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  On the wide plain here they grow a remarkable species of tree known to Christians as ‘Arbor Secco’, the dry or fruitless trees. Mahometans call them the Trees of the Sun. Each such tree is lofty with a large trunk. The leaves are green on the upper surfaces and white and sticky on the underside. It produces husks not unlike chestnuts but they contain no fruit. The wood is solid, strong and of a yellow colour and it is the only species of tree for a hundred miles around.

  The people of the district report a battle being fought here between King Darius and Alexander the Great, King of Macedonia.

  All the towns here, blessed with a temperate climate, are well supplied with the necessities of life. The people – Mahometans to a man – are in general a handsome race; in fact I would describe their women as the most beautiful in the world.

  Now let me tell you, as I heard it from a number of people in these parts, the incredible story of the Old Man of the Mountains.

  He lived in what became known as the district of Mulehet, which in the language of the Saracen means a ‘place of heretics’. Thus his followers were called Mulehetics, or holders of heretical beliefs. His name was Aloeddin and he was Mahometan. In a beautiful valley enclosed by two lofty peaks he created a magical garden offering every delicious fruit and fragrant shrub that money could buy. Pavilions of exotic style, form and size were erected round the garden, furnished with articles of gold, paintings and rich silken drapes.

  These pavilions housed beautiful women skilled in music, dance and song – but above all in sex and all the amorous pursuits! Clothed in rich dresses the courtesans sported and displayed themselves in the gardens and pavilions. (Their female guardians were kept indoors.) Aloeddin’s purpose in creating so fabulous a place was as follows.

  Mahomet, you will recall, promises his faithful followers that if they slavishly obey his will they will enjoy all the fruits of Paradise, including beautiful houris to satisfy every sensual pleasure beyond their wildest dreams. Well, Aloeddin put it about among his followers that he was also a prophet, indeed Mahomet’s peer, and he had the power, should he so choose, to admit people to Paradise!

  His delicious valley he closed from prying eyes by building an impregnable castle across its entrance, restricting all access to a narrow passage.

  Parties of young men from the surrounding valleys aged between twelve and twenty with a martial disposition and a reputation for bravery were selected by Aloeddin and brought before him for daily indoctrination. He also told them of his powers of admission to Paradise.

  At different times he had groups of up to twelve of them fed opium and hashish and, when they were deeply drugged, transported them unconscious to the pavilions in the valley. They awoke to the delights Aloeddin had promised. Surrounded by lovely girls who caressed them intimately and sang, danced and fed them delicate food and exquisite wines in an excess of enjoyment played out among rivulets of actual milk and honey, the lads felt they really were in Paradise and were very reluctant to give it up.

  In the event, they were allowed four or five days in ‘Paradise’ before being literally drugged out of their minds again and carried, somnambulant, out of the valley and allowed to come round in Aloeddin’s presence.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked.

  ‘Paradise,’ they replied. ‘Thanks to you, your Highness.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Aloeddin, and before his entire court they did so.

  ‘You know, don’t you, that the prophet has promised Paradise to those who defend the Lord,’ said Aloeddin. ‘Well, if you follow me devotedly and obey my every command, that happy lot is observably yours.’

  They all swore they would die for him.

  In practical terms, what this meant was that whenever Aloeddin had trouble with local princes they were put to death by a squad of his devoted, fanatical assassins (or ‘hashassins’ after the drugs they took before attacks). They terrorised and eventually dominated the whole region because, of course, they were all prepared to die for the Old Man of the Mountains. His influence spread as far as Damascus and Kurdistan where he appointed deputies who in turn promoted political murders by drug-crazed assassins. No one, in fact, considered himself safe from the Old Man of the Mountains.

  Finally, Mangu, the brother of the Grand Khan and Tartar ruler of these territories, decided things had gone far enough and sent his army to besiege Aloeddin’s castle in the mountains. This proved no easy task thanks to the strength of the castle and its suicidal defendants and it was three years before Aloeddin was eventually starved out, imprisoned and put to death. His castle was torn down and the magic garden razed to the ground. That was the end of him.

  Leave these mountains and travel eastwards and you enter a spacious plain then a country of hills and dales where there is herbage, pasture and fruits in great abundance. Thereafter you encounter another waterless desert. If you are crossing with cattle, the journey requires very careful planning. Six days of travel bring you to the town of Ashbukan in Khorasan where you will get all the provisions you need and where they grow the best melons in the world. They are preserved by cutting them spirally as we do pumpkins and setting them to dry in the sun. Sweet as honey, they are sent for sale in large quantities to neighbouring countries where they are snapped up. Game is also plentiful here, both birds and beasts.

  In the far north of Khorasan is the royal city of Balach which while yet large and magnificent was, until the Tartars sacked it, even grander. Many buildings are partially demolished after their repeated attacks. It still has many palaces constructed of marble and spacious squares the dimensions of which can even now be made out, although they are mostly in a ruinous state. Local legend has it that it was in this city that Alexander the Great married the daughter of King Darius.

  Balach is an important Islamic centre but still within the domain of the Eastern Tartars and it marks the north-eastern limits of Persia.

  Continuing north-east, a journey of two days brings you to a depopulated section of country. The people who once lived here have fled to strongholds in the mountains to protect themselves from the bandits who have overrun the area. Numerous large lions are still to be seen in this country of lakes and streams, probably because there is such a lot of game. It’s difficult getting provisions in these hilly parts however and the traveller is well advised to pack ample supplies for himself and his cattle before he sets out.

  Two days from Balach you come into fine fruitful country where, near the castle of Thaikan, a great market for corn is held.

  Steep, large hills are to be found to the south. These turn out to be composed entirely of compacted salt. It is regarded as the purest in the world and people come from miles around (sometimes travelling for as long as thirty days) to avail themselves of it. It is so hard you need iron implements to break it up, but there is nearly enough salt here to supply the whole world.

  There is a considerable trade also in almonds and pistachio nuts which are grown in the hills. North-east of Thaikan, a journey of three days will bring you to beautiful, densely inhabited country abounding in fruit, corn and vines. The trouble is the people here, all Mahometans, are bloodthirsty and treacherous.

  The excellent wine, which is very sweet, results in drunkenness and debauchery.

  They wear peculiar headdresses, basically a cord, about 10 spans in length, which they bind around their hair.

  Keen sportsmen, they are taught how to cure the skins of the game they hunt and frequently wear nothing but these skins. They also make shoes out of them.

  The city of Scassem is to be found three days from here after a journey through an area of numerous cities and castles. Scassem is governed by a chief, who is the equivalent of our barons and counts, and his fiefdom extends to other towns and strongholds in the mountains. There is a river of tolerable size.

  I saw porcupines here who roll up in a ball when the hunters set their dogs on them and shoot out their spines with such fury both man and dog can be wounded.

  The pe
ople have their own peculiar dialect. The herdsmen live in caverns that they dig in the mountain sides which are fortunately of clay rather than stone.

  The road to Balasham is a further three days through country where there is water and sufficient pasture for horses but none of the necessities required by the traveller so you have to take everything with you.

  This is an extensive kingdom that takes all of twelve days to cross and is governed by hereditary princes descended from Alexander and the daughter of Darius, King of the Persians. These princes have the name of ‘Zulkarnen’, being the equivalent of Alexander in the Saracenic language.

  The precious stones called balas rubies are found in the high mountains here, but mined on only one, Sikinan, under licence from the King (just as he prescribes for gold and silver), which means he controls the market. Woe betide any miner who attempts to dig without such a licence: he would be put to death. Nor can you buy these rubies on the open market or even export them without the King’s permission. Occasionally he gives them as presents to visiting dignitaries, otherwise they are used as gifts to kings and princes, some as tribute to his superior lord, and some he allows to be exported in exchange for gold and silver. The King has cornered the market in this way in order to keep the price up. In fact there is an abundance of rubies, which would of course drop in value if mined indiscriminately.

  These mountains also offer rich veins of lapis lazuli of the finest colour of ultramarine in the world. The mines of silver, copper and lead are also very productive.

  The country is extremely cold. Horses of superior quality and great speed are bred here with hoofs so tough they do not need shoeing. The locals race them down slopes where other animals could not or would not gallop, and they claim they are the descendants of Alexander’s famous horse, Bucephalus, and that the foals bear a distinctive mark on their foreheads. It is said that the whole breed was once owned by one of the King’s uncles, who refused to give any to his nephew and was murdered as a consequence. The widow, incensed by the murder, had them all put down and thus the breed was lost to the world!

  The powerful saker falcon is to be found in these mountains as well as lanner falcons, perfect goshawks and sparrow hawks. The local people are fine falconers, hunting both birds and beasts from the wing.

  This is good wheat-growing country and also produces a huskless variety of barley. A want of olive trees means oil has to be produced from certain nuts and from the grain called sesame. Sesame resembles the seed of flax but is lighter in colour. In my view it is better than olive oil and has more flavour than any oil I have ever tasted; it is a view shared by the Tartars who use it extensively as do the other inhabitants of these parts.

  The country abounds in narrow and easily defended passes which deter foreign invasions. The men are also good archers and from the skins of the wild animals they hunt make most of what they wear, other fabrics being scarce here.

  Innumerable wild sheep find pasture enough in these mountains, rambling about in flocks of four, five and six hundred, all wild. Hunting makes no apparent impact on their numbers.

  These peaks are very lofty. A man can easily take a day getting to the top of one of them. Separating them are wide plains of grass, trees and large streams of the purest water where there are trout and many other delicious fish. The air is so pure and healthy, sick people from the towns and valleys below come up here to recover their health, indeed I had to do just that myself after being here for a year.

  The local women have a very odd fashion. In place of drawers they wear below their waists a garment fashioned, according to their means, from 60, 80 or 100 ells of fine cotton cloth. It is gathered and plaited to increase the apparent size of their hips. Hereabouts the women with the largest hips are judged the most attractive!

  Ten days’ journey away to the south you reach Bascia where the people have a distinctive language and are very different in appearance. They have dark complexions, worship idols and are, frankly, evil-natured. They practise magic, call up demons and are then possessed by them. In their ears they wear pendants of gold and silver adorned with pearls and precious stones. In some parts the climate is extremely hot. Their diet is meat and rice.

  Now let me tell you about Kesmur to the south-east, which took me a week to get to and where there is a race of magicians whose skills excel all others. They can make their idols speak, hide the light of day and procure many other miracles. Most of the idols in this part of the country are made in Kesmur. The river, from here to the Indian sea, is navigable.

  The people are a little on the dark side but the women, while dusky, are gorgeous. They eat, in moderation, meat, cereals and rice. The climate inclines to be warm but there are areas of woodland as well as tracts of deserts. Some of the mountain passes are difficult to negotiate. There are many towns and fortresses and the king here does not have to answer to anyone.

  There is a class of priest, devotees who live in closed communities and observe great restraint in their drinking and eating. Sex and sensual delights they do without altogether to avoid giving offence to the idols they worship. They live to a considerable age. There are here also several monasteries where certain superiors exercise the role of abbot and generally they are highly revered by the mass of the people.

  The natives here adhere to strict dietary rules and no blood is shed from slaughtered animals. They get the Mahometans to do their butchering for them.

  The coral from here fetches the highest price in the world.

  If I had kept going in the same south-easterly direction I would have ended up in India, but I have decided to save that account for later. We will go back now to Balashan and I will describe the road I took to China.

  Striking out to the north-east, three days’ travel through country where castles and villages are set alongside a river, brings you to the province of Vokhan. These people, Mahometans, have a distinct language and are generally civilised in their manners, are said to be valiant in war and quite famous for capturing wild animals. Their chief is in the fiefdom of the prince of Balashan.

  Mountain after mountain greets the traveller who proceeds from here in a north-easterly direction. Eventually you come to the point on the road where the surrounding peaks are so lofty you feel you are on the roof of the world. Here, between two ranges, there is a vast lake from which flows a fine river which pursues a course across an extensive plain covered with greenery. Indeed, such is the quality of this pasture it would only take about ten days to fatten up the thinnest of cattle.

  Wild animals abound, particularly mountain sheep with huge horns. The shepherds make ladles and vessels for food from their horns. The same material is fashioned into a wolf-proof fence for containing the herds that would otherwise be plagued by huge numbers of wolves. You also find piles of these horns and bones stacked by the sides of the road to help travellers when there have been heavy snowfalls.

  For twelve days you slog across this elevated plateau known as the Pamir and because there is a complete absence of human habitation, it is vital you are properly provisioned. So high are these mountains there are no birds to be seen.

  I must tell you of an observation I made: due to the thinness of the air, fires do not give out the same heat as they would at lower altitudes, nor do they cook food so well.

  And this is only the introduction to the mountain vastness! You still have another forty days ahead of you climbing mountains and traversing valleys in unending succession, passing many rivers as well as stretches of desert without meeting a single human being or anything green, until you get to Beloro. Here, high in the mountains, dwells a tribe of savage, ill-mannered people who worship idols, subsist on wild game and dress in the skins of their prey.

  At the end of this difficult journey you finally come to Kashgar where the inhabitants are Mahometans, their language is peculiar to themselves and they exist on trade and commerce particularly in cotton stuffs, flax and hemp which is produced locally. Kashgar is an emporium for the trade carried on
between Tartary, India and China and is now subject to the domination of the Grand Khan. What a relief to be among the gardens, orchards and vineyards you find here.

  Merchants from Kashgar travel all over the world but I found them to be a grasping, sordid lot who eat rudely and drink worse. Admittedly, a few Nestorian Christians are permitted to live by their own laws and worship in their own churches. I crossed Kashgar in five days keen to get to the famous ancient city of Samarkand.

  What a place this is! Beautiful gardens produce all the fruits a man could desire and the city itself can only be described as noble. There is a mix of Mahometans and Christians, all of whom offer allegiance to a nephew of the Grand Khan. The two groups do not live happily together, in fact there is perpetual strife and frequent wars between them.

  Let me tell you of a miracle that is supposed to have happened here. Not so long ago a local chief, Zagata, who was the brother of the then reigning Grand Khan, became a convert to Christianity. This delighted the city’s Christians, of course, and they decided to commemorate the event by building a church dedicated to St John the Baptist. Obviously the sanctuary enjoyed the support and protection of the newly converted Zagata.

  It was elegantly constructed so that the whole weight of the dome rested on a single central column which in turn was supported by a single square stone which, with Zagata’s permission, they had taken – in an act of great provocation – from a Mahometan temple. And then Zagata died! His successor showed no inclination to become Christian and the Mahometan Musselmen demanded their sacred stone back, knowing full well that this would bring down the Christian church. The Christians tried hard to buy them off, but to no avail. Eventually, all they could do was to rely on the protection of the glorious John the Baptist.

  Came the day when they were due to return the stone, the saint answered their prayers. The pillar raised itself a foot, the stone was hauled out and there, without any kind of support, the pillar remains to this day!