The Sky Worshipers

by F. M. Deemyad

  “Mongke has granted me the position of the commander of the Mongol Army,” Hulagu proudly announced.

  “Well. Congratulations on that account as well,” Batu replied, smiling.

  “He is of the belief,” Hulagu continued, “that Mongol territories need further expansion. Therefore, wars are imminent.”

  “What part of the world does he have in mind?” Batu asked.

  “He is considering putting an end to the Song Dynasty in China. Another exertion into Europe is also being contemplated.”

  “I hope they leave the territories of the Golden Horde alone,” Batu said, looking a bit concerned.

  “I am certain they will,” Hulagu replied, his tone reassuring.

  When Europe was mentioned, Dounia moved slightly in her chair, feeling oppressed. From that moment on, every sound became a blur. She could not hear or comprehend the conversation taking place around her and began thinking about what Arseni had asked of her. If she refused his demand, her beloved sister would die. What horrific choices! In her panic, she knew she had to push the campaign away from Europe and toward Muslim lands, saving her sister’s life in the process.

  She had completely lost her appetite as she stared absentmindedly at the amber-colored handle of a tray before her. It reminded her of the color of Reyhan’s eyes as if her eyes haunted her even before she found out about her scheme. How could she betray her so?

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Assassins

  Mongke summoned Hulagu upon his return from Kievan Rus for a private exchange. The scent of cardamom filled the air as an attendant poured a brew in a small cup with gold minaret designs. Mongke, the new Khaqan took a sip out of the small, handleless cup, frowned and quickly placed it back onto its saucer. He then cleared his throat, smiled and said, “The palace chef has brought this brew from Yemen that he calls Arabic coffee. It’s a bit strong for my taste but helps revive one’s senses.”

  The meeting had convened in Mongke’s private ger in Karakorum. Its exterior appeared ordinary and indistinguishable from the gers of low-ranking officers in his army in order to ensure his safety and prevent it from being easily targeted in an ambush. The interior, however, revealed the luxurious life of Mongol rulers. A layer of thick silver-colored satin screened the entire space. A multicolored Chinese rug, with geometric designs woven in gold thread, covered the floor. Rows of narrow white marble tables with gold bases stood against the walls. The brothers sat face to face upon intricately carved white marble chairs with silk cushions. Hulagu turned the ring on his finger so that the large ruby set upon it was right side up.

  “I am sure you did not summon me here to discuss the Arabic brew. Skip the preliminaries, for I am eager to know what you have in mind,” he said in his usual matter-of-fact way.

  “The reason why I invited you here,” Mongke replied, “is because the only formidable force remaining before us is the powerful Caliphate in Baghdad. You are now the commander of the Mongol Army. Therefore, I leave the strategy and tactics to you and your men.”

  The two brothers exchanged meaningful glances. They considered each other comrades now on a mission to rule the world. They knew they would not leave any stone unturned, or any challenge circumvented in this quest. The stage appeared set. They had all the means they needed at their disposal, and most of all, they had the will and the tenacity to carry out their wishes. Caliph Al-Mustasim, the brother of the man that once Reyhan was to marry had it not been for the turn of events that brought her to the Mongol court, now ruled Baghdad.

  “What intelligence do we have on the Caliph?” Hulagu asked, after a pause.

  “Al-Mustasim is not what you would call a popular leader. He lives lavishly, hoarding treasure while his subjects are suffering. His governors are refusing to pay him taxes, so he has threatened to march over with his army and collect the sums by force. Oh, and there is also division within the court,” Mongke added.

  “Any internal division of that sort can be exploited to our advantage,” Hulagu suggested. “We can encourage such a rift to our purposes.”

  “I have heard Ibn Alqami, his perfidious grand vizier, is secretly plotting against him, undermining his rule from within. Ibn Alqami may be willing to cooperate with us,” Mongke said.

  “I never trust a traitor. Their loyalties shift like sand dunes in a desert,” Hulagu said.

  “The Caliph is greedily holding on to the wealth he has accumulated, so much so that he has foolishly abstained from providing his army commander with the resources he needs to defend the capital,” Mongke stated, smiling.

  “Even though their army has been weakened, Baghdad is the heart of the Muslim world. To succeed we need to form the largest assault force to date. I will also use our latest siege engines as well as catapults to break into the city walls and crush their resolve to fight,” Hulagu said.

  “I urge you to visit Persia to ensure that our subjects in that region remain subdued, lest they are tempted to help their brethren in faith in Baghdad. There is also a growing cult branched out of the Ismaeli sect in Persia that is known as the ‘Assassins.’”

  “Oh, yes. I have heard about their supposedly impenetrable mountain fortifications—the Alamut,” Hulagu interjected excitedly.

  “The cult lives and worships beneath a veil of secrecy, resorting to political pressure when they can and when they fail, to assassination, in order to gain power. In fact, they sent us an envoy with a message of peace who later had the audacity to make an attempt on my life. I had his skull crushed and sent back with a warning to them not to ever mess with the Mongols again.”

  “I have heard they use hallucinating drugs, engage in all types of debauchery and gain power by assassinating opponents in nightly raids, slithering unseen throughout the land, dagger in hand, dressed in black garb with their faces covered,” Mongke said.

  “The people of Persia are terrified of them. They have succeeded in instigating so much fear among the inhabitants that no one dares to oppose them,” Hulagu said, taking a sip of his coffee.

  “They have gained strength over the years while we were occupied in China and elsewhere, taking over the central and eastern parts of the country and managing to build their extensive fortifications and numerous citadels. We have engaged them before in battle and overcame some of their smaller strongholds, but the main citadel high up in the mountain is quite difficult to reach.”

  “I understand the importance of conquering Baghdad, but victory over the Assassins will give me the needed clout to overcome that metropolis with little resistance and few casualties among the Mongols,” Hulagu suggested.

  “It’s about time we put an end to the Assassins, but people say they are invincible,” Mongke stated pensively.

  “Only the Mongols are invincible,” Hulagu said, but then both brothers burst into laughter. Power had changed them both and left them more confident of victory than ever before.

  An attendant walked in to announce the arrival of a Chinese Prince who was bearing gifts for the Khaqan. Mongke made a gesture of consent to Hulagu and then to the attendant he said, “Guide him to the guest quarters.”

  Before leaving, Hulagu turned to Mongke and asked, “If I return victorious from these wars, what prize will be awaiting me?”

  “You can form your own empire in Western Asia. Remember that we will own the nations we conquer, and we will be ruling them eventually.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Encounter

  At the Mongol barracks, roars of laughter followed two young warriors who had rolled onto the floor, wrestling as if to death, kicking each other, and knocking over benches and other furniture.

  “Get up, both of you,” Hulagu, who had just walked in on them, shouted. “What is this all about?” he demanded. The two men fighting got up and paid their respect while still fuming with anger.

  “He owes me five gold coins, s
ir,” the taller of the two uttered.

  “Whatever for?” Hulagu asked.

  “We were betting on the debate last night, and he cheated,” the other warrior said.

  “I did not. It was a fair game, and I won,” the taller one yelled.

  “You are talking about the debate between the prisoners?” Hulagu asked.

  “He served them some wine,” the shorter warrior replied, “knowing that the Christians would be the only ones who would partake of it, and the Muslims would refrain. The Christians won the religious debate last time, so my bet was on them.”

  “But the Christians were too drunk to talk, let alone engage in inter-religious discourse,” Hulagu said laughing, then immediately frowned as he faced the taller warrior. “Did you not know that serving alcoholic drinks to the prisoners is against the rules?”

  The warrior’s face turned gray.

  “I am interested in hearing their arguments,” Hulagu said lowering his voice. “How are the Buddhists prisoners doing in these debates?”

  “They lose every time, sir. The two other groups gang up against them,” the shorter warrior replied, adding, “It’s more fun than the wrestling match, sir.”

  “Our shamans can beat them all in any debate, sir. But it is beneath the shamans to engage with the captives,” the taller warrior said, hoping to regain his ground.

  “I don’t want to have to repeat this. No more airaq for the prisoners,” Hulagu said, sternly. “We need to keep them under control.”

  “They are under control, all right. Their only weapons are their tongues,” the tall warrior said.

  Hulagu gave the two an intimidating look, then addressed the men regarding the missions ahead.

  A year ago, Reyhan had asked Baako to remove one of the stone tiles in the atrium adjacent to Dounia’s Palace, making a compartment to hide the manuscript. As Dounia returned the manuscript to its secret location at dusk, she heard footsteps behind her. Quickly she got up, removed her ring and held it one hand while dusting her skirt with the other. As she had feared, it was Hulagu.

  “I dropped my wedding ring,” she said, showing the large blue diamond mounted on a gold ring as she replaced it upon her finger. She then ran toward Hulagu to embrace him, hoping he would not inspect the area. A lit lantern was a few paces away from where she stood, leaving the freshly dug up tile in the dark.

  “My two favorite women, just the people I hoped to see before I leave,” Hulagu announced with open arms and a broad smile as he entered Reyhan’s parlor with Dounia at his side.

  “Leave?” Dounia asked, alarmed.

  Dounia pouted. “You are leaving me again,” she whispered barely audible.

  “I am a warrior. Have you forgotten that? And warriors go to war. My men are awaiting me outside, and I have not much time to bid you farewell,” Hulagu said.

  “Where to this time?” Reyhan asked.

  “I am to confront the Assassins,” Hulagu replied. “What do you know about them, Reyhan?”

  “They are a relatively small group, but deadly in their tactics. Their founder was actually a religious man. But then as the group gained strength and formed its own structure of governance, it came to be seen as a threat to the Seljuk Dynasty. The Seljuk tried to subdue them through military force but failed in their attempts, mostly because of the sharp incline of the mountainside where their fortifications stand.”

  “I see. Anything else?” Hulagu asked.

  “When the group felt threatened, they resorted to unusual tactics to overcome their powerful enemies. They are quite well-trained and swift in their stealthy maneuvers. They crawl like snakes at night, provoking a fear far greater than their actual strength.”

  “You mean the powerful Seljuk army could not defeat them?” Hulagu asked, looking perplexed.

  “They are stationed atop a treacherous mountain beyond the reach of a regular army. Plus, their clandestine ways of waging war are unnerving. My grandfather held a meeting with his army commanders to combat the Assassins. The next morning, he rose to find a dagger launched deep into his pillow close to his head, pinning a note of warning.”

  “What was the warning?” Hulagu asked.

  “LEAVE US ALONE. THE NEXT TIME THE DAGGER WON’T MISS.”

  “Well, the Mongols haven’t missed their targets thus far either. My next target after conquering the Alamut is Baghdad.” Hulagu paused for a moment in an obvious attempt to see the effect of his words.

  “You have everything you need right here,” Reyhan said, clearly shaken by his last abrupt pronouncement. “The woman you love, a country to be proud of which is at the peak of its power and glory. You have fame, you have wealth, and you can have happiness. What is it that drives you to shed more blood? To achieve what? Let those people be.”

  “It is not your place to determine what I should or should not do. It had been a dream of my grandfather, nay his vision, that the Mongols should rule the earth. That aspiration is in my blood, for I am a true progeny of his,” Hulagu proclaimed with a harsh tone that he had never used before in addressing Reyhan.

  “Sometimes vulnerability is hidden beneath a veneer of audacity,” Reyhan said, with bitterness in her voice.

  Hulagu looked angry, but there was a sublime gravity to Dounia’s appearance that made Hulagu look at her instead and pause before leaving.

  “Something is clouding your mind. What is it?” he asked.

  “Spare the Christians,” Dounia uttered involuntarily, but she immediately bit her lip as soon as she faced Reyhan who had turned pale as a ghost.

  Dounia shuddered inwardly. She had just stumbled awkwardly into the arena of international affairs and military strategy; a merciless arena of which she had little knowledge, for she had never seen the results of a campaign up close. Before she could collect herself or think of something to say to soften the blow, Hulagu left.

  Dounia’s religious views stemmed from her desire to uphold the general perceptions of the European courts, rather than genuine faith. Eventually, the prejudices of the court became her prejudices, and the longing for a better hereafter became her motive to attend church regularly. She did so, however, as long as their views and inclinations did not contradict with her desire to live fully and happily in this world.

  “In that short phrase, you have created an ocean that drifts us apart,” Reyhan said. “You could have asked him to spare the lives of the women and children regardless of their faith, to let the civilians be, to have mercy upon the defeated. Why didn’t you?”

  Dounia turned toward the door as if to stop Hulagu, although she knew he had left already. Considering the absurdity of her reaction, she then turned to take a more quarrelsome posture in an attempt to justify her earlier statement. She knew she had done wrong, but she also knew that any attempt to show her remorse now would be futile.

  “What kind of a religion sanctions divorce?” Dounia said, in a clear reference to Islam.

  “An enlightened one that understands human nature,” Reyhan retorted, looking livid. “Did you by any chance encourage Hulagu in his ambition to conquer Baghdad? I thought we had reached some understanding between us, setting aside religious hatred and keeping our minds and hearts open.”

  “There is no understanding we can have. Muslims and Christians have been killing each other and will probably continue to do so till the end of time,” Dounia replied, further angering her interlocutor. She had stumbled inadvertently and continued to fall further away from Reyhan with every statement she made.

  “Krisztina,” Reyhan said, calling her by her Christian name rather than the beloved name of Dounia, “What have you done! Why do you think Heavens subjected our civilizations to such severe punishments? We slaughtered one another in the name of God before the Mongols were unleashed on earth. I haven’t found any major differences between what each of these religions prescribe. The only differenc
e seems to be in the ambitions of those who falsely profess to be religious and then commit all types of atrocities to gain power.”

  She paused and looked around as if to find something, some way of convincing Dounia before adding, “Don’t you see what is happening? There are debates continuing well into the night between Muslim and Christian prisoners of the Mongols. If only they had had such communication before.”

  “Yes,” Dounia replied, realizing that she was only adding injury to affront. “The Mongols see it as a game, and they bet on who wins the debate.”

  “It is said that ‘to smother a fire; a greater conflagration must be lit.’ Maybe the inferno ignited by the Mongols in Christendom and Muslim lands alike was necessary to bring both sides to their senses,” Reyhan said.

  Dounia’s resolve to stay on the defensive melted, as she broke into a crying fit. “They threatened to kill my sister, Reyhan.”

  “Who did? Oh, let me guess . . . During your journey to Batu’s territories, right?”

  “This Rus advisor who now serves in the court of Batu Khan told me my sister, Zofia, would be killed if I refused to encourage the change in Mongol military strategy.”

  A dark shadow of gloom fell upon Reyhan’s face. “O’ Dounia,” she said, “I have to tell you what I have up to now refused to disclose about your sister.”

  “You knew about her all along?” Dounia asked.

  “Your sister was killed prior to your arrival at Karakorum.”

  Dounia began to tremble uncontrollably, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Reyhan helped her to a seat. She poured rosewater into a goblet of cold water and gave it to Dounia to drink in order to soothe her. They had no option now but to wait for news from the warfront.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Eagle’s Nest

  Ignoring the winds of early winter that portended a difficult season, Hulagu stationed his forces around the rock mountain that housed the main citadel of Alamut. The Mongols had crossed many mountains as they left their imprints on faraway lands, but the sight of the Eagle’s Nest fortifications was a scene they had never encountered before. The giant rock mountain of deep gray color rose among the steep gorges through which clear water flowed.