Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 23

Now, cooling off a little, Artem realized that the situation could not continue like this for much longer, and that he did not have much of a chance against the priestesses and the soothsayer if he stood alone. Something had to be done about the situation on the double. But what?

Meanwhile, the soothsayer seemed to have gone into a tantrum. There was foam on his livid lips, and his curses grew louder by the minute, though he still kept his distance.

Lida was looking at the young man with admiration. Dmitro Borisovich clenched the handle of the pickaxe in his hands; he seemed about to rush to Artem’s aid. Ivan Semenovich noticed the state the archeologist was in, and said, to calm him down:

“Wait, Dmitro Borisovich, wait. There’s still time. So far, Artem has been holding on his own just fine; you see for yourself.”

“But it might be too late if I wait!”

“No, it won’t, trust me. I know what I’m doing. We’ve got something in reserve yet. Diana, quiet!” He was holding the dog by the collar as she tried to run over to Artem.

The chieftain, grasping the gilded pommel of the saddle, seemed all eyes and ears, totally unlike his previous self when his face bore a mask of contemptuous indifference. He was now watching every move of the young stranger, and did not even hide his smile when Artem knocked the sword out of the soothsayer’s hand. He was listening to the frenzied incantations of the old soothsayer and glancing at Artem in astonishment, for apparently, the young man was not affected in any way. Then the chieftain turned his gaze to the young Scythian who had come forward earlier to greet him. The young stoop-shouldered Scythian was trembling with fright. He covered his face with his hands, evidently greatly terrified by the soothsayer’s shouting.

The old chieftain turned away disdainfully. One of the warriors asked him something, pointing at Artem with his spear. The chieftain shook his head and once again sat absolutely still.

At last the soothsayer realized that his curses were of no use against Artem. He shouted a command to the priestesses and gesticulated widely.

“Aha, he’s ordering them to seize our Artem!” Dmitro Borisovich said anxiously. “Now is the time to come to his aid. I’ll run over to him!”

“Wait,” said the geologist curtly.

“But they’ll seize him!”

“Stay where you are, I tell you,” commanded the geologist. “There’s still time!”

He was right. The priestesses did not dare to leave their place behind the altar despite the express commands of the soothsayer. They were engaged in a lively exchange but refused to submit to the order. Then the soothsayer, infuriated to the last measure, raised one hand threateningly, evidently intending to curse the priestesses. This was too much for them. Fearfully, holding their daggers out, they moved from behind the altar and stepped toward Artem.

“Oh, just you try it!” Artem stepped forward bravely.

But his voice betrayed a wavering resolve. The young man realized only too well that he had little chance with his small pickaxe against several adversaries armed with daggers and swords.

“Diana, help Artem!” Ivan Semenovich said under his breath, releasing his grasp on the dog’s collar. Diana leaped toward Artem, stopped at his side, and bared her teeth menacingly, facing the armed priestesses. The warning growl emphasized her serious intentions.

“Ah, now there are two of us!” Artem exclaimed in a much more cheerful voice. “Ivan Semenovich, thank you!

A11 right, now, you over there, come on, but be careful. Diana and I are going to tackle you in earnest!”

Without waiting for any response, he stepped forward, closer to the priestesses by the altar. The women immediately retreated, for the very appearance of the dog inspired mortal fear in them. Artem heard the now familiar:

“Poskina… Poskina!”

“Yeah, that sure is poskina,” Artem laughed out. He had regained his cheerful mood. “Poskina!”

He shouted the word as one would shout ‘Fire,’ in alarm. And in fact it had a profound effect on the Scythians. A tense silence fell over the field which even the old soothsayer was afraid to break.

“What does this word, so horrifying to them, really mean?” Ivan Semenovich asked the archeologist who just £hrugged his shoulders.

“It’s difficult to say… In Greek kyon means ‘dog.’ From the sound of it, it may be related. But perhaps it’s a taboo word. Taboo in the sense of a prohibition, a sacred, religious prohibition to do or touch something… That’s all I can suggest for now.”

Meanwhile, the priestesses again hid behind the altar, and the old soothsayer was helpless to budge them.

Artem, having regained his composure, gave Diana a pat on the back:

“Well, my dear little poskina, what are we going to do next? The old guy seems to have lost this round. Could you suggest anything to consolidate our victory, my canine friend?”

As the tension slackened, calm returned to the young man. There was nothing to be on guard against at the moment. It was now absolutely clear that Diana inspired mortal fear in the Scythians, but Artem couldn’t understand why. He kept on stroking the dog’s back, noting with satisfaction that it caused renewed squeals from behind the altar. In the priestesses’ eyes that must have been an unimaginably horrible thing to do: to stroke the abominable monster! Artem pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, his movements relaxed, and said, rolling the cigarette between his fingers:

“No time to have a smoke with all these rites and fights. Right, Diana?”

Ivan Semenovich chuckled, evidently seeing something droll in the situation; he poked the archeologist with his elbow to make him appreciate it; the archeologist even looked around, but failed to see anything potentially funny.

Artem put the cigarette into his mouth, lit it, inhaled with relish and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Isn’t it great to have a smoke to relax a bit!”

An unprecedented hush fell over the pinkish-yellow field. The crowd froze into absolute immobility — not a word, not a movement. Even the chieftain gaped, looking at Artem inhaling and exhaling smoke. Artem released a thin jet of smoke and said:

“Why have they grown so quiet, Diana? Haven’t they ever seen anyone smoke before?”

Little by little, the talking resumed. The Scythians began to gesticulate excitedly, pointing at the young man by the altar with the smoke coming out of his mouth. It was the strangest thing they had seen that day. The priestesses had meanwhile stealthily crept away from the altar and disappeared into the crowd: they apparently considered it safer to keep as far as possible from the young man who was not afraid even of the terrible curses of the soothsayer, and who himself was conjuring up unseen tricks. The old soothsayer, who had probably never seen anything like it either, was also slinking away.

At last, Artem threw the cigarette butt to the ground and stamped on it, saying to the captives:-

“Why are you standing here? Go back to your crowd. The show’s over.”

He even pushed them gently toward the crowd of captives. They began retreating slowly and timidly, never turning their backs on the young man. Artem shook his head, saying compassionately:

“My, how scared they are, poor things!”

Then he turned and began walking back to his friends. Diana ran by his side. Wherever he passed, the Scythians fell silent, looking at him with respect and fear, waiting for the smoke to come from his mouth again.

“Well, that’s how things turned out,” Artem said as he came up to his friends, trying to hide his increasing embarrassment. He had failed to obey the explicit command of Ivan Semenovich, rushing as he did to the altar, endangering them all. “Ivan Semenovich, upon my word, I couldn’t help it…” There was some trepidation in his voice as though he were apologizing.

“All right, all right, Arlem. We’ll speak about it later. Let’s see what happens next,” the geologist said unexpectedly complacently.

But what was the matter with Lida? Her eyes were wet; she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Very strange!

“I was so worried about you, Artem, dear,” she said softly.

Surprisingly enough, Artem did not know what to say in response. He grabbed Lida’s small hand instead and squeezed it passionately. Dmitro Borisovich took his other hand and shook it, saying solemnly:

“My dear young friend, you are a real man! I… I congratulate you!” His pointed beard shook with excitement.

Now Artem was completely baffled. What had he done that merited congratulations and concern? Even Ivan Semenovich was not angry with him and did not rebuke him, which was good in itself.

“Attention, my friends!” the geologist said suddenly. “The old chieftain is talking about us.”

The chieftain was indeed saying something, pointing to the explorers. Then he beckoned the old soothsayer to come nearer. The soothsayer did so, boiling with anger, though trying to conceal it. Their conversation did not last long. It was the chieftain who did most of the talking, while the soothsayer listened* with growing annoyance. He even tried to contradict the mounted man once, but the chieftain raised his voice. The soothsayer bent his head submissively, rolling his beady eyes, clenching his fists in impotent fury.

“What a repulsive creature he is!” Lida said under her breath, noticing that Artem was looking at the soothsayer.