The executioners were fussing around, readying axes, sharpened stakes, and ropes. They had a long day today: they would have to put to death sixty people in a row.
Old Niyaz was first in the fateful line. The executioners were holding him by the arms; there was a gallows to his right, the block to his left, and a sharpened stake was sticking from the ground directly in front.
Grand Vizier Bakhtiyar proclaimed loudly and solemnly:
“In the name of Allah, gracious and merciful! The ruler of Bukhara and the sun of the universe, the emir of Bukhara, has weighed on the scales of justice the crimes committed by sixty of his subjects in relation to harboring the blasphemer, disturber of the peace, sower of discord, and purveyor of indecent acts Hodja Nasreddin, and decided the following: the potter Niyaz, as the chief harborer who sheltered the aforementioned tramp named Hodja Nasreddin for a long time, is to be put to death by separating his head from his body. As for the rest of the criminals, their first punishment will be witnessing the execution of Niyaz, so that they may tremble in anticipation of an even worse fate for themselves. The means of execution for each of them will be announced separately…”
The square was so quiet that Bakhtiyar’s every word could be heard distinctly even at the back of the crowd.
“And let it be known to all,” he continued, raising his voice, “that in the future, every harborer of Hodja Nasreddin will be treated in the same manner, and none will escape the executioner. But if any of the condemned reveals the hiding place of this thief and idler, he will not only be spared from execution, not only receive a reward from the emir and blessings from heaven, but he will also free all the others from punishment. Potter Niyaz, you can spare yourself and others from execution if you reveal the location of Hodja Nasreddin.”
Niyaz was silent for a long time, his head lowered. Bakhtiyar repeated his question.
Niyaz responded:
“No, I cannot reveal his location.” The executioners dragged the old man to the block. Someone screamed in the crowd. The old man got down on his knees and, extending his neck, placed his gray head on the block.
At that moment, Hodja Nasreddin pushed aside the courtiers, stepped forward, and stood before the emir.
“O sovereign!” he said loudly, so the people would hear. “Stop the execution, I am about to capture Hodja Nasreddin!”
The emir stared at him in surprise. The people in the square stirred. Obeying the emir’s sign, the executioner lowered his axe.
“O ruler!” Hodja Nasreddin said loudly. “Would it be just to execute these minor harborers while the chief harborer, who has sheltered Hodja Nasreddin all this time and continues to shelter him now – who has fed, nourished, rewarded him, and cared for him in every way – remains alive?”
“You are right,” the emir said grandly. “If such a harborer exists, then it would be fitting to behead him first. But show us this harborer, Hussein Huslia.”
A restrained murmur passed through the crowd: those standing in the front were relaying the emir’s words to those behind them.
“But if the great emir declines to execute this chief harborer, if the great emir leaves him alive, would it be just to execute these minor harborers?” asked Hodja Nasreddin.
More and more surprised, the emir replied:
“If we decide not to execute the chief harborer, then, of course, we will cancel the execution of the minor harborers. But there is one thing we do not understand, Hussein Huslia: what could possibly cause us to refrain from executing the chief harborer? Where is he? Point him out, and we will immediately separate his head from his body.”
Hodja Nasreddin turned to the people:
“You heard the words of the emir. The sovereign of Bukhara said that if he refuses to execute the chief harborer, whom I will name presently, then all these minor harborers who are standing by the block will be freed and released to their families. Did I speak correctly, o sovereign?”
“You spoke correctly, Hussein Huslia,” the emir confirmed. “We give our word. But hurry up and point out the chief harborer.”
“Did you hear?” Hodja Nasreddin asked, turning to the people. “The emir gave his word!”
He sighed deeply. He could feel thousands of eyes on himself.
“The chief harborer…”
He stumbled and passed his eyes over the square; many noticed sorrow and deathly anguish on his face. He was saying goodbye to his beloved world, to the people, and to the sun.
“Hurry!” the emir exclaimed impatiently. “Speak quickly, Hussein Huslia!”
Hodja Nasreddin said in a firm, ringing voice:
“The chief harborer is you, emir!”
With an abrupt motion, he flung off his turban and tore the false beard from his face.
The crowd gasped and froze. His eyes bulging, the emir moved his lips but no sound came out. The courtiers turned to stone.
The silence did not last long.
“Hodja Nasreddin! Hodja Nasreddin!” people shouted in the crowd.
“Hodja Nasreddin!” whispered the courtiers.
“Hodja Nasreddin!” exclaimed Arslanbek. Finally, the sovereign himself came to his senses. His lips pronounced indistinctly:
“Hodja Nasreddin!”
“Yes, it is I! Well now, emir, order your own head to be chopped off as the chief harborer! I lived in your palace, shared your food, received your rewards. I was your closest and most important advisor in all matters. You are the harborer, emir, have your own head chopped off!”
Hodja Nasreddin was seized. He did not resist, he was shouting:
“The emir promised to free the condemned! You heard the emir’s word.”
The people began to murmur anxiously. The triple chain of guards could barely hold off the crowd. People were shouting louder and louder:
“Free the condemned!”
“The emir gave his word!”
“Free them!”
The hum in the crowd spread and grew louder. The chains of guards retreated, pushed back by the people. Bakhtiyar leaned to the emir:
“O sovereign, we must free them, or the people will rebel.” The emir nodded.
“The emir keeps his word!” Bakhtiyar shouted. The guards stepped aside. The condemned men disappeared immediately in the crowd.
Hodja Nasreddin was led to the palace. Many in the crowd were weeping and shouting after him:
“Farewell, Hodja Nasreddin! Farewell our beloved, noble Hodja Nasreddin, you will live on forever in our hearts.”
He walked with his head raised high, and his face showed fearlessness. He turned in front of the gates and waved goodbye. The crowd responded with a powerful rumble.
The emir climbed back onto his sedan chair in a hurry. The palace procession headed back.
Chapter 34
The divan assembled to judge Hodja Nasreddin.
When he walked in – surrounded by guards, his arms and legs bound – the courtiers looked down. They were ashamed to look at one another. The sages frowned and stroked their beards, while the emir, turning away, sighed and cleared his throat.
As for Hodja Nasreddin, he was looking at them with a straightforward and clear gaze, and, were it not for the fact that his hands were tied behind his back, one could have thought that it was not him on trial, but all the people sitting before him.
The real Baghdad sage Hussein Huslia came to the trial along with the other courtiers, having been released at last from his imprisonment. Hodja Nasreddin winked at him amicably. The Baghdad sage jumped on his pillows and hissed in rage.
The trial did not last long. Hodja Nasreddin was sentenced to death. It remained to determine the method of execution.