Omar Khayyam - a life Read online

  "Is Hassan ibn Sabah of your company?" he asked. "I am looking for him."

  As if by one impulse all the six turned to him, and even the Professor was silent. Akroenos spoke first.

  "Hassan awaits you, Khwaja Omar. For months he hath awaited your coming."

  The six relaxed, and the Professor found his tongue. "Hassan is not here. A little while ago he had occasion to visit Nizam, but now he is—in the mountains."

  Something heard long ago tugged at Omar's memory. Hassan, who had first appeared to him on a mound of Babylon, had said that he haunted the heights. Hassan had been born in the mountains behind Ray, and people spoke of the leader of the Seveners as the Shaikh al jebal, the Master of the Mountains.

  Omar wanted to meet Hassan, to find out why he received unsigned messages from a spy in Kasr Kuchik, by pigeon post. Moreover he had no desire to linger in Ray, under Tutush's eyes, or be summoned again before Nizam.

  Leaning close to him, Akroenos whispered, "Hassan expects you, and he hath with him one whose beauty found favor in your eyes."

  There had been many, Omar thought, whose fairness had found favor with him for a while; but his heart tightened at the memory of Ayesha.

  "Well," he said, "will you take me to Hassan?"

  Akroenos glanced at the Professor who had been listening in silence. "We are on our way thither now," responded that individual—and all amusement had vanished from his voice— "Yet it is not an easy road nor a safe one for a stranger, even for Khwaja Omar of Nisapur, the King's astronomer. Bethink thee, we be Rafiks —Companions—of a new religion. That much thou knowest. Knowing that, and having seen us here, thou mayest go forth into the street and say to the nearest spy of Nizam, or even to a mullah, 'There be certain leaders of the Seveners below in Ibn Khushak's cellar,' and straightway our shoulders will be lightened of our heads."

  "That is true," Omar assented.

  "Too true. On our part we know that thou art no fanatic of Islam. Nay more, when thy word is given in any matter, it is always kept. So we ask only thy pledge that thou wilt not speak to anyone of what thou hast seen here, or of what thou wilt see upon the journey to Hassan."

  Omar considered. "Yes," he assented, "I give my word."

  "Good!" the dervish nodded. "Observe that we do not swear upon the Koran. We Companions are realists—we have long since ceased looking for the god in the machine of the world. Remember we Companions are likewise bound not to betray you. I do not think anyone ever broke the oath. And some," he added quietly, "were flayed alive to make them speak."

  To Omar's surprise the taciturn Armenian busied himself in serving the seven with wine, producing glass cups, and drawing white wine from a keg.

  "To amuse the police," explained the Professor, "we pretend to be a select band of tipplers, carousing upon forbidden wine in secret. The police are always ready to believe in a little sin and a little bribe. Now, up with the cups, because we know not whither we go, or——" he looked full into Omar's eyes— "why."

  Then, one by one, they left the cellar—to meet at a rendezvous two days' journey within the mountains. Akroenos, who was to accompany Omar, insisted that he change his appearance. The King's astronomer, he said, could not leave Ray unobserved.

  For an hour in one of the wineseller's upper rooms, Omar had to submit to the ministrations of a smiling woman who trimmed his beard and daubed it with henna. Then she swabbed the skin of his face and throat with walnut juice, until it was darker than the beard.

  "Selma," the Armenian explained without amusement, "knows the faces of all men who journey upon the roads. She could make a Hindu fakir into an African marabout."

  Selma giggled, and gasped that she had never had to deal with so handsome a type as this lord. Her husband smiled affably.

  When the wine-seller's wife had finished with him, Omar stood arrayed in voluminous khalats of padded silk, with broad shagreen breeches and riding boots that curled up at the toes. Upon his girdle gleamed silver plates, and his new turban was heavy with bangles. Akroenos turned him around critically, and suggested another silver armlet or two. When he was satisfied at last he announced that here was a Bokharan horse dealer, on his way to the hills to buy ponies.

  "Swear in Turkish then," suggested Selma, "and spit often. Eat with both hands and blow thy nose—so—I ask the lord's pardon! Walk with bent knees, rolling a little, thus, as if from years in the saddle, and drink of mare's milk in public, and his own mistresses would not know the noble lord."

  The Eagle's Nest above the mountains and the river.

  If anything were needed to give Omar the feeling that he was ascending out of the known, familiar world, Akroenos supplied it by blindfolding him at sunset of the third day.

  "Thy pardon!" the merchant muttered. " 'Tis forbidden that a layman should know the road up."

  Mounted on mules, they were- entering the hills above Kasvin. Omar's last glimpse had been of a rock-strewn ravine, and forested heights beyond.

  "Then thou art of the Seveners."

  "I serve the Lord of the Mountains." Akroenos leaned close to whisper, although they were alone upon the trail. "In these hills the name of Hassan ibn Sabah is not spoken. The Hassan thou knewest—he of Babylon and Cairo and Jerusalem—is no more. This Lord of the Mountains hath ten thousand who obey him in Khorasan. His power is not that of earthly rulers."

  Remembering the eagle that had walked about the body of a man in the dust of Babylon, and the messenger pigeon brought down from the sky, Omar said nothing.

  "Last week in Ray," Akroenos went on, "Tutush surrounded the hostelry into which the Lord of the Mountains was seen to enter, after his interview with the Nizam al Mulk. Tutush and two score police searched that place, leaving no bale or chest unopened, and they could not find him they sought. No one saw the Lord of the Mountains journey to his eyrie, yet he is-there, awaiting us."

  "Where?"

  "In Alamut—the Eagle's Nest. The name is known, but who knows the road to it?"

  "Evidently you do."

  "Once," the Armenian admitted simply, "I saw the gate of Alamut."

  "Was it a week ago that this Lord of the Mountains ordered you to bring me to him?"

  "Nay, a year—two years ago. He said, 'The time draws near when the smoke of dissension will arise between Omar Khayyam and Nizam al Mulk. When that happens, seek him and bring him to the hills, where he will find sanctuary.'"

  "Then Ha—— the Lord of the Mountains is a worker of magic."

  "He is wiser than any man I have known. He hath the secret of power. It is better," Akroenos added thoughtfully, "to obey him than to disobey. Some say that Nizam hath written in his book certain chapters of warning against him, and hath sealed these chapters until after the day of his death. Who knows? But it is true that Nizam fears him."

  "And thou?"

  Akroenos was silent for a while. "Down there," he observed, "in the plain we left the oppression of swords and taxes, and the tyranny of priests. Such things weigh little upon the favored Khwaja Omar, but they are like chains upon a non-Moslem seller of goods—ay, we Armenians be no more than slaves. Up here is freedom."

  A strange eagerness crept into his voice. This worldly-wise merchant of the caravans rejoiced as he drew nearer to the rendezvous in the hills. Often he lashed on his mule or tugged at the halter of Omar's mount. Other beasts and men were moving along the track. Omar heard whispered greetings, a stifled laugh. But no one seemed to be carrying a light.

  When they were stopped for a while by unseen sentinels, he heard the whisper of a river below them. A cold wind buffeted them from above and Omar recognized the heavy scent of pines. The mules climbed steadily over broken stones, until a wailing voice challenged them:

  "Stand, ye wanderers of the night!".

  And a man beside Omar answered, "Nay, we are seven Companions."

  "What seek ye?"

  "The day that is not yet."

  The mules went forward again, their hoofs grating on solid stone. They turn
ed sharply upon their tracks, as if climbing a traverse up the face of a cliff; far beneath them, the river roared over rocks. Heavier gusts of wind clutched at Omar's loose khalat, and he gripped hard with his knees, feeling that he was swaying back and forth over emptiness.

  Then lights flared about him, the mule stumbled to a halt, and he heard the creaking of giant hinges. Iron clanged behind him, and a hand lifted the bandage from his eyes.

  For a moment the glow of a lanthorn blinded him; then he was aware of the stars overhead and the wall of a courtyard about him. Akroenos and his companions of the road had vanished. A grinning black boy held the mule's rein, and a little man in red silk of Cathay salaamed before him.

  "May thy coming be fortunate, O Master. I am Rukn ud Din of the Cairo observatory, and my ignorance has rejoiced in the wisdom of thy books. Please descend, and seek rest in thy chambers."

  Stiff with fatigue, Omar followed his guide into a postern door and through stone corridors that seemed to be deserted at this hour of the night, to a sleeping room where a brazier glowed comfortably beside a Bokhara rug. Sugared fruit and cakes stood on a tray near by, with a glass flagon of wine.

  "This," Rukn ud Din indicated the black boy, "is thy slave. Now that thou hast escaped from peril, sleep with a mind at ease. May thy dreams be pleasant."

  When the fellow-savant from Cairo had bowed himself out, Omar ate a little and gave the tray to the boy. He drank a goblet of the wine, which was strong and spiced. Then he peered out of the single embrasure of the room.

  Only darkness lay beneath, and clouds scurrying across the stars above. Omar picked up a heavy coal that had dropped from the brazier, and tossed it from the window. Leaning out, he listened, but could not hear its fall.

  Thoughtfully, he rolled himself up in his coverlets—for the mountain air was chill—and stared at the red embers of the fire. Drowsiness crept over him, and the red of the fire turned to the blue of sapphires. He looked over at the boy, curled up asleep against the door. The dark figure had altered to a shimmering white. And the room surely had increased in size—the ceiling had risen into the night.

  But Omar had a sense of power and well-being.

  " 'Tis a strange sleep, this of the mountains," he thought, closing his eyes.

  Alamut, he discovered the next day, covered the summit of a mountain overhanging two sheer gorges. The path up which he had come was not visible from his side, because the cliff fell away almost sheer to the bed of the silver river. Beyond, towered ridge upon ridge of tawny rock resembling fantastic battlements and gigantic towers.

  Since the walls of Alamut were built of natural rock, Omar reflected that from the other side of the gorge the castle must appear like the rocky summit of a mountain. Certainly no one—except the eagles that hovered about it—could see down into it. He noticed that the castle proper with its courtyard did not cover all the summit.

  Midway across the castle rose what seemed to be a solid wall, with the tips of trees visible above it.

  "Oh, that yonder is a garden," observed Rukn ud Din. "Later, perhaps, you will see it."

  At times Omar saw sentries on the walls. They wore the same white garments, with red slippers and sashes, as the Seveners who had been slain in the square of Ray. There were numerous servants, mostly blacks and Egyptians. But he did not see any women, or any men of authority except those in Chinese garb, like Rukn ud Din. They seemed to converse in whatever language struck their fancy.

  "We are merely the Da'is—the propagandists, you would say," Rukn ud Din admitted cheerfully. "Since we come from remote places and travel constantly, we necessarily know quite a few languages. I am a Cairene but you see that my Persian is quite fair. I know the library will please you. Come and look at it."

  He led the way down the central stair to the first landing, entering a great room divided into numberless alcoves, all with oil lamps burning. A score of men were at work upon the reading stands, and Omar halted, surprised, before shelves of Greek manuscripts.

  One, judging by the diagrams, was a copy of Aristarchus' work on the moon's orbit, and eclipses. Another was a volume of Plotinus.

  "I have never seen these before," Omar cried.

  "Yes. They were brought from Egypt, where they survived the fire that destroyed the magnificent library of Alexandria. Legend has it that all the volumes were fed by the Moslems into their cooking fires. Still, many were saved, and Sidna—our lord—discovered them. We have maps, too. Oh, we have our treasures. Two of the Da'is are from Byzantinum, and if you wish, they can translate the Greek texts for you."

  Even in his excitement at the finding of Plotinus, Omar noticed that Rukn ud Din spoke of Moslems as if they were followers of a strange religion.

  "Is this an academy," he laughed, "or a castle?"

  "Both, and quite a bit more. Oh, yes. We seek knowledge without the taint of superstition. Look here."

  The small propagandist pointed to a group of much-handled volumes. "The algebra, the third degree equations, the volume on eclipses, and the astronomical treatise of Omar Khayyam," he smiled. "All greatly in demand. I have read your mathematical works, but I confess the others are beyond my poor comprehension. But the Sidna has read them all.

  "Has—the Shaikh al jebal, your lord?"

  "Who else? Certainly. I have some skill in the seven fundamental sciences, which are: logic, arithmetic, music, geometry, astronomy, physics and metaphysics. But he hath mastered all the tradition of religion, the cabbala of the Jews, and magic itself. We obey him gladly because his is the perfect knowledge."

  But Omar, turning the leaves of Plotinus, did not hear the last words. His mind had drifted away to a solution in cube roots.

  The hours passed uncounted in Alamut. When Omar was not absorbed in the treasures of the fabulous Alexandrine library he was seated with the Da'is—who seemed to have visited every inhabited corner of the earth—discussing the science of the Chinese, or the music of Byzantium.

  Omar was amused by Rukn ud Din's interest in magical squares. The little man had worked out certain combinations of numbers that yielded fixed totals, no matter how they were added or multiplied. Omar, whose research had been devoted to solving actual problems, shrugged his shoulders. "Such squares are curious," he said, "but meaningless."

  "They are not meaningless to common minds," Rukn ud Din objected; "they are miraculous."

  Every night, however, Omar was visited by the fantastic half-dreams of the first evening. The walls of his room took on strange coloring, and he had a sense of well-being and power. He wondered if this came from the strong wine and the thin mountain air.

  It did not keep him from making observations of stars low in the northern horizon which were not visible from Nisapur. He was up in one of the towers, late in the evening, when Rukn ud Din came to him agog with excitement.

  "Our lord will see thee. But we must make haste."

  Reluctantly Omar left the chart he was drawing. Rukn ud Din, however, was insistent. "Thou shalt see what no man from outside the walls hath seen before. Follow me, and say nothing except to me."

  Almost running, he led Omar down from the tower, through the main halls to the library stair. This time he opened another door and began to descend a stair carved from solid rock.

  "Look to thy footing," he cried over his shoulder, holding a round lantern high.

  Omar needed no urging to do so. On the side away from the rock he could see nothing at all. A breath of cold air came up from below. The steps wound downward, and he felt that he was descending a great shaft in the mountain. Although the rock beneath his feet was hard basalt, hollows had been worn in the steps by the tread of innumerable feet.

  At places the steps were so broken that he had to hold to the rock wall. Rukn ud Din seemed to know every foothold. He jumped down with the nimbleness of a goat, swinging the lantern in dizzying fashion.

  When at last they stood on the bottom of the shaft, Omar drew a long breath. "These steps were not made yesterday," he said simp
ly. "Is this a mine?"

  The little philosopher glanced up at him curiously. "Thou art the first to come down and ask such a question. Yes, these steps were hewn in the time when men worshiped the sun—and fire. It was more than gold they sought here below. Now watch, but do not speak again."

  Turning into a corridor—Omar thought it was a natural tunnel—he almost ran to the end, where Omar started at beholding a black warrior solitary in the darkness, leaning on a spear beside a low wooden door.

  The guard paid no attention to them, and Rukn ud Din thrust the door open. Omar had to stoop low to follow, and when he rose he found himself in a vast space, in a multitude of other men.

  Rukn ud Din took his hand and led him forward among the seated figures who muttered impatiently at the interruption. When he came to a clear space he whispered, "Sit here."

  In front of them, beyond the dark ranks of heads and shoulders, a fire was burning. At least so Omar thought at first. But the flames leaped at intervals from fissures in the stone floor of the cavern with a bluish glare that was like no ordinary flame. They hissed and sang in cadence. And somewhere wailing music took up the cadence.

  The music, Omar thought, came from flutes; but at times he heard the brazen note of a gong and the chiming of silvery bells that echoed faintly from unguessed heights of the cavern.

  Although the throng moved from side to side in time with the distant wailing, every head was turned toward the space behind the leaping fires. For a moment Omar watched the spectators.

  They were all young, and all wore the now-familiar white and red of the guards of Alamut. Some lean, dark heads showed Arab blood, and others might have been Hindus or Chinese.

  "The Fidais," Rukn ud Din whispered, "the devoted ones. This is their night of freedom and joy. Soon they will look upon the face of the Lord of Life and Death."