IN the spring of the year 918, the Shaibán Uzbeg (by which name is meant the followers of Sháhi Beg Khán) had become absolute masters of Mávará-un-Nahr. The fear of them had sunk into every heart. That winter had been spent in the above-mentioned plot;* in the spring they were busy devising further schemes, and thinking what they should next attempt, when suddenly news of Kásim Khán's advance [on Táshkand] was brought to them. Before Kásim Khán's arrival, however, the Khán went and plundered Áhangarán, one of the most important towns in Táshkand, and I accompanied him on this foray. When, at early morn, we came upon the people of Áhangarán, they retired with their wives and children and effects into a wood, and there took up a strong position. On one side of the wood was a large river, and on the other a deep ravine, which could only be approached by one road. They would not allow the pillagers to approach, and when the Khán heard of this he put me under the care of Khwája Ali, saying: “Hold the bridle of Mirzá Haidar's horse, lest he get into some dangerous place.” For I was still too young to distinguish good from evil or to keep myself out of danger. [Having entrusted me to Khwája Ali, the Khán placed himself at the head of his men and advanced on the enemy.] When he drew near them, he saw that their foot bowmen had made ambushes in every corner, and were ready to shoot. They had stretched their bows, washed their hearts of life—made straight, crooked, and the left, right. As our men advanced, the Khán stimulated and encouraged the champions of his right and the warriors of his left, warning them not to ride impetuously, but to make a charge in one body. The heroes drew their horses up in line ready to charge, and so busy were they getting into order, that they did not notice the Khán, who had made a charge all alone. It had been the Khán's intention to conceal his design from them by his words. Thus he threw himself upon the enemy before any of the others. Three men who were lying in ambush let fly their arrows simultaneously at him; but by the mediation of the Almighty, they all three missed the mark. Then the Khán made his bright sword to flash upon one of those three men who, bleeding, and in fear for his life, fell at the feet of the Khán's horse. The Khán turned against another of them; but the first had just put out his head from behind the horse, when Abdul Váhid, who was the Rustem of the Khán's warriors, having followed close behind [his master] came up and struck a blow with his sword at the wounded man's head, which sent it flying a bow's length off, while the Khán fell upon the second. Then commenced a conflict, in which all the enemy were annihilated, and where the Khán exceeded all the other warriors in valour.*
On his return, in safety, from this expedition, laden with booty, the Khán learnt that Kásim Khán had attacked Suyunjuk Khán in Táshkand. Whereupon he immediately set out for that town, but on reaching the pass of Kandarlik, which is situated between the provinces of Farghána and Táshkand, news came of Kásim Khán's retreat. Returning, [the Khán] proceeded to Akhsi, and having put the various forts of the province of Farghána into a state of defence, he turned towards the Kazák, his object being to make them attack Táshkand a second time. I did not accompany that expedition; being indisposed, I stayed behind.
The Khán advanced [in the direction of the Kazák] till he came to a well-known town in Moghulistán called Jud.* At that date Kásim Khán was nearer seventy than sixty years of age; while the Khán, being still under thirty, was in the full vigour of youth. Kásim Khán begged, on the plea of old age, to be excused from coming out [in istikbál] to receive the Khán. He commanded all his Sultáns to go and kneel before the Khán, and receive him. Some of these Sultáns were fifty and sixty years old; such as Jánish Khán, Sabásh Khán, Mumásh Khán, Ján Haidar Sultán, Kárish Khán, and others to the number of thirty or forty—all Sultáns of the race of Juji. When Sabásh Khán* and Jánish Khán (who were very old)* bowed, the Khán rose up, but when the others bowed he remained seated. Then Kásim Khán advanced with a courtesy which the Khán, to the end of his life, never forgot. Whenever he was spoken of, the Khán used to say that Kásim Khán was a most upright and worthy man, and would then relate the circumstances of their friendship.
On meeting, Kásim Khán approached and said: “We are men of the desert, and here there is nothing in the way of riches or formalities. Our most costly possessions are our horses, our favourite food their flesh, our most enjoyable drink their milk and the products of it. In our country are no gardens or buildings. Our chief recreation is inspecting our herds. Therefore let us go and amuse ourselves with looking at the droves of horses, and thus spend a short time together.” When they came to where these were, he examined them all, and said: “I have two horses which are worth the whole herd.” These two were then brought forward; (and the Khán used to say that never in his life had he seen such beautiful animals as these two). Then Kásim Khán resumed: “We men of the desert depend for our lives upon our horses; and [personally] I put my trust in no others than these two. [I could not bear to part with either of them.] But you are my esteemed guest, so I beg you to accept whichever of them appears to you the better, and to leave the other for me.” Having examined the points of each, the Khán chose one which was called Ughlán Turuk; and truly such another horse was never seen. Kásim Khán then selected several others from his droves, and gave them to the Khán. He next offered the Khán a cup of the spirit kimiz, saying: “This is one of our forms of hospitality, and I shall esteem it a great favour if you will drink it.” Now the Khán, a short time before this, had renounced all intoxicating liquors; so he excused himself, saying: “I have foresworn such things as this: how can I break my vow?” To which Kásim Khán replied: “I have already told you that our favourite beverage is mare's milk and its products, and of these this [kimiz] is the pleasantest. If you do not accept what I now offer you, I am totally at a loss to know what to give you in its place, in performance of the duties of hospitality. Years must elapse before such an honourable guest as yourself again enters the house of your humble host; and now I am incapable of entertaining you. How can I make reparation for this?” So saying he hung down his head with shame, and marks of sorrow appeared upon his face. Thereupon, for his host's sake, the Khán drank the spirit to the dregs, to the great joy of Kásim Khán. Festivities [suhbat] then began, and during twenty days they continued to indulge together in quaffing cups of the spirit kimiz. The summer was just drawing to a close, and the Kazák set out, by Kázim Khán's orders, for winter quarters. Kásim Khán said: “To go and attack the Shaibáni, at this time, would involve great difficulties. Men of the desert do not think of winter at this season [without orders]. It is impossible. An expedition is not to be thought of at this time.” He then dismissed his army;* and with the utmost courtesy and regard, he bade the Khán farewell. He himself returned to his capital, while the Khán, much pleased with Kásim Khán, returned to Andiján. It was then autumn [tirmáh]. A learned man, to commemorate these events, discovered the chronogram: Ashti-i-Kazák, or “Peace with the Kazák” [919 A.H.]