Sheraly was raised on a white felt and proclaimed khan in Fergana thanks to the Kyrgyz bek Yusup. The mother of Khan Sheraly was Kyrgyz. His childhood was spent among the Kyrgyz in Talas. He himself married a Kyrgyz woman. His children later ruled the Kokand Khanate.
However, the actual khan was Yusup. He held unlimited power. To remind Sheraly of who he was and with whose help he came to power, Yusup had old worn-out chokois—Sheraly's boots—hung over the door of the khan's yurt. Yusup could not foresee that this would cost him his life.
Yusup had many enemies. The leader among them was Musulmanqul. One day, when Yusup was absent, his enemies began to mock Sheraly, pointing at the unfortunate chokois, and then forced him to sign a decree for Yusup's execution... Here is how this event is depicted in T. Kasymbekov's novel "The Broken Sword":
Margilan. The bek's palace. Yusup lay on a bed spread out on the balcony of the upper chambers. He was resting, thinking about the Margilan army, recalling his conversations with some of the horsemen... There was no order in the army. The sipahis wandered around the market, starting quarrels and fights, drinking, beating peaceful people. They say that last night several horsemen went to the nearest village and robbed someone's house. And the bek is not looking for the guilty... The more Yusup thought, the further sleep ran away from him. He could not fall asleep no matter how hard he tried...
Voices were heard in the courtyard, and soon the bek of Margilan entered the balcony with a guard-mirshab. Yusup did not move.
- Master, - the bek said quietly, - a decree has come from the capital.
- What decree? Who issued it? - Yusup asked without turning around.
The bek, smirking, suddenly raised his voice.
- The decree we have been waiting for and could not wait for!
- What is it?
In anger, Yusup turned around and saw that the bek, who had recently been crawling before him, was looking him straight in the eye, looking at him with malice and courage. He also saw the messenger from Kokand... the executioner Matkerim-yesaul. Thickly covered with road dust up to his eyebrows, Matkerim, exhausted, apparently from a furious gallop, stood leaning against the carved pillar of the balcony.
The bek took the decree from the executioner with both hands and held it high above his head.
- The decree of His Majesty, the descendant of the prophet Sheraly-khan!
Yusup got up and threw a brocade robe over himself.
- Give it here...
The bek smirked with open mockery.
- Oh, our master, atalyk... What can you do, such is fate! Just recently you, forgetting about God, wanted to hand us over to the executioner, and now, by the will of God, it is not us, but you who will stand before the executioner. Here! The descendant of the prophet Sheraly-khan has sent me his highest decree to take the head off the shoulders of Yusup atalyk and present it in the palace...
- What!?
The bek raised his index finger in warning.
- Do not make a fuss. It is useless.
And he threw the decree on the floor at Yusup's feet. Yusup did not pick it up, just glanced at the seal and recognized it unmistakably: yes, it was Sheraly's seal. The bek continued:
- You must know your position, atalyk. You are surrounded. Your bodyguards have been destroyed. All your attempts to change anything are doomed to failure.
Yusup did not say a word in response, did not move, did not even look at the unruly enemy. He was thinking. This decree was no joke. And there was no one nearby who could help him.
Without raising his head, he addressed Matkerim-yesaul:
- Executioner...
- I am listening, master...
- Where did you get this paper?
- In the divankhana, master. I received it from the hands of the master.
- I see... Executioner...
- I am listening, master...
- Have you seen the chokois hanging on the wall opposite the throne?
- No, I have not seen them, master.
- I see. That’s right then. Executioner!
- I am listening, master...
- Was Musulmanqul in the divankhana?
- No, master. That man was not there.
- I see... And he is the one who stirred up the trouble. Look, he is more cautious than a snake. If the matter succeeds, he will crawl into the light; if it fails, he will remain in the shadows.
Yusup fell silent; his thoughts flowed sluggishly, and he had no strength to speak: everything in him seemed to have gone numb. But then the rustling of the brocade clothing of the Margilan bek brought Yusup back to reality. He came to himself. He felt again the full gaze of malicious joy from the bek. He gathered his relaxed will. “Well, it seems, such is fate... No one can escape their fate." Yusup raised his head.
- So you say, executioner, that this decree was received from the very hands of Sheraly-khan?
- Exactly so, master.
- Well, fine... I trusted him. My trust, the good I did for him, will fall upon his head. The hands that kill me will soon deal with him as well.
- Master... I have been ordered to return as soon as possible... - the executioner mumbled.
Yusup raised his eyebrows high and slightly nodded his head.
- Good. If you want to return quickly—go back. You are not to blame; you are doing your job. Fine... I want to perform namaz. Wait until I finish praying. And if you cannot wait, carry out the execution when I turn my head to the right... Do exactly that.
- I obey, master...
Yusup was about to leave, but the bek blocked his way.
- Do not go out into the courtyard, master!
- I want to see the sun one last time; do not hinder me if you are not a fool. I want to perform ablution; do not hinder me if you are not an apostate, - Yusup replied without looking at him.
Passing by the grim guards, Yusup descended from the balcony down the creaking wooden stairs. Everything was foreign and all were strangers. About twenty armed sarbaz, divided into two groups, were animatedly talking about something. Seeing Yusup, they fell silent in surprise and stared at him. Yusup recognized one of the centurions from Jar-Mazar.
Assalam aleikum, - Yusup greeted the warriors quietly, and they responded in disarray, each bowing respectfully with their hands folded on their chests.
Yusup performed ablution under a large chinar tree. The mirshabs guarded him. The day was ending, and in the evening silence, the rustling of a bird's wings could be heard as it flew from branch to branch. The daytime heat was still felt in the air.
Yusup turned towards Mecca. The sun was descending towards the tops of the huge poplars that grew on the other side of the fortress wall.
- Mirshab, - Yusup called.
One of the guards hastily leaned towards him.
- Tell the executioner... Let him come to the garden... I want to perform namaz here, on the green grass.
- As you wish, master.
Yusup did not ask for a prayer mat. He walked around the garden, then took off his wide sash and spread it on the grass.
He knew the prayers, but he did not pray often—he was not used to it. And he never felt like a sinner for forgetting about namaz. But now, in the face of death, preparing to leave for another world and stand before God, he remembered the namaz...
A fog hung in his head. Kneeling down, he thought, thought, but there was no clarity in his thoughts, no, there was none. Why had he come to the horde? What did he want to accomplish? And what had he managed to accomplish? What had he not managed? Who had he wronged? Who had he offended? Why were there so many enemies around him? Why?.. If he had oppressed anyone, it was not for himself, but for the common good, the common benefit... He wanted to protect the state from enemies, to unite it. Yusup suddenly felt relief. No, he was not dying because he was bad, because he had made mistakes. No... He was comforting himself, preparing for death. And again he remembered that very dream. It had come true, it had come true. Everything turned out just as Yusup had deciphered. And even... even what he had not managed to finish watching in that dream, waking up unexpectedly...
