113

ABDULLA KAHHAR

p Abdulla Kahhar, the son of a wandering blacksmith, was born in 1907 in Kokand, one of the oldest Uzbek cities. He spent his childhood in various villages of the Ferghana Valley, where his father, a kuchmanchi, or vagabond, sought work. Abdulla was more fortunate than his father, for the first Soviet rural school with the alluring name of “Future” set him on the road to a new life. His writings first appeared in the press in 1925; he later worked on newspapers, had stories published in the journal Soviet Literature and for several years headed the Uzbek Union of Writers.

p His stories have been translated into many of the languages of the Soviet Union.

Abdulla Kahhar is also well known for his translations of the works of Gorky, Pushkin, Gogol and Lev Tolstoi’s great epic War and Peace. He has been awarded U.S.S.R. and Uzbek Republican literary prizes.

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p Can that be you, Mullah Umar?
Is it you the hunter’s arrow awaits?

p From an old song.

p And so Ahmad Palwan  [114•*  awaited death. Perhaps it would be better to say that death awaited Ahmad Palwan.... He had not the least desire to be translated to another world, but, trussed up like a sheep and placed side by side with the sergeant who had been ordered to carry out the execution, how could he cry “Yes” in one direction and “No” in the other?

p The executioner was a short but thickset youth. When he pushed him, Palwan swayed like a slender reed and fell over backwards, pressing under him arms tied crosswise behind his back.

p With a hefty kick the executioner forced Palwan to his feet.

p As he rose Palwan twitched his shoulders to see whether anything was sprained or broken but suddenly, with sour humility, remembered that now neither breaks nor sprains had any meaning for him.

p The executioner gave Palwan another shove, a lighter one this time, and he ran or rather hobbled a few steps that brought him directly in front of the earthen dais, where, on cushions, lay the head of the gang—the one-eyed kurbashi—in an extremely greasy striped robe. To the right of the kurbashi sat their religious mentor, the hunchbacked idem, to his left sat the yellow-faced Indian doctor, the tabib, while behind him the owner of the house had found a place for himself—he was a little fidgety old man who looked like a bat.

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p The kurbashi had only just finished a whole dish of pilau, spots of grease shone on his pock-marked cheeks and grains of rice showed white in his thick, uncombed beard. At any other time one savage glance from him was enough to strike fear into the most fearless of men but at that moment, when greasy satiety made his belly heavy, he was limp and weak of will. Unconquerable sleepiness was getting a grip on all the muscleS of the heavy body in which he tried in vain to arouse a dormant fury.

p With the greatest of difficulty opening his one good eye that at that moment could see next to nothing at all, the kurbashi filled his lungs with air and shouted with all his might:

p “Spawn of hell! How much longer have we got to wait for the names of your confederates?”

p Ahmad Palwan still retained his former silence. Could he add the slightest thing to what had already been said? He had certainly killed Ismail Effendi, but he had had no confederates, except the axe.

p The kurbashi had regarded Ismail as his chief lieutenant and, indeed, the effendi had been the right wing of the vulture. When a bullet from a red-starred cavalryman had pierced Ismail Effendi’s breast near Alkar Mazar the kurbashi had seized him out of the very thick of the battle, thrown him across his saddle and galloped away to the mountains with him. If the chase had not been so hot the kurbashi would have bound the wounds of his faithful lieutenant but the horsemen with the red stars on their high, pointed helmets had pursued the runaways so stubbornly that a halt, even for a moment, had been out of the question.

p It was night by the time the kurbashi, after losing a half of his horsemen, reached the mountain village where Ahmad Palwan lived. The effendi was bleeding profusely and he asked them not to take him 116 any farther but to leave him in the house of some reliable man.

p The kurbashi had two or three followers in that village that he trusted implicitly. But the effendi could not be placed in any of their houses because they were bais and the kurbashi knew full well that the red-star soldiers were hostile then by way of precaution to all the rich and respected bais. The kurbashi reasoned with justice that the most reliable refuge for the effendi would be the house of a poor man and decided to leave the dying man in Taiwan’s pitiful hovel.

p Ahmad Palwan took the effendi directly from the hands of the kurbashi and promised not only to look after the wounded man but to ensure him undisturbed quiet. Palwan kept his promise even before the clip-clop of the horses’ hoofs had died away in the intense darkness of the night as the kurbashi and his horsemen rode off to safer places.

p Ahmad Palwan did not await the recovery or death of the effendi: afraid that the kurbashi might return and take his friend away he soothed the wounded man with a blow from a heavy axe— soothed him for all eternity.

p Thirty-seven days after the body of the effendi had been buried in a deep pit the kurbashi, who had learned of Palwan’s act from one of the village bais, seized and bound Ahmad, and threw him across a saddle like a sack. Palwan was shaken up travelling this way on the horse for two days in order to make payment for the blood of the friend and faithful lieutenant of the kurbashi, the leader of the bandit gang, exactly forty days after the effendi’s death.

p Now he stood face to face with the enemy and awaited his word.

p But the kurbashi did not speak because the tension he had had to work up to give full play to his 117 avenging fury had exhausted all his strength. Defeated by sleep, he dropped his head on his breast and his snores reached the ears of the hunchbacked ulem and the yellow-faced tabib and the little batlike old man.

p As they sat on the dais the idem, the tabib and the fidgety old man looked at each other in consternation but tried not to look at the executioner and the dismounted horsemen who were sick of this tiresome waiting.

p And then the ulem mustered up courage enough to give the kurbashi a shove. He shuddered, threw back his head, glanced at the sky and remembered that at sundown he had to lead his horsemen in a raid on the neighbouring village where some accounts with hostile peasants had been left unsettled too long. As the sun was already low and no more than two or three hours remained to sunset the kurbashi decided that it was time to put an end to that scoundrel. His single eye, gleaming like that of a wolf, was fixed on Palwan.

p Palwan met his menacing gaze unflinchingly and did not lower his tired but very determined eyes.

p Heaving his body violently forward the kurbashi shouted at the top of his voice:

p “Filthy unbeliever! Do you imagine that life or maybe two lives stand behind your back and not the executioner?!”

p Palwan twitched his swollen fingers behind his back and looked the kurbashi straight in the face.

p “My prince!" he exclaimed. “I have said everything and there is nothing left for me to say. The effendi killed poor people, I killed him and now you are going to .kill me. ... But before my life is cut short I would like to do that which will find favour with Allah, that Allah may—-"

p “You lousy fool!" screamed the kurbashi, “don’t you dare take the holy name in vain!”

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p “How could I dream of blasphemy?" smiled Palwan, sadly. “No, prince, in my last hour I must think of other things. 1 humbly pray you, prince, permit me to do a deed that is pleasing to Allah and which will also be of advantage to you, o wise prince!”

p “What advantage can I gain from you?" roared the kurbashi fiercely.

p “My prince,” said Palwan, “you are as strong as a lion and I am as weak as a bee. But do you not know that the lion almost perished when he ignored the bee? Do not disdain me, mighty prince, and I will reveal a secret to you.”

p The kurbashi ’s face was distorted with a spasm of either wrath or laughter but he suppressed it and turned it into a yawn. The kurbashi showed himself unwilling to continue the conversation and snapped out in an angry voice:

p “I can see right through you, dog!”

p “You see me now with one eye but you could see me with two!" objected Palwan firmly and, seeing the anger and perplexity in the kurbashis face, added slowly: "My prince, your left eye has been deprived of light because of the dark water that poured into it. But I can bring back the light of your unseeing eye for I know the secret of healing the blind.”

p When he heard the word “healing” the Indian tabib, who did not properly understand the Uzbek language, suddenly became agitated and asked the ulem what the dopmed man had said.

p The ulem, sprinkling his Uzbek speech with the spice of Arabic words, explained the sense of what had been said and the tabib threw off his indifference and looked at Palwan with great attention.

p “Of course, he’s’lying,” he thought but immediately doubted his own doubts and asked himself sternly: “What if this man’s big lie should contain a grain of truth?”

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p The kurbashi suddenly turned to the tabib.

p “Tabib," he said, “I make you a gift of that lousy fellow’s secret. You do not know much about the art of healing since you cannot drive out of your own body the disease that sets you shaking three times a week like the devil shakes a sinner. Take this secret of the healing of the blind and may it serve to make your art greater!”

p The kurbashi roared with laughter and lay back on the cushions that the fidgety little master of the house had put there just in time. If it had not been for those cushions the kurbashi would probably have burst from laughter, so violently did his enormous belly heave. The kurbashi’s sudden fit of merriment infected the others and even the stern-faced ulem could not restrain a smile while the little old man who looked like a bat was just one big laugh. The tabib alone did not take part in that unseemly mirth.

p At last the kurbashi grew calm.

p “I’m fed up with listening to the tales of that fool!" he said when he had regained his breath. “You talk to him, tabibl"

p The kurbashi made himself comfortable on the cushions, wiped his perspiring face with a handkerchief and added with an evil leer:

p “If it comes to that a cat doesn’t immediately kill the mouse it has caught but plays with it first—- We can also play a little, can’t we, tabib?"

p The tabib nodded in answer and turned to Palwan.

p “Have you ever succeeded in healing a single blind man?" he asked sternly.

p “No,” answered Ahmad Palwan, simply. "I have never healed anybody myself but my old teacher once gave light back to a blind man. The blind man saw and the old man became blind himself and died.”

p “What did he die of?”

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p “He died because he had given his light to the blind man.”

p Ahmad Palwan again twitched his numb fingers and added calmly:

p “I shall go blind, too, when I give my light to the prince’s blind eye.”

p The tabib pretended that he was not in the least surprised at this answer and then asked him still more sternly:

p “What was your teacher’s name?”

p Palwan answered that he would name his teacher later when everybody had seen that he, Ahmad Palwan, was really able to effect a cure.

p The tablb nodded his head again and was lost in thought. He was more filled with superstition than knowledge although he did know something of the doctor’s art.

p He thought that what Palwan had told him was impossible, monstrous even, but he recalled the admonitions he had heard long ago from his teachers who always maintained that in nature no line can be drawn between the possible and the impossible. Only a man as ignorant as that brainless kurbashi could make fun of a tabib who could not cure his own malaria. Even the greatest hakims bowed humbly before disease. But could that which was hidden from the initiated possibly be revealed to the uninitiated?

p The tabib glanced at Palwan and made a sudden decision: come what may he would not let the opportunity pass.

p Speaking haltingly in a language that was strange to him he asked Palwan what drugs or herbs he would need to treat the kurbashi.

p Palwan replied that he would need six forgetme-not blossoms, two persimmon fruits, one egg, a spoonful of honey and a pinch of caraway seeds. The fidgety old man, a house-proud old -bai, had 121 everything that was wanted with the exception of the forget-me-nots and one of the horsemen was sent for them.

p “Is there anything else you need?" asked the tabib.

p “Yes,” answered Palwan, “I shall need a copper kettle and a candle.”

p The old man brought these things and Palwan asked that the candle be stuck in such a position that it was opposite the kurbashi’s blind eye; he ordered the kettle to be placed on the fire and two tea bowls of water poured into it.

p All that was done.

p When the water was boiling in the kettle Palwan asked the tabib to dissolve the honey in it, empty the egg into it and then drop in the persimmons and the caraways.

p Palwan asked that the horseman sitting by the kettle stirring the brew be given the forget-me-nots that the other had brought. When he had them Palwan ordered him to count six blossoms and drop them into the brew.

p The tabib did not take his wary eyes off Palwan. He tried to remember the sequence of the operations but at the same time was torn by doubts.

p “If only this man should prove to possess the secret!" he thought and thereupon began counting up the benefits that would accrue to him when the great secret became his property. Firstly, he would no longer need the patronage of the kurbashi and would be able to get rid of him without the aid of somebody else’s dagger or bullet but by the swift aid of poison. Why, indeed, should he seek the grace of this merciless chieftain of a bandit gang when any city in India would consider itself fortunate to be able to throw open its gates to the possessor of such a great secret? Why, he would even be able to return to his native city whence he had been 122 exiled as a charlatan and ignoramus through the dastardly intrigues of the other tabibx. What would all those infamous and envious labibs say now, and what would the highly educated hakims say, and where would they hide their shameless eyes when they saw him return, mighty and famous, the greatest of the tabibs that this world had ever known?

p In this way or something like it the Indian tabib’s thoughts ran on as he gazed at the wisp of blue steam that rose above the kettle.

p Palwan was also watching the kettle.

p When the blue steam began to curl and then turn white Palwan ordered the men to remove the kettle and to bring stones that had never been touched by water.

p “Bring the stones,” ordered the kurbashi who had suddenly realised that before he undertook the raid on the neighbouring village he would have to excite his horsemen with a spectacle that he, their kurbashi, would culminate with an amusing but bloody trick.

p Three of the horsemen brought stones in the skirts of their robes and piled them at the feet of Ahmad Palwan.

p He asked to be shown each stone separately and at last selected a stone weighing seven or eight pounds.

p “I am not sure that water has never touched that stone,” he said and ordered them to shape it until it possessed the form of the iron share of a wooden plough.

p “Do as he says!" ordered the kurbashi and a hefty young horseman got to work with a hammer such as are used to dress millstones.

p Palwan then turned to the tabib.

p “Hakim” he said, “I now need human blood!”

p “Where can I get it?" asked the tabib in a worried voice and glanced at the kurbashi.

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p The latter stared intently at Palwan.

p “I’ll give you the blood!" said Palwan turning to the kurbashi. “Prince, order the executioner to lop off my finger,” he added.

p Smothered exclamations rolled across the huge courtyard and then died away.

p The kurbashi ran his fingers through his curly beard and then, as though thinking aloud, said:

p “In that case we shall have to untie your hands!”

p “What! Are you afraid of me, prince?" asked Palwan and stared him boldly in the face.

p The fingers gripped the beard and tugged at it, the kurbashVs cheeks flushed red and that made the pock-marks more prominent.

p “Untie the pig!" shouted the kurbashi. “Untie that pig! Let two of my men stand with bared swords, one on either side of him! And you, executioner, unsheathe your sword and watch him closely!”

p The three men with unsheathed swords surrounded Palwan, and the rope, cut with a knife, dropped to the ground. Palwan raised his arms and shook his hands over his head.

p “Bring a block of wood and a small bowl!" he ordered, rubbing the weals on his wrists.

p They brought the block and the bowl and Palwan told them by signs where to put them.

p “Get ready, executioner!" he said softly. “When I shout ’Chop!’ you must chop!”

p The executioner muttered something inaudibly.

p “Hakiml” Palwan called to the tabib. “Stand here and hold the bowl!”

p The tabib came down from the dais, took the bowl and stood where he was told.

p Palwan knelt down, folded to his palm four fingers of his left hand, leaving the little finger extended, and placed it on the block.

p So intense was the silence throughout the house and courtyard of the fidgety old man that the 124 fluttering of the wings of a passing butterfly could be clearly heard.

p The hunchbacked ulem suddenly felt faint, he turned pale and covered his face with his hands. Most likely he did not hear the shout of “Chop!" or the whistle of the sword through the air.

p When he opened his eyes Palwan had already straightened up to his full height and the labib was sprinkling some powder on the wound to stop the bleeding. Taiwan’s face glistened with large drops of perspiration and he was breathing heavily and noisily.

p The idem saw with the corner of his eye that the bowl was no longer empty but full of something and turned quickly away. At that very moment Palwan’s half-closed eyelids quivered. He glanced at his hand and saw that the bleeding was getting less.

p “Is the stone ready?" he asked.

p “Is the stone ready?" repeated the kurbashi, like an echo, waved his hand and added impatiently, “Bring it here.”

p Up to that moment the kurbashi had not doubted that Palwan was making a fool of him in an attempt to avoid death but now he almost certainly believed that this incomprehensible man was capable of returning the sight of his blind eye. An indistinct feeling of pity, or, rather, the shadow of pity, Ilickered in the kurbashi s savage heart and there was less fury in his glance as he looked at Palwan.

p Palwan continued to give instructions and his orders were obeyed as though they had been given by the kurbashi himself.

p The giant horseman brought the stone already dressed in the form of a plough share and the tabib, following Palwan’s instructions, smeared it with the brew from the kettle. The slow movement that gave the tabib an air of importance had been abandoned and he moved and worked with unusual alacrity as 125 he now had no doubts about Palwan and believed that the great secret would be his, the tabib’s, who had grown weary of his difficult and dangerous service in the kurbashi’s bandit gang.

p The tabib took the stone and went with it to a place open to the wind because Palwan had said that the stone must dry. It was just at this moment that the tabib remembered Palwan saying that the man who possessed the secret of healing the blind must lose his own sight in returning the sight of a blind man. The very thought of this so frightened the tabib that he stumbled and almost dropped the stone. But then another thought came to him: “I shall only heal the rich and then I shall be rich myself and shall have so much money that any beggar will be willing to go blind in my place....”

p This thought cheered him up and he put the stone in a place open to the wind and looked inquiringly at Palwan.

p “I’ll do everything else myself,” said Ahmad Palwan and the tabib, with the mien of a man who has performed an arduous task, climbed on the dais. Palwan followed him with his eyes, lowered the mutilated hand that had by then stopped bleeding to the level of his shoulder and turned to the kurbashi. “If the prince will permit it,” he said respectfully, "I will rest while the stone is drying!”

p “Sit down, sit down!" the kurbashi hurried to say, and those surrounding him would have heard kindness in his voice if only that hoarse bark had been able to take on a tender sound.

p Palwan sat down on his heels between his three guardians and wearily bowed his head. If it were not for the mutilated hand lying on his knee, an onlooker might have thought of him as a peasant who had sat down for a brief respite after which he would again begin work in his garden or field. The 126 incomprehensible calm of the doomed man astonished and, perhaps, even alarmed the kurbashi.

p Until then he had believed that he knew the innermost recesses of the human soul. He had killed soldiers in battle and ploughmen in their fields, he had spilled blood on the sand of caravan routes and on the trampled ground of villages, he had robbed men and women of their lives, at times not even troubling to find out who was right and who was wrong—the kurbashi had killed thousands of people in this way. Hundreds of prisoners had stood before him in the same way as this elderly peasant now stood but he remembered very few of the many because but few of that many had dared curse and malign him before they died.

p If for no other reason Ahmad Palwan was incomprehensible because he did not curse and did not beg for mercy but argued rationally and respectfully.

p When the kurbashi saw how calmly that incomprehensible man was enjoying his rest he ran over in his mind all the tortures that he knew but could not think of one that was likely to disturb Palwan’s unusual tranquillity.

p “If that unfeeling devil would consent to join my horsemen he would be as good as ten others!" thought the kurbashi and rage, mixed with admiration, ate at his heart, for he knew that one can break a stone but can’t twist it.

p Stroking his beard the kurbashi continued turning the heavy millstones of his thoughts in this way until the ulem leaned towards his shoulder.

p “Time is passing, prince!" he whispered and the kurbashi shook himself like a dozing miller, and shouted threateningly:

p “Hi, you! Isn’t it time you got on with it?”

p “Yes, my prince!" answered Palwan, slowly raising his head. "The stone is probably dry. . . . Let them bring it here.”

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p The giant horseman hurriedly carried out the order. Palwan took the stone from him and slowly felt its triangular pointed end.

p “My prince!" he began, placing the stone at his feet. “Before I begin my treatment I should like to ask....”

p “That I should grant you your life?" the kurbashi said, interrupting him, and evil triumph made his one seeing eye gleam. “That is impossible, my jester! That is impossible because you have the blood of the effendi on your hands....”

p “You are right, my prince!" said Palwan, humbly, as though he admitted the truth of what the kurbashi said. “But tell me what the effendi had been before he became your right hand?”

p “He had been a true Muslim believer and the soldier of a Muslim ruler!" answered the kurbashi importantly, even impressively.

p “I had heard of that,” admitted Palwan, simply. “But I also heard that after the ruler of that foreign land was driven out of his white palace on the seashore, the effendi did not wish to return to his native land.”

p The kurbashi nodded his head warily.

p “That’s how it was . . .” continued Palwan still in the same artless tones. “And so the effendi left his native land and remained in foreign parts, in our country, that is? Don’t bother to answer, I’ll tell you myself. . . . The effendi rode beside you, prince, and with you he set fire to our villages, killed and plundered. .. .”

p From his low place Palwan looked up at the kurbashi and shouted rapidly:

p “That’s what I killed him for!”

p “Dog! Filthy swine!" screamed the kurbashi hoarsely, fumbling spasmodically for the hilt of his dagger.

p “The cure!. . . You have forgotten the cure!” 128 howled the tabib on his left while the ulem on his right added his voice, pointing to Palwan with his yellow hand and whining softly:

p “Don’t let him deceive you, prince! Can’t you see, the scoundrel is seeking an easy death?”

p “You are right, my ulem. And you, too, tabibl..." growled the kurbashi, breathing heavily. “But let that dog take care how he plays with the knife! D’you hear me, villain?”

p “I hear you, my prince!" replied Palwan with his former, perhaps with even greater, respect. “Forgive me, prince, but I only wanted to know whether your anger was still aflame.”

p “What do you want to know that for?" the kurbashi could not help asking.

p “Because I am not so much afraid of your anger as I am of your kindness....”

p Again the kurbashi could not contain himself and asked in astonishment:

p “I don’t understand—-"

p “You will understand soon!" objected Palwan. “I want to cure you, don’t I? Then I have reason to fear that when the spark of light illumines your darkened eye you may, out of gratitude, grant me my life.”

p “I see you are a misguided jester!" muttered the kurbashi angrily.

p “Wait a moment, prince, I haven’t finished yet....”

p “Speak up! But briefly.”

p “Good, my prince! Here is my mutilated hand and here are my eyes. When I have given you their light...”

p “I understand!" said the kurbashi, interrupting him. “What next?”

p “I do not wish you to grant me my life.... What is the life of a beggar who has to seek alms in the market-place?”

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p “Your words sound wise enough,” said the kurbashi and suddenly burst out laughing. “But what made you think I would grant you your life?”

p Palwan, who had been sitting on his heels all this time, now stood up and stared into the kurbashi’s smiling face.

p “I have my doubts, my prince!" he said.

p “Oh no, you have no doubts!" said the kurbashi with malignant assurance. “You know that I shall kill you as soon as the treatment is over. .. . That is why you are not hurrying with your treatment, isn’t it, my jester?”

p “That is not so, my prince. I am ready to begin the treatment, but first I must be sure.. ..”

p “Of what?”

p “That you will kill me....”

p “Didn’t I say....”

p “I hear you, my prince.. . .”

p “Then what do you want?”

p “I want to say a few words to your men.”

p “What for?”

p “To make you angry.”

p “I’m angry already.”

p “I want you to be still more angry.”

p “And if I do not allow you to say foolish words to my men?”

p Palwan smiled and answered with another question:

p “Can you be afraid of my foolish words?”

p The kurbashi turned red, nodded towards the guards and muttered, as though he were asking himself:

p “And what if I were to tell my men to sharpen their swords on one foolish head?”

p “And what if one dark eye were to remain for ever dark?" asked Palwan.

p The kurbashi jumped up on his cushions and filled the courtyard with his roaring voice: 

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p “Devil! Spew up your foul words as quickly as you can!”

p “Good, my prince!" said Ahmad Palwan and with elusive rapidity changing his tone from one of audacity to humility he took a step back from the kurbashi.

p “Don’t talk to me, not to me!" howled the kurbashi and with a wave of his hand indicated the men who were watching what was going on with avid attention.

p Palwan turned to the men who were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the ground and they saw his face as it was lit up by the slanting rays of the sun.

p “People!" he exclaimed in a strong, clear voice. “You are looking at me and wondering. That fool,’ you think, ’has given a finger and is now going to give up the light of his eyes to his worst enemy, the prince!’ Don’t be surprised at that, people, because I am giving up only a finger and my sight and you are giving up yourselves to be torn to pieces by the enemy. You are shooting yourselves when you kill your fathers and your brothers and burn down your own villages. Don’t imagine that I have gone mad from fear! Let them scrape the flesh off my bones, let them grind my bones under a millstone, I am prepared for anything if only the truth of my words reaches your understanding. Within a quarter of an hour I shall be dead—-But before I die I want to know for whose sake you gallop about the .country with a rifle slung across your back and deal bloody wounds to your own brothers, to people as poor as yourselves. Tell me, people, for whose sake have you given up the honest farmer’s plough for the dishonest rifle?”

p “Silence, hold your tongue, you scoundrel!" screamed the infuriated kurbashi, but Palwan did 131 not even look at him and continued in a still louder and stronger voice:

p “When our people have finished off all the counter-revolutionary bandit gangs, the rich men, the fat-bellied bais, will be scared to death... . But you, you who have nothing, what are you afraid of?”

p The kurbashi was black with anger and he gave the executioner a sign to strike Palwan with the flat of his sword but not with the edge. The executioner blindly obeyed the order and Palwan staggered but managed to keep on his feet.

p Then the kurbashi with a single movement of his shoulders shook off the hands of the tabib and the flabby paws of the ulem, walked to the edge of the dais and grunted straight into Palwan’s face:

p “I’ve been listening to your babbling long enough. Now you listen to me. You, jester, will not die from the blow of a sword as I had formerly planned but from a knife that is as strong as a wild boar’s tusk. But before you die the tabib will carefully remove your skin and I will have it stretched on a drum and first you will hear how the drum rumbles under my blows and after that you will see the knife with which the executioner will cut your throat. I have spoken and there is nothing more to be said. You stop your barking and get on with your business!. . .”

p Palwan bowed and made a sign that he be given the bowl. The sign was understood and Palwan wetted the stone with the contents of the bowl. The other signs he gave were not understood no matter how hard Palwan tried and the kurbashi cursed him and told him to explain in words what he wanted.

p Palwan ordered the men to bring straw and twist it into wisps. Then he called the tabib and the owner of the house to him.

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p “You take a wisp, master, and you, hakim, take the stone!" he said.

p When that had been done he told the little old man to set fire to the wisp and hold it near the kurbashi’s face.

p “That may damage the prince’s sound eye!" objected the old man.

p “Then bind the sound eye with a handkerchief!" ordered Palwan and when that had been done he ordered the tabib and the old man to kneel down before the kurbashi.

p “Now light the ’candle and see that it keeps burning and does not go out,” he said.

p They lit the candle and Palwan looked at the flickering flame.

p “Hakim” he said turning to the tabib, “point the sharp end of the stone towards the blind eye and rock it like this.”

p Palwan showed him by signs what he had to do and the tabib tossed the stone up a few times and then began to rock it to and fro.

p “More smoothly, gently!" shouted Palwan. “Remember how a mother rocks her baby.”

p The tabib did not seem to have ever seen how a mother rocks her baby because Palwan kept shouting at him, “Gently, gently, smoothly. . . .”

p No matter how hard the tabib tried, Palwan kept shouting at him:

p “Not that way, not like that, hakim\ Begin again!”

p In the meantime the little old man had set fire to the fourth wisp and the smoke from the burning straw was suffocating the kurbashi as he eagerly awaited the cure.

p At last he could stand it no longer and, irritated by the clumsiness of the tabib, shouted angrily:

p “Give him the stone, tabibl Let him do it himself the way he wants!”

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p The ulem again leaned over the shoulder of the kurbashi and whispered something in his ear. He was most likely warning his master that his action was lacking in caution because the kurbashi cursed him.

p “What have I to fear from that abortion?" he said, angrily. “What are the executioner and my two men with their swords there for? Let them draw nearer and bring him here!”

p They led Palwan on to the dais and the swordsmen came up close to him.

p Palwan fell on his knees before the kurbashi and said:

p “My prince! So that your wise ulem should have no doubts let them bind my eyes, too.”

p “Bind them,” said the kurbashi, coughing from the smoke.

p “Hakim, give me the stone,” said Palwan when his eyes had been bound.

p The tabib pushed the stone into his outstretchedhands and stepped aside, confused.

p “Watch the candle, hakiml" said Palwan. “And make sure that the pointed end of the stone is always. opposite the blind eye. I am beginning, my prince!”

p ... Slowly and smoothly Palwan rocked the stone back and forth; this swaying motion made the straw burn more fiercely so that the smoke became thicker and thicker, hiding the heads of Ahmad Palwan and the kurbashi. The candle flame flickered and wavered behind the back of the healer; the tabib and all those present with him watched the flame and at the same time kept an eye on Palwan’s hands.

p The movement of those hands was so accurate despite the fact that he was blindfolded that the pointed end of the stone was all the time directly opposite the blind eye. When the point went slightly 134 off its mark the tabib did not have time to warn him for the healer immediately shouted: “Candle!" and for an instant everybody, the tabib included, looked at the candle.

p It was precisely in this instant that the sharpened point of the stone smashed through the kurbashi’s temple.

p The next instant the executioner’s sword whistled through the air and dead Palwan fell on to the body of the dead kurbashi.

p Before the executioner had time to wipe his sword he was killed by a bullet from one of the horsemen.

p This first shot was followed by a second and a third: the followers of the dead kurbashi began killing one another in a furious battle that lasted until midnight.

p At midnight the house belonging to the little old man who looked like a bat caught fire and a huge beacon rose into the air informing the neighbouring villages of the death of the kurbashi who had been known to very many people by the name of "The One-Eyed Tiger".

Translated by George H. Hanna