these shadowy, sinister figures that it was almost impossible to separate truth from myth.
Richard was very pleased, therefore, to discover Hugues was such a treasure trove of information about the Assassins. He’d even met the Old Man of the Mountain himself, Rashīd al-Dīn Sinān. Upon learning that Richard already knew Islam was split into two warring camps, Sunnis and Shi’ites, Hugues then explained that the Assassins were a separate Shia sect that originally took root in Persia, and were viewed by other Muslims as heretics. They used murder as a political weapon—and to great effect. They were willing to wait months, even years, for an opportunity to get close to their quarry, and excelled at deception and subterfuge. The Assassins used daggers and always committed their killings in public so that as many people as possible would learn of the deaths. But their victims were almost always their fellow Muslims. Amongst them, Hugues enumerated, were two grand viziers in Persia and the caliphs of Cairo and Baghdad. The only Frank they’d slain, he said, was a Count of Tripoli about forty years ago.
His audience had hung on his every word, fascinated and horrified in equal measure. Richard was the first to inject a note of skepticism. “It does not seem likely to me that these Assassins could be regular users of hashish. How could they manage to deceive their prey, to blend in so well that none suspected them if their wits were addled with this potion?”
Hugues gave the king an approving smile. “Very true, my lord. Frankly, I never believed that myself. I think it is just one of the many rumors that swirl around them. They attract such stories the way Acre attracts sinners. I am not even sure their name is derived from the word ‘hashish.’ I was once told that it comes from ‘Hassassin,’ which means ‘a follower of Hassan,’ who was the founder of their sect. So who’s to say? The only certainty is that the mere mention of that name causes even brave men to glance uneasily over their shoulders.”
Joanna had leaned forward, so intent upon the conversation that she was unaware she’d propped her elbows on the table. “What I do not understand, my lord Hugues, is why they so rarely attack Christians. Do they not see us as the enemy?”
“They view us as foxes, my lady, more of a nuisance than a real threat. They reserve their greatest hatred for the Sunni wolves, who return it wholeheartedly.”
“I’ve heard that they’ve tried to murder Saladin numerous times,” Richard commented. “Is that true?”
“In part, my lord king. I know of at least two attempts upon his life. Both times they penetrated his camp, and once he was saved only by his armor. He began to take great precautions for his safety and eventually he decided to strike at Rashīd al-Dīn Sinān himself, laying siege to his castle at Masyāf. But he called off the siege after just a week. I’ve heard various reasons offered for that, including a story that the Old Man of the Mountain threatened to murder Saladin’s family if he did not withdraw. It would be hard not to take such a threat seriously after what happened with the sultan’s bodyguards. . . .”
Hugues had an innate sense of drama. He paused now to sip his wine, building suspense as his audience eagerly urged him to continue. “Well,” he said, “as I heard it, the Assassin chieftain sent one of his men to Saladin with a message, insisting it must be delivered in private. Saladin finally agreed to see him, but would not dismiss two of his most trusted bodyguards. Sinān’s man looked at them and asked what they would do if he bade them in the name of his master to kill the sultan. They at once drew their swords and declared, ‘Command us as you wish.’ He then rode out of Saladin’s camp with the two bodyguards, the message having been delivered.”
There were gasps of delighted horror. This time it was André who took on the role of resident cynic. He was in a surly mood, in pain and frustrated by his clumsy attempts to cut his fish with his left hand, and so he eschewed tact in favor of brusque candor. “That is rubbish. If the Assassins could place their own men so close to Saladin, why did they not strike when they had the chance? Why settle for scaring him when they could so easily have killed