VII. The Tribute of Roses
A Legend
In our most blessed and favored country, where the sun shines so brightly, where the flowers have such a sweet, sweet fragrance, where the birds sing so melodiously, long ago in bygone times, when neither I nor my father nor my forefathers had been born, there lived a young and splendid couple in the Aule of Mokde [Note of the Translator: Aule is the common term for a very small village or rather mountain hamlet in the Caucasus.] They were always most hospitable and everybody praised them, but the Lord, who always delights in seeing the religious and the poor well treated, fully rewarded them and abundantly furnished them with rich presents, thus clearly showing them his appreciation for their good deeds. They had everything that could be desired: youth, beauty, good health, riches, and reputation, they sincerely loved one another and their inner happiness was as great as their outer appearance and great success. Their children were healthy, clever, good and lovely to look at. Their elder son, little Timitch, distinguished himself especially through his strength and ability; he was endowed with most fiery eyes, once sparkling like flashes of lightning, then again as soft and innocent as the eyes of a young mountain goat.
For nine years the happy husband and wife lived thus, when suddenly between the aules of Mokde and Khamki a very bloody strife ensued and led to much destruction of life and property. During this strife, when the father of Timitch was mercilessly killed as well as his brothers and sisters, while the mother was taken prisoner and led off as a captive, Timitch himself was saved by some inexplicable wonder and soon became the favorite and greatest pride of the whole aule. In the meantime his mother, who was still a beautiful and youthful woman [in our country the women can be married at the early age of twelve] was sold and taken away to Turkey, where her wonderful appearance was the chief ornament of the Sultan’s harem. In this select collection of beautiful and highly attractive women, her good looks and sweet disposition cast a dark shadow over all the rest—just as our bright sun dims all other planets.
The Sultan got perfectly wild with delight over her, and he incessantly showered most precious weavings, gorgeous carpets and splendid stones of one color and priceless shawls—in a word everything that the rich, rich East could produce lay at her graceful feet. Nevertheless in the midst of all these flatteries and endless temptations she always remained faithful to her husband. It needed a marvellous mind and character like hers, while utterly refusing to fulfil the wishes of the Sultan, to still remain the governess of his heart and the immediate object of his kind and thoughtful attention. In these proceedings a lucky circumstance firmly assisted her—viz., the fact that she had been preparing herself to become a mother already four months before, when she happened to be taken prisoner. The loving and enchanted Sultan decided to patiently await the birth of the baby, which was foreign to him, and then marry his unusual captive, who was of royal blood and thus fully had the right to be an empress. The nearer she approached the time when a child should be born, the gayer the future Sultana became, so that those surrounding her really imagined that she had forgotten her husband. But oh, how terribly mistaken they were! Indeed, the eventful day came and a daughter Tousholi was born.
When they brought her the baby she long looked at it and tears came in floods out of her magnificent eyes, afterwards she made the sign of the cross on it and gave orders that it should be carried off.
“Call Samson to me,” she said. Samson was the eunuch, given and attached to her personal service by the Sultan and who had faithfully done his duty by her side. She knew how to win his esteem and confidence, especially as he was himself a Christian (of course quite secretly). When he arrived she ordered him to take up the opakalo (probably a kind of Eastern fan) and protect her, while sleeping, from uncomfortable and noisy flies; but she did not want to sleep—this was simply a sly device to make everybody leave her apartment and get out. She profited by this occasion to tell Samson the following facts:
“Samson, to thee I trust the new-born daughter Tousholi, promise me if possible secretly to make a Christian of her, as sincere and earnest in her belief as thou thyself. Among all these unbelievers thou wert not a slave to me, but a true and faithful friend and a tender and thoughtful brother. By the almighty mercifulness of God I am destined to live not much longer, for I hope to-day already to be able to unite myself with my dear husband, while thee I ask to take the place of this dear orphan’s parents. Thou knowest my whole history, my strength does not enable me to speak to thee as freely as I should like. For the sake of the outward appearance I shall leave Tousholi nominally to the care of the Sultan, and I am convinced that at first everything will go right with you. When, however, your situation changes, I hope indeed that you may find means to return to Mokde and look up my first-born child, whose natural obligation it is to be the powerful protector of his defenceless sister and her very aged educator, but now give me my little kindjall (Caucasian dagger)—fear nothing, I shall not cut myself open, for I have not even the strength to do that.”
Samson placed in her now feeble hands the handsomely ornamented little kindjall, artistically decorated with precious stones and fastened to a most gorgeous girdle. This was the wedding present of her husband and she never left it out of her sight. The submissive old man, through his tears beheld how the face of the sick woman suddenly lit up and how, her eyes flashing with some extraordinary fire, she bravely pulled the little kindjall out of the sheath and put its thin blade, which was as sharp as the tongue of a snake, up to her lovely mouth.