Meeting I

Kurroglou was a Turkoman of the tribe of Tuka; his real name was Roushan, and that of his father Mirza-Serraf. The latter was in the service of Sultan Murad, ruler of one of the provinces of Turkestan, as Master of the Stud to that potentate. One day, when the mares of the stud were grazing in the meadows extending along the Jaihoun (Oxus), a stallion issued from the surface of its waters, climbed the bank, joined the stud, and, after having covered two mares, plunged into the river and disappeared for ever. No sooner was this strange news reported to Mirza-Serraf than he repaired to the spot, and, after having set distinguishing marks upon the two mares in question, he enjoined the guardians of the stud to bestow upon them particular attention. Returning home, he did not fail to put down in his books an account of X the apparition of the stallion, and to register the precise date of the circumstance.

It is well known that a mare always brings forth her foal in a standing position. When the proper time arrived, Mirza-Serraf, who was present at the birth, received the foals in the skirt of his coat, in order that they might not be hurt by coming in contact with the ground. He himself, during the two following years, superintended the rearing, and watched the growth of the colts. Unfortunately, however, their ill-conditioned appearance was not calculated to inspire much hope for the future. They looked unsightly; and their shaggy coats seemed to consist of bristles rather than hair.

It was one of the duties of Mirza-Serraf to visit in turn all the studs confided to his care, and to select the best colts for the stable of the prince. On this occasion the two colts were of the number of those he selected for that purpose. When the prince came in person to visit his stables he carefully examined the horses brought by Mirza-Serraf, and approved of them all, with the exception of the two colts in question. The longer he looked at them the more hideous they appeared to him. Directing the master of his stud to, be summoned, he addressed him in an angry voice, Villain, how happens this! Dost thou hold me for one without instruction or understanding, or hast thou grown so old as not to be able to distinguish a good horse from a bad one? What dost thou mean by bringing here those two miserable jades?’ Then, transported with fury, the prince ordered the eyes of Mirza to be put out. The sentence was immediately executed. A red hot iron was applied to the surface of the eyes of the unfortunate Mirza-Serraf, who was thus deprived for ever of the enjoyment of light. Blind and suffering, he was conducted to his house. His only son, Roushan, a youth of nineteen years, was at that time a student at one of the schools of the place. As soon as he heard of his father’s punishment, the young man, bathed in tears, ran towards him. “Do not lament, my son,” said the old man, (he was one of the most skilful astrologers of his age,) “I have examined thy horoscope, and my unerring science has shown me that thou wilt become a celebrated hero; thou wilt avenge my sufferings on the person of the unjust tyrant who has inflicted them. Go this instant, see the prince, and address him thus: ‘My Lord; thou hast caused my father’s eyes to be put out on account of a colt. Be merciful, and make him a present of the animal, or my poor father, who is old and blind, will lack a horse to ride to the selams thou givest in thy palace.’” He did as he was directed.

The prince, whose anger in the meantime had cooled, granted young Roushan permission to enter his stables, and to take either of the two condemned colts that best pleased his fancy. The colt selected by Roushan was the grey one, because he had been told by his father that the mare which had foaled it was of a nobler breed than the other. Upon his return home with the prince’s gift, Roushan was ordered by his father to dig a cave. “It will serve for a stable,” said he. “Let forty stalls be made in it, and between every two stalls thou shalt make a reservoir of water. By a combination of a certain number of springs, the use of which I shall teach thee, barley and straw will appear at fitting hours before our colt, who will eat of it at pleasure, without the assistance of a groom. In the same manner water will appear before it in due time and place. Thou must carefully build up the door, the windows, and the very chinks of the stable, for it is indispensable that our colt should be left there alone during forty days, that neither man’s eye nor the rays of the sun may disturb it in its solitude.”

The father’s instructions were executed by the son with the most scrupulous fidelity. The colt was immediately introduced and shut up in its new abode, where it had already remained invisible during thirty-eight days; when on the thirty-ninth day Roushan’s patience was exhausted. He approached the stable, and after having perforated a hole of the size of an eye he began to peep in the interior. The whole body of the colt appeared to him resplendent and shining like a lamp. The light that issued from it instantly became dim, and, as it were, extinguished, by a single glance of Roushan’s eye. He was frightened, and quickly closing the small aperture, returned to his father, to whom he made no mention of the occurrence. The day after, just at the hour when the fortieth day of the colt’s confinein the stable was about to expire, Mirza-Serraf said to his son, “The requisite term has arrived. Let us go to fetch our horse, and let us commence training him.” They both repaired to the stable. Mirza-Serraf (for he was blind) began to feel the coat of the colt. He passed his hand over its head, its neck, its fore and hind legs, as if he were seeking for something, when all of a sudden he exclaimed, “What hast thou done, thou unhappy boy? It would have been better for me if I had seen thee dead in thy childhood! No later than yesterday thou hast allowed the light to fall on the colt.” “Thou hast guessed aright, my father; but how dost thou happen to know this?” “How do I know it? This horse had feathers and wings, which I perceive have all been broken in consequence of thy imprudence.” At these words Roushan’s heart was filled with bitterness, and he felt deeply distressed. Mirza- Serraf then went on saying, “Be not dismayed. No living horse shall ever be able to come up with the dust raised by the hoofs of this steed.”

Having said this, the blind man directed his son to saddle the colt with a felt-saddle, and enjoined him to train it in the following manner:—“Thou shalt make him trot during the first forty nights over the rocks and stony plains; and during the next forty nights over the marshes and water.” When this order was fulfilled, Mirza-Serraf put his horse to the gallop, in which he behaved most admirably, as well in going backward as forward. The education of the noble animal having thus been completed, he now occupied himself w r ith that of his son. “Mount thy horse,” he said; “give me a seat behind thee, and let us cross the Oxus.” Whilst they were thus amusing themselves, the experienced old man initiated his son in all the stratagems of the art of riding, and of the profession of war.

“It is well,” said he, one day, to Roushan, “I am satisfied with thee; but one thing remains yet to be done. Our prince is sometimes in the habit of hunting along the shores of the Oxus. There thou shalt wait for him. The first time thou seest him coming that way, thou must put on all the pieces of thy armour, and mounted on thy horse, boldly meet the tyrant. Then thou shalt address to him these words:—‘Unjust and cruel prince, behold the horse for which thou hast caused my father’s eyes to be put out; look at him well what a horse he has become, and then die of envy!”’ Roushan obeyed faithfully his father’s command. As soon as he perceived the prince enjoying the pleasure of the chase on the shores of the Oxus, he put on his armour and galloped straight towards him. The prince, captivated by the uncommon beauty of the horse, as well as by the noble appearance of the rider, asked his vizier, “Who is this young man?” Roushan, who was invited to approach the prince, did not fail to repeat to him in a firm and threatening voice the speech taught him by his father, and then he added: “Foolish Prince! thou believest thyself a good judge of horses. Simpleton that thou art, lo! listen to me, and learn by what signs a horse of noble breed may be known.” This said, he improvised the fol-loAving song:—

Improvisation.—“I come, and I say to thee. Prince, listen and learn how a noble horse may be known. Active and brisk, see if his nostrils are rapidly swelling and shrinking alternately; whether his slender limbs are like the limbs of the gazelle, ready to commence its course. His haunches must resemble those of a chamois: his tender mouth yields to the slightest motion of the bridle, like the mouth of a young camel. When he eats, his teeth grind the grain, and make them crack like a millstone in motion; and he swallows them like a famished wolf. His back ought to remind you exactly of that of a hare: his mane is soft and silky: his neck is lofty, formed in semblance of the peacock’s. The best time to mount him is between his fourth and fifth year. His head, neat and small as the head of the great serpent, chah-maur: his eyes projecting like two apples: his teeth are like so many diamonds. The shape of his mouth ought to approach that of a male camel: his limbs are neatly turned and fashioned; their shape is rather rounded than elongated. When brought out of the stable he is playful and prances. His eyes are like the eyes of the eagle, and he walks along with the restlessness of a hungry wolf. His belly and his ribs ought to fill the girth exactly. A young man of good family lends an obedient ear to the words of his parents: he pays the greatest attention to his horse: he knows by heart its descent and its pure blood; often he tries the vigour of the joints of its knees. In one word, he ought to be what Mirza- Serraf was in his youth.”

As soon as the prince heard the improvisation, he exclaimed to his followers, “This is the son of Mirza-Serraf. Ho, there! let him be arrested.” Roushan immediately was surrounded on all sides; but without appearing to notice this circumstance, he called on Sultan Murad. “Listen, my prince, I have just bethought of some stanzas of pretty verses; will you allow me to recite them to you?” The prince consented, and commanded his followers not to stir, and not touch Roushan, till he had finished his poetry; meanwhile the latter commenced singing the following improvisation:—

Improvisation.—“My prince has issued an order that I should be punished. But, by Allah, I know how to defend myself, I shall escape. In vain wouldst offer me thy riches and favours, as food is offered to the gluttonous and famished eagle; I will reject them all.”

Here the prince interrupted him, and said, “Putting this bravado aside, come and serve me faithfully, or else I shall condemn thee to death.” Roushan then sang as follows:—

Improvisation.—“I am called God in my house. Yes; I am a God. I shall not bend my neck before a coward like thee. The pitcher has carried water long enough for thee; but that pitcher is broken at last.”

The prince then said, “Thy father was my servant for fifty years. In a moment of anger I ordered his eyes to be put out. But who will deny to the master the right of punishing his slave, in order that he may hereafter heap favours on him? Follow me home. Thou shalt know how to please me, and I will reward thee.”

Roushan replied:—“Thou hast extinguished my father’s eyes, and at that price thou promisest to make me rich. If God allows me life enough. 1 shall make thee pay with thy own person the right to retaliation. But, hark:—

Improvisation.—“It is thyself that thou hast built and ruined, when thou hast lent thy ear to base calumniators. I shall take life. I shall overturn thy throne.”

The prince smiled at these words, and asked, thou ironically: “How, now, Roushan, dost thou feel thyself strong enough to lay my town in ruins, and to overturn my throne?” Roushan then sang the following improvisation:—

Improvisation.—“Enough of this boasting. What are in my eyes thirty, sixty, or a hundred of your warriors? What are your rocks, your precipices, and deserts, under the hoof of my steed? In me you behold the leopard of the mountains and of the valleys.”

The prince rejoined, “Come nearer to me, do not fly. I swear by the head of the first four khaliphs, that I will make thee Sirdar (General Commanding-in-Chief) of my troops.” Whilst he was speaking these words he admired the courage of the young man. Roushan replied and said: “Henceforth my songs, as well as my high deeds, shall be known under the name of Kurroglou\, the son of that blind man whose eyes were put out at thy command.

Improvisation.—“Listen to the words of Kurroglou. Life is a burden to me. From this day I yield my head to the chances of fortune, like an autumn leaf abandoned to the wilful breath of the wind. With God’s assistance I shall go to Persia, to establish there the worship of Ali, who is venerated in that country.” He had scarcely finished these words when he threw himself in the midst of the prince’s suite, and spread amongst them such terrible carnage that the prince was convinced at last that all the armies of the world would not be able to overcome Roushan, and enjoined his vizier to give up, for the future, the pursuit of the young man, as an imprudent and useless attempt. Roushan swam over to the opposite shore of Oxus, and hastened to his father. “Thou hast revenged me, my son,” said the latter to him, “may God reward thee for it. Let us now quit this country. Not far from Herat I know an oasis; thither thou must conduct me.”

No sooner said than done. When they had reached the oasis, Mirza-Serraf drew from under his arm an old book of astrology, which he always carried on his person, and said: “O my son, look in this book for that passage which treats of the apparition of two stars, one from the east, and the other from the west.” “I have found it, father.”

“Well, then, the oasis in which we reside contains a spring of water. When the night of the eve of Friday next shall have arrived, thou shalt watch with this book in thy hand, and repeat continually the prayer which is to be found in this passage; thy eyes must be earnestly fixed on the two stars until they meet together. The moment they have met, thou shalt perceive the surface of the water covered with white foam. Take this vase, which I have brought for the purpose; in it thou shalt collect the foam carefully, and then bring it me without delay.”

When the appointed night arrived, Roushan fulfilled all the instructions of Mirza-Serraf, and was on his way back with the vase replenished with the mysterious foam. The foam was so white, so delicate, so fresh, that the inexperienced young man could not resist the temptation—he swallowed the foam. “I have performed all thy behests,” said he to his father; “the foam, however, did not appear on the surface of the spring.” Mirza-Serraf answered: “The foam did appear on the surface; I am quite certain; confess all the truth; what hast thou done with it?” Roushan was frank, and confessed his guilt. The old man then struck his knee with both his hands, and exclaimed, “What hast thou done, unfortunate that thou art! Be accursed, and may thy house fall upon thee! Thou hast envied me the delight of beholding thee again. That foam was a precious and only remedy, a collyrium that had the power of curing my blindness. I would have used a portion of it myself, and then given thee the remainder that thou mightest drink it. But the decrees of fate are irrevocable. Thou shalt become an invincible warrior, whilst I must die a blind man; it is now all over.” The poor old man then commenced dictating his last will. My days have been reckoned. Henceforth thou shalt assume the name of Kurroglou, the son of the blind man. To this nick-name thy verses and thy actions must be attached for ever. Now conduct me to Mushad on the back of Kyrat, for thus thou shalt name thy horse.”

Kurroglou placed his old father behind him, and proceeded towards the sacred city of Mushad. They reached it in a short time—thanks to the intelligent vigour of their horse. It was in that city that they adopted the faith of Aly; and thus, from impious Sunnites that they were, they became Sheahs and true believers. There also Mirza-Serraf died, and his last words were as follow:—“As soon as I am dead, proceed to the province of Aderbaidjan. The Shah of Persia is its sovereign. He will summon thee to his court. Thou shalt not go thither, my son; but, on the other hand, thou must not revolt against the shah.” He said this, and breathed his last.

A chesmit horse.