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 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 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.
CHAPTER TWELVE
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.