A Journey to the Valley of the Assassins
look of confidence on their wrinkled peasant faces. It was
a rare and pleasant sight in Persia.
Something weighed on 'Aziz's mind. When we had
left Shutur Khan a few hundred yards behind us he came
up to me and asked whether I had given a present to the
Arbab's servant.
" Yes, indeed," said I. " I gave him half a toman/'
" That was more than sufficient," said 'Aziz. " But how
was it that we did not see it given?"
" It is our custom," said I, " to give these gifts as quietly
as possible, lest the master of the house should feel ashamed."
" Indeed," said 'Aziz, " that is a good custom, but not
for our country, for Ibrahim will not tell his master of your
noble generosity, and your face will be blackened. I will
make it all right."
He hailed a passing tollman and spent a few moments
murmuring earnestly.
" It will be well," said he as he rejoined me. " This
man will tell the Arbab, and you will be fairly spoken of
among them all."
We were now hailed by a woman at the side of the path
who had evidently been waiting for us.
" My mother is ill near-by," said she. " Out of your
mercy come to see her. There is no doctor here."
Which is true, for the nearest doctor or chemist is three
stages by mule from the Alamut valley, and there is no
track fit for a cart. Though I said I could do nothing, I
dismounted and followed to a small group of houses off the
road where a white-haired woman lay with a broken thigh.
" Welcome," she said, with little hope. Beyond a rough
splint to ease the pain, there was nothing to be done. I
came away sorrowful and helpless to my party under the
trees.
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