Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 24

The young Scythian who had stepped forward to greet the old chieftain did not take his eyes off Lida, which made Artem angry. The misshapen Scythian seemed to feel he was being stared at; he gave a quick sidelong glance, saw the suspicious gaze of Artem and immediately turned away; their eyes crossed only for a moment, but it was enough to catch the hostility which filled his stare.

Who is that guy? Artem thought. He’s no just anybody because he’s dressed so richly… there’s so many shiny little gold things all over his garb… And he’s holding himself more confidently than the rest whenever the old chieftain is not looking at him, of course.

Meanwhile the conversation between the chieftain and the soothsayer ended. The soothsayer bowed low and walked off. Artem observed him attentively, not liking his cunning, scowling face. Passing by the stoop-shouldered young Scythian, the old soothsayer made a slight movement with his head. The young Scythian responded with the quick, darting glance and immediately lowered his eyes submissively.

“Aha, there’s something fishy here,” Artem remarked. “He’s got to be watched.”

But truth to tell, he forgot about his observations a moment later when he saw a more modestly dressed Scythian with only one gold badge on his helmet, approach the chieftain. Another Scythian moved behind him, his appearance differing from the rest — his face was swarthy and beardless; he was quiet and unconstrained. The chieftain addressed himself to the young Scythian with the gold badge on the helmet. Surprisingly enough, his stern voice was much warmer now; he was speaking in a friendly tone, even gently. After the chieftain had finished, the young Scythian bowed, then turned and said a few words to the beardless man behind him; afterwards, the two of them walked over to the captives. The beardless man began speaking to the captives like their superior, not someone alien. He seemed to be reassuring them.

It was at this point that an unexpected and important event took place.

“My friends, I… err… I seem to understand some of what is being said by that man with the swarthy complexion…” Dmitro Borisovich said in excitement. The three explorers turned to look at him in surprise. “Yes, without any doubt, I can make out something! Not everything, of course, but… It’s ancient Greek the way one would expect it to sound, but mixed heavily with some other language, exactly the way the parchment was!”

“Oh! You understand him? What’s he saying?”

“Yes, yes, I do. Don’t distract me! He says that they are forgiven for their escape…”

“What escape? Did they attempt an escape?”

“Oh, do keep quiet! They are pardoned for their attempted escape, and will be allowed to go on working as before… ah, what a pity I don’t understand all of what’s being said! Now he is comforting them… Isn’t it extraordinary that we will be able to communicate with them! Now he says that…”

But Dmitro Borisovich did not have the chance to find out what was being said as the chieftain turned to the explorers.

He did not say anything this time but made such an eloquent gesture inviting them to follow that it was impossible not to understand. Then the chieftain jerked the reins and his horse stepped forward.

“He invites us to follow him,” Artem interpreted the gesture. “What shall we do, Ivan Semenovich?”

“We’ll follow him, but we must control ourselves, no matter what. Do you understand, Artem?” Ivan Semenovich said emphatically.

“I give you my word of honor, Ivan Semenovich. I’ll do my best!”

* * *

Surrounded by the riders, the explorers were now following the old chieftain on foot. The circle of armed men around them made them feel annoyed and constrained. The riders did not show any signs of hostility toward the explorers, and yet the latter could not help feeling that they were captives.

“The stoop-shouldered guy is coming with us, too,” Artem said. “And he’s staring at you all the time, Lida. Do you see?”

“That one, you mean? What a horrid creature he is!”

“But he seems to like you very much. He’s not taking eyes off you!”

“Oh, come off it! And don’t tell me anything else about him, because every time I look at him, it gives me creeps. He’s so repulsive and slimy!”

But a half-minute later Lida couldn’t resist casting a glance at the misshapen Scythian to see if he was still staring at her. He was indeed, and was even smiling at her! But even his smile was lopsided, as though he was smiling with only half of his face.

“Artem, who do you think he is?”

“I couldn’t care less and don’t want to think about him,” Artem replied gloomily.

“Oh, stop that, Artem dear. I’m serious.”

“I’m also quite serious.”

“Oh, come off it! It seems to me that he’s related to the chieftain.”

“What gave you that idea? You’re always thinking things up!”

“Have a closer look, Artem! He resembles the chieftain, but the old man is likable… and the young one is disgusting.”

“Hm… all right, I’ll have a look later. It’s rather rude to do it now.”

On all sides of Artem and his friends rode silent warriors with stern faces. They were holding long spears with stylized metal representations of lions, panthers and spread eagles. The Scythians were holding them solemnly above their chieftain’s head. Most of the spears were topped with resting panthers but some were clawing or tearing their prey with their fangs. All were fierce and had short muzzles.

These panthers and eagles probably serve as battle standards for them, Artem thought. He was about to take his gaze elsewhere when an indistinct but insistent thought stirred in the depths of his mind. It sometimes happens that a person notices something and subconsciously registers the observation but cannot say what it is. However, when this memory comes back, it distracts and disturbs as though persistently demanding to be analyzed and transferred to the consciousness. Either one such memory of all of them together was making Artem irksome, reminding him of something familiar.

“Artem, look over there! Diana’s scared them again!” Lida burst into a loud laugh.

“Where?”

“Over there, in front of us!”

Two riders were indeed fighting for control of their horses which reared and pranced, frightened by the dog.

Suddenly Artem struck his forehead with his hand, the gesture of someone upon whom an idea has dawned.

“My friends! Ivan Semenovich! That’s what it is: I know now! I understand at last!”

“What do you know?”

“What have you understood, Artem dear?”

“I know what the word poskina means! And understand why all of them fear our Diana so much!”

“Why?”

“Because she looks exactly like their representations of panthers or whatever they are. And the word means ‘panther’ or whatever they call these ferocious creatures!”

“What panthers you’re talking about? And how do you know the word means ‘panther’?”

“Have a look at the images on the spears!”

“Oh, that really is so! Artem dear, you’re so smart!”

There was indeed some truth behind Artem’s reasoning. A boxer dog just like Diana might well have been the model for their panthers. The same short muzzle, the same fangs! No wonder the Scythians feared Diana! She was evidently a living incarnation of the sacred panther! That was why no one dared even to approach the dog, much less touch her or, God forbid, make her angry.

“I believe you’re right, my young friend,” Dmitro Borisovich said. “You’ve really got an observing eye! You keep proving it all the time! You made excellent suggestions when we were examining the parchment and the box, and then on our way through the cave… Panther… panther… most interesting! Pos-kina… If we accept that kina is a distorted Greek word for ‘dog,’ here it could mean ‘any dog-like creature,’ and in combination with pos it would give us the meaning of ‘panther.’ And yet it’s not quite clear — we know the Scythians had domesticated dogs. So why should they be so frightened by our Diana? She does resemble a panther somewhat, it must be admitted… and yet… it’s strange!”

The archeologist, absorbed in his own thoughts, continued muttering something under his breath long after Artem had stopped listening to him. Artem was beaming with satisfaction: he had managed to solve the mystery, his mind was free from a nagging riddle; everything had fallen into place. But was everything really clear now?…

* * *

Meanwhile they had reached a kibitka, which was much bigger than the other ones. It was standing a little apart, resting on a six-wheeled wagon. There was a huge representation of an eagle with wings spread wide on top of it. The fabric of the tent was dyed red; the flaps were turned back.

“This must be where the chieftain lives,” the archeologist said, sounding very interested. “Aha, this really is the place!”

The chieftain dismounted with the bent young Scythian’s assistance. Before he entered the kibitka, he once again invited the strangers to follow him with sweeping gesture of his hand. Then he disappeared into the kibitka, his companions filing in after him. Only the misshapen Scythian remained behind. He bowed before the strangers, bending his head respectfully, and said something solemnly. As he was doing this, he looked at Lida from the corner of his eye. A smile, like a shadow, passed over his lips so fleetingly, that only Artem noticed it.