should be given twenty gold pieces and a strong ass. I did not accept
the money, under the pretext that it was a sin for a dervish to be
possessed of money, but accepted the animal, adding, however, the
request to select, if possible, a white one, for it was one of that
colour which the sacred law prescribed for pilgrimages. I was about to
withdraw, when I was asked by the Khan to be at least his guest during
the short time I intended to pass at the capital, and to accept during
this time from his treasury, daily, two _tenghes_ (a sixpence) for my
board. This offer, too, was declined with thanks, and I retired after
having given my final benediction. Upon returning, I was greeted most
respectfully with _selam aleikums_ (Peace be unto you!) by the people
who were thronging the courtyard of the palace and the bazaar. I did not
breathe freely until I found myself in safety within the four walls of
my cell.
Every feature in the Khan's face betrayed the debauched, worn-out,
dull-minded, inhuman tyrant; his eyes were deeply sunken, his lips of a
pallid white, and his voice was shaky. I was profoundly thankful for his
exceptional kindness to me, and was pleased to think that I now could
employ the time I had in wandering through the Khanate to my heart's
content without any interference.
There was not much to be seen at the capital itself, and what little
there was worthy of note might have been easily looked at in a couple of
days. But my time was entirely taken up by invitations from the Khan,
the government officials and prominent merchants. Since it had become
generally known that I was in the good graces of the king, everybody
wished me and my dervish companions to be his guests. It was a real
torture for me, to have to accept six and even eight invitations a day.
I recall with a shudder, to this day, the number of times I had to sit
down, early in the morning, between three and four o'clock, to a plate
of rice swimming in a gravy of mutton fat. The _Toshebaz_ (the name of
the cloister where I was quartered) comprised a mosque and a large
water-tank, and was therefore looked upon as a public building, and
continually swarming with visitors. This offered me a very good
opportunity of observing the dress, the mode of life and all the doings
of the Uzbegs, and to become personally acquainted with several of them.
The men wear tall pyramid-shaped fur caps on their head, and enormously
large boots of Russian leather of shapeless bulk on their feet, besides
which their costume consists in summer of only a long shirt. The women
wear turbans of immense size, consisting of from fifteen to twenty
Russian pocket handkerchiefs rolled one into the other, and are
compelled, poor creatures, to drag jars of water during the greatest
heat, having on their feet tremendously large boots, and muffled up in
their manifold dresses. Often women were stopping at my door asking for
a little _khakishifa_ (health-powder) which the pilgrims bring with them
from _Medina_, from the house of the Prophet, and which is used as a
medicine against all sorts of ailings; or they would beg for a _nefes_
(holy breath) and give a detailed account of their bodily sufferings. I
had, of course, to comply with all requests, and touching the sore place
I blew or breathed on it three times. Thereupon the patient heaved a
deep sigh, and many of them insisted that they immediately felt relieved
from pain. Both I and my hadji friends had reason to be gratified with
the brilliant success of our dealing in the holy breath, for I myself
earned fifteen gold pieces for the heavenly article.
I soon had occasion to become convinced that the mehter, the Khan's
minister, was trying to injure me for no other reason except that he
hated Shukrullah Bey, who patronized me. He could not very well doubt my
being a Turk, but he endeavoured to make the Khan believe that I had put
on the dervishship as a mask merely for some secret mission from the
Sultan on which I was now going to Bokhara. Information of his
perfidiousness had already reached me, and I was not at all surprised at
being again invited to the Khan's court, a few days only after my first
audience. A large company was present, and he received me immediately
with the question, if it was true that I was versed in worldly knowledge
too, and that I could write in a flowery style. He wished me to write
something for him in the fashion of Stambul, which he was very desirous
to see. I very well knew that the request was made in consequence of the
mehter's machinations against me, who enjoyed the reputation of being
clever in fine and flowery writing and had made inquiries respecting me
of my hadji-companions. I produced my writing materials and wrote as
follows: "High, mighty and terrible king and lord! I, thy poorest
humblest servant, immersed in thy royal graces, keeping before my eyes
the proverb that every fine writer is a fool, have hitherto occupied
myself but little with studies of fine writing. On the other hand I
recalled that other saying, that every fault becomes a virtue as soon as
it pleases the king, and found courage to write down these lines."
These high-sounding titles pleased the Khan very much, but the mehter
was too stupid to perceive the drift of my allusions. I was told to sit
down and, having been treated with bread and tea, called upon by the
Khan to come and talk with him. Politics were, this time, the exclusive
topic of our conversation, but I, remaining faithful to the character of
a dervish, showed but little interest in the matter, and every word had
to be forced out of me. All this while the mehter was attentively
listening and keenly scanning the expression of my countenance in the
hope of my saying something to justify his suspicions, but it was all to
no purpose. The Khan sent me away again with the repeated assurance of
his good graces, and told me to draw upon his treasurer for my daily
stipend. He ordered a _yasaul_ (a court officer) to take me to the
treasurer. I found the treasurer, who paid me at once the sum as
directed, singularly employed. He was arranging the _khilat_ (robe of
honour), that is, those garments which were destined to be sent to the
camp in order to invest with them the heroes, in reward of their
bravery. There were four different sorts of silk suits of clothing, all
of them the most glaring colours, richly embroidered with flowers in
gold; and dividing them into four groups, he called them suits of four
heads, suits of twelve heads, suits of twenty and of forty heads.
This nomenclature struck me as very odd, all the more so as there was
not the slightest trace of a head to be seen on those garments. Instead
of answering my question the treasurer told me to meet him in a large
public square on the following morning. I was there at the appointed
time. I found about a hundred horsemen, who had just arrived from the
camp, covered with dust, each of them leading a couple of prisoners,
amongst them women and children, who were tied either to the horses'
tails or the saddle-bows, each horseman bringing with him, besides, a
sack which was thrown across the saddle. As soon as they arrived each of
them handed over the prisoners, he had brought with him, as a present to
the Khan, or some other grandee of the land; then they removed the sacks
from the saddles and taking hold of the two sides of the one end they
spilled their contents on the ground as one does with potatoes. But
these were human heads, the heads of slaughtered enemies, which were
rolling at the feet of the official who wrote down their number. He
first carefully counted the number of heads brought by each horseman and
then gave a receipt for the same, the servant kicking them meanwhile
into a heap. The horsemen galloped away with their receipts, which were
drafts upon the treasurer for their respective rewards, in the shape of
robes of honour of four, twenty or forty heads.
[Illustration: A ROAD IN CENTRAL ASIA.]
The Yasaul who was to take me to the treasurer had, before doing so,
another order to attend to; I was therefore obliged to go with him.
There were three hundred Tchaudor (a Turkoman tribe) prisoners of war in
the third courtyard, and it was in reference to these that the Yasaul
had received the Khan's orders. These unfortunate people were all
covered with rags, and looked, owing to their fear of death and the
starving they had to undergo for days past, like dead men risen from
their graves. They were already divided into two groups, those under
forty years of age who were fit to be sold as slaves or to be made a
present of, and those who owing to their position or advanced age are
looked upon as _aksakals_ (graybeards or chieftains), and were subject
to the punishments meted out by the Khan. Those of the first class were
led away by their escorts, in bands of fifteen tied to each other by
iron collars. The second group were anticipating with patient
resignation, like sheep taken to the slaughter-house, the horrible fate
in store for them. Part of them were sent to the block or to the
gallows; eight of them, of an advanced age, lay down on their backs at a
hint from the executioner. In this situation their hands and feet were
tied, and he, kneeling on their chests, and stabbing with a sharp knife
the eyes of each of them, in turn, deprived them of their eyesight.
After he had accomplished his cruel task he wiped his bloody knife on
the grey beard of one of his victims. It was a dreadful sight to see
these miserable people, after the fetters had been removed from their
hands and feet, in their groping attempts to rise from the ground. Some
knocked their heads against one another, others sank to the ground again
from sheer exhaustion, moaning and beating the ground with their feet in
their agony. I shall think with horror of this scene as long as I live.
I bestowed upon the Khan my blessing upon taking leave. He asked me to
come back by the way of Khiva as he wished to send with me an ambassador
to Constantinople, whose mission it would be to obtain from the new
Sultan the customary confirmation for himself. I replied that it was
sinful to think of the future, but we should see by and by what _Kismet_
(fate) ordains. I then took leave of every one whose acquaintance I had
made, or whose friendship I had gained, during my stay of one month in
Khiva.
XXII.
FROM KHIVA TO BOKHARA.
We met for our departure in the cool and shady yard of the Toshebaz. The
charity and liberality of the inhabitants of Khiva was manifestly
traceable in the altered appearance of the mendicant caravan. The
moth-eaten fur caps which we had adopted amongst the Turkomans had given
way to turbans of spotless white. The conglomeration of tatters,
dignified by the name of apparel, was gone, and the very travelling
outfit was far superior to our former holiday apparel. Our bags were
filled to bursting, and we experienced great satisfaction in observing
that even the poorest of us was provided with an ass, however
diminutive. The time for carrying black flour with me was now over; its
place was supplied by white cakes, and my store contained such luxuries
as rice, butter and sugar. The only article I would not change was my
dress. I had been presented with a shirt, it is true, but I did not put
it on, thinking that such superfluities, for which the time had not come
yet, might have an effeminate effect upon me. It was rather late in the
afternoon of the 2nd of June when, having happily got over the
never-ending benedictions and farewell embraces, our party left Khiva.
The over-zealous ran after us for half an hour, shedding copious tears
and saying to us in taking leave: "Who knows when Khiva will be again so
fortunate as to have so many pious men for guests within her walls!"
_Godshe_ was the name of the small town where we passed the first night.
Here we put up for the first time at the _kalenterkhane_, that is, an
inn for the separate and special accommodation of dervishes which it is
customary for every larger community to provide. From here to _Khanka_
we uninterruptedly passed through cultivated land. In the kalenterkhane
at Khanka I found two half-naked dervishes, who were just in the act of
abandoning themselves to the indulgence of opium-eating when I entered.
They at once asked me to join them, offering me a goodly dose thereof,
and were quite astonished to hear me refuse their kind proffer. They
were not to be easily baffled in their friendly attentions, and treated
me to tea instead. While I drank my tea they swallowed their poppy-seed
poison. In half an hour's time the drug had taken effect; they were both
in the realms of the happy; but while the face of the one sleeper wore
an expression of joy and delight, the agonies of terrible fear were
depicted in the countenance of the other.
Towards evening on the day of our departure from Khanka we came to the
Oxus. The spring rains must have considerably swelled the volume of its
waters, forcing them beyond their ordinary bed; for I found the river
much more considerable than I imagined it to be. The yellow water of the
Oxus is not so good in its bed as it is in the canals issuing from it,
or in its side-branches, where the water, flowing more slowly, is apt
to cool off sooner. Where the sand is settling in the Oxus, there the
water for sweetness and purity has no rival in the world. Toll must be
paid for crossing the Oxus, but the payment of it will in itself not
pass a person; one must also be provided with a _petek_ (a license to
cross). The hadjis had one passport, in common; I had myself been given
a separate one which ran thus: "Be it known to the guards on the
frontier and the collectors of customs and tolls that Hadji Mollah
Abdur-Reshid Effendi was granted a license. Let nobody molest or
interfere with him."
Our transportation across the river commenced at ten o'clock in the
forenoon; and it was sundown when we reached the opposite shore. We
might have crossed the mighty river itself in half an hour's time, but
on its smaller side-branches we ran aground; the sandbanks, every ten
minutes, forcing the passengers and animals to disembark in order that
the ferry-boat might be pushed off into deeper water, and more time
being lost getting on board again. The shipping and the unloading of the
asses, particularly the stubborn ones, gave no end of troublesome and
hard work; the passengers being compelled, for the most part, to carry
the animals bodily from and into the boat. There is one laughable scene
before my eyes at this very moment; how tall, rawboned Hadji Yakub
packed his little ass on his back, gathering up in his lists the
struggling legs of the frightened animal, which meekly leant its head on
the neck of the hadji. Our caravan could proceed but very slowly. When
we were near _Akkamish_ (white reed), the kervanbashi, two others, and
myself, trusting to the speed of our animals, took advantage of the
tardy progress of the caravan, and turned aside to visit _Shurakhan_,
where the weekly fair was being held, in order to replenish our
provisions.
Shurakhan consists chiefly of those three hundred shops which are open
two days a week, and where the permanent inhabitants of the neighbouring
country and the nomads happening to camp there, can obtain the
necessaries of life. I entrusted my companions with the making of the
needful purchases, and sauntered away to the kalenterkhane, outside the
place. Here I met again with several dervishes whose frames, reduced to
mere skeletons, plainly showed their indulgence in _bang_ (opium
prepared from hemp). Bang is most universally used for intoxicating
purposes in Khiva, and the sinful indulgence in it by many arises from
the fact that the Koran forbidding the use of wine and other spirituous
liquors, the transgression of that commandment is punished with death by
the government. I returned to the fair to join my friends, but it was
with great difficulty that I succeeded in pushing my way through the
swarming multitude. Everybody was on horseback, buyers as well as
sellers. Kirghiz women on horseback were vending _kimiss_ (a sourish
beverage prepared from mare's milk) in large skin jugs, and it was
amusing to see with what dexterity they put the mouth of the jug to the
lips of their customer, who was on horseback too, without ever spilling
a single drop. At the caravan they had been looking out for us with the
greatest impatience, and we resumed our march at sunset, for henceforth
we were to travel at night only. As we marched on by the light of the
moon, the spectacle was indeed entrancing--the moving caravan and its
fantastic shadows, upon which the pale moon shed its mysterious silvery
light, flanked on the right by the Oxus rolling its darkling waters with
a hoarse murmur, on the left the awful desert of Tartary stretching its
endless vista. We met with some Kirghiz Nomads on the following day, and
I seized the opportunity of addressing a few words to a Kirghiz woman,
asking her if she did not weary of this roving gipsy life of hers. "We
cannot be so indolent," she answered, "as you mollahs are, and spend the
entire day in one place. Man must move about, the sun, the moon, the
stars, the water, animals, birds, fish, all are moving; only the dead
and the earth lie motionless."
As we were continuing our march along the willow-covered shores of the
Oxus, we were met by five merchants from Khiva, on horseback, who had
made their way from Bokhara to this point in four days, and who,
moreover, brought us the cheering news that the roads were perfectly
safe and that most likely we should on the following day meet with the
caravan they had left.
It was at the break of day on the 4th of July when we suddenly stumbled
upon two men, in an entirely nude state, who in a pitiful voice could
only repeat, "A piece of bread! a piece of bread!" and then fainted
away. They were at once given some bread, water and mutton fat, and
recovering themselves they told us that they were sailors from Hevaves,
had been attacked by a band of Tekke-Turkoman robbers, numbering about
one hundred and fifty, and had been robbed by them of their boat, their
clothing, their bread and everything else they had. "For the love of
God," they said, "run or hide, for you are sure to come across them in a
couple of hours, and although you are pious pilgrims, they will strip
you of everything and leave you naked in the wilderness, for the Kafir
(infidel) Tekke is capable of everything."
No sooner did the kervanbashi hear the name of Tekke mentioned than he
gave instant orders to retrace our steps. We were to retreat as fast as
was compatible with the pace of the poor, heavily laden camels. Of
course it was well-nigh an impossibility to get away with camels from
Turkoman horses, but we counted that it would take until morning for one
hundred and fifty horsemen to cross the river, and whilst they were
cautiously reconnoitring we might safely reach Tunuklu. There we
intended to fill our canteens with water and then to turn into the
desert of _Khalata_, where we hoped to escape from the pursuit of the
Tekkes. After tremendous exertions we arrived with our animals quite
exhausted in Tunuklu. Here we had to remain until our animals were
rested and fed, for in their present condition they could not have
reached the first station in the desert. We passed three mortal hours in
unquestionable anxiety, making our preparations for the awful journey,
and the sun had not set when our caravan was wending its way, from the
ruins of Tunuklu, along the road leading to Khalata.
Knowing the terrors of the desert as we did, one may easily imagine with
what feelings myself and my fellow-travellers commenced this new journey
through the desert. We had travelled from Gomushtepe to Khiva in the
month of May, and now we were in July; then we found some rain-water,
now we should not find even salt-water. With what longing did we look at
the Oxus, on whose bosom the setting sun was casting a halo of light, as
it receded, to the right, from our sight. The very animals, dumb as they
were, kept their eyes continuously in that direction. The sky was
covered already with stars when we reached the sandy desert. We
proceeded as noiselessly as possible for fear of attracting the
attention of the Turkomans whom we thought not to be far off. They could
not possibly see us in the darkness of the night, and the moon would
rise late. The soft ground prevented the noise of the tramp of the
animals being heard, and the only thing we apprehended was that one of
our animals might take it into its head to give us a specimen of its
charming voice. Fortunately the spirit of singing did not descend on any
of them. About midnight we reached a place where all of us had to
dismount, as the animals were wading knee deep in the fine sand.
Our station on the morning of the 5th of July was called _Adamkirilgan_,
that is, man destroyer, and one glance taken at the surrounding objects
was sufficient to prove the propriety of this appellation. As far as the
eye could reach, nothing but sand, sand, now like the stormy sea lashing
itself into tremendous waves, now again presenting the spectacle of the
rippling caused by gentle breezes on the bosom of a calm lake. No bird
can be seen in the air, nor insect on the earth; all the eye can
discover here and there are the sad signs of decay, the skeletons of
lost men and animals, which are placed in a heap by the travellers in
order to serve them as a guide. Here, of course, we were safe from the
Turkomans, for there is no horse in the world capable of walking the
distance of one station through this sand. According to our
kervanbashi's statement the journey from Tunuklu to Bokhara, generally
took six days, three through the sand and three on solid ground, covered
here and there with grass. We had to fear then, altogether, one day's or
one and a half day's want of water. But I observed on the very first day
that the water of the Oxus we had with us upset all our calculations, as
it diminished with frightful rapidity in spite of our utmost economy, a
phenomenon which I attributed to evaporation. Everybody of course guards
his skin most carefully, and jealously hugs it close to his bosom when
asleep. We marched six hours every day in spite of the dreadful heat,
wishing to get out of the sandy desert as soon as possible; for if we
happened to be caught dozing in the sand for only a few seconds by the
murderous _tebbad_ wind, the lives of the whole caravan would be in
danger, whilst on the solid ground of the desert beyond, such a tebbad
visitation involved only an attack of high fever. The forced march had
worn out our camels to such an extent that two of them died on the 6th
of July.
Our toilsome march had now lasted three days; the scorching heat
enervated us all and reduced our strength. Two of our poorer
companions, who had been compelled, owing to the inferiority of their
animals, to trudge by their side on foot, had consumed all the water
they had, and became, for want of it, so sick that they had to be tied
to the backs of the camels, being unable both to walk and to sit
upright. They were covered up besides. As long as their voices did not
desert them, they were constantly begging for water. It is the pitiful
truth, alas! that their best friends denied them the boon of a few
drops of the life-giving elixir, and it was reserved for grim death to
be more generous and relieve one of them from the pangs of thirst on
reaching Medemin Bulag, at which place he expired. I was near the
unhappy man when he had breathed his last. His tongue had turned quite
black, his throat was of a grayish white, but his features were not
overmuch discomposed, except his mouth, which was gaping, owing to the
shrunken state of his lips. I am not sure if the bathing of water would
have been of any benefit to the poor fellow, but the thought that
nobody attempted to save the dying man by offering him one swallow of
water did not cease to haunt me for many a day to come. The father
hides his liquid store from his son, the brother from his brother, for
every drop of it not only represents life but relief from the dreadful
torture of thirst, the fear of the latter banishing that self-sacrifice
and generous-mindedness which we often have an opportunity to witness
on other occasions of danger and peril.