“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.