on foot, to look for the hoped-for rain-water. We were all well armed,
and went in search of water in different directions. I followed the
kervanbashi--with whom I had been on the best terms since the last
collision with him. Suddenly he caught sight of footprints in the sand
and, lighting our tinder, we followed them up by its feeble light, to
the mouth of a cavern. We entered after a slight hesitation, and beheld
there, to our utmost horror, a man in perfectly savage condition, with
long, unkempt hair and beard, and enormous finger nails, wrapped in
chamois skins. At our sight he, too, started, and seizing his lance made
a rush at us. I retreated as quickly as I could, but my companion
remained perfectly calm, and dropping the arm he had raised and saying
in a low voice, "Aman bol!" (Peace be with thee!), he left the dreadful
place. Not daring to ask too many questions, I learned from the
kervanbashi, on returning, that the man we saw was "Kanli dir" (a man
stained with blood). I was afterwards told that this unhappy being had
fled from righteous revenge for bloodshed, and had been wandering for
years, summer and winter, in the wilderness.
Our companions, like ourselves, returned with empty hands from their
search for water, of which not the slightest indication could be found.
It was an appalling thought that the few drops of muddy dregs I still
possessed would be used up to-day. That evening I ate a few pieces of
bread soaked in boiling water, for I had heard that the water lost its
bitter taste by boiling. I determined patiently to bear everything, for
in comparison to many of my companions I had every reason to be
satisfied with my condition, inasmuch as I was in good health and they
were suffering a great deal from the consequences of their having drunk
from the brackish water. Some of the Turkomans were suspected of having
secreted a quantity of drinkable water. But to rely upon being supplied,
in the desert, with water belonging to another person, would be the
height of madness; and indeed any one wishing to borrow or to beg water
in the desert is looked upon as demented. I had lost my appetite and
could not swallow even a few bits of bread. I dropped on the ground,
exhausted and weak, and pitied my hard fate, when all at once I saw
every one rising and flocking around the kervanbashi, and some persons
beckoning to me to join them with my canteen. The word "water" was
enough to infuse new life into me; I jumped up from the ground I had
been lying on, and on reaching the crowd I saw the kervanbashi dealing
out about two glasses of clear sweet water to every member of the
caravan. This brave Turkoman afterwards told us that for years he had
been in the habit of storing away in secret places large quantities of
water, to distribute it in times of great need, when every one is
benefited by it. This is a great _sevab_ (pious act), for a Turkoman
proverb says: "One drop of water given to the thirsting in the desert
will wash away the sins of a hundred years."
It is just as hard to determine the greatness of such a good action as
it is to describe the enjoyment afforded by one swallow of sweet water.
My craving for food was gone, I did not feel any more hunger, and
thought I could bear being without water for three days. As far as
drinking was concerned I was all right again, but it had all gone wrong
with my bread. From want of appetite and in a fit of indolence I thought
that instead of using wood for fuel, which it took some time to get as
it was at some distance, I would use camel's dung--the regular fuel of
the desert--but of this too I had gathered rather less than was needed.
I placed the dough into the hot ashes, but there was not heat enough to
bake it into bread, even if it had been left there for a week. I quickly
ran off to gather some wood, but it was quite dark when I returned. I
immediately set to kindling a little fire, but no sooner was it
perceived by the kervanbashi, than he called out to ask "If I wished to
betray by the smoke our caravans to the enemy?" I had to put out the
fire at once, and take with me the unleavened bread half done.
On the 23rd of May the rays of the sun beat down upon our heads with a
scorching heat. The sand to the depth of a foot became so hot, that even
the most hardened Asiatic who had never worn either shoe or boot on his
feet, was compelled to fasten around them a piece of leather, sandal
fashion. It was only ten years later, when a Russian army, led by
Colonel Markusoff had crossed this part of the desert, that I learnt
that the heat in the month of May reached the height of fifty-four
degrees Réaumur (about 152 degrees Fahrenheit) in the sun! No wonder
that the effect of the refreshing beverage of yesterday was soon gone,
and that I began to be tantalized anew by thirst. At noon we were
informed by the kervanbashi that we were not far from Kahriman Ata, a
place of resort for pilgrimages. In duty bound we had to dismount and
walk for a quarter of an hour until we reached the saint's grave, where
we performed our devotions. My distress may be easily imagined at being
compelled, worn out with the heat and half dead with thirst, to join the
band of pilgrims. The tombs rose on an eminence; they crowded around it
and yelled out with dry throats, _telkins_ and citations from the Koran.
Oh cruel saint, I thought within myself, couldst thou not have managed
to get thyself buried in some other place, in order to save me the
tortures of this pilgrimage! Choking and out of breath I sank down on
the grave, which was about thirty feet long, and covered with rams'
horns, the ram's horn being looked upon in Central Asia as a symbol of
supremacy. The kervanbashi told us that the saint resting in his grave
had been a giant, as tall as the grave was long, and that ever so long
ago he had defended the wells hereabouts against evil spirits who had
threatened to block them up with stones. The innumerable smaller mounds,
surrounding the saint's grave, marked the places where poor travellers,
who had lost their lives in different places of the desert either by
the hands of robbers or by elemental visitations, were sleeping their
eternal sleep. Hearing of the wells placed under the patronage of the
saint, my heart was gladdened with a new hope, for I thought we should
find drinkable water in the neighbourhood. I hastened to be amongst the
first to arrive at the designated spot. I caught sight of a brownish
puddle-like spring, and helped myself to its water by taking some into
the hollow of my hand. It was as cold as ice, but when I brought it near
my lips I had to leave it untasted, it was so brackish, bitter, and
ill-smelling. My depression became extreme; for the first time I began
to be seriously alarmed about my future.
[Illustration: A WELL IN THE DESERT.]
Luckily for us a heavy rain storm came up during the night, the rain
descending in large drops, and towards morning we came to the extremest
edge of the sand. It took us three days to pass through it. We were sure
of finding on to-day's road in the loamy ground an abundance of
rain-water. The kervanbashi, judging by the numerous footprints of
gazelles and wild asses, anticipated with certainty the accomplishment
of our hope, but, volunteering no opinion of his own, only pressed
forward, and very soon discovered, with his lynx eyes, at a great
distance, a pool of rain-water. Su! Su! (water! water!) was on
everybody's lips when the kervanbashi had communicated his discovery. We
arrived there towards noon, and met on our way, besides the large pool
we had seen at a distance, numerous pits filled with the sweetest
rain-water. I was the first to run up to them, not to drink, but to fill
my goatskin and other vessels with the precious fluid before it became
muddy and murky with being stirred up. A quarter of an hour later
everybody sat at his breakfast with a feeling of infinite delight.
From this station to Khiva we could without interruption fill our skins
with sweet water, and our further progress became, comparatively
speaking, contrasted with our former experiences, a pleasure trip. In
the evening we reached a place where everything pointed to the mastery
of a genuine spring, and camped amidst small lakes set in frames of
verdant meadows. My thoughts involuntarily reverted to my sorrowful
plight of yesterday, and it was with some difficulty I could persuade
myself that the landscape before me was not an idle dream. To add to our
satisfaction, the kervanbashi announced to the caravan that the danger
from attacks was over, and that we should be permitted to build our
fires after to-night. Our Turkoman fellow-travellers attributed the
abundance of water to the fact that we, the hadjis, had been with them.
We refilled our canteens and gaily proceeded on our journey.
XXI.
IN KHIVA.
Towards evening we arrived at the ravine beyond which spread the
so-called plain of _Kaflankir_ (Tigerland). The ascent to this
table-land, which is about three hundred feet high, was excessively
fatiguing to men and animals alike. The Turkomans allege that Kaflankir
had been anciently an island formed by two arms of the Oxus, which were
flowing all around it. It is undeniable that this tract of land differs
greatly from the surrounding wilderness in its structure, the luxuriance
of its vegetation, and the great number of animals it harbours. We had
met, it is true, thus far with solitary gazelles and wild asses on our
march, but here we saw them browsing in flocks by hundreds. On one
occasion we saw an immense cloud of dust approaching from the north,
coming nearer and nearer. The kervanbashi and the Turkomans immediately
seized their arms, and their impatience increased the nearer the cloud
drew. We finally succeeded in discovering that it was caused,
apparently, by a troop of horsemen advancing in full gallop, in a
regular line. The Turkomans dropped their arms. Fifty paces from us we
perceived a herd of animals wildly running and almost concealed by the
dust; and one minute later we heard a sound reminding one of the sudden
halt of a troop of a thousand horsemen in line. We saw before us
innumerable wild asses, stopping suddenly in serried ranks. These strong
and lively animals stood staring at us for a second, and then started
away like the whirlwind in a western direction.
On the 28th of May we came to _Shor Gol_ (salt lake) in the plateau of
Kaflankir. We took a rest of six hours in order to go through the
ablutions commanded by Islam, which for some time we had been compelled
to neglect. On this occasion my fellow-travellers opened their bundles,
and every one of them found a spare shirt in it; I was the only one who
had none. Hadji Bilal offered me the loan of one, but I declined it with
thanks, well knowing that in my apparent poverty lay my greatest
security. My face was covered by a layer of dust an inch thick. I had
numerous occasions, in the desert, to wash it off, but I preferred
keeping it on as a protection against the heat of the sun. Truth to
tell, not only myself, but all the others were dreadfully disfigured by
the _teyemmun_, or washing with the sand, the substitute for the
ablutions with water, ordered by the Prophet to travellers in the
desert. After my friends had been washing and dressing, I saw only what
great lords they looked like in comparison to me. Several of them
offered to lend me parts of their wardrobe, but I thanked them
cordially, and in refusing their kind offers, I announced to them that I
should wait until the Khan of Khiva supplied me with a garment.
We had been toiling on for four days in the high plateau of
Kaflankir, when one morning my eyes were gladdened by the sight of
numerous tents on our right and left. The occupants of these tents came
flocking out to meet us, receiving us with the friendly greeting of
"Aman gheldinghiz!" (Happily come!) Ilias having many friends amongst
the people who were encamped here, he proceeded at once to procure from
them hot bread and other Kurban (they were just then celebrating this,
one of the most important holidays of Islam) gifts. He came back very
soon from his errand, loaded down with meat, bread, and _kimiss_ (a
sharp and acid beverage brewed of mare's milk), all of which he
distributed amongst us. Before long Nomads living at a greater distance
were arriving to shake hands with us, and thus perform an act pleasing
to God. For our share in this pious act we were remembered by gifts of
great quantities of camel's, horse's and sheep's flesh.
[Illustration: AN ASININE ARMY.]
As we were preparing our tea on the evening of the 30th of May, we were
startled by the wild scampering of the camels which we had turned loose.
Before we had time to investigate the cause of their fright, five
horsemen appeared all of a sudden keeping straight towards us at the top
of their horses' speed. We, too, immediately ran to our arms, and in a
second we stood prepared to meet them. But the horsemen slackened their
pace and the Turkomans soon discovered that they had been mistaken in
supposing them to be hostile, for they only wanted to go with us as
members of our caravan.
On the following morning we came to an Uzbeg village belonging to
_Akyap_ (the white canal). At this place we had entirely left behind us
the wilderness lying between Gomushtepe and Khiva. Here I saw Uzbegs for
the first time, and I found them very kind and friendly people. As usual
we made, with our visits, the round of all the houses, and earned with
our fatihas a plentiful harvest. We might still have reached Ilias's
dwelling-place on the same day, but he had his dose of vanity and did
not wish us to arrive there unexpectedly. We therefore passed the night,
within two hours' march of his home, at the house of a rich uncle of
his, who entertained us most sumptuously. In the interval he sent word
of our arrival to his wife, and next morning, on the 1st of June, we
entered the village of Akyap. The numerous kinsmen and friends of Ilias
came out to meet us, receiving us most cordially. To me he offered a
handsome tent, for my quarters, but I preferred his garden, for my soul
had long been yearning for the shade of trees. After a brief rest we
resumed our march towards the capital, which we reached in safety on the
following day. The capital, seen at a distance, surrounded by gardens
and surmounted by its many towers and cupolas, makes a pleasing
impression upon the traveller. In entering through the main gate of the
city I could not shake off a certain fear of being found out or
suspected by the Khan of Khiva, whose cruelty was condemned by the
Tartars themselves, and at whose hands I had reason to expect a much
sterner treatment than even from the Turkomans. I had heard that the
Khan makes a slave of every stranger suspected by him, and that only
recently this had been the sad fate of a Hindoo, alleged to be of
princely origin. But by this time I was accustomed to brave almost any
danger without losing my presence of mind. I therefore kept perfectly
cool, and only busied myself devising schemes by means of which I might
outwit the superstitious tyrant. I had collected, on the way, reliable
and full information about every prominent man in Khiva who had visited
Constantinople. The name of a certain Shukrullah Bey, who had there
passed ten years in the capacity of an ambassador to the Sublime Porte,
was most frequently mentioned, in this connection. I had a sort of hazy
recollection of having met this man at the house of the Turkish
Secretary of State. This Shukrullah Bey, I reflected, knows Stambul
well; he must be familiar with the language and manners current with its
better classes. Now I should pretend to a former acquaintanceship with
him, and force it upon him whether he wants it or no; and as I thought
myself fully capable of acting the character of a man from Stambul to
such a perfection as to impose upon a native of that place, I felt sure
that I should not to be suspected by the late ambassador of the Khan of
Khiva, who would be thus obliged in a manner to countenance me.
Many people were already waiting for us at the gate, offering us bread
and dried fruit. For years there had not arrived such a numerous party
of hadjis; and people came crowding around, and gaping at us from every
street in the city. We were greeted on all sides by the words, "Aman
essen gheldinghiz!" (Happily arrived!) "Ha shahbazim! Ha arslanim!" (My
falcon! My lion!) As soon as we arrived at the bazaar, Hadji Bilal began
with a _telkin_ (a hymn). My voice being the loudest of all, I could not
help being moved upon people kissing my hands, feet, and even the
loosely hanging rags of my garment, as if I had been some first-class
saint or had just descended from heaven. We put up, according to the
custom of the country, at the caravansary, used at the same time for a
Custom House, and I set out, before long, in search of Shukrullah Bey. I
had been told that he was now without any employment or office, and was
living in a cell at the Medresse of Mehemmed Emin, the finest building
in Khiva. I introduced myself to him through one of his attendants as an
Effendi come from Stambul, adding that I had known him there and wished
to pay him my respects in passing through Khiva. The old gentleman was
quite astonished at so strange an occurrence and came out himself to
receive me, but was quite startled upon seeing before him a tattered
beggar in rags. He nevertheless took me into his room, and no sooner had
I pronounced a few words with the genuine Stambul accent, than he began
to inquire, with increasing interest, after his friends at the Turkish
capital, the political configurations, the new Sultan, and so forth.
When, in the course of conversation, we became better acquainted,
Shukrullah Bey thus apostrophized me: "For the love of God, what has
induced thee, Effendi, to come from Stambul, that earthly paradise, to
these fearful countries?" I then told him that I belonged to an order of
dervishes, that my _pir_ (spiritual chief) had sent me on this journey,
and that a _murid_ (a novice) is bound to obey the commands of the
_pir_, even at the risk of his life. My new acquaintance was highly
pleased with my explanations, and only wished to know the name of the
dervish order to which I belonged, and when I told him that of the
_Nakishbend_, he became aware that Bokhara was the object of my
pilgrimage. He was desirous of immediately arranging quarters at the
Medresse for me, but I declined, excusing myself by mentioning my
fellow-travellers whom I had left behind, and went away promising to
renew my visit very soon.
An officer from the Court came to me on the following day, bringing with
him presents, destined for me, from the Khan, and orders from the latter
to make my appearance at the _ark_ (palace) that very evening, in order
to bestow on him, the Khan, my fatiha, it being the Hazret's (his
majesty's) most cherished wish to receive the blessing of a dervish
coming from the Holy Land. I told him I should obey. I called upon
Shukrullah Bey in the afternoon, as he wished to be present at the
audience, and was conducted by him to the palace of the Khan. On our way
there he gave me directions how to comport myself, and described to me
the ceremonial I was to observe on being presented to the Khan. He
informed me, at the same time, that not being on good terms with the
_mehter_ (minister), who looked on him as his rival, his, Shukrullah
Bey's, recommendation might perhaps injure me rather than be of benefit
to me. But following the prevailing custom, I nevertheless had myself
first introduced to the mehter. His ante-chamber, it being audience day,
was cramful of people who, on our entrance, respectfully made way for
us, standing aside. Some women present were pointing at me, saying:
"This is the dervish from Constantinople, who will bestow benediction on
our Khan. May the Lord hearken to his words!"
I found the mehter in a porch, surrounded by his men, who smiled at
every word uttered by him. His dark complexion and long beard reaching
to his chest showed him to be a Persian. When he saw me approaching him
he said something to his attendants. I marched up boldly to him, saluted
him with becoming gravity, and immediately sat down in the principal
place belonging by rights to a dervish. After saying the customary
prayer, followed by every one's stroking his beard, and responding with
a loud "Amen," I exchanged the usual formal courtesies with the mehter.
Then he told me that the Hazret--at which word everybody rose from his
seat--wished to see me, but that he would be very glad if I could
produce a couple of lines from the Embassy at Teheran or the Sultan. I
replied that my journey had no worldly aims, that I required nothing of
anybody, but that for the safety of my person I had brought with me a
firman provided with the _tugra_ (the Sultan's seal). In saying this I
handed the mehter my passport, which he kissed with great reverence,
rubbing the seal against his forehead: then he rose and said he would
give the document to the Khan. Shortly afterwards he returned,
announcing to me that the Khan was ready to receive me. Shukrullah Bey
entered first, and I had to wait until the necessary preparations were
made. Although I was introduced as a dervish, the Khan had been informed
by Shukrullah Bey that I knew every distinguished pasha in
Constantinople. After a while I was taken by the arm by two officers,
the curtain was drawn aside, and I saw before me _Seid Mehemmed Khan
Padishahi Kharezm_, the Khan of Khiva, seated on a terrace-like
platform, a round velvet cushion supporting one arm, and holding a short
gold sceptre in his other hand. Strictly adhering to the ceremonial
prescribed for me, I lifted my hand, all present and the Khan himself
following my example, recited a brief _sura_, a short passage from the
Koran, two _alahumu sellahs_ (God be praised) and a short prayer. As the
Khan was taking hold of his beard in order to respond with "Amen" at the
termination of the prayer every one called out, "Kabul bolgai!" (May thy
prayer be heard!). Thereupon I drew near the prince, who held out his
hand, and after having gone through the _mussafeha_ (the salutation
prescribed by the Koran--the two persons in giving a greeting extend an
outstretched hand to each other), I retreated a few steps, and there was
an end to the ceremony. The Khan now commenced to make inquiries about
the object of my journey, and the impression the Turkomans, the great
desert, and Khiva had made upon me. I replied that I had undergone a
great many trials and sufferings, but that the sight of the _Hazret's
djemal mubarek_ (his Majesty's blessed beauty) compensated me abundantly
for all my sufferings. "I thank Allah," I continued, "for allowing me
to have this extraordinary good fortune, and I believe that I must look
upon this signal favour of _Kismet_ (fate) as a good omen for the safe
progress of my journey." I was asked by the Khan if I intended to remain
a long time in Khiva, and whether I was provided with the necessary
wherewithal for my journey. I answered to him that before continuing my
journey I intended visiting the graves of all the saints reposing in the
blessed soil of the Khanate, and that as to being provided with the
needful travelling expenses, we dervishes did not trouble ourselves
about such worldly trifles; the _nefes_ (holy spirit) which was given to
me by my _pir_ (chief of the dervish order) on my journey would sustain
life in me for four or five days without taking any food. Therefore I
had no other wish but that God might prolong his Majesty's life to one
hundred and twenty years.
[Illustration: AUDIENCE WITH THE KHAN OF KHIVA.]