THE KHAN AND HIS SON

“… In the Crimea there was a Khan Mosolaïma el Asvab, and he had a son, Tolaïk Alhalla.…”

With his back propped against the brilliant light-brown trunk of an arbutus-tree, a blind beggar, a Tatár, began, in these words, one of the ancient legends of the peninsula, which is rich in its memories, and round about the storyteller, on stone fragments of the palace of the khans, destroyed by time, sat a group of Tatárs in gay-colored kaftans and flat caps embroidered with gold. It was evening, and the sun was sinking softly into the sea; its red rays penetrated the dark mass of verdure around the ruins, and fell in brilliant spots upon the stones, overgrown with moss, enmeshed in the clinging greenery of the ivy. The breeze rustled in a clump of aged plane-trees, and their leaves fluttered as though brooks of water, invisible to the eye, were rippling through the air.

The voice of the blind beggar was weak, and trembled, but his stony face expressed in its wrinkles nothing except repose; the words he had learned by heart flowed on, one after the other, and before the hearers rose up a picture of past days, rich in the power of emotion.

“The Khan was old,” said the blind man, “but he had a great many women in his harem. And they loved the old man, because he still had a good deal of strength and fire, and his caresses soothed and burned, and women will always love those who know how to caress strongly, be the man a gray-beard, or even if he have wrinkles on his countenance—for there is beauty in strength, but not in a soft skin and a ruddy cheek.

“They all loved the Khan, but he loved a kazák-prisoner maid, from the steppes of the Dnyépr, and always liked more to fondle her than the other women of his harem, his great harem, where there were three hundred women from divers lands, and they were all as beautiful as the flowers of spring, and they all lived well. Many were the sweet and dainty viands which the Khan ordered to be prepared for them, and he always permitted them to dance and play whenever they desired to do so…”

“But his kazák he often summoned to his own quarters in the tower, from which the sea was visible, and where he had everything for the kazák girl that a woman can want, that her life might be merry: sweet wine, and various fabrics, and gold, and precious stones of all colors, and music, and rare birds from distant countries, and the fiery caresses of the amorous Khan. In this tower he amused himself with her for whole days together, resting from the cares of his life, and knowing that his son Alhalla would not lower the glory of the Khan, as he galloped like a wolf over the Russian steppes, always returning thence with rich booty, with fresh women, with fresh glory, leaving there, behind him, terror and ashes, corpses and blood.

“Once he, Alhalla, returned from a raid on the Russians, and many festivals were arranged in his honor; all the murzas of the island assembled at them, and there were banquets and games, and they fired arrows from their bows into the eyes of the prisoners, testing their strength of arm, and again they drank, lauding the valor of Alhalla, the terror of enemies, the mainstay of the Khanate. And the old Khan rejoiced exceedingly at the glory of his son.—It was good for him, that old man, to behold in his son such a dashing warrior, and to know that when he, the old man, came to die, the Khanate would be in stout hands.

“It was good for him to know that, and so, being desirous to show his son the strength of his love, he said to him, in the presence of all the murzas and beys there, at the feast, beaker in hand, he said:

“I Thou art a good son, Alhalla! Glory be to Allah, and glorified be the name of his prophet!’

“And all glorified the name of the prophet in a chorus of mighty voices. Then the Khan said:

“‘Great is Allah! Already, during my lifetime, he has renewed my youth in my gallant son, and now, with my aged eyes, I perceive that when the sun shall be hidden from them,—and when the worms shall devour my breast,—I shall still live on in my son! Great is Allah, and Mahomet is his true prophet! I have a good son, his arm is strong, and his heart is bold, and his mind is clear.… What wilt thou take from the hand of thy father, Alhalla? Tell me, and I will give thee everything, according to thy desire.’

“And the sound of the old Khan’s voice had not yet died away when Tolaïk Alhalla rose to his feet, and said, with flashing eyes, black as the sea by night and blazing like the eyes of the mountain eagle:

“‘Give me the Prussian prisoner, my sovereign father.”

“The Khan spake not—for a space he said no word, for so long as was required to crush the shudder in his heart,—and, after this pause, he said, boldly and firmly:

“‘Take her! Let us finish the feast, and then thou shalt take her.’

“Gallant Alhalla flushed all over, his eagle eyes flashed with the greatness of his joy; he rose to his full height, and said to his father-Khan:

“‘I know what thou dost give me, sovereign father! I know…I am thy slave—thy son. Take my blood, a drop an hour—twenty deaths will I die for thee!’

“‘I require nothing!’ said the Khan, and bowed his gray head, crowned with the glory of long years and many feats, upon his breast.

“Speedily did they finish the feast, and the two went silently, side by side, from the palace to the harem.

“The night was dark, and neither moon nor stars were visible for the clouds which covered the heaven like a thick carpet.

“Long did the father and son walk through the darkness, and now the Khan el Asvab spake:

“‘Day by day my life is dying out, and my old heart beats more and more feebly, and less and still ever less is there of fire in my breast. The fervent caresses of the kazák woman have been the light and warmth of my life.… Tell me, Tolaïk, tell me, is she so necessary to thee? Take a hundred, take all my wives, save only her!…’

“Tolaïk Alhalla made no reply, but sighed.

“‘How many days are left to me? Few are my days on earth.… She is the last joy of my life,—that Russian girl. She knows me, she loves me,—who will love me now, when I no longer have her—me, an old man, who? Not one among them all, not one, Alhalla!’

“Alhalla said no word.

“‘How shall I live, knowing that thou art embracing her, that she is kissing thee? To a woman, there is no such thing as father or son, Tolaïk! To a woman, we are all men, my son.… Painful will it be for me to live out my days.… Bather let all the ancient wounds on my body open again, Tolaïk, and let them shed my blood—rather let me not survive this night, my son!’

“His son remained silent…They halted at the door of the harem, and silently, bowing their heads on their breasts, they stood long before it. Gloom was round about them, and clouds raced across the sky, while the wind shook the trees, as though it were singing some song to them.

“‘I have loved her long, father!,’ said Alhalla softly.

“‘I know…and I know that she does not love thee,’ said the Khan.

“‘My heart is rent when I think of her.’

“‘And with what is my aged heart filled now?’

“And again they fell silent. Alhalla sighed.

“‘’Tis plain that the wise mullah told me the truth-a woman is always injurious to a man: when she is handsome, she arouses in others the desire to possess her, and she delivers her husband over to the pangs of jealousy; when she is ugly, her husband, envying others, suffers from envy; but if die is neither handsome nor ugly,—a man imagines her very handsome, and when he comes to understand that he has made a mistake, he suffers again through her, that woman.’

“‘Wisdom is not medicine for an aching heart …’ said the Khan.

“‘Let us have compassion on each other, father …’

“The Khan raised his head, and gazed sadly at his son.

“‘Let us kill her,’ said Tolaïk.

“‘Thou lovest thyself more than her and me,—’ said the Khan softly, after meditating for a space.

“‘Surely, it is the same with thee.’

“And again they fell silent.

“‘Yes! And I, also,’—said the Khan mournfully. He had become a child through grief.

“‘Well, shall we kill her?’

“‘I cannot give her up to thee, I cannot,’ said the Khan.

“‘And I cannot endure it any longer—tear out my heart, or give her to me.…‘

“The Khan made no reply.

“‘Or let us fling her into the sea from the mountain,’

“‘Let us fling her into the sea from the mountain,’ the Khan repeated his son’s words, like the echo of his son’s voice.

“And then they entered the harem, where she already lay asleep upon the floor, on a rich rug. They paused in front of her and gazed; long did they gaze upon her. Tears trickled from the old Khan’s eyes upon his silvery beard and gleamed in it like pearls, but his son stood with flashing eyes, and gnashing his teeth, to restrain his passion. He aroused the kazák girl. She awoke, and on her face, tender and rosy as the dawn, her blue eyes blossomed like corn-flowers. She did not perceive Alhalla, and stretched out her scarlet lips to the Khan.

“‘Kiss me, old eagle!’

“‘Make ready…thou must come with us,’—said the Khan softly.

“Then she saw Alhalla, and the tears in the eyes of her eagle, and she understood all, for she was clever.

“‘I come,’ she said,—‘I come. I am to belong neither to the one nor to the other—is that what you have decided That is how the strong of heart should decide. I come.’

“And silently they all three went toward the sea. Through narrow ways they went, and the breeze rustled, rustled sonorously.…

“She was tender, the girl, and wearied soon, but she was proud also—and would not tell them so.

“And when the Khan’s son observed that she did not keep pace with them, he said to her:

“‘Art thou afraid?’

“She gave him a flashing glance, and showed him her bleeding foot.

“‘Come, I will carry thee!’—said Alhalla, reaching out his arms to her. But she threw her arms around the neck of her old eagle. The Khan raised her in his arms, like a feather, and carried her; and she, as she sat in his arms, thrust aside the boughs of the trees from his face, fearing that they would strike his eyes. Long did they journey thus, and lo! the roar of the sea could be heard in the distance. Then Tolaïk—he walked behind them in the path—said to his father:

“‘Let me go on ahead, for I want to stab thee in the neck with my dagger.’

“‘Pass on—Allah will take vengeance on thee for thy desire, or forgive thee—as he wills,—but I, thy father, forgive thee. I know what it means to love.’

“And lo! the sea lay before them, yonder below, black and shoreless. Its waves chanted dully at the very base of the cliff, and it was dark and cold and terrible there below.

“‘Farewell!’ said the Khan, as he kissed the girl.

“‘Farewell!’ said Alhalla, and bowed low before her.

“‘She glanced out afar, where the waves were singing, and staggered back, pressing her hands to her breast …

“‘Throw me!’ she said to them.

“Alhalla stretched out his hands to her and groaned, but the Khan took her in his arms, pressed her close to his breast, kissed her, and raising her high over his head,—he flung her from the cliff.

“There the waves were plashing and singing so noisily that neither of them heard when she reached the water. They heard no cry, nothing. The Khan sank down upon a stone, and began to gaze downward in silence into the darkness and distance, where the sea merged into the clouds, whence noisily floated the dull beating of the billows, whence flew the wind which fluttered the Khan’s gray beard. Tolaïk stood over him, covering his face with his hands, motionless and silent as a stone. Time passed, and athwart the sky the clouds floated past, one after another, driven by the wind. Dark and heavy were they, as the thoughts of the aged Khan, who lay on the lofty cliff above the sea.

“‘Let us go, father,’ said Tolaïk.

“‘Wait,’—whispered the Khan, as though listening to something.

“And again much time elapsed, and still the waves beat below, and the wind flew to the cliff, making a noise in the trees.

“‘Let us go, father.’

“‘Wait a little longer …’

“More than once did Tolaïk Alhalla say:

“‘Let us go, father.’

“But still the Khan stirred not from the place, where he had lost the joy of his last days.

“But—all things have an end!—he rose, strong and proud, rose, knitted his brows, and said in a dull tone:

“‘Let us go.’

“They went, but the Khan speedily halted.

“‘Why am I going and whither, Tolaïk?’—he asked his son.—? Why should I live now, when all my life was in her? I am old, no one will love me more, and if no one loves thee—it is senseless to live in the world.’

“‘Thou hast glory and riches, father …’

“‘Give me but one kiss of hers, and take all that to thyself as reward. All that is dead, the love of woman alone is alive. There is no such love, there is no life in a man, a beggar is he, and pitiful are his days. Farewell, my son, the blessing of Allah be on thy head, and remain there all the days and nights of thy life.’ And the Khan turned his face seaward.

“‘Father,’—said Tolaïk, ‘father!…’ He could say no more, for there is nothing that one can say to a man on whom death smiles, and nothing canst thou say to him which shall restore to his soul the love of life.

“‘Let me go …’

“‘Allah …’

“‘He knows …’

With swift strides the Khan approached the brink, and hurled himself down. His son did not hold him back, there was no time for that. And again nothing was audible from the sea—neither shriek nor noise of the Khan’s fall. Only the waves plashed on there, and the wind hummed wild songs.

“Long did Tolaïk Alhalla gaze below, and then he said aloud:

“‘And grant me, also, as stout a heart, oh Allah!’

“‘And then he went forth into the gloom of the night.

“Thus perished Khan Mosolaïma el Asvab, and Tolaïk Alhalla became Khan of the Crimea.”