Upon reading the letter, Shamil reacted as violently as its contents. Wild with fury, he announced to his people that he was breaking off negotiations. The princesses would be parceled out as slaves among his naïbs before the week’s end. They would be free to use them as concubines, to sell them, or to execute them.

Tuesday, March 1

The emissaries returned a third time, carrying messages from Anna and Varenka that confirmed the imminence of the fate he threatened.

With their cries of distress came a last word from the imam:

“You are very far from having met my expectations. I have thus decided to distribute your family to my naïbs, in their auls. I already would have done so but for the intervention of my son, Mohammed Ghazi, who persuaded me to send you one last message, to convince you to add the necessary amount to the sum you have offered us.”

As David read these words of vulgar bartering, Jamal Eddin blushed with shame. He was overcome with rage and indignation. He had come back to live with a father who was as greedy as he was lying and treacherous, a man whose word was worth nothing.

He had sacrificed Lisa, his happiness, his future, for this?

Prince David turned to Yunus.

“I shall not write to your imam again,” he said icily. “But you can tell him this for me. If, by Saturday, you do not bring word that my offer has been accepted, I swear before my creator that I will leave Khassav-Yurt that day, and I will take Jamal Eddin with me. You can follow us for twenty, a hundred, a thousand versts, and beg me to return with him. I will not even bother to look at you. Then you can do what you like with my family.

“Tell your imam that I have always been grateful for the care he has afforded my loved ones. But tell him as well that if he dares to carry out his threats by sending my wife and my children to the auls, they are no longer mine. I will renounce them the very moment they cross the threshold of his seraglio. I want them to return here, now, because I know that no one has violated their honor. But if they were to become the slaves of your naïbs, know that I would no longer recognize my wife as my wife, my sister as my sister, or my children as my children. I am telling you one last time: I will give you until Saturday. As sure as I stand before you now, Sunday you won’t find me here. I will be gone, and so will Jamal Eddin. After that, Shamil can offer to return my wife to me for nothing, he can send her back to me laden with treasure, I swear before God I will never look at her again. And that he will never see his son.”

With these closing words, the prince intended to leave the room, but a last remark from Yunus held him back.

“There is another reason for delaying the conclusion of this affair.”

“And what is that?” the prince bellowed.

“The imam proposes that the princess Chavchavadze and her children be freed in exchange for the forty thousand rubles and his son. And that the princess Orbeliani and her child remain his captives until her ransom is paid by the prince Grigol Orbeliani.”

The prince strode toward Yunus with a threatening gesture and might well have committed an irreparable act had Jamal Eddin not lunged forward to block his way.

The prince had lost all semblance of poise.

“Not only will I not leave my wife’s sister a prisoner,” he roared, “but I will not abandon a single one of my servants!”

Yunus ignored him and turned to Jamal Eddin.

“Don’t worry. This is just the way we Montagnards do things. There’s absolutely nothing to fear, everything will turn out as we wish.”

His words were meant to be reassuring, but Jamal Eddin replied bitterly, “Worry? There’s nothing to worry about.” His voice trembled with rage. “If I had something to worry about, it would be that things will turn out exactly as you wish. What else should I be worried about?”

“Be quiet,” the prince murmured, devastated.

This time it was David who tried to calm his comrade, but it was no use.

Indignant, disgusted, overwhelmed by the antipathy and repugnance this haggling stirred in the depths of his being, Jamal Eddin could no longer contain his feelings. His anger, his revulsion, his contempt, and his disappointment exploded in a bitter tirade.

“I forgot you, every single one of you. You know very well how old I was when I was taken, because you yourselves gave me away!” he continued violently. “I had forgotten this land, and I return here without joy. And if I had to go back to Russia, believe me, I would do so tomorrow, immediately and without regret!”

“Quiet!”

The prince tried to restrain him, but Jamal Eddin struggled free.

“Why should I be polite to them? Why shouldn’t I tell these liars the truth?”

“Shut up!”

“Traitors and hypocrites—they can go to hell!”

“Your words could have terrible consequences for the fate of my wife and my sister-in-law.”

The weight of David’s words finally registered in Jamal Eddin’s mind. He calmed down and remained silent for the rest of the interview.

Wednesday, March 2 • Thursday, March 3 • Friday, March 4

No news from Shamil. Nor from the princesses. Chavchavadze and Jamal Eddin were under unbearable strain.

Had Anna and Varenka been sold?

Saturday, March 5, 11:00

A sentinel ran to tell them that the four emissaries were on their way.

Prince David jumped to his feet. He was so nervous that he paced to the doorstep, turned round and came back three times. Jamal Eddin sat in a chair watching the prince, so obviously beside himself, stride back and forth.

He knew that any excessive haste would make a bad impression and that Yunus would respect only calm and serenity.

The prince took up his pose at the fireplace mantel and waited. Milyutin and Buxhöwden stood beside him. Jamal Eddin stood at the far end of the room, in the shadows.

The envoys arrived and were greeted curtly. This time when offered a chair, they bowed and accepted the invitation. The four Russians sat facing them. No one said a word.

The silence went on for an eternity, at least several minutes. Finally Yunus spoke.

“If the prince will permit me, I will say a few words.”

“If you have come to say that Shamil accepts all my conditions and has chosen the time and the place for the exchange, then, yes, you may speak. If not, I must ask you to get up and leave my quarters immediately.”

Yunus and his three companions rose as one.

It was all over. The prince wavered, as though the blow had been physical. The princesses had been distributed to the naïbs; they had been sold or dishonored. Jamal Eddin was horrified. A wave of hatred and disgust washed over him like nausea. But beneath his dread, despite himself, an atrocious joy, a feeling of immense relief, rose instinctively from deep within. He suddenly realized he had never stopped hoping that the exchange would never happen, never ceased to deny his own will in forcing himself to do all he could to make it possible. From the outset, he had burned with the desire to leave, to get away from this country, to escape from these mountains.

Yunus bowed to the prince. David no longer had the strength to react, to speak, even to throw him out.

“In the eyes of our grand imam, money is like grass. Money grows, it dries out, and it disappears.”

This was beyond Shah-Abbas the interpreter’s talents. Neither Chavchavadze nor Jamal Eddin understood the meaning of the words he translated into bad Russian.

Unperturbed, Yunus went on.

“Shamil does not serve money. Shamil serves God. He has asked me to congratulate you; the bargain is concluded on your own terms.”

Silence. No reaction.

“You are aware that our grand imam cares for his people and hopes for their well-being. His people are poor. His people have served him; some even died for him when they captured the princesses, and they demand money in return for their liberation. Without the consent of his people and his naïbs, Shamil can do nothing, nor does he wish to. When we gave him your message, he gathered all the elders and informed them of your words. ‘If you do not accept the prince Chavchavadze’s final conditions,’ he said, ‘then you must take his family and guard them in captivity yourselves. I do not want to see these women and children in my home any longer.’ The naïbs and the elders answered unanimously, ‘How can we leave your son in the hands of the infidels? We will agree to anything, as long as your son is returned to you. Send the captives back, take the forty thousand rubles, and bring your son home.’”

Prince Chavchavadze was flooded with joy as he listened to this speech. And Jamal Eddin with dread. The exchange would take place. Both of them maintained an appearance of calm. David asked for the date and location of the encounter.

“On this point, Shamil has said he will speak with you directly,” his agent replied.

They bowed and left the prince’s quarters.

But they did not leave the camp.

Saturday, March 5 • Sunday, March 6 • Monday, March 7 • Tuesday, March 8

They spent that night and the following days and nights counting the ransom. Khadji, the steward, soon realized he could never have counted a million rubles in pieces of silver.

Jamal avoided all contact with him and with Yunus and the others. He divorced himself from their preparations, Chechen and Russian alike, leaving them to work things out among themselves.

For all of them, he was merely a pawn. A toy. A token. A marble, to be shot back and forth. That was what he had always been, a piece on a chessboard. He refused to play anymore. He had come to the end of that road.