With some difficulty, he described the few sparse details he had retained: the position of the aul of Akulgo, at the summit of a peak; the grotto hollowed out in the cliff; the water they had had to go all the way to the bottom of a ravine to draw.
“Do you remember the color of the horse your father was riding the day you left?”
This time his response was immediate and sure.
“My father usually rode a gray mare. But that day, he stood on the ramparts riding a white stallion.”
The emissaries seemed satisfied.
Yunus wanted further proof.
“Would you be so kind as to show us your right arm?” the interpreter translated.
Slowly Jamal Eddin unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it as far up as he could, holding his arm out to Yunus. A slightly raised scar was visible from his shoulder to his elbow, the trace of an old injury. Yunus touched the scar and asked if he remembered how he had gotten it.
“Falling off a water wheel.”
For the first time, the two men looked each other in the eye intensely for a long moment, both of them deeply moved, but for entirely different reasons.
Yunus turned toward the Russians and smiled.
“Since you have warmed our hearts by arranging the return of our great imam’s son, so we shall warm yours by reassuring you that your family will return to you.” He beamed.
The Russians and the Chechens bowed to each other.
“We will return in three days with instructions for the exchange.”
Their mission complete, Shamil’s four emissaries took their leave and disappeared into the mountains.
They returned home fully convinced that the tall, dark-haired officer was indeed Jamal Eddin. But they were horrified as well. His beautiful indigo blue uniform reeked of cigar smoke and alcohol. The son of their imam drank and smoked. The son of their imam broke the law. He was a giaour in every way!
Their visit caused them great consternation, which was equal only to Jamal Eddin’s dismay and dejection. This first contact had made his blood run cold. The encounter with Yunus had confirmed all his worst fears. What could he possibly still have in common with these four men?
Prince David eagerly and impatiently awaited their return.
Three days later, the four horsemen returned as promised. This time they were escorted to Chavchavadze’s quarters immediately. They brought a letter, penned in Shamil’s handwriting. Prince David read it out loud:
“Thank you for having kept your word in making possible the return of my son. But do not think that the negotiations end with his return. Remember that in addition to my son, I asked for a million rubles and the liberation of one hundred fifty prisoners. These conditions must be fulfilled before I can permit the return of your family.”
This completely unexpected note left Chavchavadze and Jamal Eddin thunderstruck. Both were appalled, and the grim look they exchanged said as much.
Judging any discussion with the intermediaries pointless, the prince asked them to return with a message for their imam. He retreated to the back of the room to consult with Jamal Eddin.
Both in an agitated state, they sat down at the pedestal table to discuss what to write. Even the smallest concession now would only debase them in the eyes of the Montagnards and encourage them to make further demands. Finally Prince David penned a brief letter.
“Having considered the affair to be settled, we are stupefied by your new demands,” he wrote. “We did not think you capable of going back on your word once you had given it. We, however, are in the habit of keeping our promises. And today I, Prince David Alexandrovitch Chavchavadze, will keep mine. At the very beginning of negotiations, I informed you that I was capable of raising a ransom of forty thousand rubles. When I obtained a loan for this astronomical sum—despite the fact that, thanks to your actions, I no longer have a home or any other personal resources—when I decided to borrow, it was because I could not allow myself to count on the emperor’s gracious permission authorizing your son to return to his country. Had I known this permission would be granted, I would not have offered you even a quarter of this sum.
“I await your response.”
Upon reading the letter, Shamil reacted as violently as its contents. Wild with fury, he announced to his people that he was breaking off negotiations. The princesses would be parceled out as slaves among his naïbs before the week’s end. They would be free to use them as concubines, to sell them, or to execute them.
The emissaries returned a third time, carrying messages from Anna and Varenka that confirmed the imminence of the fate he threatened.
With their cries of distress came a last word from the imam:
“You are very far from having met my expectations. I have thus decided to distribute your family to my naïbs, in their auls. I already would have done so but for the intervention of my son, Mohammed Ghazi, who persuaded me to send you one last message, to convince you to add the necessary amount to the sum you have offered us.”
As David read these words of vulgar bartering, Jamal Eddin blushed with shame. He was overcome with rage and indignation. He had come back to live with a father who was as greedy as he was lying and treacherous, a man whose word was worth nothing.
He had sacrificed Lisa, his happiness, his future, for this?
Prince David turned to Yunus.
“I shall not write to your imam again,” he said icily. “But you can tell him this for me. If, by Saturday, you do not bring word that my offer has been accepted, I swear before my creator that I will leave Khassav-Yurt that day, and I will take Jamal Eddin with me. You can follow us for twenty, a hundred, a thousand versts, and beg me to return with him. I will not even bother to look at you. Then you can do what you like with my family.
“Tell your imam that I have always been grateful for the care he has afforded my loved ones. But tell him as well that if he dares to carry out his threats by sending my wife and my children to the auls, they are no longer mine. I will renounce them the very moment they cross the threshold of his seraglio. I want them to return here, now, because I know that no one has violated their honor. But if they were to become the slaves of your naïbs, know that I would no longer recognize my wife as my wife, my sister as my sister, or my children as my children. I am telling you one last time: I will give you until Saturday. As sure as I stand before you now, Sunday you won’t find me here. I will be gone, and so will Jamal Eddin. After that, Shamil can offer to return my wife to me for nothing, he can send her back to me laden with treasure, I swear before God I will never look at her again. And that he will never see his son.”
With these closing words, the prince intended to leave the room, but a last remark from Yunus held him back.
“There is another reason for delaying the conclusion of this affair.”
“And what is that?” the prince bellowed.
“The imam proposes that the princess Chavchavadze and her children be freed in exchange for the forty thousand rubles and his son. And that the princess Orbeliani and her child remain his captives until her ransom is paid by the prince Grigol Orbeliani.”
The prince strode toward Yunus with a threatening gesture and might well have committed an irreparable act had Jamal Eddin not lunged forward to block his way.
The prince had lost all semblance of poise.
“Not only will I not leave my wife’s sister a prisoner,” he roared, “but I will not abandon a single one of my servants!”
Yunus ignored him and turned to Jamal Eddin.
“Don’t worry. This is just the way we Montagnards do things. There’s absolutely nothing to fear, everything will turn out as we wish.”