Book: Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXIX.

V >> Various >> Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine, No. CCCXXIX.




[28] The Russian detachment, consisting on this occasion of
3000 men, was surrounded by 60,000. These were, Ouizmi
Karakaidakhsky, the Avaretzes, Akoushinetzes, the Boulinetzes
of the Koi-Sou, and others. The Russians fought their way out
by night, but with considerable loss.

"Away, brute!" cried Sultan Akhmet Khan to the soldier who had again
seized the bridle of his horse--"I am a Russian general."

"A Russian traitor!" roared a multitude of voices; "bring him to the
Captain: drag him to Derbend, to Colonel Verkhoffsky."

"'Tis only to hell I would go with such guides!" said Akhmet, with a
contemptuous smile, and making his horse rear, he turned him to the
right and left; then, with a blow of the nogaik,[29] he made him leap
into the air, and disappeared. The noukers kept their eye on the
movements of their chief, and uttering their warcry, followed his steps,
and overthrowing several of the soldiers, cleared a way for themselves
into the road. After galloping off to a distance of scarce a hundred
paces, the Khan rode away at a slow walk, with an expression of the
greatest _sang-froid_, not deigning to look back, and coolly playing
with his bridle. The crowd of Tartars assembled round the blacksmith
attracted his attention. "What are you quarrelling about, friends?"
asked Akhmet Khan of the nearest, reining in his horse.

[29] The whip of a Kazak.

In sign of respect and reverence, they all applied their hands to their
foreheads when they saw the Khan. The timid or peaceably disposed among
them, dreading the consequences, either from the Russians or the Khan,
to which this rencontre might expose them, exhibited much discomfiture
at the question; but the idle, the ruffian, and the desperate--for all
beheld with hatred the Russian domination--crowded turbulently round him
with delight. They hurriedly told him what was the matter.

"And you stand, like buffaloes, stupidly looking on, while they force
your brother to work like a brute under the yoke!" exclaimed the Khan,
gloomily, to the bystanders; "while they laugh in your face at your
customs, and trample your faith under their feet! and ye whine like old
women, instead of revenging yourselves like men! Cowards! cowards!"

"What can we do?" cried a multitude of voices together; "the Russians
have cannon--they have bayonets!"

"And ye, have ye not guns? have ye not daggers? It is not the Russians
that are brave, but ye that are cowards! Shame of Mussulmans! The sword
of Daghestan trembles before the Russian whip. Ye are afraid of the roll
of the cannon; but ye fear not the reproach of cowardice. The ferman of
a Russian pristav[30] is holier to you than a chapter of the Koran.
Siberia frightens you more than hell. Did your forefathers act, did your
forefathers think thus? They counted not their enemies, they calculated
not. Outnumbered or not, they met them, bravely fought them, and
gloriously died! And what fear ye? Have the Russians ribs of iron? Have
their cannon no breach? Is it not by the tail that you seize the
scorpion?" This address stirred the crowd. The Tartar vanity was touched
to the quick. "What do we care for them? Why do we let them lord it over
us here?" was heard around. "Let us liberate the blacksmith from his
work--let us liberate him!" they roared, as they narrowed their circle
round the Russian soldiers, amidst whom Alekper was shoeing the
captain's horse. The confusion increased. Satisfied with the tumult he
had created, Sultan Akhmet Khan, not wishing to mix himself up in an
insignificant brawl, rode out of the crowd, leaving two noukers to keep
alive the violent spirit among the Tartars, while, accompanied by the
remainder, he rode rapidly to the ootakh[31] of Ammalat.

[30] A superintendent.

[31] The house, in Tartar, is "ev;" "outakh," mansion; and
"sarai," edifice in general; "haram-khaneh," the women's
apartments. For palace they employ the word "igarat." The
Russians confound all these meanings in the word "sakla,"
which, in the Circassian language, is house.

"Mayest thou be victorious," said Sultan Akhmet Khan to Ammalat Bek, who
received him at the threshold. This ordinary salutation, in the
Circassian language, was pronounced with so marked an emphasis, that
Ammalat as he kissed him, asked, "Is that a jest or a prophecy, my fair
guest?"

"That depends on thee," replied the Sultan. "It is upon the right heir
of the Shamkhalat[32] that it depends to draw the sword from the
scabbard."

[32] The father of Ammalat was the eldest of the family, and
consequently the true heir to the Shamkhalat. But the Russians,
having conquered Daghestan, not trusting to the good intentions
of this chief, gave the power to the younger brother.

"To sheath it no more, Khan? An unenviable destiny. Methinks it is
better to reign in Bouinaki, than for an empty title to be obliged to
hide in the mountains like a jackal."

"To bound from the mountains like a lion, Ammalat; and to repose, after
your glorious toils, in the palace of your ancestors."

"To repose? Is it not better not to be awakened at all?

"Would you behold but in a dream what you ought to possess in reality?
The Russians are giving you the poppy, and will lull you with tales,
while another plucks the golden flowers of the garden."[33]

[33] A _jeu-de-mots_ which the Asiatics admire much;
"kizil-gulliar" means simply roses, but the Khan alludes to
"kizil," ducats.

"What can I do with my force?"

"Force--that is in thy soul, Ammalat!... Despise dangers and they bend
before you.... Dost thou hear that?" added Sultan Akhmet Khan, as the
sound of firing reached them from the town. "It is the voice of
victory!"

Saphir-Ali rushed into the chamber with an agitated face.

"Bouinaki is in revolt," he hurriedly began; "a crowd of rioters has
overpowered the detachment, and they have begun to fire from the
rocks."[34]

[34] The Tartars, like the North American Indians, always, if
possible, shelter themselves behind rocks and enclosures, &c.,
when engaged in battle.

"Rascals!" cried Ammalat, as he threw his gun over his shoulder. "How
dared they to rise without me! Run, Saphir-Ali, threaten them with my
name; kill the first who disobeys."

"I have done all I could to restrain them," said Saphir-Ali, "but none
would listen to me, for the noukers of Sultan Akhmet Khan were urging
them on, saying that he had ordered them to slay the Russians."

"Indeed! did my noukers say that?" asked the Khan.

"They did not say so much, but they set the example," said Saphir-Ali.

"In that case they have done well," replied Sultan Akhmet Khan: "this is
brave!"

"What hast thou done, Khan!" cried Ammalat, angrily.

"What you might have done long ago!"

"How can I justify myself to the Russians?"

"With lead and steel.... The firing is begun.... Fate works for you ...
the sword is drawn ... let us go seek the Russians!"

"They are here!" cried the Captain, who, followed by two men, had broken
through the disorderly ranks of the Tartars, and dashed into the house
of their chief. Confounded by the unexpected outbreak in which he was
certain to be considered a party, Ammalat saluted his enraged
guest--"Come in peace!" he said to him in Tartar.

"I care not whether I come in peace or no," answered the Captain, "but I
find no peaceful reception in Bouinaki. Thy Tartars, Ammalat, have dared
to fire upon a soldier of mine, of yours, a subject of our Tsar."

"In very deed, 'twas absurd to fire on a Russian," said the Khan,
contemptuously stretching himself on the cushions of the divan, "when
they might have cut his throat."

"Here is the cause of all the mischief, Ammalat!" said the Captain,
angrily, pointing to the Khan; "but for this insolent rebel not a
trigger would have been pulled in Bouinaki! But you have done well,
Ammalat Bek, to invite Russians as friends, and to receive their foe as
a guest, to shelter him as a comrade, to honour him as a friend! Ammalat
Bek, this man is named in the order of the commander-in-chief; give him
up."

"Captain," answered Ammalat, "with us a guest is sacred. To give him up
would be a sin upon my soul, an ineffaceable shame upon my head; respect
my entreaty; respect our customs."

"I will tell you, in your turn--respect the Russian laws. Remember your
duty. You have sworn allegiance to the Tsar, and your oath obliges you
not to spare your own brother if he is a criminal."

"Rather would I give up my brother than my guest, Sir Captain! It is not
for you to judge my promises and obligations. My tribunal is Allah and
the padishah! In the field, let fortune take care of the Khan; but
within my threshold, beneath my roof, I am bound to be his protector,
and I will be!"

"And you shall be answerable for this traitor!"

The Khan had lain in haughty silence during this dispute, breathing the
smoke from his pipe: but at the word "traitor," his blood was fired, he
started up, and rushed indignantly to the Captain.

"Traitor, say you?" he cried. "Say rather, that I refused to betray him
to whom I was bound by promise. The Russian padishah gave me rank, the
sardar[35] caressed me--and I was faithful so long as they demanded of
me nothing impossible or humiliating. But, all of a sudden, they wished
me to admit troops into Avar--to permit fortresses to be built there;
and what name should I have deserved, if I had sold the blood and sweat
of the Avaretzes, my brethren! If I had attempted this, think ye that I
could have done it? A thousand free daggers, a thousand unhired bullets,
would have flown to the heart of the betrayer. The very rocks would have
fallen on the son who could betray his father. I refused the friendship
of the Russians; but I was not their enemy--and what was the reward of
my just intentions, my honest counsels? I was deeply, personally
insulted by the letter of one of your generals, whom I had warned. That
insolence cost him dear at Bashli ... I shed a river of blood for some
few drops of insulting ink, and that river divides us for ever."

[35] The commander-in-chief.

"That blood cries for vengeance!" replied the enraged Captain. "Thou
shalt not escape it, robber!"

"Nor thou from me!" shouted the infuriated Khan, plunging his dagger
into the body of the Captain, as he lifted his hand to seize him by the
collar. Severely wounded, the officer fell groaning on the carpet.

"Thou hast undone me!" cried Ammalat, wringing his hands. "He is a
Russian, and my guest!"

"There are insults which a roof cannot cover," sullenly replied the
Khan. "The die is cast: it is no time to hesitate. Shut your gate, call
your people, and let us attack the enemy."

"An hour ago I had no enemy ... there are no means now for repulsing
them ... I have neither powder nor ball ... The people are dispersed."

"They have fled!" cried Saphir-Ali in despair. "The Russians are
advancing at full march over the hill. They are close at hand!"

"If so, go with me, Ammalat!" said the Khan. "I rode to Tchetchna
yesterday, to raise the revolt along the line ... What will be the end,
God knows; but there is bread in the mountains. Do you consent?"

"Let us go!" ... replied Ammalat, resolvedly.... "When our only safety
is in flight, it is no time for disputes and reproaches."

"Ho! horses, and six noukers with me!"

"And am I to go with you?" said Saphir-Ali, with tears in his
eyes--"with you for weal or woe!"

"No, my good Saphir-Ali, no. Remain you here to govern the household,
that our people and the strangers may not seize every thing. Give my
greeting to my wife, and take her to my father-in-law, the Shamkhal.
Forget me not, and farewell!"

They had barely time to escape at full gallop by one gate, when the
Russians dashed in at the other.




CHAPTER II.


The vernal noon was shining upon the peaks of Caucasus, and the loud
voices of the moollahs had called the inhabitants of Tchetchna to
prayer. By degrees they came forth from the mosques, and though
invisible to each other from the towers on which they stood, their
solitary voices, after awaking for a moment the echoes of the hills,
sank to stillness in the silent air.

The moollah, Hadji Suleiman, a Turkish devotee, one of those
missionaries annually sent into the mountains by the Divan of Stamboul,
to spread and strengthen the faith, and to increase the detestation felt
by the inhabitants for the Russians, was reposing on the roof of the
mosque, having performed the usual call, ablution, and prayer. He had
not been long installed as moollah of Igali, a village of Tchetchna; and
plunged in a deep contemplation of his hoary beard, and the circling
smoke-wreaths that rose from his pipe, he gazed from time to time with a
curious interest on the mountains, and on the defiles which lay towards
the north, right before his eyes. On the left arose the precipitous
ridges dividing Tchetchna from Avar, and beyond them glittered the snows
of Caucasus; saklas scattered disorderly along the ridges half-way up
the mountain, and narrow paths led to these fortresses built by nature,
and employed by the hill-robbers to defend their liberty, or secure
their plunder. All was still in the village and the surrounding hills;
there was not a human being to be seen on the roads or streets; flocks
of sheep were reposing in the shade of the cliffs; the buffaloes were
crowded in the muddy swamps near the springs, with only their muzzles
protruded from the marsh. Nought save the hum of the insects--nought
save the monotonous chirp of the grasshoppers indicated life amid the
breathless silence of the mountains; and Hadji Suleiman, stretched under
the cupola, was intensely enjoying the stillness and repose of nature,
so congenial to the lazy immobility of the Turkish character. Indolently
he turned his eyes, whose fire was extinguished, and which no longer
reflected the light of the sun, and at length they fell upon two
horsemen, slowly climbing the opposite side of the declivity.

"Nephtali!" cried our Moollah, turning towards a neighbouring sakla, at
the gate of which stood a saddled horse. And then a handsome
Tchetchenetz, with short cut beard, and shaggy cap covering half his
face, ran out into the street. "I see two horsemen," continued the
Moollah; "they are riding round the village!"

"Most likely Jews or Armenians," answered Nephtali. "They do not choose
to hire a guide, and will break their necks in the winding road. The
wild-goats, and our boldest riders, would not plunge into these recesses
without precaution."

"No, brother Nephtali; I have been twice to Mecca, and have seen plenty
of Jews and Armenians every where. But these riders look not like Hebrew
chafferers, unless, indeed, they exchange steel for gold in the mountain
road. They have no bales of merchandise. Look at them yourself from
above; your eyes are surer than mine; mine have had their day, and done
their work. There was a time when I could count the buttons on a Russian
soldier's coat a verst off, and my rifle never missed an infidel; but
now I could not distinguish a ram of my own afar."

By this time Nephtali was at the side of the Moollah, and was examining
the travellers with an eagle glance.

"The noonday is hot, and the road rugged," said Suleiman; "invite the
travellers to refresh themselves and their horses: perhaps they have
news: besides, the Koran commands us to show hospitality."

"With us in the mountains, and before the Koran, never did a stranger
leave a village hungry or sad; never did he depart without tchourek,[36]
without blessing, without a guide; but these people are suspicious: why
do they avoid honest men, and pass our village by by-roads, and with
danger to their life?"

[36] A kind of dried bread.

"It seems that they are your countrymen," said Suleiman, shading his
eyes with his hand: "their dress is Tchetchna. Perhaps they are
returning from a plundering exhibition, to which your father went with a
hundred of his neighbours; or perhaps they are brothers, going to
revenge blood for blood."

"No, Suleiman, that is not like us. Could a mountaineer's heart refrain
from coming to see his countrymen--to boast of his exploits against the
Russians, and to show his booty? These are neither avengers of blood nor
Abreks--their faces are not covered by the bashlik; besides, dress is
deceptive. Who can tell that those are not Russian deserters! The other
day a Kazak, who had murdered his master, fled from Goumbet-Aoul with
his horse and arms.... The devil is strong!"

"He is strong in them in whom the faith is weak, Nephtali;--yet, if I
mistake not, the hinder horseman has hair flowing from under his cap."

"May I be pounded to dust, but it is so! It is either a Russian, or, what
is worse, a Tartar Shageed.[37] Stop a moment, my friend; I will comb
your zilflars for you! In half-an-hour I will return, Suleiman, either
with them,--or one of us three shall feed the mountain berkoots
(eagles.)"

[37] The mountaineers are bad Mussulmans, the Sooni sect is
predominant; but the Daghestanetzes are in general Shageeds, as
the Persians. The sects hate each other with all their heart.

Nephtali rushed down the stairs, threw the gun on his shoulders, leapt
into his saddle and dashed down the hill, caring neither for furrow nor
stone. Only the dust arose, and the pebbles streamed down after the bold
horseman."

"Alla akber!" gravely exclaimed Suleiman, and lit his pipe.

Nephtali soon came up with the strangers. Their horses were covered with
foam, and the sweat-drops rained from them on the narrow path by which
they were climbing the mountain. The first was clothed in a shirt of
mail, the other in the Circassian dress: except that he wore a Persian
sabre instead of a shashka,[38] suspended by a laced girdle. His left
arm was covered with blood, bound up with a handkerchief, and supported
by the sword-knot. The faces of both were concealed. For some time he
rode behind them along the slippery path, which overhung a precipice;
but at the first open space he galloped by them, and turned his horse
round. "Salam aleikom!" said he, opposing their passage along the rugged
and half-built road among the rocks, as he made ready his arms. The
foremost horseman suddenly wrapped his bourka[39] round his face, so as
to leave visible only his knit brows: "Aleikom Salam!" answered he,
cocking his gun, and fixing himself in the saddle.

[38] The Circassian sabre.

[39] A rough cloak, used as a protection in bad weather.

"God give you a good journey!" said Nephtali. repeating the usual
salutation, and preparing, at the first hostile movement, to shoot the
stranger.

"God give you enough of sense not to interrupt the traveller," replied
his antagonist, impatiently: "What would you with us, Kounak?"[40]

[40] Friend, comrade.

"I offer you rest, and a brother's repast, barley and stalls for your
horses. My threshold flourishes by hospitality: the blessing of the
stranger increaseth the flock, and giveth sharpness to the sword of the
master. Fix not the seal of reproach on our whole village. Let them not
say, 'They have seen travellers in the heat of noon, and have not
refreshed them nor sheltered them.'"

"We thank you for your kindness; but we are not wont to take forced
hospitality; and haste is even more necessary for us than rest."

"You ride to your death without a guide."

"Guide!" exclaimed the traveller; "I know every step of the Caucasus. I
have been where your serpents climb not, your tigers cannot mount, your
eagles cannot fly. Make way, comrade: thy threshold is not on God's
high-road, and I have no time to prate with thee."

"I will not yield a step, till I know who and whence you are!"

"Insolent scoundrel, out of my way, or thy mother shall beg thy bones
from the jackall and the wind! Thank your luck, Nephtali, that thy
father and I have eaten one another's salt; and often have ridden by his
side in the battle. Unworthy son! thou art rambling about the roads, and
ready to attack the peaceable travellers, while thy father's corse lies
rotting on the fields of Russia, and the wives of the Kazaks are selling
his arms in the bazar. Nephtali, thy father was slain yesterday beyond
the Terek. Dost thou know me now?"

"Sultan Akhmet Khan!" cried the Tchetchenetz, struck by the piercing
look and by the terrible news. His voice was stifled, and he fell
forward on his horse's neck in inexpressible grief.

"Yes, I am Sultan Akhmet Khan! but grave this in your memory,
Nephtali--that if you say to any one, 'I have seen the Khan of Avar,' my
vengeance will live from generation to generation."

The strangers passed on, the Khan in silence, plunged, as it seemed, in
painful recollections; Ammalat (for it was he) in gloomy thought. The
dress of both bore witness to recent fighting; their mustaches were
singed by the priming, and splashes of blood had dried upon their faces;
but the proud look of the first seemed to defy to the combat fate and
chance; a gloomy smile, of hate mingled with scorn, contracted his lip.
On the other hand, on the features of Ammalat exhaustion was painted. He
could hardly turn his languid eyes; and from time to time a groan
escaped him, caused by the pain of his wounded arm. The uneasy pace of
the Tartar horse, unaccustomed to the mountain roads, renewed the
torment of his wound. He was the first to break the silence.

"Why have you refused the offer of these good people? We might have
stopped an hour or two to repose, and at dewfall we could have
proceeded."

"You think so, because you feel like a young man, dear Ammalat: you are
used to rule your Tartars like slaves, and you fancy that you can
conduct yourself with the same ease among the free mountaineers. The
hand of fate weighs heavily upon us;--we are defeated and flying.
Hundreds of brave mountaineers--your noukers and my own--have fallen in
fight with the Russians; and the Tchetchenetz has seen turned to flight
the face of Sultan Akhmet Khan, which they are wont to behold the star
of victory! To accept the beggar's repast, perhaps to hear reproaches
for the death of fathers and sons, carried away by me in this rash
expedition--'twould be to lose their confidence for ever. Time will
pass, tears will dry up; the thirst of vengeance will take place of
grief for the dead; and then again Sultan Akhmet will be seen the
prophet of plunder and of blood. Then again the battle-signal shall echo
through the mountains, and I shall once more lead flying bands of
avengers into the Russian limits. If I go now, in the moment of defeat,
the Tchetchenetz will judge that Allah giveth and taketh away victory.
They may offend me by rash words, and with me an offence is
ineffaceable; and the revenge of a personal offence would obstruct the
road that leads me to the Russians. Why, then, provoke a quarrel with a
brave people--and destroy the idol of glory on which they are wont to
gaze with rapture? Never does man appear so mean as in weakness, when
every one can measure his strength with him fearlessly: besides, you
need a skilful leech, and nowhere will you find a better than at my
house. To-morrow we shall be at home; have patience until then."

With a gesture of gratitude Ammalat Bek placed his hand upon his heart
and forehead: he perfectly felt the truth of the Khan's words, but
exhaustion for many hours had been overwhelming him. Avoiding the
villages, they passed the night among the rocks, eating a handful of
millet boiled in honey, without the mountaineers seldom set out on a
journey. Crossing the Koi-Sou by the bridge near the Asheert, quitting
its northern branch, and leaving behind them Andeh, and the country of
the Boulinetzes of the Koi-Sou, and the naked chain of Salataou. A rude
path lay before them, winding among forests and cliffs terrible to body
and soul; and they began to climb the last chain which separated them on
the north from Khounzakh or Avar, the capital of the Khans. The forest,
and then the underwood, had gradually disappeared from the naked flint
of the mountain, on which cloud and tempest could hardly wander. To
reach the summit, our travellers were compelled to ride alternately to
the right and to the left, so precipitous was the ascent of the rocks.
The experienced steed of the Khan stepped cautiously and surely from
stone to stone, feeling his way with his hoofs, and when they slipped,
gliding on his haunches down the declivities: while the ardent fiery
horse of Ammalat, trained in the hills of Daghestan, fretted, curveted,
and slipped. Deprived of his customary grooming, he could not support a
two days' flight under the intense cold and burning sunshine of the
mountains, travelling among sharp rocks, and nourished only by the
scanty herbage of the crevices. He snorted heavily as he climbed higher
and higher; the sweat streamed from his poitrel; his large nostrils were
dry and parched, and foam boiled from his bit. "Allah bereket!"
exclaimed Ammalat, as he reached the crest from which there opened
before him a view of Avar: but at the very moment his exhausted horse
fell under him; the blood spouted from his open mouth, and his last
breath burst the saddle-girth.

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