It needed a woman from the harem to be caught in the act of poisoning someone to make the Sultan stop doubting the usefulness of his chief of spies and overnight he made him his confidant. However, it was Nizam who took umbrage at the friendship which sprang up between Hassan and Malikshah. The two men were young, and they would happily chat together at the expense of the old Vizir, particularly on Fridays, the day of the shölen, the traditional banquet held by the Sultan for his court.
The first part of the festivities was strictly formal and restrained. Nizam was seated to the right of Malikshah. They were encircled by men of letters and intellectuals and discussions took place on the most varied of subjects from the comparative merits of Indian or Yemenite swords to the various works of Aristotle. The Sultan fleetingly showed a passion for this sort of sparring, then he faded out and his eye started to wander. The Vizir understood that it was time to leave, and the noble guests followed him. They were instantly replaced by musicians and dancers, jugs of wine were tipped and the drinking bout, which would be restrained or wild accordingly to the humour of the prince, would continue into the morning hours. To a couple of chords from the rebec, the lute or the târ, singers improvised on their favourite theme — that of Nizam al-Mulk. The Sultan, who was incapable of doing without his Grand Vizir, avenged himself by laughing freely. One just had to see the infantile frenzy with which he clapped, to know that one day he would manage to hit out at ‘his father’.
Hassan was adept at feeding the sovereign’s every sign of resentment toward his Vizir. Upon what did the Vizir pride himself? His wisdom, his learning? But Hassan could make short shrift of both these qualities. The Vizir’s capacity to defend the throne and the empire? Hassan very quickly had shown himself equally competent. The Vizir’s constancy? There was nothing simpler than to affect loyalty, which anyhow never rings truer than in the mouths of liars.
Above all, Hassan knew how to cultivate Malikshah’s proverbial avarice. He constantly spoke to him of the Vizir’s expenses, and brought to his attention the new robes of the Vizir and his associates. Nizam liked power and its apparatus, but Hassan liked only power and was rigorous in its pursuit.
When he felt that Malikshah was totally won over and ready for his eminence grise to be delivered the death blow, Hassan created the incident. The scene unfolded in the throne room, one Saturday. The Sultan had woken up at mid-day with an annoying headache. He was in a foul temper, and became exasperated upon learning that sixy thousand golden dinars had just been distributed to the soldiers of the Vizir’s Armenian guard. The information had to have come from Hassan and his network. Nizam patiently explained that in order to avoid any hint of insubordination he had to feed the troops and fatten them up a little, and that if the troops reached the point of rebellion the state would have to spend that amount ten times over. Throwing gold around by the armful, retorted Malikshah, meant that they would end up not being able to pay salaries and then the real rebellions would begin. A good government surely had to know how to keep its gold for the difficult times?
One of Nizam’s twelve sons, who was present during the scene, thought it clever to intervene:
‘During the early days of Islam, when the Caliph Omar was accused of spending all the gold that had been amassed during the conquests, Omar asked his detractors: “Is this gold not the bounty of the Almighty who lavished it upon us? If you believe God is incapable of granting any more, then spend none of it. As for me, I have faith in the infinite generosity of the Creator and will not keep in my coffer a single coin which I could spend for the welfare of the Muslims.”’
Malikshah, however, had no intention of following this example. He was mulling over an idea of whose merits Hassan had convinced him. He ordered:
‘I demand to be presented with a detailed summary of everything which goes into my Treasury and the precise way that it is spent. When can I have it?’
Nizam seemed overwhelmed.
‘I can provide this summary, but it will take time.’
‘How long, khawaja?’
He had not said ata but khawaja — a very respectful title, but in this context so distant that it sounded very much like a repudiation or a prelude to disgrace.
Distraught, Nizam explained:
‘An emissary will have to be sent to every emir to carry out long calculations. By the grace of God, the empire is immense, and thus it would be difficult to draw up this report in less than two years.’
Hassan, however, approached solemnly:
‘I promise our master that if he provides me with the means, if he orders all the papers of the diwan to be put into my hands, I will present him a completed report in forty days time.’
The Vizir wanted to respond, but Malikshah had already arisen. He strode towards the door and raised his voice:
‘Very well, Hassan will be installed in the diwan. The whole secretariat will be under his orders. No one will enter without his permission. In forty days time I will conclude the matter.’
CHAPTER 14
Soon the whole empire was in an upheaval, the administration was paralysed, troop movements were reported and people spoke of civil war. It was said that Nizam had distributed arms in certain districts of Isfahan. In the bazaar, the merchandise had been stored away. The gates of the principal souks, notably that of the jewellers, were closed at the beginning of the afternoon. In the neighbourhood of the diwan the tension was at its greatest. The Grand Vizir had had to hand over over his offices to Hassan, but his residence adjoined them and only a small garden separated him from what had become the territory of his rival. Now the garden had been transformed into a veritable barracks, and Nizam’s personal guard patrolled it nervously, armed to the teeth.
No one was more embarrassed than Omar. He wanted to intervene to calm spirits down and to find a way for the two adversaries to compromise. Even though Nizam continued to receive him, he missed no occasion to reproach him for the ‘poisoned gift’ which he had made him. Hassan on the other hand spent his time locked up with his papers, busy preparing the report which he had to present to the Sultan. Only at night did he allow himself to stretch out on the large carpet of the diwan, surrounded by a handful of his trusty men.
Three days before the fateful day, Khayyam still wanted to attempt a final mediation. He went to Hassan’s apartments and insisted upon seeing him, but he was asked to come back one hour later as the sahib-khabar was holding a meeting with the treasurers. Omar decided that he would take a few steps outside, and had just passed through the doorway when one of the royal eunuchs, dressed all in red, addressed him:
‘If khawaja Omar would be so kind as to follow me, he is expected.’
After the man led him through a labyrinth of tunnels and staircases, Khayyam found himself in a garden of whose existence he had had no suspicion. Peacocks strutted around free, apricots trees were in blossom and a fountain murmured. Behind the fountain they came to a low door encrusted with mother-of-pearl. The eunuch opened it and invited Omar to proceed.