Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor - страница 33

But Aman-Jalil, unabashed, stripped naked and climbed into the bed prepared for the "newlyweds."

– Undress and come to me, – he ordered Gulshan. – Or do you fancy this old man? So I'll get up… Just not to give him a place, but to kill him.

Gulshan began to undress, but she felt ashamed, blushed, and looked imploringly at Aman-Jalil.

– What, does this old prick bother you? – the brazen man taunted. – Hey, old prick, did you hear? You're bothering your lawful wife. And every word of hers is law to you. Bring a small table, put wine and fruit on it, and disappear. There's a small closet nearby, you haven't forgotten it, I think tonight you'll spend it there so that the guests think you're sleeping in tender maiden embraces… Oh, before I forget: take the sheet stained with blood from my bag, in two hours come out to the guests and show it with a happy face. Got it?

The old "bridegroom" nodded grimly. Aman-Jalil frowned.

– Didn't hear, say it again!

– In two hours, with a happy face, I'll come out to the guests and demonstrate the symbol of her innocence. If the guests don't die of laughter, they'll be satisfied.

– If someone starts dying of laughter, they'll report to me, I'll help him… die.

The old "bridegroom" set a table next to the bed, put wine and fruit on it, took out from Aman-Jalil's bag a sheet pre-prepared with signs of someone's innocence, and went to the closet located next to the bedroom.

Gulshan slowly undressed, feeling unusual excitement and novelty. Being five months pregnant, she had never really known a man until now. This was truly her first wedding night. Gulshan turned off the light and lay in the bridal bed next to her lover, the father of her future child.

Meanwhile, her lawful husband lay sleepless in the closet, thinking about his son, about the immense sacrifices he would make in the name of saving his life, waiting for the stipulated time when they would come for him, and he would have to play the comedy, affirming the innocence of his imposed wife, who was not his wife, and therefore acknowledge himself as the father of another's child, all in the name of saving his…

And this shameful moment came. Aman-Jalil's men went after him and led him to the guests. The guests greeted the "happy bridegroom" with drunken, sated laughter. Pretending to be overjoyed, the unfortunate husband and father unfolded the sheet and demonstrated fresh blood stains. Welcoming cries, approving shouts, even rowdy remarks filled the air. But only for a moment did silence fall, a neighbor of the old man's sneered from across the street:

– You can work miracles like a saint. However, no saint has ever performed such a miracle, you're the first.

Each of his words was his death sentence. In the morning, the neighbor was arrested, in the afternoon he was tried with a group of "conspirators," all of whom willingly claimed him as their own, and in the evening he was shot… If there are deadly jokes, this one was suicidal.

Aman-Jalil began to demonstrate his omnipotence.

Winter and spring flew by unnoticed. Upon Gulshan's demand, her husband rewrote his house and all his property to her, and he now lived in his own house as a lodger. The widow pitied him and took care of him, feeding him, washing his clothes, while Gulshan paid him no attention, as if he didn't exist. People are like that: they love those whom they do good to and hate those whom they offend or harm, willingly or unwittingly. The chauffeur courted Gulshan lovingly, trying to please her in everything, catching every glance from her, while his wife silently envied her daughter, silent but watching their every move.