The day was dull and dark, it seemed that everything around ran high… The steppe became pale, the grass grew yellow and brown and dried. Either fog or gloom hung low above the ground and everything seemed pale and unstable through this sad darkness – both an innumerable crowd and the endless distance itself. What is this? A flock, a tabun? Or people? The crowd moved as if it had scattered. It could happen when a herd of sullen gelt horses separated from the tabun. “Apyrmai, what can it be?” – Shermek thought and lashing his horse rushed to the side of Kenshebayaburg.

            … There came a clap of thunder. And the ground shivered. There came a scathing flash of lightening. The crowd began moving, grumbling and buzzing. The buzz became higher, streamed up and rocketed into the sky, and because of this clank it was dinging in ears beyond all bearing, it seemed that the ear-drums were about to split. Shermek pulled in the reigns and restrained his horse. The heart was beating high; he was caught by dim fear. He seemed that the sky would fall in and pressed him then. He tried to cry, but his voice disappeared… The horse under him kept its ears open, then shied frightenedly aside, took the head and having awkwardly spread-eagled and taken the edge of the twisters off the rider flopped on the ground together with the saddle and the saddle-cloth…

-          Catch him!.. Stop him!..

            Having shivered after hearing this disgusting cry he raised his head. Black darkness covered the whole world… Shermek was gasping, his heart jumped up to his throat, the whole his body was trembling. Somebody’s iron claws grasped very firmly into his right hand a little lower his elbow. It was possible to wrest out only if to cut the hand…

            There roared and walloped anger, fury, hate and rage around…

-          Oh, my god!.. People… take pity, have mercy!..

-          Don’t wait for mercy!.. Revenge, revenge!.. – Angry shouts of triumph were roaring.

            From somewhere – either from the distance or from out the feet of mad crowd – there came a weak groan. Shermek was struck by it; it hurtfully cut his heart like a knife. He recognized his father’s voice and at the same time he saw him. Seipen hill his belly up like a hillock on a new grave was lying on the ground at peoples feet.

-          Shermekshan, I am not already a human! You see: they have ripped up my tum…

            Having humped himself Shermek was about to run to his father but at the same moment a sabre glanced predatory before his eyes. Having felt horror Shermek shrank harshly back, hit with his top against something firm and cried from pain.

-          Oiba-a-ai!..

 

II

            … He came to life because of his own cry. His pillow was creasy; he hit his head against the iron back of the bed and now his head was droning and he felt needle-prick in his temples.

            It was dark. It was hardly possible to discern windows. Shermek was lying on his bed in his room. He was sweaty and felt slack. He wished to turn on the other side but the bed under him began shaking and screeching like grim death, and just calmed down heart started beating and trembling again.

            He lied some time more being sunk into dream, hardly feeling anything and thinking about nothing. However, then he completely woke up and began remembering his dream. The events of the last days swam in cavalcade before him. And the more he remembered and thought the more clearly he felt: the clutch is grimly vicing and black clouds are drooping lower and lower above his head.

            Shermek has never supposed that he could find himself in such a mess, turn suddenly out to be at the parting of the ways and there would be left the only thing for him to beat his head against the wall. He was always lucky and successful and thought – and with some reason – that he was the happiest human in the world…

            Only several days ago it seemed to Shermek that this cozy room with two windows and a bed was a terrestrial paradise. Having reclined at ease in the bed and viewing in the thoughts his early life he came then to the conclusion that in spent years – to say the truth there were not a lot of them yet – there was no one day that he could remember with grief or pity. Just having been born he got into the world where were neither troubles nor grief, in the very rosy world about what they say it is supported by luck from all four sides. He was an offshoot of a rich clan, the son of bai, of well-known horse breeder. He learnt at Russian schools, wore tight elegant cloths with shining buttons. But then everything changed. But even then the fortune did not leave Shermek, contrariwise, he became more lucky: he became a hardened and eminent nationalist. He was welcomed everywhere; nobody dared to contradict him… Later, when the Soviet power strengthened there appeared gossip in the auls that that was all, allegedly that was the end for Shermek, and he would not stick out any more. But homebred prophets overreached themselves. The gossip disappeared and he came over to a soviet job, schmoozed friends and with their help made the cut into the party… And up to now he lived quietly and peacefully. He was artful, fast and changeable as wind. Now he went in left then right. Some his fellows even envied him. “What a boy, this Shermek! – They said. – No devil can catch him”.

            And today Shermek looked like a baxy-shaman who had been suddenly left by his true genies. As if somebody had struck and destroyed him, deprived him his stream rolling firmness and happiness that raised him up to heavens. Yesterday his room, such good-looking and colourful, seemed to him a quiet paradise corner, but today it was open like a dragon’s mouth that was ready to swallow him alive. Even his black-eyed nimble beauty, his joy, honey and brightening of his night amusements, darkened like a puppet and became dead and soulless. And always calm heart saddened by nothing was beating hurtfully and brokenly. He felt a stifling lump in his throat.

            “Apyrmai, what to do? How to save the father?” – Shermek asked himself again and again. He was lying so, biting his lips and having strength neither to concentrate nor get thoughts together, not knowing what to do. But he had to do something. There were approaching bad times. He had to wash out the law, honour, and conscience and drag his relatives out of troubles. Otherwise – death…

            Only now when he came to this decision disarray subsided in his head. He jumped out of his bed and turned on his table lamp. The thought about necessity immediately to act lashed him and filled the whole his creature with unfamiliar fury. He angrily screwed up his eyes, his cheek-bones became pointed, and the corners of his mouth were trembling nervously. Then the anger turned into offence, he swelled. His words and thoughts were raging like water during high water. He sat down at the writing table and took a pen. “Father!” – He wrote in the upper corner of the sheet, underlined the compellation and then started scribbling not taking almost away the pen from the paper…

            At noon three riders were going down from hill Tasybai. In the hollow on the very bunch of the river there was situated an aul. The yourts were standing in a straight line; there flowed athwart blue-grey smoke over them. The aul was rich: it flickered before eyes from a great number of people and cattle.

            Yes, there were lots of cattle on the rich pasturages! From the slope there was dragging a flock of cows to the watering-place; there were walking herds of sheep here and there; from the river to the headstream avalanching like a battle cavalry there ran a tabun of horses; they raised clouds of dust from under their hoofs and it rose like a cloud over the herds; foals and colts bucked and played like gamboling children. Two horsemen dragging aside birch kuruks¹ were riding nearby, from time to time they shouted strictly on sullen horses and disobedient three-year-old heifers, did not let them disperse and split young gelt horses off the tabun…

-          Say what you like but the beauty of a steppe is cattle! For example, it was a pleasure to look at Alimbai’s aul when it had still power and fame. And now? It lost its cattle and its picturesque with it. Meanness and poorness…

            And one of the riders, who were going down from the hill – he had a black face with a shorn beard, - shook sadly his head and sighed.

            His name was Koshan; he was a rare trickster, a wriggler and a handsome bai who was hanging out near bais since his young age. And in the middle the bai himself, Seipen, - a freckled, red old man with tight belly - was riding on a dark-red palfrey. These were his yourts that were sparkling and shining under the sun. These were his innumerable tabuns and herds that were grassing on the endless pasturages.

            Seipen kept silent habitually lashing his palfrey with his whip. It seemed that earlier he had not noticed his huge wealth as if he had not pay attention to it. But today he couldn’t tear his look off this all bai’s splendor and the longer he was looking the sicker he was at heart. Some unfamiliar, unclear worry caught him, struck and ate his heart out. He sighed deeply.

            ¹A long staff with a loop on its end, an accessory for catching of outlaw horses

             - Eh, Koshan, Koshan… There have come bad times.

            He shook in the saddle and the palfrey also started shaking under the weight of this huge bulk and lost its way. Seipen discontentedly jerked the reigns and lashed the horse.

-          You tell the truth: there have come bad times, - Koshan picked up the bai’s words. – People are spoilt. Each one wants to do dirt on. Neither respect to old ones nor honour at patres. And what good can you expect if Daukar’s son himself, your former farmhand, is a boss now and governs people?! At the least occasion he opens his puss, rascal. For example, your Shermek, he also belongs to the party. But when he comes to the aul he touches nobody, he finds fault with nobody, and contrariwise he jokes and laughs as if he is equal…

            He said this and became sad, perhaps he remembered how unquiet the auls had started living, how united skint bums were shouting, how people named him a bai’s henchman and a blood-sucker right into his eyes without any confusion. And especially Daukar’s son Sultan was holding a grudge against him. There was no peace because of him. However, Koshan held out up to now. The freckled old man was a secure foothold for him. In future, of course, he will not leave the fellow in the lurch. Last year Sultan with his yobs tried to lock him, Koshan, up for bribery, but no sooner than the freckled old man had gone to the town the affair was hushed up. Now Koshan thankfully looked at his patron Seipen and thought to himself: I wish you would be alive still for many years long, old man. Seipen, having slammed his felt cap on the forehead, kept silent. His heavy jaw dropped down. He was thinking.

            They were riding upon slopes of the hill and they were passed by a rushing tabun. It spread across the steppe like a long chain. Seipen called up a horseman.

-          Dear, be attentive, - he said. – People say that there have appeared wolves and thieves. Keep eyes open. You will have enough sleep in the afternoon.

-          How can it be not to sleep at night? – The young austere horseman answered angrily. - I can die in this manner.

            He kicked the horse with the heels on its sides and swooshed by.

-          Look at this yellow dog! – Koshan boiled over looking after him.

-          What can you do? – Seipen noticed obediently and directed the horse towards the aul. – Everything in god’s hands…

            When the bai came into his yourt, his oldest wife, Sham baibishe, was pouring the horse milk of the evening milking into a huge shining leather bottle and their worker Tutk was preparing to stir up with a mixer stick kumis of the latest broth.

-          Here is the letter from Shermekshan, - the baibishe informed and put her hand into the pocket. – “A chatterbox” has brought it from the town and he ordered to give it only into your hands. Take it, read…

            Just having read the first lines Seipen darkened and grew pale. And when he had read till the middle he dropped the letter, his cheeks started shivering and he began crying.

            …It was dark in the huge multi-wing yourt. From the threshold to the place of honour there were piled packs, ornamented chests, expensive rolled up carpets and different treasures. And in the middle on a shaggy carpet shaken down over the felt bai Seipen, confused and killed by the son’s news, was sitting having spread out his legs and pressed with the both hands against it. His head dropped on the chest, tears ran over the beard. At that moment he understood and realized nothing where he was and what was up with him. He just felt how severe fire suddenly flashed in him was burning him off…

-          Oh, my god! What’s up with you?! – Shamal-baibishe cried frightenedly.

-          Don’t ask me, wife! It is our end… - Seipen choked out through tears.

 

 

III

            By the dinner the news flew around the whole aul. People told it to each other, bandied it and it got weirder and weirder shapes.

-          They say, some troops have suddenly come to the auls now…

-          They say that soon they will start to take away all cattle…

-          And besides, they say, they will tax daughters…

-          Tursun tells: I came in to the bai’s and his baibishe was sitting tear-stained. “Drink, she says, kumis to your hearts’ desire. All the same they say, everything will fall to the enemy…”

-          Don’t say like this… Why has she become so generous?! Not for any prize I will believe it.

-          I am sure; Shamal will die with arms around a leather bottle…

            Alike gossip-rumors crept and grew over each house. Deft women at the well, old men and old women at their fireplaces interpreted them in different ways. But all these interpretations were superficial, nobody could understand the deep sense of the unexpected news, and some interpretations were far aside from the circle of up-coming events at all.

            In the whole aul there was just one man who did not absolutely care about the gossip and idle chattering – Kuandyk. He usually sat having crossed his legs on a half-worn saddlecloth at the entrance of the yourt and day and night he was bonking and bonking with his axe, made something, cut something out from wood and at that his hardened short fur coat habitually ridged on him. Today he was also clearly excited. Having put his axe behind beldeu – a felt noose that begirds the yourt, - he girded himself with a piece of towing-rope over his coat as if he was going somewhere in argent business. However, he went nowhere; he just went round the saddlecloth in circles, looked around, called casual passersby and asked eagerly: “What’s the news?”

            Having flung on a lock of a pulled felt, twisting afoot a spinning wheel-top his neighbour Batima came out from the house. Kuandyk was glad:

-          Hey, Batima! Damn you, come up here!

            Kuandyk’s wife was scrubbing clean the kettle. Having heard his husband’s voice she, tumbled and dirty, peeped for a moment from out the door and threw at him an angry look and started scrubbing with more zeal.

            Batima was about forty but she was still a manner and frisky woman. And now like a young girl she turned saucily, cast up her eyebrows and cried out playfully:

-          Why do you need me, ah?

            And Kuandyk started dodging. He asked obediently and respectfully:

-          What do you say, my beauty? When could it happen that I didn’t need you?

-          Eh, come off it… You wish just to gab.

-          Look, have you gone to the bai’s? What has baibishe told?

-          Baibishe is sobbing. Her eyes have swollen from tears… I came in, I say, and she did not gather up as before, did not shrink but two times or so shook a leather bottle and poured me the whole cup of kumis.

-          I don’t ask about kumis! You’d rather say what she tells…

            Kuandyk moved up nearer to the neighbour.

-          She says nothing. Keeps silent… And as for me, so I felt uncomfortable to ask. I drank kumis and she took the leather bottle again. Give me your cup, she says, I’ll pour you some more. And I, as ill luck would have it, rendered butter in the morning, ate head off this salty rendering and stupidly loaded up with shalap¹ … I felt sick because of that bad swill. I saw Nesibel, the horseman’s wife, at the ground stove. “Why is baibishe crying?” – I asked. – “Ah, - she answered, - something terrible must happen.

            ¹a drink, a mixture made of water and sour milk.

            Since yesterday they behave as if they are mad. At night they invited aksakals from the neighbour auls and were speaking about something till the morning. I have not heard what they were speaking about”. Is it the truth or not – who knows? But to my mind something has happened.

-          Well, she says they invited aksakals.

-          Yes.

-          Well?.. What happened then?

-          That is all…

-          Pooh, drat it! If she had begun speaking you must have got everything out.

-          What for? I don’t care about gossip. These are you, men, who always stick your noses where you don’t belong.

            Kuandyk did not achieve anything useful from Batima, she just set alight his curiosity even more. He stood a little, shook sometime and with decision gave a wave of the hand:

-          Well. I see there is no use from you. I’ll go to Arystan.

            Stumbling upon each hubble, poking with his birch staff he hurried to Arystan. His house was overcrowded by aul inhabitants. Everybody was looking at the host and he was only thrilled with his own oratory.

-          And the thing if you want to know is in the following. – Kuandyk heard having just crossed the threshold. – All the cattle will be taken from all bais without exception, and they themselves will be thrown away rather far off.

-          Apyrmai, it is terrible!

            A smooth-faced dusky youngster even hopped in surprise.

            - So that’s it! It’s clear now that for some reason Shamal-baibishe is sobbing so much and scratching her face…

            - Hey, hey, people tell, for what sins will they take the cattle from bais, ah?

            One more man, spongy and bloated like a frog went bug-eyed.

-          You are asking! For the fact that they have finagled us and got the cattle for themselves by the sweat of our brow.

-          Ah, you have said! – A bug-eyed man boiled over. – Who of you has worked in vain for Seipen by the sweat of his or her brow? And whom of you has Seipen concussed to work for him, ah?

-          Leave this! – Kuandyk forced his way to Arystan and flopped near him. – Answer my question: what will they do with the cattle that will be taken from bais?

-          Do you think they will give it you? – Somebody smiled. – They will give everything to the public purse.

-          You are not right, - Arystan noticed importantly. – The bais’ cattle will be given into a guild and shared among poor people.

-          Ah, it is unlikely. I doubt!

-          Of course, I don’t believe that free of charge goods will be lying on the road.

-          Don’t open your mouths very much, - hawk nosed Shaupkel said suddenly. – Seipen also knows black from white. At night he gathered aksakals, they argued out to deposit them all the cattle. Already today a flock of black unaltered male horses was driven to Tanatar’s tabun. The horseman himself told me about this. And the aul chairman put a document off that a part of the cattle really belongs to his son whom, they say, the bai split just recently off. Shermek might not also be dreaming in the town. Not in vain he has sent his father the letter with advice.

            And having informed this Shaupkel weightily looked at Arystan. All were listening to him with bated breath.

-          Yes, most likely it is the truth, - one people started nodding dispiritedly.

-          Of course, in the whole neighbourhood it is impossible to find a chief with whom Shermek has not come to a secret understanding. – The other ones supported them.

-          Perhaps Shermek has a hand in the town and Seipen himself is the head in the auls. He presents a horse for each aksakal and at once they are glad to sign a vecdirt¹. They say, Seipen is good, don’t offend him.

¹Corrupted - verdict  

-          That’s just it! It is easy meat to walk over a town dweller. When you thrust them a paper with a stamp under the nose they will just scrub their tops and let’s go back.

            Kuandyk suddenly boiled over:

-          Who will give such vecdirts? Is it I? Eat me!

            Arystan grew angry too:

-          You all are bais-chatterboxes! No sooner you have something heard – you spread it, swell and evoke deep despair. It is nonsense! How can a bai hide his cattle? How can the aul chairman put his stamp? And what about us, are we stupid, blind and dump? Will we really keep silent if a bai drives our cattle away or gets a false paper? Won’t we be able to report the needed bodies? Will not he be absolutely ashamed if we disclose him and prove in one accord that the bai is a thief and a swindler?!

-          Oibai-ai, for this it is essential to unite all poor men!

-          And what hinders us to unite? Weren’t these we who had voted Seipen together with all bais’ henchmen down on the last elections? And now, when we shared the land, weren’t these we who had thrown him away having taken all pasturages? What is it to your mind, isn’t it a unity?

-          Well, well, unite, take away, my business is to be aside, - Shaupkel said and turned his back.

-          Arystan is right! – Kuandyk gave mouth too. You, Shaupkel, are always turning into other direction, you are constantly arguing.

-          Eh, Kuandyk, where are you tampering? – Stout Iskak like a hill towered in the corner. – What for do we need this people’s gossip? Our business is to repair road carts and earn our living.

-          Why mustn’t I tamper? If the cattle are taken from Seipen I will not stay aside even if a cart breaks down! Has he used my labour not enough? I will take him by the scruff of his neck! Let him just try to hide his cattle!

-          Ai, Kueke¹, that’s a good boy! When they were sharing the land you tried very much and now demonstrate them what you are able for… - Arystan started laughing jolly.

            Kuandyk being pleased by the praise brightened and shone forth.

-          Dear Arystan, tell the truth: will they really take cattle from the bai?

            A black big fellow overgrown with thick beard moved to Arystan and everybody made him way as if they had decided to themselves that, of course, they could ill spare him. And the big fellow kept silent a little, stroked thoughtfully his beard and only then started speaking:

            - Well, if the authorities tackle the problem in this case it will turn out badly for Seipen. The bai will fly head over heels. Unlikely somebody else has broken so much his or her back for him like me… I have suffered from everything! I worked for him since my childhood. Very often I suffered from beating. To say the truth up to now I haven’t done away with him, I am working free my fingers to the bone for him. Is it possible to tell you about all my sufferings? Well, for example, in 1920 I decided to live independently. It means I left Seipen. Of course, he was angry and fury. And in 1921 there came a hungry year that people had not seen before. Everybody knows that it is not to be trifled with hunger. I dragged to Seipen and dropped at his feet. I said, help me, give me some food, if I am alive I will give back as good as you get, I will work everything out. But he, a dog’s soul, having reclined at ease on the blankets, on four-folded spreadings, he did not even gathered up his legs and arms as if he had not seen and heard me… People say, that his son, Shermek, is a communist now and has a high rank. If now the power belongs to poor men so I cannot understand at all what relation Shermek can have to this power. You can kill me – I don’t believe, that Shermek is a protector of poor men and worried about us.

            ¹Respectful form of the name Kuandyk

            Then I scrounged nothing by Seipen. And Shermek was reading a book having lent against the stove. Well, I thought and tried to move to pity the bai’s son. And what do you think? Shermek smiled artfully and said between teeth: “If you die at the same time you will put the taxes away! And sinless people have favours in the afterlife…”

-          A wolfling also has a strategy of a hardened wolf.

-          I wonder how could Shermek become a communist?!

-          Perhaps he has sneakily got a leg in. He might have pretended a poor man. Never mind, they will also get at him. Now the consciousness of labour people is growing, their eyes are opening wider and wider. They can already distinguish a friend from an enemy. This consiftacion¹ has begun on time. The mask will be torn from many people; many will be shaken up by the court of poor men.

            Arystan brightened. Kaundyk’s eyes were sparkling excitingly, his cheeks became rosy, he was caught by the power of exciting and by a noble spirit rise.

-          I am speaking about the same! It serves them right! I wish you would revenge all these bais for us! Whom else can we hope for as not for you, poor men-communists?!

-          To revenge the bais and throw them away from our area we, poor men, must unite firmly. Do you agree with this? – Arystan asked.

-          We agree.

-          If we are united and become true helpers of the party and the power we will be able to manage simple any task. Keep this in your minds!

 

IV

            Soon there came an authorized representative from the district. Exactly from him many people in the aul heard the threatening word – “consiftacion”. Now it was on everyone’s lips. For most aul inhabitants it sounded kindly as if it was something native and close.

            ¹Corrupted: confiscation.

Even bare-footed kids slapped with joy: “Consiftacion, consiftacion”. Now everybody understood its sense. For several hours the new word took its firm place in usual everyday conversations of aul inhabitants. Crowds of people followed everywhere the authorized representative. Those ones who stayed at home momentary learnt the news through intermediators.

-          Oh-ho-ho… There have come bad times, - an ancient stooped under the load of the years old man sighed leaning his back against the wall. – You name it, we hear about it!

            A red mangy dog sat down on its hind feet by the side of the road, cast up its head and started howling dispiritedly and sadly. The old man-hunchback angrily hushed the dog up:

            - It’s enough besides you! Shut up. Don’t invite disaster!

            Somebody laughed bitterly:

-          But if it invites it so I wish it would wallop Seipen’s head.

            And really and truly after the howl of the red dog there bobbed up bitter, argute cry over the aul. People shivered and kept their ears open.

-          Oh, what’s up?

-          Who is this?

-          It seems that bai’s baibishe is sobbing, - Kuandyk noticed smiling. – Now she, a wretch, will be long sobbing…

            Everybody exchanged looks. Clear bewilderment froze on some faces: “What to do – to be jolly or pity?”

            …Three white trim yourts lined up in a decorous row. A little afar there stood one more yourt – squat, fenestrate and smoked out. Seipen fat like a loaded roll was sitting behind it having turned his face to the west – to the direction of the prophet’s holy cell. His head dropped dismally on the breast… His eyes and face swelled. The only tear was sparkling on his thin beard. His baibishe, plump beyond measure like a fully blown up tursuk¹ leant her back against the poor yourt. Her face was fully slashed and scratched. She was black from grief and anger. Her eyes were full of blood. It seemed that everything around she saw dimly as in fog. Perhaps the baibishe remembered her wealth that had suddenly left her, flown away happiness and grief that had fallen like a black stone from the sky and deafened her like a fish during high water. Baibishe sighed so deeply and bitterly as if her breast was splitting at this.

-          Old man, is there any news from Shermershan? He has learnt so much and already long ago made his way in life, isn’t he really able to help us?

-          What do you say, old woman? How can he help us if he himself is followed now? They say – “bai’s son”. The letter that he had written me last time also got into these scoundrels’ hands. They brought him to justice… It’s no use to grieve abut ourselves. Pray for the son, old woman. We don’t have any other support…

            Seipen started trembling and crying feeling offence and anger.

-          Do I pray not enough? This old cat in the sky turned his back on us! He is deaf to our cries! – Baibishe angrily cried out and began sobbing too. It seemed that now she would be able to tear into pieces the very creator if he turned her up by chance.

            People were crowding at the white yourts as in a market. Ones came in, others came out; all brightened and were excited; they spoke loudly, laughed and giggled.

-          Well, Arystan, speak!

-          What to say? Both cattle and things – we have found everything, all in their places.

-          Does it mean that Tutkysh has pointed right?

-          Yes, straight goods.

            ¹Dishes made of goat skin used usually for kumis

-          What a good fellow, Tutkysh! I will write to the district about you. They must know! – The authorized representative clapped on Tutkysh’s shoulder. That one being satisfied started smiling and blossoming.

-          Hey, where is Nesibel?

-          I am here.

-          Well, come and sit down at this leather bottle, stir it up and mix kumis with the painted ladle! Don’t be shy when the power is in your hands!

            Nesibel unsurely sat down at the leather bottle and took the twirling stick. However, she felt constrained; perhaps she did not understand yet how they dared to drink bai’s kumis without baibishe’s allowance.

            When there gathered enough many people then they decided to open all the chests and count all the treasures. A big bunch of keys jingled in Nesibel’s hands. They artfully untied tight cords with which beaten incrusted trunks were strapped up, unlocked the locks and started pulling rare things out and piling them on the middle of the road. In one of the trunks Nesibel found a red striped fur coat which sometime age Seinep’s father, a well-known biy, had received in reward from the very Father the Tsar. The horseman’s wife held the expensive fur coat by the neckpiece on put out hands before her as if she had turned into a stone from surprise.

-          Look: a red striped fur coat! 

            People began buzzing in the yourt. Tutkysh hopped, ran to Nesibel, took carefully the fur coat from her hands, turned it right and left and looked suddenly at the authorized representative and smiled carrying favour.

-          What’s up? Do you want anything to say?

-          No! I would like… to go around… the aul… in this fur coat for one time.

-          Do it, Tutkysh, cut your feathers!

-          Put on the tsar’s fur coat. I wish the bai’s insides would burn from envy and anger; - everybody started laughing in the yourt.

            Tutkysh put on the fur coat and hitched a gold medal. His eyes were shining; there was a happy smile on his lips. From under the fur coat there stuck out his leaky worn out boots, on his head – a greasy torn out ear-flaps cap. Going weighting with a wide step he passed the bai and his baibishe who were sitting lonely behind the smoked yourt. Seipen glanced at him and at once dropped down his eyes. Baibishe’s face grew grey and she looked at Tutkysh as if she wanted to burn him off. Tutkysh turned round and asked politely:

-          Why are you looking so, baibishe?

-          I look what a fool’s coat you are!

-          Do you think it fits only you but not me?

-          Flaunt, flaunt! Today skint bums have a feast. – Baibishe said askew and turned her back.

            Tutkysh stepped out in triumph across the aul in the red striped fur coat, a curious crowd of woman and children followed him.

-          Oh, my god! That is it, that fur coat! – A red old woman cried out. – Our biy has received it from the tsar!

-          Eh, my mother-in-law. It passed already twenty years since I had got married and lived in this aul. People dinned this fur coat into my ears but at last only today I see it. It used to be that baibishe-old cat hadn’t let even to come up to her and sniffed like a horse… It is not enough for her, not enough!

            A manlike, hawk nosed dirty woman tucking under shaulyk¹ her unkempt mops and shaking forced her way into the crowd of boys…

            - But they say that the fur coat is bewitched, - a young girl noticed. – Who will touch it that one will be punished by gins. Why does nothing happen with Tutkysh?

            - Wait a little; he will come to head yet. And why has he, a fool, put it on?

¹A headdress of a married woman

-          You say nonsense! A fur coat is just a fur coat! They just threaten us, fools: “Bewitched”, “Gins-aruahs” In sober fact there is not a hang.

-          Of course, chattering! Otherwise the evil spirit would already have shown itself.

            A bug-eyed black woman ran to Tutkysh with decision and got her claws into the rich neckpiece of the fur coat.

            - Stop, a chatterbox! Let me discern it well.

            - Well, look! Look as long you want. I will not hide anything from you; - Tutkysh started laughing loudly and shortly.

            - Dear me! And I was thinking all the time about what it was shining. And this is – gold!

            - Sheshei-au¹, what is it painted here?

            - The tsar’s head, - Tutkysh explained.

            - What have you said? Give me to look how it can look like, this tsar’s head, - the women started coming up and shouting from all the sides.

            The news about the red striped fur coat momentary excited all the aul and soon all gathered around Tutkysh: young and old.

            A wrinkled old woman, who was turning at a poor grey yourt her spinning wheel-top looked at an unusual march, shed a tear and started wiping the tears with a wide sleeve of her dress.

            - Why are you crying, mother? – Kuandyk asked with a warm heart.

            - Eh, dear, it is not for good, not for good… It is a holy, not simple fur coat. We will be punished, punished by pitrs for all our sins...

            And Kuandyk burst into laughter until he felt colicky pain.

            That day here and there everybody was talking in the aul only about the red striped fur coat, the golden medal from the tsar’s head, bai’s cattle and about the baibishe, who was sobbing as if she was keening.

¹A compellation of young women to an older one

            …Night darkness covered the whole world; the aul sank into a careless dream. And only Shamal-baibishe sobbing desolately and taking her round sides in hands sat the whole night long on the threshold of her torn yourt.  

 

V

-          Well, are you going to depart?

-          I am already ready.

            Harnessing the lazy sheepman’s chestnut horse into an araba cart and having piled his simple clobber Seipen with his family was preparing for departure. Usually in such cases people used to arrange magnificent send-off, gather all neighbours and say good parting words, deft dzhigits usually fuss and help to load the things. Today there were neither these nor those ones. Everybody turned his or her back on Seipen as if they had forgot that he left the aul forever. Well, they might not forget but they made no account of this event.

            Pressing with the breast against a white staff Seipen sunk in his sad thoughts was sitting long on his haunches at the araba cart. His future was in darkness. Where do they send him away? What people are there? Will they meet Seipen as a guest with true Kazakh’s hospitality? Or will they also turn their backs like unthankful aul inhabitants? Seipen was thinking and thinking and finally burst into crying:

-          Eh, not likely! It is impossible to return those days. There are my tribesmen – native and close people – they throw me away and in a foreign land I will be a castaway at all. That’s all, it is the end.

            Baibishe, wigged out and sad, curled up on the packs. Her son shaking came up to her. He had a miserable look, his shoulders were dropped down.

-          Well, what?

-          He says that he is not going to leave.

-          And tokal¹?

¹The youngest wife

-          Tokal too…

            Baibishe felt as if somebody flung her up. And violent anger awoke in her again.

-          Well, it is clear with tokal – she is an enemy’s daughter. But Marshan is my own daughter! The apple of my eye! Wasn’t it I who wined and dined her? Haven’t I dressed her in silk and velvet? Is not this grief enough that I already have and she, baggage, wants to finish me off at all?! I’d rather to die than to see such a shame, oibai, oibai!

            And baibishe started to beat her forehead with her fist.

-          Stop, a poor wretch, calm down, - Seipen said and stood slowly up pressing against the staff. – You will not die until you suffer all grief. Come on, sit!

            The chestnut walked unwillingly. The old road cart shook and screeched. They drove off road. Seipen turned round and pronounced deafly:

-          Goodbye, my native land… Goodbye people…

            And he was out of breath because of tears, did not say till the end and bent as if he was broken down.

-          Don’t sob, - Kuandyk said. – “Your native land” is waiting for you frontwards. Disappear…

            The lonely araba cart was pulling squeaking out and till it disappeared behind the pass the aul inhabitants standing at their yourts were following after it. Old men and women sighed:

-          Well… they have left!..

            Having thrust smartly out his chest in the rich saddle of the volost’s disposer and carelessly shaking Tutkysh directed his dark-red bai’s palfrey towards the pasturage.

-          Hey, Tutkysh, where are you going?

-          I am going to drive the cattle from the pasturage, we will share it!

            He lashed his dark-red horse’s croup with a stout short whip and there rose a whirl of dust from under his palfrey’s hoofs.

1928