Part 3: A year of victories
Letters are sent, revolts are organised
Dramatis Personae
Hassan, leader of the Assassins
Assad, his son, plotting against him
Assad entered the throne room expecting a, rare, private conversation with his father. To his surprise, there were five others waiting silently.
To his greater surprise all five were those he trusted most, who shared his view that his father was leading them to disaster.
“Father, I bring you greetings”
Hassan carried on reading the document in front of him. After several minutes he signed for one of his secretaries to come forward.
“Take this and deliver it, it is time for us … well that you do not need to know … just deliver it”.
Hassan picked up a second letter and started to read it.
“I understand you have something to say”
“No father, just I am glad to see you so well”
“For one who is aged and senile you mean?”
“No father, you will live for ever”
“Do you take me for a fool?”
Assad was suddenly aware that two people had entered behind him
Hassan finally looked up
“My son, you seem nervous?”
“Father?”
“Here take this”, Hassan reached forward to the table, with its jumble of letters resting beneath an ornate dagger.
“Step forward … this is what you wanted”
Assad stood, transfixed
“Come my son … do you not counsel that we put too much emphasis on statecraft, too much on ownership of castles … too little on influencing the people?”
“well this letter is your answer. Take it”
“Father … you mean me to act as a messenger?”
“unless you wish to defy me, yes … this, and the other letter, will let the Turks know how well loved they really are … take it … and go”
Letters are sent, revolts are organised
Dramatis Personae
Hassan, leader of the Assassins
Assad, his son, plotting against him
Assad entered the throne room expecting a, rare, private conversation with his father. To his surprise, there were five others waiting silently.
To his greater surprise all five were those he trusted most, who shared his view that his father was leading them to disaster.
“Father, I bring you greetings”
Hassan carried on reading the document in front of him. After several minutes he signed for one of his secretaries to come forward.
“Take this and deliver it, it is time for us … well that you do not need to know … just deliver it”.
Hassan picked up a second letter and started to read it.
“I understand you have something to say”
“No father, just I am glad to see you so well”
“For one who is aged and senile you mean?”
“No father, you will live for ever”
“Do you take me for a fool?”
Assad was suddenly aware that two people had entered behind him
Hassan finally looked up
“My son, you seem nervous?”
“Father?”
“Here take this”, Hassan reached forward to the table, with its jumble of letters resting beneath an ornate dagger.
“Step forward … this is what you wanted”
Assad stood, transfixed
“Come my son … do you not counsel that we put too much emphasis on statecraft, too much on ownership of castles … too little on influencing the people?”
“well this letter is your answer. Take it”
“Father … you mean me to act as a messenger?”
“unless you wish to defy me, yes … this, and the other letter, will let the Turks know how well loved they really are … take it … and go”