“O great ruler!” said Arslanbek. “In my opinion, this criminal should be impaled so that he may end his life in horrible suffering.”
Hodja Nasreddin did not bat an eyelid; he stood with a serene smile, placing his face beneath a ray of sun which had entered the hall through an open window in the ceiling.
“No!” the emir said decisively. “The Turkish sultan has already impaled this blasphemer, but evidently he knows a means to survive this method of execution without suffering any harm, or else he would not have escaped from the sultan’s hands alive.”
Bakhtiyar suggested beheading Hodja Nasreddin.
“True, it is one of the easiest forms of death,” he added, “but also the most reliable.”
“No!” said the emir. “The caliph of Baghdad has beheaded him before, and yet he is alive.”
The officials rose one by one and suggested hanging Hodja Nasreddin or skinning him alive. The emir rejected all these options because, as he secretly watched Hodja Nasreddin, he could not detect any sign of fear, which the emir saw as clear proof that the suggested methods were ineffective.
The courtiers fell silent in embarrassment. The emir began to grow angry.
Then the Baghdad sage rose. He was speaking before the emir for the first time, and therefore he thought about his advice carefully so as to distinguish himself in wisdom from the rest.
“O great sovereign of the universe! If this criminal has managed to escape unharmed from all manners of execution, is this not direct proof that he is assisted by evil forces, in particular the spirit of darkness whose name it would not be proper to say here, before the emir?”
As he said these words, the sage blew on his shoulders, and so did everyone else except Hodja Nasreddin.
“Having weighed and considered all that concerns this criminal,” the sage continued, “our great emir rejected the proposed methods of putting Hodja Nasreddin to death, fearing that evil forces would once again help the criminal escape just retribution. But there is one more method of execution that the aforementioned criminal Hodja Nasreddin has never been subjected to, namely: drowning!”
Holding his head up high, the Baghdad sage glanced triumphantly at all those present.
Hodja Nasreddin stirred.
The emir noticed his movement. “Aha! So that’s his secret!”
Meanwhile, Hodja Nasreddin was thinking: “It is very good that they are speaking of evil forces. That means all hope is not lost for me!”
“I have learned from tales and books,” the sage continued in the meantime, “that there is a sacred pond in Bukhara known as the pond of Sheikh Ahmed. It is clear that evil forces would not dare approach this pond, which is why, o sovereign, we must immerse the criminal fully and for a long time into the sacred waters, after which he will die.”
“Now here is sage advice worthy of reward!” the emir exclaimed.
Hodja Nasreddin said reproachfully to the Baghdad sage:
“O Hussein Huslia, is this how I treated you when you were in my power? It really goes to show you can’t rely on the gratitude of men!”
It was decided to drown Hodja Nasreddin publicly after sunset in the sacred pond of Sheikh Ahmed. And so that Hodja Nasreddin would not be able to escape along the way, it was decided to deliver him there in a leather sack and drown him in the very same sack.
…The sound of axes could be heard by the pond all day: the carpenters were building a platform, but what else could they do when a guard was standing over each one? They worked silently, with grim, embittered faces. Upon finishing, they refused their meager payment and walked away with downcast eyes.
Carpets were laid over the platform and the entire bank around it. The opposite bank was intended for the people.
Spies reported that unrest was brewing in the city. Therefore, Arslanbek brought great numbers of troops to the pond and placed cannons there. Fearing that the people would try to free Hodja Nasreddin along the way, Arslanbek prepared four sacks full of rags: he intended to send these sacks towards the pond in plain view, along populated streets, while the sack containing Hodja Nasreddin would be transported along deserted alleyways. His cunning went even further – each false sack was accompanied by eight guards, while Hodja Nasreddin’s had only three.
“I will send a messenger from the pond,” Arslanbek said to the guards. “You must carry out the four false sacks immediately, one after the other, while the fifth sack with the criminal should be carried out a little later and inconspicuously, after all the curious around the gates have followed the false sacks. Do you understand me? Remember that you will answer with your heads.”
In the evening, drums sounded on the square, announcing the end of the bazaar. Crowds of people headed towards the pond from all directions. Soon, the emir arrived with his retinue. Torches were lit on the platform and all around it. The flames hissed and swayed in the wind, and their crimson reflections trembled on the water. The opposite bank was dark; one could not see the crowd from the platform, which was flooded with lights, but one could hear clearly how it shifted, moved, and breathed, its indistinct, anxious hum blending with the gusts of nightly wind.
In a loud voice, Bakhtiyar read the emir’s decree regarding the putting of Hodja Nasreddin to death. Just then, the wind quieted down as well – it grew so quiet that goosebumps ran up the luminous emir’s back. The wind sighed again, and thousands of chests in the crowd sighed with it.
“Arslanbek!” said the emir, and his voice trembled. “Why do you delay?”
“I have already sent the messenger, o sovereign.” Suddenly, shouting and the clanging of weapons came from the darkness, a fight broke out somewhere. The emir jumped up, looking round. A minute later, eight guards without a sack entered the brightly lit area in front of the platform.
“Where is the criminal?” the emir shouted. “They took him away from the guards, he slipped away! You see, Arslanbek?”
“O sovereign!” Arslanbek replied. “Your lowly slave has foreseen everything; that sack contained old rags.”
The sounds of a scuffle came from another direction. Arslanbek hastened to reassure the emir:
“Let them take it away, o sovereign! That sack, too, has nothing but rags.”
…The first sack was recovered from the guards by the chaikhana keeper Ali and his friends, the second was captured by the blacksmiths, headed by Yusuf. Soon, the potters claimed the third sack, but found rags inside. The fourth sack was let through to the platform. By the light of the torches, the guards raised the sack above the water with the whole crowd watching and tossed out the contents: rags came pouring out.
The crowd froze in utter confusion. This was exactly the goal of the experienced Arslanbek, who knew that confusion led to inaction.
The time came for the fifth sack to arrive. But the guards who had been entrusted with it had fallen behind somewhere and had not yet delivered the sack to the pond.
Chapter 35
When the guards brought Hodja Nasreddin from the dungeon, he said:
“So you are going to carry me on your own backs? I regret that my donkey is not here, he would have died laughing.”
“Silence! Soon you will be weeping!” the guards replied angrily. They could not forgive Hodja Nasreddin for surrendering to the emir directly, bypassing them.
Holding the cramped sack open, they began to stuff Hodja Nasreddin inside.
“O slaves of the shaitan!” Hodja Nasreddin shouted, folded in three. “Could you not have found a roomier sack?”