Omar Khayyam - a life (23 page)

"Oh, yes," she breathed, and clapped her hands softly.

Omar had reached down into the wet clay beneath his feet. There was a pool close at hand and the ground had been trodden by animals coming to drink. Taking a double handful of the clay he pressed it together upon a short stick and modeled the body and head of a pigeon. The girl-child drew closer to watch with fascinated interest.

Then Omar stuck two smaller sticks into the clay pigeon for legs, and set it aside. "Wait," he told the child, "and after the sun has dried this tomorrow, put it near the water. The others will come down out of the air to talk to it. But you must sit still, and not run after them."

"
Ai
, it is like them," the girl said with conviction.

When the peasants brought up a fresh horse, Omar noticed that it was no farm animal. He stretched himself and took up the wicker cage.

"Will it come soon," the elder whispered, holding his stirrup, "the day that is not yet come?"

"
Neh mi-danam; Khoda mi-danad
. I do not know; only God knows."

Omar rode through the night. When he came to a walled city that he recognized as Kasvin, he circled it and found the great Khorasan road again beyond it, for the riders from Alamut might well be in Kasvin looking for him by now.

When the first light touched the distant mountains, and the shadow of the plain gave way to gray hillocks, irresistible drowsiness came over him. Holding to the saddle horn, he began to nod, and the tired horse slowed to a walk. Omar Khayyam, his mind assured him, was on the road to Ray, the long Khorasan road that Rahim had traveled, leading nowhither. Clay pigeons walked over the desert plain, and why did children accept miracles as a matter of course until they were taught suspicion by old and stagnant minds? The clay pigeons were swooping through the air carrying messages of warning. Their wings drummed and drummed in his ears——

Hoofs thudded about him, and he woke with a start when a voice cried in Arabic, "What man art thou?"

Dust swirled in the full sunlight; scores of riders in the loose robes and head rings of desert men were passing by him, and some had stopped to stare. Omar also stared down at his dusty red satin.

"A wayfarer," he answered. "A wayfarer from beyond the Roof of the World, seeking the court of the great Sultan Malikshah."

"O Master Omar!" a familiar voice rang out. A bent man flung himself from the saddle to seize Omar's knee in frantic joy. "Knowest not Jafarak?"

"But," Omar smiled, "Jafarak is at Kasr Kuchik."

"Nay," the jester laughed, "the army came. Malikshah's riders came back from Samarkand, and so I joined them to seek thee in Ray——"

A passing camel halted and knelt, rumbling protest, and from its closed litter a woman climbed, running between the horses to Omar.

"My lord!" Ayesha cried. "Allah hath preserved thee. In the market of Ray they told us—thy fools of swordsmen told us—thou wert carried off by invisible devils." She caught Omar's stirrup. "They have changed thy shape—what hath befallen thy beard?——"

"Master!" Ishak the gatekeeper cast himself on his knees. "How could I prevent? This young person would not abide at the
kasr
. She egged Jafarak on to follow thee, riding unashamed on the public road. I said to myself, 'Truly it rests upon thy head, Ishak, to protect the honor of thy lord.' At Ray she would not be stayed—she went to the commander of these Arabs, and
he
went to our Sultan, upon whom be the blessing of Ali and Abu Bekr, and our Sultan said, Tind Omar Khayyam, if he be in the snow mountains or upon the sea itself——' "

"Be still, waggle-tongue!" hissed Ayesha, who suffered from no embarrassment at appearing before so many men—the Arab troopers had turned their backs modestly at sight of her—"It is by no doing of thine that our lord is restored unharmed. Thou wouldst have been yet picking thy nose at the gate post and pocketing the silver of spying eunuchs——"

"Peace!" said Omar sternly, for the officer of the cavalry clan was approaching.

Even Ayesha turned her veiled head away, when the young
rais
touched breast and forehead in salutation, looking curiously the while at Omar's strange garb.

"Say," he demanded, "art thou truly the Kings astronomer?"

"Ay so," Omar assented, wondering how to explain his appearance. "I have been wrestling with magicians in those mountains yonder, and I came away in their garments."

"
Wallahi!
This is a time of marvelous happenings." The Arab's curiosity changed to veiled alarm, and he reined back a pace. "Now hear the command of the King. Thou art to go with me direct to the presence."

"As the Sultan commands." Omar had hoped to return to the House of the Stars at Nisapur. "Where is his camp, O
rais
?"

"He rides to Isfahan, and we will follow."

When he was ensconced in the camel litter, at Ayesha's urging and the insistence of his own drowsiness, the Arab girl put aside her veil, and sighed comfortably. "Now thou seest——this is how a journey should be made, with a thousand swords to guard thy back, and the Sultan's favor to open the way to thee. . . . Were any women among those magicians of the mountain?"

Omar closed his eyes. "Only a demon girl, weeping upon a boat that floated on the lake of paradise."

"Paradise! Hast thou been carried out of the world to where the houris are?"

"It was only a dream, Ayesha. Verily the true paradise would be a moment's rest upon this road of life."

Ayesha was silent, pondering. Then she put her arms about him, and pressed her lips to his ear. "Nizam al Mulk is dismissed from his post. That is why the Sultan calls for thee."

Omar thought the girl must be mistaken. Nizam, who had administered the empire of the Seljuks for two ordinary lifetimes, dismissed from office!

"It was because of a letter," she added, seeing his incredulity. "Thou knowest how mighty Nizam had become, who placed even his grandsons as governors of cities. Well, someone wrote to the Sultan, 'Is Nizam thy Minister, or the partner of thy Throne.' And Malikshah, in anger, said to Nizam that verily henceforth he who wore the crown would rule without him who wore the turban."

A thought passed through Omar's bewilderment. If he had obeyed Nizam at the very first and had written long ago to Malikshah that the stars foretold misfortune if the Sultan returned to Khorasan, then Malikshah might not have dishonored the aged Minister.

"The letter," Ayesha went on, "was brought by a pigeon coming from those mountains."

After she said that Omar became silent. When they halted at the first walled town upon the Isfahan road, he descended from the litter and asked Ishak for one of the pigeons from the wicker cage he had entrusted to the care of the gatekeeper. When writing materials and a message tube had been brought him, he wrote upon a small square of paper:

This message without greeting or signature he rolled into the tube and tied the tube upon the claw of the pigeon, after satisfying himself by the clipped feather and the red mark that the bird was one of the Alamut pair. When he tossed it into the air it swooped up and circled the town once. Then it darted off to the north, toward the distant mountains.

Ayesha and Ishak, who had been intrigued by his preparations, watched it open-mouthed.

"It goes toward the place of the magicians," observed the girl.

"Belike," hazarded the gatekeeper, "it was a prayer or invocation. 'Tis better to deal with the djinn-folk that way. But no good," he added ominously, "ever came of going into a sack with a bear."

The streets of Isfahan, at the end of the southern road, and the cellars of the Son of Fire.

To Ayesha, Isfahan was one solid delight. The silks of the bazaar appealed to her woman's craving in their delicate coloring. She bought hugely of orange and magenta and glorious purple, while Ishak watched and grumbled that it was against all reason to let a handsome slave buy in the bazaar. Her ears were alert for every whisper of passing gossip, and Isfahan did not lack whispers. All this was much more exciting than sitting alone in a deserted garden. Even Ishak relished his new importance—he hired a pair of Dailamite swordsmen to follow them about for appearance's sake, when he was not sitting in majesty at the gate of Omar's new house.

His master was now the solitary favorite of Malikshah, and the entrance to his house was crowded with dignitaries who had favors to seek. Their horses and grooms could be seen waiting from the hour of sunrise until after the last prayer. Ishak's cup was full the day that the
Sipah-silar
, the Commander of all the armies, sent his chamberlain with a request, and Ishak kept the chamberlain waiting until Omar had finished reading a book.

"Don't stretch thy foot beyond thy carpet," Jafarak admonished the gatekeeper when Ishak related this, "or thou wilt know how scorpions sting."

"Well, my feet will never be where my head should be."

Jafarak spent his hours in wandering the alleys, and this seemed to Ishak a witless proceeding, when so much profit-because every Isfahani who came to the gate brought some slight token for the keeper of the gate—could be made at the entrance of Omar's house. Ishak only regretted that his master had so little patience with visitors.

Instead of flattering the powerful nobles, and establishing mutually profitable arrangements with the wealthier merchants, and treating the poorer sort with becoming contempt, Omar listened to all of them impatiently and answered with a brusque word or two. He even assured them that he was not the Minister of Court—when his guests all knew perfectly well that he had the ear of Malikshah himself.

"Because he can't sit a-toiling and a-moiling over the stars," Ishak observed, "he is angry. Lo, he is the wisest of men, and still he does not know how to encourage an amir who is willing to buy the post of King's physician.
Wallahi
, what a pity!"

Ayesha did not reason about it, but she understood instinctively that if Omar had been an ordinary official, Malikshah would not trust him so utterly. The most satisfactory safeguard, she thought, was the favor of a man who could call four hundred thousand armored horsemen to his banner.

She loved to sit in the screened balcony of their house, overlooking the public square when Malikshah was watching a polo game in the late afternoon. Then she could admire the plumed and jeweled turbans of the highest amirs, the cloaks of damask and cloth-of-gold, and the Sultan himself, sitting opposite under the scarlet canopy, with Omar at his elbow. The horsemen wheeling before the massive marble goal posts, the shouting and the din of musicians when the game ended at a word from Malikshah—all this seemed to increase Omar's power. Ayesha nibbled sugared ginger and watched jealously the other veiled women who sought to catch the eye of the King's astronomer.

Only when she had overheard his remarks to a wool-clad Sufi, sitting on the roof one night did she protest. The Sufi had declared that from all eternity Allah had known what was to be.

"Then hath he known that I would drink wine," Omar answered. "And who am I to deny him?"

This frightened Ayesha, and when the Sufi had gone she came and rubbed her cheek against Omar's arm. " 'Tis ill, O heart of mine, to mock what Allah hath caused to be. Look at the wealth and the splendor he hath laid upon thy head."

Omar swept her with his eyes—the slave girl, fearful of some impending evil. "When you go out of the world, Ayesha, will you take all this wealth and splendor with you?"

"I do not know," she said, wistfully, fingering the silver on her arms.

"Well, enjoy what you can now, for—believe me—you'll not be back again."

Her lips drooped, and she stifled a sob.

"Nay, Ayesha!" He took her up in his arms. "I would not lose thee for all the promise of paradise."

"Not for the houri who waits in the boat on the lake?"

"For whom? Oh!" Omar considered, and shook his head. "Not even for that one."

Sighing with satisfaction, Ayesha ran her finger down his forehead and nose and lips. But she was careful to go every day to the great mosque to pray. Secretly she cherished a hope that after her life ended on earth, she might be allowed to dwell with Omar in paradise. The thought that an infidel dream-maiden with golden hair might be waiting at the threshold of the hereafter to embrace Omar filled her with deep anger.

Malikshah showed no inclination to release Omar from his attendance at Court. Since the dismissal of Nizam, the Sultan leaned more heavily upon the advice of his astronomer. He thought that the growth of the empire, and his own victories, had been brought about by Omar's inspired forecasts of events. Unquestionably the will of God had been the primary cause, but the interpretation of the stars had revealed to him what he must do.

"
Signs are in the power of God alone,"
he read aloud one day from the Koran. "And here it is said again:
'Though We had sent down angels to them, and the dead had spoken to them, they had not believed, unless God had willed it.'
"

"But if I should not read the signs aright, O Lord of the East and the West—what then? A man hath only human eyes to see, and he must fail often."

Malikshah considered, and shook his head. "By the Kaabah, I have no reason to fear that. A soothsayer with a little mind might fail, but thou art perfect in knowledge of the stars. How then would it be possible to fail in simple observation?"

When Omar would have answered, the Seljuk waved the matter impatiently from his thoughts. "See, here again it is written that even prophets have been given enemies, Satans among men. and djinn. I who am merely Sultan, by God's will, have many more enemies. So I have greater need to be guided aright."

Closing the heavy pages of the Koran and taking Omar's silence for consent, he added thoughtfully, "An ordinary astrologer might be bribed to deceive. That has come into my mind at times. But I know well that even a tower of gold would not lead thee to say 'Yea' when the answer is 'Nay.'"

Omar said nothing. No argument would shake the Sultan's belief in the stars. "Nizam al Mulk never betrayed your Majesty," he responded boldly.

"Nizam took into his hand too much of the power of the throne." As if remembering something, Malikshah drew a small slip of paper from the pages of the Koran. "This has to do with thee," he said.

The paper bore only a brief message in a fine, minute hand.
"If the Tentmaker garbs himself in a prophet's robe, look to it that there is not a jackal hidden in a lion's skin."

"I do not need to look," Malikshah observed before Omar could speak. "I know thy worth. Since the battle of Malasgird our fortunes have been joined together."

Taking back the missive, he tore it in his strong fingers. Then with an angry hiss he tossed the pieces into a brazier.

"Spies!" he cried. "I would like to whip all such out of the land. Nizam said they were my eyes and ears. They sit down with my officers and rise up with my servants. So men who fear me and plot against the throne are careful to pay these same spies well, to report praise of them. And by Allah, they who love me do not feel the need of paying the spies. After a long time I hear much good of my foes and ill of my friends. But until now no one has dared lay blame upon thy name."

"I blame myself!" cried Omar. "I can do nothing here. Let me go back to the House of the Stars!"

Malikshah stared in surprise. "Allah! I have need of thee."

"Yet I have almost finished a new work. I have discovered something new about the sphere of the universe."

"Ha! A new star!" The Sultan smiled and leaned forward to pick up a choice bunch of grapes soaked in wine from the dish before him. The grapes he handed to Omar—a sign of rare approval. "Verily, our reign will gain luster from thy wisdom."

"It is not a star. I have seen—that the earth moves, turning upon itself."

For an instant Malikshah looked startled. Then he nodded understanding. "Who can escape such a nightmare? I myself dreamed once that I was falling, falling. The ground gave way and I fell through emptiness. Thinkest thou it was an evil portent?"

"That dream? Nay, thy Sign is favored by the planets. Have no fear." Omar wanted to tell Malikshah how for years he had been testing his theory that the earth, instead of resting motionless, revolved once in a day and night upon itself. That instead of being larger than the sun or the moon it was in reality a small speck in the universe. But Malikshah would never believe. So he began to eat the grapes slowly, praising their flavor.

"The other day," resumed the Sultan, "I counted the heads of game slain in one of my great hunts. There were more than nine thousand. I thought, Is it right to slay so many of Allah's creatures for my pleasure?' And now I think I shall give away in alms nine thousand pieces of silver, to make amends."

"
Bism'allah
—in the name of God."

"Ay, to Allah be the praise." Milkshah inclined his head devoutly. "Some time, perhaps, I shall let thee wander again. But now I would rather lose a slice from my liver."

Omar went from the Sultan's presence, through the crowded antechamber, in deep dejection. As he crossed the square, where lamps were beginning to wink through the dust haze, he was recognized. Behind his back he heard whispers.

"It is the Tentmaker, who measured the years. . . . Look, there goes Khwaja Imam Omar who tells what is to come to pass . . . Companion of infidels ... he destroys the verses he writes, lest . . ."

Saying to those who still waited at his door that he would talk with no one, he climbed to the harem chambers, where Ayesha greeted him with a dancing girl's salaam, in mock solemnity. She had bathed, she had some sweetmeats from the bazaar for him, she had bought a casket of lapis-lazuli set in jeweled gold, she was burning ambergris to make the air sweet for him, and her heart had grown weary waiting for him.

But Omar lay down by his writing materials, in no mood for prattle, or pungent ambergris. When Ayesha saw his fingers move toward a quill pen, she made a face unseen.

For a while she occupied herself combing her hair, then she demanded jealously:

"What does it say, the writing?"

"Nothing."

"It is one of those things——" she peered over his shoulder—"that make you miserable. Is it a charm? What says it?"