by Irene Patino
“If a woman believes her time is near, how would you induce a recalcitrant child to leave the safety of the womb?”
“I would place plaster of sea salt, emmer wheat, and rushes from the Nile on the woman’s abdomen.”
“How would you cause contraction?”
“To expel the child, Kheperwer plant, honey, water of carob and milk as a poultice should be inserted into the birth canal.”
“You have great knowledge for one so young. I can tell you must have had personal experience too. You have the hips and bosom of a blessed woman. Come closer.” Akilah continued to stand still but was slightly confused by his personal comments. It kept her from moving closer.
“May I see the patient now?”
“In a moment. And since you will not come to Nazim, Nazim will come to you.” He stepped forward and forced her into an embrace. She struggled and pushed against him. The more she struggled, the more aroused and determined he became to make her submit. He was stocky and strong. His strength left bruises on her arms and around her neck.
“Why do you fight? You dare deny me?” He slapped her hard across the face. When she fell he kicked her ribs with such force that he could hear the snap. Akilah doubled in pain and fought for air, but the smallest rib had punctured her lung. She stopped struggling; nausea overwhelmed her. Her head was swimming in a sea of pain. Even so, Nazim forced himself upon her, defiling her body with his seed.
“See, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Oblivious to his crime, Nazim begged her to stay with him and be his concubine, but she glared at him with hatred that would not be denied. He tried to seduce her with visions of wealth, but she could not hear him. He exhorted her with threats of death to her family and household. She spat at him. He attacked her thrice more. Exhausted, he called his guard to drag her out of his sight.
His arrogance led him to believe that nothing would come of this. In his camp, women, with the possible exception of his wives, were chattel without rights. The next day as he gave orders to break camp, the only visible sign of the night’s activities on Nazim were bruised, swollen, knuckles.
“Prepare for traveling a long distance. We go to the mountains to see and old friend of mine.”
“Yes, Master”. His servant gave the orders and they mounted a campaign toward the secret hold of Sabah, Prince of Assassins.
Never exposed to such cruelty before, Akilah vowed no one would ever know her shame. No one would ever be given the opportunity to degrade her or humiliate her husband with such intimate knowledge. No one had that right. She would die before that could happen.
Chapter Two
The slave, Akim, knew something was wrong the minute that her mistress walked into the room. She helped Akilah out of her robes and cried out at the sight of bruises on her slender body. The blood running down her thighs was too heavy to be from the raping alone. Akim looked at the young woman she thought of as her own child; she fought the tears welling. She prepared the tub with warm scented water and helped Akilah ease into the warm liquid.
“You were with child?”
“Yes,” she sobbed into her hands.
This would have been her third child. She’d had high hopes that this one would survive and become the daughter that would learn her craft and take care of her when Akilah became too feeble to care for herself.
“Akim, I wish to be alone.”
“It would be best not be alone at this time. Let me stay with you.”
“Akim...”
“Yes, yes, of course. I will be in the garden outside your door. Call when you are ready.” But, Akilah never called.
* * * *
When Joseph Ben Abin came home from his mission two days later, he was met by Akim. She prostrated herself before him.
“Forgive me. I am to blame. Take this knife with which to cut my throat for having allowed this crime to take place. I beg you, take my unworthy life.” Joseph’s tunic brushed the top of her head as he moved past her into the house, all senses on alert.
In sorrow, guilt and shame, she took the knife and plunged it into her own side.
“May Isis forgive me. I cannot forgive myself and gladly go into the waiting arms of Osiris.” Akim, having failed to protect her mistress, believed she did not deserve an afterlife.
Joseph turned at the sound of her words, but it was too late. He too had loved Akim like a mother. He picked the slave’s body up and carried her to her bed. Overcome with grief, he cried aloud for his wife.
“Akilah ... Akilah ... What manner of Hell has been visited upon me and mine? Akilah, answer me.” But Akilah did not answer. I followed as he searched the house.
In a grief struck rage, he went to their rooms; there he found her. She was surrounded by mourners. He lost his senses and screamed his pain to the heavens.
Pushing the women aside, he stepped in closer to the wrapped form on the dais. Its mummified shape was familiar, but he couldn’t make his mind calm enough to accept what his heart was telling him. There was no logic to the scene before him. No one could answer his questions; he didn’t know what questions to pose. He choked on his words.
“Oh, my love, would that I could have been here to hold you, to stop this mean thing from happening.” He reached out with one hand and touched her head, then traced her face with his finger. He removed the unsealed mask from his wife’s face, leaned down and kissed Akilah’s cold lips tenderly before replacing it in preparation for burial. He whispered in sorrow, “You’ve been taken from me, and I don’t even know why.”
I heard him force the strangled words from his lips. “My life for yours. I would give my life for yours. Am I to blame for this?” He looked at me, but I knew it wasn’t me he asked.
“Was I gone so long? Yes, yes. I was gone too long. Had I been here, this would never have happened. The Gods are cruel.” I stood behind and to his side should he need my assistance. I wrestled with my own emotions as I watched tears wash down his tanned skin.
“Would that I’d never met you, than have you leave me in such a foul manner. I will join you, my love. This is no life if it is without you. But, first I must know the truth of it. Someone must know the truth of it.” My master paced the floor in conversation with himself as he tried to decide on his next move.
“If you have been felled by the hand of man, man will pay for this. I swear it! If fault cannot be found, then the fates are too cruel for someone as simple as I, and I would beg them take my life too.” He turned to face the women who paid homage.
“Thank you for taking care of her. Now leave me in my sorrow. Leave me that I may grieve in solitude. Ahkmed, please escort these ladies to the door. I will speak to you of this later. Arrangements must be made. Now go. Suffer no one to intrude in this solitude for I am in no state to indulge others.” In respect for his grief, I bowed low and moved backward from my master’s presence.
* * * *
Many hours later, Joseph left his mourning. When he walked into Akim’s quarters, she slid off her cot to the floor, and in a rasping voice she begged for forgiveness and mercy. Her body was racked with sobs; she couldn’t control the shaking of her limbs. Blood seeped from her side leaving her cold to the touch. Joseph did not have to ask any of the questions running through his head. Akim told him everything.
“God forgive us. We didn’t know. We never suspected. She answered a call of service, as she always does. She wanted to help. May the gods forgive us. We didn’t know.”
“Akim, I know it was not your fault. You carry no blame and are as innocent as my wife. Who made the call? Who would use service in such a malicious manner? Tell me, Akim, I must know. I swear to you I will exact revenge for you both.”
“You would have been proud of her Joseph. She fought. She fought for herself and her unborn child.” Akim coughed. A bit of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Joseph pressed cloths against her wound. The angle of the long dagger as it went in, penetrated her stomach and pierced her liver. When she fell forward the hilt of the dagger
moved sideways. It caused the razor sharp blade to sever the stomach.
“His name, Akim. What was his name?” Joseph’s mind reeled. Child? I lost both my beloved wife and unborn child in this reprehensible act?
“It was Kadar Nazim.” She had whispered his name. Joseph was astonished.
“Nazim? Impossible!” That a man claiming to be a prophet of God should commit such a crime was beyond any atrocity he had ever witnessed in campaigns taken into foreign lands. He knew that common soldiers sometimes took women in such a way but never under his command.
It was well known that Nazim closed his eyes to such acts committed by his faithful brethren. It was whispered that even the great Mohammed took females into his bed that were less than the age of marriage. So, perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched that one below the great Mohammed would fall from grace in this manner. Throughout history, religious sects had taken liberties in the name of God. They were, after all, mortal and weak. Joseph could find no way to excuse or forgive such a personal attack.
“Are you sure, Akim?” Joseph lifted his head to look into her eyes for the truth. It was too late. Akim’s eyes were clouded in death.
Joseph railed at the universe. “Crucifixion will not be an honor for this mortal man, nor will he die in glorious battle. He will die like the common dog that he is. If he is still granted entrance into Paradise with its rivers of wine, honey and opulent glories ... there is no god.” I heard his words as I waited outside the door. Whatever his final decision might be, I knew murder was in his heart. As his manservant, I would also be involved. I hurried to the stables to ready his steed.
* * * *
As attendant to the captain, my quarters were in the stable with his horse and other livestock. My duties, when at home, were to care for the animals and always be prepared to ride without notice. Although ready, having seen no messenger enter or leave the premises, I was startled when he came in barking orders to prepare for a pilgrimage to the tents of Nazim, outside of Mecca. I knew not to question his motives; his hasty decision could be related to nothing other than his wife’s death.
I had learned greater detail of the tragedy from the women who were dismissed earlier that day, but not of Nazim’s involvement. I must admit I was fearful of the master’s plan to murder Nazim. I was so fearful that I had begun prayers of deliverance as soon as the name Nazim issued from Akim’s mouth.
Chapter Three
Sabah, Nazim’s second in command, demanded that initiates be trained through his Nine Degrees in the mountain garden of Alamut. Conditioned to believe in Divine Missions, initiates were expected to exhibit absolute faith and obedience. It called for a high degree of fanaticism.
“Allah and I, as his main disciple, demand complete obedience. To falter in a mission could mean failure to please us. Failure to please could mean your death. It would mean denial into paradise and all the pleasures given there. You would be banned from membership here and paradise forever.” The process was a psychological death of old ways, which gave birth to beliefs created by men that instilled key phrases to trigger deadly behaviors. It was mind control at its best.
In the First Degree, the students were thrown into a state of confusion with all conventional ideas, religion and politics challenged. Once initiates started questioning their own beliefs, they started depending on their teachers for “truth”.
Second Degree students would be taught that approval by God could only be given by their Imam. They had to reach a point of blind allegiance to their teachers if they wished to be enlightened.
They are detached from the Sect of Twelve in the Third Degree, taught to disregard the last six imams and believed to be non-persons.
In the Fourth Degree, the neophyte was indoctrinated to the Seven Prophetic Periods. This would introduce the end of the ‘Science of the Ancients; and begin the ‘Science of Allegorical Interpretation’.
The learner was immersed in the practice of prejudice and discrimination in the Fifth Degree, taught the significance of the number Twelve and the ‘proofs’ manifested in the twelve dorsal vertebrae of the human spine. They were also taught that the seven cervical vertebrates represented the Seven Prophets and the Seven Imams of each prophet.
The Sixth Degree taught them that prayer, alms, pilgrimage, fasting and so forth could be abandoned without fear.
The Seventh Degree destroyed the belief in the Doctrine of the Divine Unity.
The Eighth Degree was the application of the Seventh Degree. He was taught, among other things, that the end of the world is allegorical.
In the Ninth Degree, all dogma was erased and the neophyte was given the freedom and right to create his own reality based in limited beliefs instilled by the Inman, justifying any method used to achieve an assigned mission.
When the power of control was lost to the commander-in-chief of the army, the caliphs became simple figureheads of government. Dissenting groups such as those of the Ninth Degree, became known as Assassins or ‘guardians of the secrets’. Nazim was the father.
From the Nizari Isma’ili sect would be born the Islem Shi-ites, Bohras of Afghanistan, the Khojas of Pakistan, and more indirectly, Hospitallers: the Society of Jesus, the Dominicans and even the gentle Franciscans could be traced back to Cairo or Alamut. The Knights Templar, the original society of assassins for the Vatican, was related in system and hierarchy.
All cults considered heretical were known to be political in nature. After reaching notoriety, or accumulating great wealth and power, they were feared. With fear, they became contemptible and were just as apt to be persecuted as those they were known to persecute. Nazim and Sabah were now among them.
Sabah was younger and more ambitious than Nazim believed. He had learned everything he could from his old friend and was now prepared to put many years of preparation into taking the reign of power into his own hands.
Sabah leaned in closer and spoke softly to his second in command.
“I have an eye in Nazim’s camp. His ego has grown beyond his abilities to reason. He is becoming a danger to us all.”
“An eye? Who? How do you know you can trust them?”
“Because I trained her. She is convinced that he is at fault for her husband’s death. Nazim wanted a clear path to her. She was more valuable to him if she came to him freely. The hunter was hunted and snared by a woman. She is a trained Hashashshin.”
Sabah continued, “After the death of Kahdeeja, Sabr accepted Nazim’s proposal of protection through marriage. She too financed many of his ambitions to build his trust. She convinced Nazim that he was in control of the relationship. Now, she waits for the time to be right. At a signal from me she will end him.” Sabah’s eyes were cold and calculating. They carried a warning.
“You understand, you can tell no one of this. Once he is gone, you and I will reign supreme the Hashshashin. We will take it back to its original glory with guidance from the Torah.”
Strange events would create a connection between the Old Man of the Mountain, the Templars, saviors of the Catholic antiquities, and Joseph Ben Abin, known as ‘The One’. The connection would not be recognized for centuries.
Ancient Daylam, a mountain kingdom, gave birth to one of the most revered sects known to man. It was based on penetralia and collusion. Shi-ite sects, which included Moslem heretics, Catholic assassins, and knighted nobles, came from the same womb. The upbringing differed, but many of the methods for attaining goals were the same.
The doctrines of both Templars and Shi-ites were kept secret, and maintained by members of their respective organizations. The world was destined to stay ignorant of the extent of their true power and reach.
Tenacity and determination of these trained assassins gave my master, Joseph Ben Abin, no quarter. More than one of his adherents caught asleep, so to speak, had lost their heads—literally. Their network was so widespread that no place was safe for The One or his tribesmen.
* * * *
Joseph Ben Abin knew the roads leading i
n and out of all parts of his country to the remotest distances. It was a knowledge he would call on as he eluded those that pursued him after his attempt on Nazim’s life. He missed the home he had left behind to avenge his wife’s death. Until his followers grew in number, he spoke only to me, Ahkmed, the manservant entrusted with his existence.
* * * *
“Ahkmed, did I ever tell you how I met Akilah?” His voice was low and filled with sorrow.
“No, Master.” It wasn’t true though. My master had told me the story many times. It was almost as though he was afraid that if he forgot, she would stop existence.
“Even at the age of six, you could see she was a beauty. Not just a beauty, mind you, but a beauty with intelligence and fire in her eyes.”
Feeding him lines, I answered, “She had beautiful and wise eyes, eyes that could penetrate your soul with their depth.”
“And heart, Ahkmed. She had a heart that accepted everyone. Trusted everyone. Have you any idea how it must have pained her to learn that not all people are worthy of trust and love?”
“It must have been a great disappointment to her to learn that such a revered man as Nazim was of such low morals. She was always kind and solicitous to me, and for that, I will always remember her.”
“Was I wrong? Was I wrong to attack a man with a reputation like his?”
“Which reputation do you speak of? He had two. One we spoke of freely. The other we spoke of in whispers. You and I know which man was at fault, Master. It wasn’t you.”
Joseph’s Nubian wife, Akilah, was an intelligent woman with compassion for those less fortunate. He’d taken her at the age of six from an impoverished family outside Mecca. As was the habit of the day, he gave her shelter in the home of his female slave, where she was treated with kindness, and came to love both the slave and the captain as much as they loved her. The captain married Akilah when she was 12 years old. He was 28. The marriage was not consummated until she was 15 years of age. Old by the day’s standard.