for your pleasure, to grace Allah’s world.
She’s the loveliest one of us, do you hear, Yusuf?
For the Turks you were man enough, are you for her?
Be careful, don’t be like Yusuf of Egypt,
Cruel and hard, don’t shatter her heart.
Our Zuleika is no other man’s woman—
She’s meant just for you, she’s yours from the start.
There are no dark eyes as alluring as Zuleika’s,

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No breasts are so fair, no skin so like silk.
Her lips are the petals of a blossoming tulip,
And her embrace offers joys at your will.
Zuleika wrapped her arms around Yusuf’s neck and drew his head close to hers. Gently,
caressingly, she kissed him on the lips.
His head spun with delight. Before he knew it, she had risen again and given the girls a
signal. They reached for their instruments and began playing a dance melody.
She raised her arms so that her breasts became taut, and she began bending at the waist. At
first she danced lightly, barely moving, solemnly and with great dignity. Yusuf watched her
with aching eyes. He was overcome with a languorousness that made it impossible for him to
think. All he saw was the beautiful body twisting and dancing before him.
“Allah is great,” he whispered to himself.
Zuleika’s  dance  became  more  and  more  animated  and  expressive.  She  gyrated  her  waist
faster  and  faster,  undulating  from  top  to  bottom  like  a  waterfall,  with  artful  quivers
animating each of her limbs in succession. Finally she began spinning wildly around her axis,
ten times, twenty times, and then, like an arrow out of a bow, she went flying into Yusuf’s
arms. Instinctively he embraced her, pressed close to her, and forgot about the rest of the
world. Rokaya approached the pair on tiptoe and spread a coverlet over them.
A while later, when Yusuf awoke from a pleasant slumber, he was again amazed. In his
half-sleep he had become afraid that he would be back at Alamut when he woke up, and that
it would turn out he had just dreamt everything. But now, not far away from himself, he saw
the seven girls surrounding Zuleika. In itself, paradise didn’t seem all that mysterious to him.
He felt rather comfortable around these girls, so that it was a real pleasure to be with them.
Their beautiful limbs shone white through their veils. He saw Zuleika’s taut breasts, and he
felt  a  dull  twinge  of  desire.  His  face  flushed  red,  and  the  recollection  of  the  moments  of
pleasure made his thoughts spin.
“Will anyone in the fortress ever believe me when I tell them about all this?” he wondered.
Meanwhile, the girls were discussing something among themselves. “Now let us have some
fun with him,” Rokaya whispered to Zuleika.
“You’ve got no business barging in on my affairs. I’m in charge, and I’ll tell you when I
need you.”
“Well, what an egotist! Does she think Sayyiduna sent us here just to watch?”
Rokaya was red with anger.
“Let Zuleika make the decisions,” Jada said, trying to pacify her.
“Be quiet, you little dwarf. She’d like to have him all to herself.”
“Be glad he hasn’t noticed you. Otherwise he’d start doubting he’s really in paradise.”
Zuleika looked down her nose at her.
Rokaya was about to fly into a rage. At that moment they noticed that Yusuf was awake
again and watching them. Zuleika’s eyes glinted angrily. They quickly picked up the platters
and jugs and began serving him. She herself got down on one knee beside him and, with the
loveliest of smiles, asked him, “Did you rest well, my dearest?”
Instead  of  responding,  he  wrapped  a  heavy  arm  around  her  belly  and  pulled  her  tightly
toward himself. As he did this, though, his eyes slipped over her shoulder to take in the other
girls. He noticed Jada and Little Fatima, who were kneeling on pillows up against the wall

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and  half-timidly,  half-admiringly  staring  at  him.  He  winked  at  them  encouragingly  and
thought, Nothing wrong with those two turtledoves.
“What are you looking at, dear?”
Zuleika could sense that his thoughts were elsewhere.
“Out the windows. I just now noticed how light it is out there. I’d like to go have a look at
paradise.”
“I’ll take you, Yusuf.”
“Let’s take the others along, so they don’t get lonely.”
He nodded to Jada and Little Fatima.
“Why don’t you go with them if you prefer their company. I can wait here.”
This almost frightened Yusuf. He could hear a stern accusation in Zuleika’s voice.
“Zuleika, that’s not what I meant. I just felt sorry about leaving them here alone.”
“Be quiet. I can see through that. You’ve gotten tired of me.”
“As the Prophet and the martyrs are my witnesses, I’m not lying.”
“You’re in paradise and you swear?”
“Why won’t you listen to me, Zuleika?”
“Admit it. You like Little Fatima and Jada.”
Yusuf didn’t know how else to excuse himself.
“All right, let’s go, Zuleika. The others can do whatever they want.”
The tears gleaming in her eyes were subdued by a victorious smile.
“Follow along behind us. So that you’re close by if we need anything.”
They left the pavilion.
Yusuf looked at the strange lighting and shook his head.
“Nobody at Alamut is going to believe that I really saw all this with my own eyes.”
“Do they have so little trust in you, Yusuf?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll throw anybody who refuses to believe up against a wall.”
They walked on the paths through the fragrant gardens. Yusuf and Zuleika, arm in arm,
walked in front, and behind them came the seven other girls.
“What  a  magical  night!”  Jada  gasped.  “It  keeps  seeming  more  and  more  like  the  real
paradise.”
“How do you suppose Yusuf must feel, if he believes it really is!” Rokaya observed.
“Would  you  believe,  if  you  suddenly  woke  up  in  these  gardens  like  he  did?”  Asma
wondered.
“I don’t know. Maybe, if I hadn’t seen anything of the world yet.”
“Our Master is an unusual man. Do you think that Allah really commanded him to create
these gardens?”
“Don’t ask questions like that, Asma. He’s a powerful master, maybe even a magician. You
have no idea if maybe he isn’t listening to us now.”
“I’m scared, Rokaya.”
Jada clung onto her tightly.
“Sayyiduna said I would spend only this night in paradise. Do you think he’ll send me here
again?” Yusuf asked.
Zuleika flinched. How should she answer him?
“I don’t know, Yusuf. I just know that when you leave that world forever, you’ll be our

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master and we’ll serve you eternally.”
Yusuf felt a strange anxiety. He held onto Zuleika more tightly.
“Are you sorry you’ll have to leave us?”
“Of course I am, Zuleika.”
“Will you think of me?”
“I’ll never forget you.”
They embraced.
A chilly breeze roused them.
They returned to the pavilion.
They began to drink. Yusuf, who had sobered up in the cool air, was soon tipsy again. He
had new courage. While Zuleika was busy pouring wine, he drew Jada close and kissed her.
“Will you be mine when I come here for good?”
In  response  she  wrapped  her  delicate  arms  around  his  neck.  The  wine  had  given  her
courage too.
Zuleika looked back at them. Her eyes flashed angrily.
Jada pulled away from Yusuf and timidly crept away.
Yusuf began laughing. Red with embarrassment, he went over to Zuleika and whispered to
her.
“Didn’t you see, I was just joking?”
“Don’t lie to me. It’s just good I’ve found out who you are in time.”
He tried to embrace her.
“Leave me alone! Go, follow your heart.”
She turned her back on him. Then through the glass she saw Apama’s face looking at her
threateningly. Another instant and she was gone.
But Zuleika was suddenly sober.
“Oh, Yusuf, Yusuf! Don’t you realize I was just teasing you? You’re master over me and all
of us.”
She took him by the hand and gently led him over to the girls.
“You reign here and can choose as you wish.”
They gave him more to drink, and his heart melted with pride and delight. Now he really
was a true ruler, master over the souls and bodies of these seven girls, owner of magnificent
gardens  and  a  fabulous  pavilion.  Only  here  and  there  through  the  drunkenness  he  had  a
flashing realization that he would have to leave soon. But a new jug of wine helped to drown
the sorrow that threatened to overtake him.
The signal reverberated, and Zuleika prepared the drink. Her hand shook as she dropped
the ball into the cup. Little Fatima covered her eyes. Jada fought back a sigh. Yusuf drank the
wine, oblivious to everything. Soon he dropped back onto the pillows and fell fast asleep. The
girls covered him. A chill blew over him, as though the sun had been blotted out.
“Actually,  it’s  still  not  clear  to  me,”  Abu  Ali  said  atop  the  tower,  “what  benefit  you’re
expecting  from  these  ‘ashashin’  if  your  experiment  succeeds  tonight.  Do  you  really  think
you’ll build the strength and power of the institution on them?”
“Absolutely.  I’ve  scrupulously  studied  all  types  of  rule  known  to  history.  I’ve  tried  to
discern their strengths and weaknesses. No ruler has ever been wholly independent. The chief

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obstacles to his sway have always been time and space. Alexander of Macedon swooped down
on half the world with his armies and subjugated it. But he hadn’t yet attained the apogee of
his potential when death took him. The rulers of Rome expanded their power, generation by
generation. They had to conquer every inch of ground by the sword. If space didn’t thwart
them,  it  was  time  that  clipped  their  wings.  Mohammed  and  his  heirs  settled  on  a  better
method.  They  sent  out  missionaries  to  enslave  spirits.  This  way  they  softened  up  the
resistance, and lands fell into their laps like ripe apples. But wherever the spirit was strong—
among the Christians, for instance—their advance broke down. The church in Rome employs
an even better system. Its succession isn’t dependent on kinship and blood, as it is for the
Muslim  caliphs,  but  on  nobility  of  intellect.  Only  the  best  mind  ascends  to  the  position  of
leadership.  Intellect  is  also  what  binds  the  faithful  together  in  such  a  strong  system.  So  it
appears that the church has overcome the slavery of time. But it’s still dependent on space.
Wherever its influence doesn’t extend, it has no power and it has to make do with that. It has
to negotiate and compromise with its opponents and seek out powerful allies.
“I’ve  conceived  of  an  institution  that’s  powerful  enough  in  itself  that  it  won’t  need  any
allies. Until now, rulers have fought with each other through their armies. They’ve also used
their  armies  to  conquer  new  lands  and  subdue  powerful  opponents.  Thousands  of  soldiers
have fallen for an inch of land. The rulers, however, have rarely had to fear for their own
heads, but they are the ones our blows are meant for. Strike the head, and the body will fall.
A ruler who fears for his own head is ready to make concessions. So the greatest power would
belong  to  whoever  can  keep  the  rulers  of  the  world  in  fear.  But  in  order  for  fear  to  be
effective, it has to have a real basis. Rulers are well protected and guarded. Only beings who
not only do not fear death, but who passionately desire it can really threaten them in these
circumstances. Tonight’s experiment is about creating such beings. My plan is to fashion them
into my living daggers, able to overcome time and space. They’re to spread fear and awe, not
among  the  masses,  but  among  the  crowned  and  anointed  heads  of  the  world.  Let  every
potentate who opposes them live in mortal terror.”
There was a long silence on top of the tower. The grand dais didn’t dare look at Hasan or
each other. Finally, Buzurg Ummid broke the silence.
“Everything  you’ve  told  us  so  far,  ibn  Sabbah,  is  perfectly  clear  and  simple  on  the  one
hand, yet so unprecedented and horrible on the other, that I almost have to think that this
plan  couldn’t  have  been  concocted  in  a  mind  dealing  with  the  actual  laws  of  the  known
world. I’d sooner ascribe it to one of those grim loners who confuse dreams with reality.”
Hasan smiled.
“Apparently you too think I’m a madman, like Abul Fazel once did. But that’s only because
you’re  seeing  reality  from  a  well-worn  path.  Indeed,  that’s  the  reality  of  mediocrity.  How
much more realistic is the person who crafts a plan that’s never been tried before—and still
realizes it. Take Mohammed, for instance. Everyone in his district of Mecca laughed at him at
first when he told them his idea. All they saw in him was a half-crazy dreamer. His ultimate
success  showed  that  his  calculations  were  more  realistic  than  the  hesitations  of  all  the
doubters. I’ll submit my plan to the same test.”
“All these consequences would be obvious to me, if I could believe that the change you’ve
predicted is really going to take place in the fedayeen,” Abu Ali said. “But how can I believe
that a living person would ever long for death, no matter how convinced he is that paradise is

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waiting for him in the beyond?”
“My assumption isn’t just founded on my knowledge of the human soul, but also on my
knowledge of how the human body functions. I’ve traveled through more than half the world,
either on horseback, or on donkeys or camels, on foot or by boat, and I’ve gotten to know
countless  peoples,  their  ways  and  traditions.  I’ve  experimented  with  all  kinds  of  human
behaviors, and today I can tell you that the entire human organism, spiritual and physical,
lies before me like an open book. When the fedayeen wake up again in Alamut, their first
feeling will be regret that they’re no longer in paradise. They’ll be able to mitigate that regret
by  talking  about  the  experience  with  their  colleagues.  In  the  meantime,  the  poison  of  the
hashash will be at work in their bodies, awakening an irrepressible desire to enjoy it again.
That desire will be inseparable from their assumptions of heavenly bliss. In their mind’s eye
they’ll  see  their  beloved  girls  and  virtually  die  longing  for  them.  The  erotic  humors  will
regenerate  in  their  systems  and  awaken  new  passion  verging  on  madness.  Eventually  this
condition will become unbearable. Their fantasies, their stories and visions will infect their
surroundings completely. Their churning blood will blot out their reason. They’ll no longer
reflect, they’ll no longer make judgments, they’ll just pine away with desire. We’ll provide
them with comfort. And when the time comes, we’ll give them their assignment and promise
them that paradise will be open to them if they carry it out and perish. They’ll look for death
and they’ll die with a blissful smile on their lips …”
At that moment a eunuch called him from the tower entrance.
“Sayyiduna! Apama asks that you come to the central garden immediately.”
“All right.”
Hasan dismissed him.
When he returned to the platform, he spoke excitedly.
“Apparently something is not right with ibn Tahir. Wait for me here.”
He wrapped his cape more tightly around himself and from his room descended to the base
of the tower.

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C
HAPTER
T
WELVE
It was deathly quiet in Miriam’s pavilion when the eunuchs brought ibn Tahir in. They set
him down and then, as silently as evil spirits, went out again with the litter.
Safiya pressed close to Khadija and sank her frightened eyes into the motionless body that
lay under the black blanket. The other girls sat around the pool, petrified. Miriam knelt in an
elevated area, leaning against her harp. She was staring ahead vacantly.
Her pain had just reintensified. So, Hasan really cared so little for her that he had sent her
a lover! O, if she were to betray him without his knowing it, how much more she would love
him afterward! Yes, she hated him now, she had to hate him. And along with him she also
hated this youth, this blind, naive creature he had delivered into her care this evening. Her
beauty and her skill were supposed to seduce him into believing he was in paradise! How
thoroughly she despised him!
The body moved under the blanket. The girls held their breath.
“Rikana! Uncover him.”
Miriam’s voice was cold and firm.
Rikana  obeyed  her  hesitantly.  They  were  amazed  when  they  saw  ibn  Tahir’s  face.  He
seemed to be almost a child still. A first light down had barely begun to grow on his chin. His
white fez had slipped off his head. He had a high forehead and thick hair cut short. Long
lashes covered his eyes. His red lips pressed lightly together.
“That’s ibn Tahir, the poet!” Khadija whispered.
“He’s the one who seized the Turks’ flag this morning,” Sit said.
“He’s handsome,” Safiya observed.
Now Miriam looked at the sleeping guest. A smile passed over her lips. This is not how she
had pictured her victim.
And this business about his being a hero and a poet? It seemed ridiculous to her.
“Why, he’s still a child,” she said to herself.
She  felt  somewhat  relaxed  now,  after  all.  The  challenge  of  convincing  him  he  was  in
heaven  began  to  appeal  to  her.  Actually,  the  task  Hasan  had  assigned  her  was  fairly
interesting.  What  a  strange  and  wonderful  man,  that  master  of  hers!  His  idea  was  either
insane or magnificently horrible. Now he had set the apparatus in motion. She was one of its
most important cogs. Wasn’t that a sign of his trust? Wasn’t it just petty vanity that had kept
her  from  understanding  him?  After  all,  high  drama  had  always  been  her  passion.  Hadn’t
Hasan given her the perfect opportunity to get back into it? What did life have to offer her
otherwise, except broad farce?
The other girls also felt a weight lift from their shoulders when they saw ibn Tahir’s young
face. Even timid Safiya observed, “It won’t be hard convincing him he’s in paradise.”
Miriam drew her fingers over the strings of her harp.
“Start singing and dancing!”
The  atmosphere  in  the  pavilion  grew  relaxed.  The  girls  picked  up  their  instruments  and
their drums and got ready to dance. It was a delight to watch them free their limbs from their
veils. Miriam smiled at them once they were moving and undulating seductively, as though

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their new guest were already watching them.
“He’s still not going to wake up,” Sit observed in frustration, setting down her drum and
little bells.
“Let’s sprinkle some water on him,” Rikana suggested.
“Are you crazy?” Khadija scolded her. “What kind of first impression of paradise would he
have then?”
“Keep singing and dancing,” Miriam said. “Let me try to bring him to.”
She  knelt  down  beside  him  and  gazed  intently  at  his  face.  His  features  struck  her  as
handsome and aristocratic.
She lightly touched his shoulder with her hand. He twitched. She heard some incoherent
muttering. She felt both fear and intense curiosity at the same time. What would he say, what
would he do, when he found himself in this strange place?
Softly she called him by name.
He shot up lightning-fast. He opened his eyes wide and looked around confused.
“What is this?”
His voice was shy and trembling.
The girls’ singing and dancing came to a halt. Their faces expressed intense strain.
Miriam quickly regained her footing.
“You’re in paradise, ibn Tahir.”
He looked at her astonished. Then he lay back down.
“I was having a dream,” he muttered.
“Did you hear that? He can’t believe he’s in paradise,” Khadija whispered, distraught.