Hodja Nasreddin had already managed to run around in a circle and emerge on the opposite side of the same street. He hid in the bushes. From there, he could see the gate of Niyaz’s house, two guards by the gate, and a third man, who he soon recognized to be the moneylender Jafar. “Aha, you lame dog! So it was you who brought the guards to seize me!” he thought, still not guessing the truth. “Very well, look for me! You’ll have to leave with empty hands!”
No! They did not leave with empty hands! Chilled with horror, Hodja Nasreddin watched them lead his beloved out of the gate. She tried to free herself and shouted in a broken voice, but the guards held her firmly, surrounding her with a double ring of shields.
It was noon in July – it was very hot, but Hodja Nasreddin was shivering, and meanwhile the guards were approaching, and the road led right past the bushes where Hodja Nasreddin was hiding. His mind clouded. He pulled a curved knife from its sheath and dropped to the ground. Arslanbek was walking in front, his gilded badge shining, and the knife would have first plunged right into his fat neck, under the beard. But then someone’s heavy arm landed on Hodja Nasreddin’s shoulder and pressed him to the ground. He shuddered, shrank back and raised the arm with the knife – and then lowered it when he saw the familiar, sooty face of Yusuf the blacksmith.
“Stay down!” the blacksmith whispered. “Stay down and do not move. You are mad: they are twenty men, all armed, and you are alone and unarmed; you will die yourself and not save her; stay down, I say!”
He kept pressing Hodja Nasreddin to the ground until the detachment of guards escorting Guljan had vanished around the turn.
“Why, why did you stop me?” Hodja Nasreddin exclaimed. “Would it not have been better for me to lie here dead?”
“The hand against the lion and the fist against the sword are not the province of sensible men,” the blacksmith replied sternly. “I followed these guards all the way from the bazaar and got here in time to prevent your reckless deed. You must not die for her, but fight and save her, which is more honorable, though far more difficult. Do not waste time on grief, go forth and act. They have swords, shields, and spears, but Allah has furnished you with powerful weapons – a sharp mind and cunning that no one else can match.”
Thus he spoke; his words were courageous and firm, like the iron that he had forged all his life. These words strengthened Hodja Nasreddin’s trembling heart, just like the iron.
“Thank you, blacksmith!” he said. “I have not yet endured moments more difficult than these, but it does not befit me to despair. I am leaving, blacksmith, and I promise you that I will use my weapons valiantly!”
He stepped from the bushes onto the road. At the same moment, the gate of the nearest house opened to reveal the moneylender, who had stayed behind to remind one of the potters about his debt.
They met face to face. Growing pale, the moneylender whisked back in, shut the door, and closed the bolt.
“Woe betide you, Jafar, o viper’s spawn!” said Hodja Nasreddin. “I saw everything, I heard everything, I know everything!”
There was a moment of silence, and then the moneylender’s voice replied:
“The jackal did not get the cherry. But neither did the falcon. The lion got the cherry!”
“We’ll see about that!” said Hodja Nasreddin. “But you, Jafar, mark my words: I pulled you out of the water, but I swear that I will drown you in that very same pond: the mud will envelop your filthy body, the weeds will choke you!”
Without waiting for a response, he pressed on. He walked past Niyaz’s house, fearing that the moneylender would see him and snitch on the old man; turning a corner and making sure that no one was watching, Hodja Nasreddin ran quickly through an empty lot overgrown with weeds and returned to Niyaz’s house by jumping a fence.
The old man was lying face down on the ground. The small pile of silver left by Arslanbek was sparkling dimly nearby. The old man raised his face, covered in tears and dust, towards Hodja Nasreddin; his lips twisted, and he wanted to say something but could not get it out, and when his gaze landed on a handkerchief dropped by his daughter, he began to beat his gray head against the hard ground and tear his beard.
Hodja Nasreddin had to fuss with him for quite some time. Finally, he managed to sit him down on a bench.
“Listen, old man!” he said. “You are not alone in your grief. Do you know that I loved her, and that she loved me also? And do you know that we had decided to get married, and that I was only waiting for an opportunity to obtain a large sum of money and pay you a rich dowry?”
“Why would I need a dowry?” the old man replied, weeping. “Would I ever dare contradict my little dove in anything? But it’s too late to talk about it, everything is lost, she is in the harem and tonight the emir will have her!… O woe, o shame!” he cried. “I will go to the palace and fall to his feet, I will beg, wail, and scream, and if only the heart in his chest is not made of stone…”
Swaying, he walked towards the gate on unsteady feet.
“Stop!” said Hodja Nasreddin. “You forgot that emirs are built very differently from other people: they don’t have hearts at all, and it is useless to plead with them. You can only take something away from them by force, and I, Hodja Nasreddin – can you hear me, old man? – I will take Guljan from him!”
“He is strong, he has thousands of soldiers, thousands of guards, and thousands of spies! What can you do against him?”
“I do not yet know what I will do. But I do know one thing: he will not visit her tonight! And he will not visit her tomorrow. And he will not visit her the next day! He will never visit her, he will never have her, and this is as true as the fact that everyone from Bukhara to Baghdad calls me Hodja Nasreddin! Restrain your tears, old man, stop wailing right over my ear, and let me think!”
Hodja Nasreddin did not think for long:
“Old man, where do you keep the clothing of your deceased wife?”
“It is in that chest over there.” Hodja Nasreddin took the key, entered the house, and soon emerged dressed as a woman. His face was concealed by a veil made of a dense weave of black horsehair:
“Wait for me, old man, and do not try anything yourself.”
He led his donkey from the shed, saddled him up, and left Niyaz’s house for a long time.
Chapter 21
Before taking Guljan to the palace garden to see the emir, Arslanbek called the old hags from the harem and commanded them to prepare Guljan so that the emir’s gaze would be pleased to contemplate her perfection. The hags immediately set about their customary work: they washed Guljan’s tear-stained face with warm water, dressed her in light silk, put surma on her eyebrows and rouge on her cheeks, poured rose oil on her hair, and painted her nails red. Then they summoned His Great Chasteness, the head eunuch, from the harem – a man once known to all of Bukhara for his debauchery, he had been called into the emir’s service as a result of his knowledge and experience, castrated by the palace physician, and placed on one of the highest posts in the country. He was responsible for tirelessly watching the emir’s one hundred and sixty concubines, so that they would always have an enticing look and be able to arouse passion in the emir. This post became more difficult every year, because the emir became more and more satiated, while his strength diminished. And in the mornings, the head eunuch would not infrequently receive ten lashes from his ruler instead of a reward, which, however, was not that great a punishment for the eunuch. As he prepared the beautiful concubines for their meetings with the emir, he experienced torments far more horrible and quite comparable to those awaiting hell-bound sinners, who are condemned to be surrounded by nude houri while bound to posts with iron chains.