Ibn Tahir shook his head in amazement.
“I think I’m beginning to understand, and it’s terrible.”
“Do you know what al-Araf is?”
“I do, Sayyiduna. It’s the wall that separates paradise and hell.”
“Correct. It’s said that that wall is the destination of those who have fought for a higher purpose against the will of their parents, and fallen with sword in hand. They can’t go to paradise, and they don’t deserve hell. It’s their lot to look in both directions. To know! Yes, al-Araf is a symbol for those who have their eyes open and who have the courage to act in accordance with their knowledge. Look. When you believed, you were in heaven. Now that you’ve come to see and deny, you’ve descended into hell. But on Araf there’s no place for either joy or disillusionment. Al-Araf is the balance of good and evil, and the path that leads to it is long and steep. Few have the opportunity to see it. Even fewer dare to tread it, because you’re alone on Araf. It’s what separates you from other people. To endure up here, you have to steel your heart. Do I make sense now?”
Ibn Tahir moaned.
“It’s horrible.”
“What strikes you as so horrible?”
“That the realization comes so late. This should have been the beginning of my life.”
Hasan took him in with a rapid glance. His face brightened. But there was still a quaver of distrust in his voice when he asked him, “What would you do if your life started now?”
“First I’d want to learn everything that the greatest minds have discovered. I’d study all the sciences, delve into all the secrets of nature and the universe. I’d attend all the most famous schools in the world, explore all the libraries…”
Hasan smiled.
“What about love? Have you forgotten about that?”
Ibn Tahir’s face darkened.
“I’d avoid that evil. Women are shameless.”
“Come now, where did you learn that profound truth?”
“You should know…”
“Is that aimed at Miriam? Then you should know that she pleaded for you. For all of you! She’s gone now. She slit her wrists and bled to death.”
Ibn Tahir fell back onto the floor. His heart ached bitterly. Yes, he was still in love with her.
“Whoever intends to scale al-Araf has to be master over love too.”
“I understand.”
“What do you think of me now?”
Ibn Tahir smiled.
“I feel much closer to you.”
“Now perhaps you also understand what it means to observe the world for forty years with a great plan in your heart. And to spend twenty years searching for the chance to realize a great dream. Such a plan and such a dream are like an order that you’ve received from an unknown commander. The world around you is like an enemy army besieging a fortress. You have to get out of the fortress alive if you want to get your order out through the enemy forces. You have to be brave and yet you have to keep your head on your shoulders. Bold and cautious at the same time… Is that clear?”
“It’s becoming clear, Sayyiduna.”
“Do you still think I’m a vicious criminal?”
“No. From the perspective that I see you in now, you’re not a criminal.”
“Would you have the courage to climb al-Araf?”
“From now on it will be my only passion.”
Hasan stepped up to him and cut his bonds.
“Get up. You’re free.”
Ibn Tahir looked at him, uncomprehendingly.
“What do you mean? I don’t under—” he stammered.
“You’re free!”
“What? Me? Free? After I came here to murder you?”
“Ibn Tahir is gone. Now you’re just Avani. You’ve begun your ascent of al-Araf. One crow doesn’t peck the other’s eyes out.”
Ibn Tahir burst into tears. He threw himself at his feet.
“Forgive me! Forgive me!”
“Get far away from here, son. Study, get to know the world. Be afraid of nothing. Cast aside all your prejudices. Let nothing be too lofty or too base for you. Explore everything. Be brave. When nothing remains for you to draw counsel from, come back here. I may not be here anymore. But my people will be. You’ll be welcome, I’ll see to it. When that happens, you’ll be at the summit of Araf.”
Ibn Tahir eagerly kissed his hand. Hasan lifted him up and looked deeply into his eyes for a long time. Then he embraced and kissed him.
“My son,” he stammered, his eyes glistening. “This old heart is happy for you. I’ll give you some money and arrange for you to get anything you might need for your journey…”
Ibn Tahir was moved.
“May I take one more look at the gardens?”
“Come with me to the top of the tower.”
They went out onto the platform and looked down into the gardens. Ibn Tahir sighed. Then he was overcome with emotion. He lay his head down on the rampart and began to cry uncontrollably.
They went back inside and Hasan issued the necessary orders. Ibn Tahir took his things with him, including his poems. They were a precious memento. That same day he rode out from the castle, well armed, supplied with money, and with a pack mule to one side. He looked around himself with wide-open eyes. The whole world seemed reborn and new. He felt as though he had just now opened his eyes. A thousand questions were waiting to be answered. Ibn Tahir the feday had died, and the philosopher Avani had been born.
Hasan returned to his chambers with an unfamiliar, wonderful feeling in his heart. A while later the grand dais rushed in to see him, out of breath.
“What does this mean? Do you know that ibn Tahir has just ridden out of the castle? Everyone saw him.”
Hasan laughed lightheartedly.
“You’re mistaken. Your eyes have deceived you. Ibn Tahir died as a martyr for the Ismaili cause. That must have been someone else you saw. By the way, something pleasant has happened to me, and I’ve been meaning to tell you: I have a son.” The grand dais looked at each other and shook their heads.
The detachment that had escorted ibn Tahir to Alamut headed back toward Nehavend with ibn Vakas as its prisoner. Along the way they paid particular attention to the news. They were waiting for reports of the Ismaili leader’s murder to spread. But there were no such reports.
In Nehavend, Fahr al-Mulk, the son of the dead grand vizier, ordered that his father’s murder be avenged and the escape of the true murderer be covered up by having ibn Vakas beheaded as the vizier’s murderer.
By that time ibn Tahir had already crossed the border of Iran and arrived in India.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Express messengers flew with the news of the grand vizier’s murder from one country to the next, arousing fear throughout the great Seljuk realm. It triggered innumerable unforeseen consequences and caused widespread uncertainty and confusion.
The fortress of Gonbadan near the city of Girdkuh, the Ismaili stronghold in Khuzestan, which had been out of food and water and on the verge of surrendering, was liberated from its besiegers overnight, just like Alamut. The grand vizier, the Ismailis’ mortal enemy, was dead. His successor, Taj al-Mulk, was reputed to be Hasan’s friend, so Kizil Sarik’s forces abandoned their siege and dispersed even before the commander received any instructions from the sultan or the new vizier. The way to the castle was free to Hasan’s messenger, who brought Husein Alkeini’s successor, sheik ibn Atash, an order to hand over the murderer of the grand dai. As early as the next day, a large, well-armed caravan transporting Hosein in irons set out for Alamut.
News of the grand vizier’s murder finally reached the sultan’s eldest son, Barkiarok, who was leading a campaign against rebels on the border with India. He turned over command of part of the army to his brother Sanjar, then, with the remaining units, sped precipitously back to Isfahan to defend his inheritance and thwart any possible designs of his step-mother Turkan Khatun and her vizier, Taj al-Mulk.