A great trembling overcame the son of Nattukh. But he managed to speak nonetheless: “Allow me, O Great Bek, defender of the peoples, sharp saber in the scabbard of Khazaria, heavenly light, Khagan’s equal, to speak a word in my defense! Spare my life, poor herdsman that I am, and order that my passport board be reread carefully, for this is all a simple misunderstanding! I am a widow’s son, a poor beggar! How could the blood of Ashin be flowing in me?”
The Great Bek laughed. “Do you know your own father, Saat, that you can speak thus?”
Saat was puzzled at this. “I never saw my father with my own eyes, no, but my mother spoke of the herdsman Nattukh. And my mother was an honorable woman, she only ever knew one man. And that man, her husband, died of the belly sickness when I still slumbered curled up in her womb. And my mother died too, when I was seven springs from birth. And I grew up thus, an orphan.”
“Know, Saat, that your father was the Khagan, and his brother before him was Khagan as well, and after him the son of his brother became the Khagan, and all of you are scions of the ancient Khan Ashin. But do not judge your father, for so it is ordained: The Khagan is taken from his family and they are told that he has died. The doctors carve a death certificate and return it to the family in place of a body, saying that the corpse has been requisitioned for medical study. They give the widow and orphans a copper coin, and this satisfies them. And the court’s legend keepers devise a different biography and a different genealogy, in accordance with legend.”
Saat raised his hands aloft and clutched his head. If the Great Bek wasn’t just making all of this up for his own amusement, then this was a great secret indeed! But Saat’s heart would not be still, and he spoke again:
“Great Bek! Sun in the night of history! How am I to govern a great realm, when I have not been taught? I have not known a noble education, I have not even been to trade school! Governing is a great and intricate science!”
“Who said you had to govern? To govern, issue judgment, gather tribute, make war—that is my, the Bek’s, task. You will sit by my side on this as yet empty throne, and you will keep silent. On your right I shall sit and receive ambassadors and warriors and give commands in your name. Such is our way! Yours it is to taste ripe fruits, to listen to marvelous melodies, and to visit the harem, where your wives await, seven tens of them, each one shaming the next with her beauty!”
Joy flooded over Saat, and he began to believe in his good fortune. But fear came as welclass="underline" “Great Bek! I am not accustomed to such a life—how will I manage? For are not palaces the Khagan’s cradle, must he not from his infancy partake of the very best, so that it will be second nature to him? Will I not bring dishonor on myself? I have eaten only hard crusts and water from the streams and steppe grasses! My only loves were the horses! And how can I wear brocades, when my only garments have been of the coarsest cloth?”
The Great Bek grew solemn. And spoke. “It is not true that Khagans multiply in palaces. The Khagan must know how to braid a horse’s tail, must spend nights outside beneath the cold sky, must know hunger and need, must march against the enemy bearing only a sling and with no armor covering his chest. Otherwise how can he be a martyr for the Khazar land? For this is our way in Khazaria: There is the Great Bek with his warriors, and they are the zealous benefactors—they govern. And then there is the Khagan, he does not govern, but suffers day and night, prays and weeps for his homeland! And this sustains Khazaria. Rise, then, Khagan, and take your place on the shining throne! And pray that the heavens will not witness our lawlessness, and that misfortune will pass us by. And if misfortune does strike, then do not complain. For you will be the first to die; you will die a martyr’s death, washing away our sins with your tears, like salt rinsing a stain away from a white tablecloth! Such is your destiny!”
Saat nodded. To take on suffering, was this anything new for him? And to know that it is for the sake of his native land!
Then Great Bek asked: “Tell me, Saat—only be honest—what did you think of during those dark nights, as you tossed and turned on the cold steppe, with your empty belly grumbling and your exhausted muscles aching from the day’s unbearable labor?”
Saat went numb and replied truthfully: “I pondered, Great Bek, the fate of Khazaria. How to ensure that the simple people would labor without thieving, that the doctors would heal without quackery, that teachers would teach with wise words and not with damp birch rods, that those in high positions would not forget their duties and obligations before society, that our warriors would be so strong that the very sight of them and their valor would keep foes far from the borders of Khazaria, that wealth would grow within from our industries and trade relations, doubling every year, that we should have peace and prosperity among ourselves, and should live in loving respect with our neighbors… This I pondered day and night, miserable, foolish herdsman that I am!”
The Great Bek did not laugh at Saat’s thoughts, but folded his hands piously and expressed his approvaclass="underline" “Spoken like the true Khagan! Proof indeed that you are seed of Ashin, blood of the Khagans! Even as you starve, to be thinking of the economy of the land, of doubling the country’s wealth!
“O, Saat, son of Nattukh! Only the Khagan, the Khagan, blood, mind, and spirit, is concerned with this! Know now that the Murzlas, whose task it is to gather wealth for the realm, care only for their own bins of grain! The warlords share the spoils. Even I myself, the Great Bek, concern myself with intrigues, with maintaining my own power and position. This is what power means to us. And the simple people are no saints either: One poor man dreams of swindling another for a kopeck, the farmer cares only for his field; his neighbor’s melons can wither on the vine as far as he is concerned! Each is concerned only with his own personal well-being and pleasure! Only the Khagan can, forgetting about himself, give thought to the country and the people as a whole! By this is the true Khagan to be recognized!”
THE CHINESE QUESTION
“I hate my life.”
Maximus heard the words and awoke. Awoke and realized that it was he who had spoken. Not that he’d awakened with the thought; rather, the thought awoke first and woke Semipyatnitsky in turn.
“I hate my life. I hate my job.”
The words whirled in his head like a mantra. And occasionally they spoke themselves aloud, without Maximus’s help. But that didn’t make any of it any easier.
The night before, after he came down from his flashback on the hill, Maximus had set back for home. He drove for a long time along the dark night road, drove slowly, peering out into the darkness ahead, verifying the route by lights near and far, proceeding hesitantly like a blind man tapping the untrustworthy sidewalk before him with his white cane; the path ahead hides so many unwelcome surprises, so many steep curbs and open manholes. Maximus arrived at his apartment just before dawn. And only got up again with the greatest reluctance, a half-hour later than usual.
It takes a long time to get to work by car during rush hour. And Semipyatnitsky had had enough driving yesterday. So he set off on foot and took public transit.
When he descended into the metro, Semipyatnitsky noticed that there were a lot fewer people around than there used to be before he’d gotten a car and stopped using the train. Even in the morning rush hour the crowd was sparse, like hairs in a Khazar’s beard.
The crowds had migrated onto the surface, where they now idled in tin boxes clogging up the streets leading from St. Petersburg’s residential suburbs to the commercial center. Within just a couple of years, all the luckless commuters had moved from trams and metro cars into automobiles, used and new, bought on credit. Every eighteen-year-old chick has her own car nowadays: If she’s poor, her car is a Daewoo Matiz; if the girl has a rich Dad—or Daddy, which is not at all the same thing—she can aspire to a huge SUV, a monster that takes up half the road. And only after she’s had enough of playing tank driver, and has overcome her childish fears, does she acquire a tiny, predatory little convertible—thereby holding traffic up more than ever, as it turns out.