in prison? Will you not come out? Do you still stand by that statement or not?” I knew that entrusting the message to al-Fattāh alone would serve no good purpose, for reasons that are clear.
I said to him, “Convey my greetings to the deputy and tell him that I do not know what this statement is. To this very hour, I do not know why I have been imprisoned or what my offence is. My reply to this message cannot be conveyed through you. Rather, he should send four emirs from among his trusted men—men who understand and acknowledge the truth—so that what is said in their presence is accurately preserved, without additions or omissions. I already know what lies have been told in this affair.”
After that, al-Fattāh came with someone whom I did not know, but who told me that he was called ʿAlāʾ al-Dīn al-Taybarsī. I subsequently found that those who knew him praised him and spoke well of him. However, he did not begin by saying anything that allowed for a courteous reply. He did not say, “The statement you repudiated was such and such,” nor did he ask, “Will you agree to such and such?”
Had he said what he said—including his lies about me, his unbelief, and his disputation—in a manner that called for a courteous reply, I would have replied accordingly. People know that I am among the most forbearing and patient in enduring bitter words, and among the fairest in addressing even the humblest of people, let alone (those in authority. But his approach was one of compulsion: I was to agree to what he was calling for. He brought out a scroll containing