Trust

(A truth written into history)

When they said, “The Khagan is summoning you,” Botir Boshchi understood everything: the ruler had decided to expand his realm. For six months earlier, at a hunt on the shores of Issyk-Kul, the Khagan had asked, “I want to expand the borders — what do you say?” “First of all, have the army trained hard, then gradually increase its numbers; provide the army with food and weapons, horses and mounts. Let everything be linked to everything else in a precise order: let the blacksmiths make swords, bows, arrowheads, spears and shields for the army every day; let the herdsmen and farmers raise meat, barley and wheat, and let this never be cut off. After that one can rack one’s brains about annexing some place to the realm,” Botir Boshchi had said. Botir Boshchi had served three khagans: since he had first come to his senses he had been in the army. He was a master at waging war, forming armies, devising plans and stratagems. The previous khagan, for some reason, had kept him away from the palace; he gave him no post; Botir Boshchi went on wielding his sword and shooting his bow by himself in the Altai mountains; he did not get involved in anything; but the new Khagan sent for him and at their very first conversation set out his aim. Now, when the messenger came from the Khagan, Botir Boshchi sensed that his service was needed at last. ... The Khagan was pacing back and forth in a spacious tent. Botir Boshchi entered and bowed. “Botir Boshchi,” said the Khagan, his eyes flashing. “I have decided: we go to war. You will be the commander of the army. You yourself will also say which country to march on.” Botir Boshchi fell silent. His silence did not please the Khagan. “Do you doubt the greatness of my aim?” he said angrily. “Never, my Khagan,” said Botir Boshchi with reverence. “I am at your service until my last drop of blood.” “Then what do you want? Why are you silent?” said the Khagan, cooling down a little. “We have heard of the sage Kokaman...” said Botir Boshchi. “Who has not heard of him!” said the Khagan, not grasping the commander’s intent. “He had a most trusted disciple. His name was Toghalp. Toghalp was Kokaman’s right hand — indeed, the garden he trusted, the mountain he leaned on. In Toghalp’s village there was another man. His name was Toghalp too. That namesake killed a man. The judge had him locked up. A man came to the mother of our Toghalp and said, ‘Your son has killed a man!’ The old woman was sitting spinning with her spindle. ‘Get out, liar!’ she said, and drove the messenger away. Less than half an hour later another man came and told the old woman that her son had killed a man; the old woman sank deep into thought. ‘Oh, go away,’ was all she said. A little later a third man came and said the same thing, and the old woman threw down her spindle, said, ‘I have no such son,’ and fled from the house.” Botir Boshchi fell silent. “What are you trying to say?” said the Khagan again. “My Khagan, I am not Toghalp, the wise and pure disciple of the sage Kokaman. And you do not know me as well as Toghalp’s mother knew him. Tomorrow, once I am at the head of the army, if some people come and speak ill of me, tell all sorts of baseless tales, who will guarantee that you will not believe them and take off my head?” Now the Khagan understood Botir Boshchi. “That is, if you do not trust me completely, I cannot command the army. I cannot lead the army into battle. You will trust me completely and believe no intrigue. You will accept only the information I give you, you will not doubt me — then I will take command of the army and conquer for you every place you desire!” Now everything was clear. The Khagan sank into deep thought and told the old warrior he could go. Two days later he summoned Botir Boshchi and said, “It will be as you say.” ... After a year had passed, Botir Boshchi fully conquered the lands the Khagan desired and presented them to him.

Akrom MALIK