Hasan laughed again for the first time in a long while.
“Well, they know plenty for our purposes. You see, I’ve got the same problem as you. I don’t have anyone I can leave my legacy to.”
“You have a son.”
“Yes. I’m waiting for him to be brought to the castle any day now. I’m planning to shorten him by a head.”
Apama looked at him carefully.
“Are you joking?”
“Why should I joke? Does the scoundrel who murdered my brightest right-hand man deserve any better?”
“But he’s your son!”
“My son?! What does that mean? Maybe—maybe, I say, because you know how cautious I am—maybe he’s my physical offspring, but he’s never been my spiritual son. Before I was exaggerating just a bit. Maybe there is somebody after all who will be able to assume my legacy. Except that he’s far away somewhere wandering the world. His name should be familiar to you. It’s ibn Tahir.”
“What did you say? Ibn Tahir? Isn’t he dead? Wasn’t he the one who killed the vizier?”
“Yes, he killed him. But he came back alive and well.”
He told her about his last meeting with him. The story strained her credulity.
“And it was you, Hasan, who released him?”
“Yes, it was me.”
“How is that possible?”
“If you really knew my heart, you’d understand. He had become one of us. My son, my younger brother. Every night I track his progress in my thoughts. And I relive my youth in the process. I worry for him. In my mind I see his eyes being opened, I see him making discoveries, I see his view of the world and his character being formed. Oh, how powerfully I feel with him!”
Apama shook her head. This was a thoroughly new Hasan for her. When he left, she said to herself, “He must be very lonely to have seized onto someone so tightly. Yes, he’s a terrible and a good father.”
The next day the caravan from Gonbadan delivered Hasan’s son Hosein, bound, to Alamut. The whole garrison turned out to see the murderer of the grand dai of Khuzestan with their own eyes.
Shackled in heavy irons, Hosein stared grimly at the ground before him. He was slightly taller than his father, but bore a striking resemblance to him otherwise, except that there was something wild and almost beastly in his eyes. Now and then he cast sidelong glances at the men surrounding him. Each man caught in that glance felt his flesh crawl. It was as though he would have liked to leap at them and tear them into little pieces. Having the chains prevent him from doing that clearly tormented him.
Manuchehr received him as a prisoner.
“Take me to my father now!”
Manuchehr acted as though he didn’t hear him.
“Abuna! Take six men and throw this prisoner in the dungeon!”
Hosein frothed at the mouth.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
Manuchehr turned his back on him.
Hosein gritted his teeth. Even though a chain bound his legs together, he managed to kick Manuchehr from behind.
Manuchehr turned around instantly, his face flushed with rage. He swung his arm and landed a blow to Hosein’s face.
Hosein howled with rage.
“Oh, if I were free! I’d rip the guts out of your belly, you dog and son of a dog!”
Abuna and his men seized the prisoner and dragged him off to the dungeon beneath the guard tower, the most notorious one in Alamut. They shoved him roughly into a cell. He staggered and fell on his face.
“You wait! When I get free, I’ll slaughter you like mangy dogs!” he shouted as they locked the door on him.
For two full months he had been in chains. He felt like a wild cat that’s been caught and put in a cage. He came to hate the whole world. He felt that if he were let free, he would strangle the first person he laid hands on. He felt no remorse for having killed Husein Alkeini, nor did he fret for his fate or his life. Even as a child he had terrorized everyone around him. He had an unbridled and violent temper. His father had left him when he was still a small child. Like Khadija and Fatima, he had been born to Hasan’s second wife. He lived with his mother at her parents’ home in Firuz Kuh. His grandfather tried to tame him with the rod and strict fasts. But Hosein was relentless. He defied his grandfather and anyone who got in the way of the pursuit of his passions. His grandfather was also the first person to earn Hosein’s fatal enmity. Once he waited in ambush for him and killed him with a heavy stone. From that day forward his relatives and the whole neighborhood really came to fear him. He refused to work in the fields or even tend the livestock, preferring to spend his time with soldiers and ride their horses.
When they told him that his father had returned from Egypt to the north of Iran, he immediately decided to go looking for him. He knew nothing about him at that point. He had merely heard that he had traveled a great deal and lived a tumultuous and unsettled life, so he imagined that the two of them together would have colorful adventures and enjoy a life of aimless, unpressured vagabondage. But barely had the two met, when he realized how far off the mark he had been. His father demanded precisely those things of him that he most detested and despised: study, obedience and diligence. He quickly came to hate him. At first he managed to hide it somewhat. But soon it exploded from him with full force. “Studying is for idiots, and obedience is for your underlings. I’m not interested in either. Studying stinks and I despise obedience!” “Fine,” Hasan replied. He ordered him bound to a pillar and lashed in front of the entire garrison. Then he handed him over to Husein Alkeini as a foot soldier, to break his spirit. At Gonbadan he rebelled against the grand dai, and when the latter tried to imprison him at Hasan’s order, Hosein killed him.
He hadn’t given much thought to whatever punishment might await him for that murder, nor had it been clear to him how great a crime he had committed in the estimation of the Ismailis. The fact that Husein Alkeini had intended to throw him, the supreme commander’s son, in chains had struck him as so great an injustice that he couldn’t have responded to it in any other way. Moreover, he believed that by dint of his distinguished parentage it went without saying that he was permitted more than others. If only he had been able, he would have done the same thing to sheik ibn Atash, who finally put him in chains. Now he was furious that they had thrown him in this cell instead of immediately taking him to see his father.
Abu Ali notified Hasan that his son had been delivered to the fortress.
“Good. I’ll talk to him. Have them send him to me.”
Abuna and his men came to get the prisoner.
“Get up! Quick! Sayyiduna will see you.”
Hosein grinned wildly, showing all his teeth.
“Praise be to Allah! Soon I’ll be lashing all your backs to ribbons.”
Outside the building of the supreme command Abuna turned him over to the men of Hasan’s bodyguard. A strange, instinctive fear came over him. He could see that since he had left, life at the castle had changed greatly. He could feel a cold, iron discipline everywhere. Everything indicated that the castle was ruled by a firm and powerful hand.
The giant eunuchs in the corridors and at the doorways evoked his distrust. The enormous mace bearer who stood motionless at the top of the stairs, yet whose eyes followed his every movement, struck him as some kind of evil portent for his cause. He would never have thought his father would protect himself so forcefully.
He entered Hasan’s room but remained standing stubbornly near the doorway. His father was sitting on a raised divan and was clearly immersed in studying some documents. Only after a while did he look up at his son. He stood up. He nodded for the guards to withdraw. Then he inspected Hosein from head to foot.
“First take these chains off of me!”