Some months had elapsed since the sending of the letter, without any noteworthy event. During this interval, Ivan had been able to win the good will of the woman and the old man, or at least had succeeded in making himself necessary to them. He was versed in all the arts that can be employed in a commanding officer’s mess. He made “kisliya shchi” [13] to perfection, prepared pickled cucumbers, and had accustomed his hosts to the little comforts which he had introduced into their housekeeping.
To win greater confidence, he had placed himself with them on the footing of a buffoon, every day inventing some new jest to amuse them; Ibrahim especially loved to see him dance the Cossack dance. When any one of the villagers came to visit them, Ivan’s fetters were removed, and he was made to dance; which he always did with a good grace, each time adding some new absurd gambol. By behaving thus continually he had obtained for himself the freedom of the village, through which he was generally followed by a crowd of children attracted by his buffooneries; and, as he understood the Tartar language, he had soon learnt that of the country, which is a closely related dialect.
The major himself was often forced to sing Russian songs with his denshchik, and to play his guitar to amuse this fierce company. At first they had taken off the chains which fettered his right hand when this service was exacted from him; but, the woman having noticed that he would sometimes play, in spite of his fetters, for his own amusement, this favour was no longer allowed him, and the unfortunate musician more than once repented that he had let his talent become known. He did not know then that his guitar would one day assist him to regain his liberty.
To attain that longed-for liberty, the two prisoners formed a thousand plans, all very difficult to execute. At the time of their arrival in the village, the inhabitants used to send each night, by turns, a different man to augment the guard. Imperceptibly this precaution was relaxed. Often the sentinel did not come: the woman and the child slept in a neighbouring room, and old Ibrahim remained alone with them; but he kept the key of the chains carefully on his person, and woke up at the least sound. From day to day, the prisoner was treated more harshly. As the answer to his letters never came, the Tchetchens often visited his prison to insult him and threaten him with the most cruel treatment. They deprived him of his meals, and he had one day the vexation of seeing little Mamet pitilessly beaten for having brought him a few medlars.
One very remarkable circumstance in the painful position in which Kaskambo was placed, was the confidence which his persecutors had in him, and the respect with which he had inspired them. Whilst these barbarians subjected him to continual outrages, they would often come to consult him and to make him arbiter in their transactions and in their contests with one another. Amongst other disputes of which he was made the judge the following deserves mention on account of its peculiarity.
One of these men had entrusted a Russian note for five roubles to his friend, who was leaving for a neighbouring valley, asking him to deliver it to a certain person. The messenger lost his horse, which died on the way, and came to the conclusion that he had a right to keep the five roubles to repay him for the loss he had sustained. This reasoning, worthy of the Caucasus, was not at all relished by the owner of the money. On the traveller’s return, there was a great commotion in the village. These two men had gathered around them all their relations and friends, and the quarrel might have led to bloodshed if the old men of the band, after having vainly tried to pacify them, had not induced them to submit their case to the decision of the prisoner. The whole population of the village tumultuously took their way to him, the sooner to learn the issue of this farcical trial. Kaskambo was brought out of his prison and led on to the platform which constituted the roof of the house.
The greater number of the dwellings in the Caucasian valleys are partly hollowed out of the earth, and only rise three or four feet above the ground; the roof is horizontal, and is formed of a layer of beaten clay. The inhabitants, especially the women, come to rest on these terraces after sunset, and often pass the night there in the fine season.
When Kaskambo appeared on the roof there was a profound silence. It must doubtless have been extraordinary, to see, at this strange tribunal, furious litigants, armed with pistols and daggers, submitting their cause to a judge in chains, half dead with hunger and distress, who nevertheless passed judgement in the last resort, and whose decisions were always respected.
Despairing of making the accused listen to reason, the major made him come forward, and, in order to put the laughers at least on the side of justice, questioned him as follows. “If, instead of giving you five roubles to take to his creditor, your friend had only asked you to give him his greeting, your horse would be dead all the same, would it not?”
“Perhaps,” answered the defendant.