The great commander of the russian occupation Kurban Jan Datha was such a brave woman that when she came to the gallows, where Kaufman’s executioners publicly executed her son, she said loudly: — Goodbye, son! Your ancestors, too, just like you, fought for the freedom of their people and became martyrs. To die for the motherland, for the freedom of the people — this is our pride! — With these words, she turned her horse around and proudly left. From 1865 to 1880, in the mountains of Pomer, she gathered people around her and, with a sword in her hands, fought heroically against the imperial-minded Russian invaders to the last.

1876, February 26. Margelan.

The day was coming to an end, in fact, no different from the usual days of that harsh and gloomy winter. The city, as usual, woke up to the voices of the muezzins, who read the azan from the minarets in the pre-dawn silence for the morning prayer «Bamdad». Having heard the azan, the Muslims who had performed a small ablution — takharat, hurried to the mosque, walking on the plaintively creaking ice. Today, too, as on other days, thin and fluffy smoke rose from chimneys, similar to cotton wool and hung over the high and low roofs of houses. The weak sun of winter shone dimly with its barely warming light, like an old silver coin, and disappeared into the gray fluffy clouds, like a cold man wrapped in a warm blanket. Noticeably, people tired of the cares and troubles of everyday life began to revive the deserted streets of the city.

In the silence of a harsh and tedious winter day, when the ancient city was immersed, as if in the atmosphere of a bygone era, a fuss suddenly arose and a crowd of people quickly began to overflow the square, which began to flock from different parts of the city.

The city square has not seen such a crowd of people since its formation. The cracking frost penetrated people to the bones, icicles hung like crystal carrots on the edges of the roofs of houses. In the square, the crowd was seething like a group of alarmed ants on an anthill. Local merchants and artisans hastily closed their shops, frightened by the mustachioed Cossacks’ bloodshot, owl-like eyes. The people who were forcibly driven by the soldiers were standing around, not knowing what to do. Women looked with wild fright at the gallows, through the slit of their burqas and whispered like a mantra, repeating the prayer «La havla vala kuvvata illa billahi aliul azim…». Old people and snotty children shivering from the cold watched… Everyone had only one thing on their lips: -Kamchibek is being hanged!.. The town square was cordoned off by the russian cossacks… The so-called Governor-General of the Turkestan Region fon Kaufman rose to the podium. After him, the general-Maer Trotsky, the adjutant-wing, the mild-mannered Prince Boyarsky, the short, pot-bellied and temple Colonel Lusarov, the traitors of the people, officials of the military governorate of Fergana, Abdurakhman oftobachi in a fox fur cuff and local rich people took their seats, hunched over, either from the cold, or from fear.

By this time, the cold wind began to intensify. Then two companies of infantry soldiers came up to the square and they stopped at the order of one officer, halting and becoming as still as a statue.

Officer Lyakhov began to report to Kaufman, saluting:

— Everything is ready, Your Majesty!

Kaufman looked at his pocket watch and said,

— Just a minute, Maer. My wife must come… Ah, here she comes, I think.

Just then a green carriage pulled by a pair of horses pulled up to the square. The adjutant hurriedly approached the carriage, carefully opened the door and the two women, carefully lifting the long hem of their blue dresses from under their coats with fur collars, got off the carriage. One of them, a rather elderly woman with a slender figure, mincing small steps and simultaneously chatting about something with her companion, began to climb the steps to the podium. Kaufman himself approached the women and helped them up.

He was followed by other officials with a smile on their lips.

— Oh, I’m sorry, dear, that we were late. Don’t get upset, please. You know us women well. There exists such a thing as a mirror in this world which will not let us leave so fast. With these words, the woman who was in the front smiled at the officers, greeting them.

— Hello, gentlemen!

Trotsky, Lusarov, Lyakhov and adjutant Boyarsky approached the women, gently and alternately kissed their hands.

— Oh, Prince, Prince! Kaufman’s wife said, looking at Boyarsky, pouting like a child and rolling her eyes with a sense of resentment.

— Lately you have completely forgotten about us, It’s not good, gentlemen, oh, it’s not good. After all, the time of our earthly existence, we can say, is running out. Meet this woman, the wife of Colonel Countess Shcherbakova Anna Ippolitovna… Oh, do you know each other? Oh, Prince, Prince!

The aide-de-camp stood there, smiling shyly.

— I am not a fan of such terrible performances — the wife of the governor General said, referring to Lusarov. Then she added: — I asked my husband yesterday about what kind of people rebels these are? He said that I will come to the square tomorrow and see everything with my own eyes. Tell me, are they really that scary?

Lusarov was laughing with his mouth closed. Then, closing his eyes, he began to talk about something. The governor’s wife pretended to listen to Lusarov’s words, but her carelessness shone through her façade.

— Let us commence! Kaufman said, looking at Lyakhov. — Bring him here!

An old, bearded soldier in red boots walked up to the middle of the square, took off his overcoat and inspected the stool that stood under the gallows, and touched the noose, as if checking its stability. After that, shaking the snow off his boots, he headed to the other side of the square.

Here the crowd began to fuss, seeing the soldiers leading a guy in a torn overcoat with numerous abrasions on his face, whose hands were in shackles.

— Is that him? — The countess Shcherbakova asked, opening her beautiful blue eyes wide.

—Yes, Countess,- Boyarsky replied.

— Poor man!

— Oh, monsieur, it seems that I will not be able to stomach watching the execution and the cold is also getting worse — the governor’s wife complained.

— My dear, you’d better go home,- Kaufman said. — Look how cold the weather is. I’m afraid you’ll catch a cold. Yesterday you complained of a headache. This isn’t St. Petersburg for you.

— Okay, it’s nothing. I’ll stand still for a while,- the governor’s wife whispered.

Colonel Lusarov handed the paper to Lyakhov. The major walked forward, unfolded the paper and began to read the verdict in a loud, clear voice.

—… The Field Court of the Fergana Governorate considered the criminal activities of the accused — of Sartian origin from the dynasty of Alai beks Kamchibek Alymbek oglu against the authorities and his Excellency the Emperor! The court handed down the verdict, based on the totality of evidence, taking into account the testimony of witnesses headed by local rich traitor Abdurakhman Oftobachi! Thus, it was revealed that Kamchibek Alymbek oglu was really engaged in harmful criminal activities against his Majesty the Emperor, violating the established laws by the local governorship!

The brothers of the accused Kamchibek Olimbek oglu Abdullabek, Mamudbek and Hasanbek are the leaders of an armed criminal gang! These bandits have committed a number of serious crimes in the Alai region! In the last three years, these thugs have become especially active, bringing noticeable damage to the manpower of our army and its food supply! In addition, they conducted active advocacy of revolution, calling on the people to revolt, openly agitating people against the established order! As a result of the reckless activity of this bloodthirsty gang of robbers-

Here an officer of no great stature came up to the gallows and whispered something in Colonel Lusarov’s ear.

Colonel Lusarov turned pale sharply and, turning to Kaufman, said:

— Your Majesty, I have been informed that Kurban-Jan-Datha is coming here!

— How?! Are the guards even doing their job?! Where are the warriors who are supposed to guard all the roads?! — Kaufman said, turning around sharply.

— The guards are posted, Your Majesty. Prince Boyarsky’s Rifle Division and the third Dragoon regiment are vigilantly guarding all gates and main roads… Only, here… Kurban Jan Datha is coming here alone!

— Yes, Your Majesty.

Hearing this, Kaufman’s lips curled with anger.

— So she’s in town?! I don’t understand. I think she’s gone crazy?! Does she really not know that a bounty of 15 thousand soum has been placed on her head? Well, go on, then, Colonel, let’s see how it all ends,- Kaufman said, barely pulling himself together.

— Do you give us the order to apprehend her?

— Why? An unarmed woman in broad daylight, in the city square, in front of a crowd?.. No, Colonel, just give the order to keep an eye on her. Maybe she wants to say goodbye to her son. Why should we deprive her of the pleasure of it? Be humane, Colonel!

— Yes, Your Majesty!

After that , Major Lyakhov continued to read the verdict of the military field court:

— «…Of Sartian origin, from the dynasty of the Alai Beks, Kamchibek Alymbek oglu was found guilty of committing a number of serious crimes against his Majesty the emperor and he was sentenced by a military field court to execution by hanging! The verdict is final and cannot be appealed!

Chairman of the military Field Court, Governor General fon Kaufmann. New Margelan. 1876, February 26.

After reading out the verdict of the military court, Major Lyakhov turned to Kaufman and nodded his head.

The soldiers led Kamchibek to the gallows. Kaufman, having called Sibgatullin, an interpreter of Tatar origin, who was dressed in a lieutenant’s uniform, said.

— Ask the condemned man if he wants to say his last words?

— The translator Sibgatullin did not have time to ask. The crowd then roared in chorus, seeing Kurban Jan Datha, who was riding a horse, wearing a green beshmet and a white scarf.

The distance was about thirty meters. The crowd froze in surprise and fright.

— Colonel! — Kaufman waved his glove and turned to Lusarov:

— Look, Datha is coming straight to us, not afraid of anyone! It would be nice if your officers learned from her! After all, a stray bullet can kill her, can’t it?!

— I understand, Your Majesty — Lusarov whispered — There is a sharpshooter in my regiment, Sergeant Epifanov.

— Very well, Colonel. Only Datha should come out of the square alive! A stray bullet will catch her in any corner, understand?

— That’s right, Your Majesty.

The translator Sibgatullin repeated his question three times, but Kamchibek did not answer. He looked at his mother and said:

— Mom! Dear!

The crowd buzzed again.

And Kurban-Jan-Datha was still riding on a horse and her thoroughbred horse, throwing up his head, snorting and clacking his hooves, rapidly continued to approach the square. On the tightly closed lips and on the face of Datha, a quiet self-confidence and spiritual proud calmness was reflected. The commander rode with her head held high and the cold wind fluttered her clothes and hair like the flag of the free state. As if she didn’t notice her son, who was standing in the claws of imminent death.

The people made noise like a stormy sea. The soldiers and officers froze in anticipation. People didn’t know what to do. Even Kaufman himself stood like a statue of a man with a frowning face.

And Kurban-Jan-Datha, sharply pulling the bridle to herself, stopped her horse at a distance of five meters from the place where the soldiers of the occupying army stood like a wall. The surrounding area was plunged into a heavy Arctic silence.

— Son! Kurban-Jan-Datha said and her voice trembled. But, she pulled herself together, continued in a calm voice: — Son! To become martyrs, to die for the Motherland, fighting for the freedom of your people, is a legacy for you and me! Your ancestors also died on bloody gallows, in the hands of the vile executioners of the enemy! Goodbye, son! You have become worthy of my nursing of you!

— Mom, be satisfied with me, be satisfied! — Kamchibek said, wheezing with bitterness, looking after his mother with tears in his eyes.

— I’m a thousand times happy nursing you with my mother’s milk and raising you! See you in paradise! With these words, Datha opened the palms of her hands to say a prayer. Then, having blessed her brave and worthy son, she leaned on the stirrup and whipped the horse with a whip. The horse, rearing up, rushed forward in the direction from where the sun rises. It was as if the burning tears that dripped from the eyes of Kurban Jan Dath burned the horse’s neck.

The crowd was still buzzing, boiling, like the sea before a thunderstorm.

— Huh… Strange…, — Kaufman thought.

— Is this the «Alai Princess»? — his wife asked.

— After all, they said that she was elderly, and she, like an 18-year-old girl, freely rides a horse. Please tell me, dear, why didn’t your soldiers arrest her?

-It’s not worth it, my love,- Kaufman said, with a thoughtful smile on his lips. — She herself will soon crawl to me on all fours, begging for mercy! You’ll see, I’ll just make her give up! — he promised.

— Darling, I know that you don’t like it when I interfere in your affairs. But, really, can’t you let him go? Kaufman’s wife said, adjusting the collar of his coat.

— He is still very young, I feel sorry for him. Of course, I’m not insisting on leaving him unpunished. There are other ways, for example, to banish him to Siberia or sentence him to hard labor.

-No! Kaufman replied sternly. — No! You yourself heard the verdict of the field court. There is no mercy for the enemies!.. Lusarov!

— Yes, Your Majesty!

— Don’t be afraid of what you’re doing!

— Good!

— So, the name of the sergeant is Epifanov?!

— That’s right, Your Majesty, Epifanov!

— good.

Lusarov nodded his head approvingly to Lusarov. Lyakhov waved his handkerchief and jumped back.

Drums thundered. Two soldiers put a noose around Kamchibek’s neck. An old soldier with a bag on his head sat down on his knees hastily and widely crossed himself. Then he stretched out his hands to the rope of the gallows to carry out the sentence.

— Oh, my God! Countess Shcherbakova whispered, turning sharply pale and convulsively clutching Prince Boyarsky’s hands. — Jesus Christ, what a horror! she kept whispering.

— Don’t be afraid, Countess, don’t be afraid. It’s momentary,- said Prince Boyarsky, holding her elbow.

— Ach, mein Gott, das is sch! Ah, mein Gott! — The governor’s wife whispered, turning pale and closing her eyes tightly.

Kamchibek’s legs came off the stool and he uttered his last words:

— Have mercy on your servant, O Allah!

From these words, the crowd began to fuss in chorus and someone bitterly and loudly sobbed.

The executioner’s assistant wearing an executioner’s hood, sharply kicked the stool…

Kamchibek’s body swayed then fell to the ground with a crash.

Lyakhov was silent for a moment from surprise and ran to the scaffold with a bare sword in his hand, and froze like a statue over the body of Kamchibek.

An enraged Kaufman turned sharply to Lyakhov. The crowd again shouted in chorus:

Oh, almighty Allah!

— What’s wrong with him?! Matkarim, what’s wrong with him?!

— Allah probably did not want to…

— What are you looking at, muslims?

— Hey, move your head, you’re in the way!

— Move to the side yourself, you fool!

Trotsky ‘s thunderous voice sounded above the noise of the crowd:

— Quiet! Calm down, I say! The ATO will send you all to hell with cannon shots! — he threatened.

Hearing this, the artisans directed the barrels of the guns towards the crowd.

Then someone’s shrill voice sounded above the crowd:

— Hey, is there at least one man here?!

Kaufman stared at Lusarov with an angry look.

— What is this, Lusarov?!

— Your Majesty…

— What is this?! I ask!

— Oh, please, Your Majesty…

— That’s enough! What a shame! This is a betrayal!

— Your Excellency, I’m sorry, for God’s sake. It’s an accident…

— An accident?! You say this is an accident! An accident will not happen only when you find yourself on these gallows! Oh, how embarrassing! The bastards! Get out of here!

— Oh, what happened? Tell me, Prince, what’s going on here?! The countess Shcherbakova Anna Ippolitovna asked, hurriedly opening her eyes, which she had closed with fear.

— Yes, the rope broke, — Boyarsky answered, with bewilderment.

— Oh, I said, my God! You see, even God didn’t like his death! — said the governor’s wife.

— You must be tired, dear. You’d better come home… Prince, please accompany them!

— No, no, we want to see to the end, right, Anna Ippolitovna?

The Countess, pale, wiped her face with a handkerchief. Then she wiped her forehead.

Kamchibek was still lying unconscious under the gallows.

The soldiers, in order to bring Kamchibek to his senses, began to rub his face with snow. Finally he opened his eyes. Then, trying to get up, he looked around, wiping the blood from his swollen lips with his palm.

— The rope turned out to be rotten,— he whispered. Then, standing up and rising to his full height, he shouted loudly, with pride: — The rope turned out to be rotten after all!

The old soldier, greatly frightened, took a new noose and with trembling hands pulled it back on Kamchibek’s neck…

the earth trembled from the roar of the drums.

Kamchibek took a deep breath of the last breaths of air, like a diver who is going to dive into the sea. Last breath! The last seconds of life and the last torment!

What a sweet, bitter life you are!

White clouds were boiling in the sky and the cool wind of the Aravan Mountains brought the last smells of meadows and fields, the smell of the Motherland.

Then everything disappeared. Sky, clouds, wind.

Kaufman went downstairs to see the women off and stopped for a moment. Boronessa, putting on her mittens, kept saying: — Oh, how pathetic, how pathetic! After all, a man after all, a man, Lord… Then, turning to Boyarsky, she continued:

— Okay, bye, sir. Tell me, will you come to us tonight to play preference? Definitely come, you look sharp. Don’t judge us, but this is our only hobby, our only entertainment.

— Living in this wild country, we, too, will probably soon become savages. There is no music, no theater! I would rather return to Tashkent,- Boyarsky said.

— Yes, Prince, you are right! Okay then, come definitely, we will be waiting for you. Get to know Countess Shcherbakova better. Oh, you are very clever! Okay, bye! See you later, monsieur!

The carriage left. Kaufman, surrounded by officers, walked towards the market gate. The young adjutant offered him a Turkmen horse, but he refused. Then he turned towards the alley.

Everyone walked in silence, without saying a word. Lusarov was also walking, looking at the ground.

After walking 30 steps, Kaufman turned to Colonel Lusarov:

— Colonel Lusarov!

— I’m listening, Your Majesty?

— Where is the constable?

Now, Your Majesty, after this turn, now…

here they saw the tall sergeant Epifanov, of a thin build, who was walking, barely dragging his feet. But when he saw his superiors, he immediately came to attention.

— Well, Sergeant Epifanov, have you completed the task?!

— Epifanov’s bearded jaw trembled. He was silent.

— Well, why are you silent? Speak up,- Kaufman said, politely putting his hand on Epifanov’s shoulders.

— Your Majesty… — Epifanov found it difficult to speak. It was as if his tongue had swollen to an incredible size.

— Your Majesty…

— Whats the matter? Couldn’t pull the trigger or what?! And they call you a good marksman! — Lusarov’s eyes were bloodshot with anger.

Epifanov gripped the butt of his gun so hard, the fingers of his hands were already red with pain.

— I couldn’t shoot her, Your Majesty, I couldn’t.. — Epifanov said, barely moving his fleshy lips.

— Why couldn’t you, Epifanov? — Kaufman’s asked in a polite voice.

— Your Majesty… Forgive me, for God’s sake, I’m sorry… — Epifanov said, and, widening his eyes, looked at Kaufman with frightened, pleading eyes. — Your Majesty… I’m sorry, for God’s sake, Your Majesty… I watched her as I lay on the flat roof of the clay house. I wanted to, but I couldn’t shoot her, you know?.. Looking at her, I suddenly started to remember my mom and…

They were silent for a moment. Then Lusarov ‘s furious cry rang out: — Your mother!.. .- The colonel, overcome with rage, wanted to attack Epifanov, but Kaufman stopped him. Then, going up to Epifanov and looking him up and down, he said in a loud voice:

— Epifanov, well done! You acted like a real soldier, well done! With these words, Kaufman patted the shoulder of sergeant Epifanov, and hopped onto his horse, which was held by the bridle by a young adjutant and began to leave. Colonel Lusarov also mounted his horse and followed behind Kaufman.

— Lusarov! Kaufman said, dismounting from his horse at the garrison barracks. — We need to reward Epifanov for his service, do you understand? We must definitely reward him!

— Understood, Your Majesty! — Lusarov said, nodding his head obediently.

Two months later, a drunken driver, who was sitting over an old mail coach, knocked on the door of a hut located in the village of Gribovo, Orlovka province. The driver handed a piece of paper to an old woman in a black handkerchief, who took the paper, unfolded it and read the contents. When she read it her legs went limp, as if made of cotton wool. Then she fell face down on the ground, losing consciousness.

On the threshold of the hut, a cold wind ruffled the paper, which fell to the ground like the last leaf of an autumn maple, where the following words were written:

«… With deep sorrow we inform you that your son, sergeant Epifanov, died heroically, honestly and faithfully serving the russian emperor and the Fatherland.

The commander of the regiment is Colonel Lusarov.»

Then the wind howled long.

1979. Tashkent.