“All of this is like a fairy tale,” he said to himself. “If I myself weren’t the cause of all these convulsions, I wouldn’t believe them. It’s true, some wishes have a miraculous power. They function as though they had substance, as though they were a hammer made of actual steel.”
He was conscious of a strange emptiness, as though everything around him had fallen silent all at once. Something huge, terrible and yet beautiful had left him and found its place in the sun outside of him. He felt homesick for his strong, restless days. Now the moment had come for him to inspect his edifice one more time, distinguish it from everything that surrounded it, define the limits of its power, and ensure its survival for that time when he was no longer.
And just as he had half a year ago, at the beginning of winter, reis Abul Fazel Lumbani arrived at the castle from Rai with an important message. He reported that the emir of Sava, Tekeshtegin, had taken Barkiarok in and put all his forces at his disposal. He wanted to use Rai, the old capital of Iran, to proclaim him sultan, so he asked Muzaffar for help and support. Muzaffar advised him to consult with Hasan first and get his approval. And for that purpose he, Abul Fazel, had come to Alamut. As soon as he was proclaimed sultan, Barkiarok would set out with his whole army for Isfahan and depose Mohammed.
Both of the grand dais, Manuchehr and Abul Fazel Lumbani, met with the supreme leader in council.
“This is a moment of crucial importance,” Hasan said. “The caliph and almost all the generals and their forces have sworn allegiance to Mohammed. We mustn’t deceive ourselves. If the sultana’s faction were to win, then we Ismailis would be the first of Taj al-Mulk’s targets. Like any new ruler, he’s going to try to get rid of the shield-bearers who helped him to power—and that’s us. He’s already proven to us that that’s the kind of man he is. Barkiarok will also try to shake us off as soon as he doesn’t need us anymore. But we have to prevent that from the very outset. So our watchword should be: no ruler must ever again attain unlimited power in Iran! I think that for now we can afford to help Barkiarok overthrow Mohammed. Let Tekeshtegin proclaim him sultan in Rai. When he moves against Isfahan, we’ll cover his back. But as the saying goes, let us strike while the iron is hot. Barkiarok has to give us a written commitment that if he’s successful, he will not attack our castles or persecute our followers anywhere in the country. And just so he’s very clear about the extent of our power, we’re going to demand a yearly tax from him for our support. The time has come when rulers and potentates have to know that their lives are in our hands.”
None of the leaders contradicted him or had any comments to make. They composed a letter to Barkiarok, listing their conditions.
After that, the conversation turned to more pleasant things. A jug of wine passed from hand to hand. Suddenly Hasan turned to reis Lumbani and asked him, smiling, “What came of that cure for my madness, after all? Have you still not brought it along with you?”
Abul Fazel scratched behind his ear.
“You know, ibn Sabbah,” he replied, “I’ve gotten old, and I’m no longer amazed by anything in the world. I’ve seen that something I thought was wise seven years ago has turned out to be stupid, and that apparent madness has proven to be the highest wisdom. There’s nothing I understand anymore, so I’ve given up making judgments. I’ve served my time.”
Hasan laughed again for the first time in ages.
“My dear reis, my dear reis!” he said. “Now you see what brittle legs were supporting the edifice you once thought had been built to last an eternity. All it took was a handful of men whom I could trust unconditionally, and I was able to cut down the Seljuk oak. Let me ask you: is there any other ruler or religious dignitary, prophet or wise man, any kingdom or institution that we here at Alamut ought to be afraid of?”
“No, there’s none, ibn Sabbah. Because your living daggers can reach anyone who crosses you. With weapons like that, who would want to be your enemy?”
“There are such people, dear friend. But the time will come when even princes on the far side of the world will live in fear of our power. And then we’ll collect tribute from all the emperors, kings and potentates beyond the seas.”
Abul Fazel only shook his head.
“I believe you, because I have to believe. But I don’t understand. How are you able to find youths who are so willing to sacrifice their lives at your command?”
“It’s because they know that death will immediately transport them to a place of heavenly delights.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to believe in your fairy tales about paradise?”
Hasan winked at him playfully.
“Would you like to convince yourself with your own senses that it exists?”
“Allah forbid I should be so curious!” he exclaimed. “Because you’re capable of anything, and if you finally did convince me that your paradise exists, I’d probably attack some sultan or vizier with a dagger, even despite these old bones and this gray beard.”
The leaders all laughed heartily.
The next morning Abul Fazel left Alamut, heavily laden with gifts and sitting comfortably on a camel’s back.
A week hadn’t yet passed when a messenger brought Hasan a letter from Barkiarok, in which he consented to the conditions. And lo and behold, Tekeshtegin proclaimed Barkiarok sultan in Rai. At that point both of them planned to move against Isfahan with their army, but Taj al-Mulk and his forces had already launched an assault against Sava. At Barugjir, between Hamadan and Harb, the armies collided. Taj al-Mulk was defeated. He was captured, and Barkiarok ordered him beheaded. Now the road to Isfahan was clear. He arrived outside the city at the beginning of the year one thousand and ninety three. Hasan, the second-born of the murdered grand vizier, arrived from Khorasan with his forces and joined him. Barkiarok appointed him to be his secretary. They welcomed a swelling tide of deserters from the camp of the sultan’s widow. Finally she had to negotiate with him and sue for peace. He even defeated and beheaded his uncle, Ismail ibn Yakuti, the regent of Azerbaijan who had sold out to Turkan Khatun. But he had barely done that when Ismail’s half-brother, Tutush of Damascus, rebelled against him. Tutush attacked Antioch and joined forces with the regent of Aleppo, Aksonkor. He occupied Mosul and demanded that the terrified caliph proclaim him sultan.
All of the outlying provinces of Iran were suddenly ablaze with rebellion. One after the other, the subjugated kings and princes proclaimed their sovereignty. Even the regents threw off the central authority of Isfahan, seeking complete independence. The conflicts between individual authorities worsened. An indescribable chaos that no one had experienced before came to dominate Iran. The poor caliph had to proclaim first one man sultan, then another, depending on the proximity and military might of a given pretender to the throne. Thus, there were months in Baghdad when the khutba had to be prayed for several sultans in a row.
This was the moment for Hasan to issue his final decree and to put the final touches on his edifice.
He assembled the leaders of all his fortresses at Alamut and invited his friends and adherents from far and wide.
It was a splendid winter day. Snow hadn’t yet fallen, except on the highest mountains. The chill air was dry and crisp. But as the sun rose over the peaks, it grew pleasantly warmer.
Very early, while it was still pitch dark, the drums had sounded, rousing the men from their sleep. Everyone—soldiers, fedayeen, the faithful and the leaders—dressed in their ceremonial clothes. Word went around that important and far-reaching events would take place at Alamut that very day.