KURULTAI
In the village of Atake, guests began to arrive in the morning. First, the close ones: the junior biis — heads of the Sarubash tribes; venerable elders, respected for their wisdom and experience. The heroes — outstanding jigits, renowned for their defense of their pastures or for attacking others.
Then, jingling with rich bridles, surrounded by a retinue of advisors and personal guards, the leaders of allied tribes began to arrive one after another. From the Sayaks came Kaday, from the Kuchis - Ivalda-biy, from the Bostumak union — Tashik-biy, from the Mongol-Dor — Birnazar-biy, from the Zhilden-Kisek — Shapak-biy, from the Solto tribes — Tashibek-biy, from the Bugins — another Birnazar-biy, from the Kytay — Musa-biy, from the Saruu — Sary-Batyr.
For the rich feast, the generous host's fat herds were sifted through. The livestock owned by ordinary clan members — charbadars — were not forgotten either. According to custom, the relatives brought gifts for their feudal-patriarchal leader for such an important kurultai in the form of horned rams, tender sheep, and milk foals.
In the spacious field, traditional contests were held: bayga, archery. These were engaged in by common people, the youth. But for the esteemed rulers — serious matters. In the large white yurt of Atake, the biis, aksakals, and batyrs gathered for a major council. The first word was taken by the uluk - the supreme biy Atake himself.
— I have invited you, esteemed ones, to discuss how we should live on. You know how much grief and misfortune the campaigns of the Kalmak khans have brought us. Now the Kalmaks are gone...
Atake took a sip from the cup, cleared his throat, and continued:
— But instead of one old enemy, three new ones have appeared. From the East, we are threatened by the victors over the Kalmaks, the warriors of the land of Chin (i.e., China). These people wear long braids, but they have no feminine traits at all. Their cruelty knows no bounds: look at how they dealt with the mighty Kalmaks! Their yurts are burned, all the people are killed, and the livestock is taken away. Such a fate threatens us as well.
There was some movement here and there, but no one interrupted the great biy:
— And from the West? We, the old men, remember how much suffering our people endured from Irdana — the ruler of the western lands. Now Narbuta-biy rules in Kokand. He watches like a wolf, looking around: is there a way to snatch a neighbor's sheep along with its owner?
The movement and rustling intensified; someone couldn’t hold back and chimed in:
— Yes, yes!
— And from the direction of the cold winds? — the old biy continued. There, misfortune lurks no less. The jigits of Ablai Khan have come to our lands many times with malice in their hearts and weapons in their hands. Haven't many of our fighters laid down their heads defending the pastures? The path of Ablai Khan is marked by the graves of our children and brothers...
Atake's voice trembled. Everyone lowered their eyes: yes, there in the mountains, near the path of Atake, at the cliffs of Chaty lies Karabek, the son of the biy, fallen by the hand of the Kazakh khan.
Regaining his composure, Atake continued:
— Now the raider Berdykojo has taken to us. The steppe wolf is slaughtering our herds. And there is no end to blood, wars, and fires...
Atake took another sip from the cup — his old throat quickly tired from long speeches.
— So! So! — the attendees responded in unison. Atake lifted the black bandage that covered his nose in battles with the Kalmaks, wiped his mustache with his palm, and surveyed the assembly with an eagle's gaze from under his gray furrowed brows.
— What should we do? — he asked and, waiting, answered himself. — Against strong enemies, we must seek strong allies! Think, esteemed ones, think!
A heated debate went on for a long time in the spacious white yurt of the great biy Atake, ruler of the right wing of the "ong" Kyrgyz people. The aksakals and batyrs expressed different opinions. They considered all neighbors — both close and distant. And then the biy's advisor Zheerenche suggested the Russians.
— Merchants say: there is no ruler more powerful than the White Tsar. His soldiers are armed with rifles and cannons. No one can stand against them! The wise old men remember that many, many years ago even the Kalmak khan sent his men to the White Tsar asking for vassalage... And he was strong and devastated the pastures of our ancestors... The conversation shifted to the Russians.
— They say the Russians are ruled not by a king, but by a woman, a tsaritsa, — someone remarked.
— Hey! — another objected. — Is a good she-camel not better than a lame horse?
Different opinions were expressed at this council.
One said:
— And maybe that’s for the best. But it is said: when entering, think of the exit. Will it not bring us even worse troubles? Will the tsaritsa of the Russians impose an even greater yoke on us than the Kokandis do? After all, it is said — a small fish is food for a big one.
— Whether the ak-padysha will impose a great yoke or not is unknown. But for now, the blood of our loved ones is being spilled.
And again Zheerenche spoke up.
— A fox that twists and turns will die of hunger. The one who takes too long to choose ends up with a bald wife. It cannot get worse than it is now. If we accept vassalage from the Russians, the enemies will not dare to continue their wickedness. But that’s not all, esteemed ones! Right now, a large caravan route passes through the lands of the Middle Juz, and the biis there receive good gifts from merchants. They sell skins, rams, and horses. And they buy everything they need directly: velvet, brocade, knives, axes, cauldrons. And we get all this through third parties, at triple the price.
Is this fair?
The attendees shook their heads: “No, it’s not fair.”
— If we agree with the Russians that their trade caravans go to Yarkand and Kashgar through our lands, then all the benefits that the people of Vali — the khan of the Kazakh Juz receive will go to us. Some have already become quite rich; now it’s the turn of others. Is this fair?
— Fair! — the chorus resounded with enthusiasm.
— Now you see for yourselves, esteemed ones, all our circumstances speak to us loudly: form an alliance with the Russians! Accept the vassalage of the White Tsar!
Finally, Atake spoke again:
— The old ırchı say: once the Kyrgyz were a mighty people. One finger can do little, but five, clenched into a fist, are already a force! And if forty tribes were to strike the enemy as one fist — who could withstand?
Our weakness lies in the fact that our horses are heading in different directions...
He looked over the gathered with his eagle gaze and concluded, as if he had cut it off;
— We will send envoys to the White Tsar!
Not everyone accepted the decision with pleasure. Some went along with it, seeing no other way out.
— When the water reaches the dog’s snout, it will swim...
There were also those who, not waiting for the end of the festivities, quietly left. These were the ones who doubted the most and opposed it. Atake frowned, angry lines gathered on his forehead. Zheerenche calmed his friend: let them go! A bad sheep must be separated from the flock anyway. And there was nothing to be done: the supreme ruler could not use force against the rebellious progenitors: for that would mean starting a riot at home!
Legends