Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 26

“Oh, really?” Lida said in amazement.

“Yes, of course,” Dmitro Borisovich said emphatically. “For example, Queen Zarina inflicted a shuttering defeat on the Persian King Cyrus, captured him and had him decapitated; his head was then put into a bag and filled with the blood of many Persians… The Scythian women were excellent riders, took part in military campaigns and showed themselves worthy warriors, not at all inferior to men, and in many cases superior. We found evidence supporting this in the Scythian and Sauromathian barrows where women were buried with their weapons. I think that the Scythian custom of having female priesthood dates back to those very early matriarchal times. And our soothsayer must have looked androgynous when young. His effeminacy has worn off with the passage of time, but he has kept his lady’s dress. But we’ll probably learn about all these things in more detail later on… Incidentally, the oksugala is excellent, upon my word it is! How do you find it, Ivan Semenovich?” the archeologist said at the end of his improvised lecture.

“Yes, I find your oksugala quite palatable,” Ivan Semenovich said, wiping his lips with the inside of his hand. “Only be careful, my friends! Don’t get carried away! It’s very intoxicating!”

Agitated voices, filled with menace, came from outside. The chieftain raised his head, and Varkan rushed out. He returned almost immediately and reported something to the chieftain. Dmitro Borisovich turned to his friends, his face grave.

“Varkan says that the soothsayer is up to something else,” the archeologist explained. “He’s uttering imprecations on us. Varkan will go find out what he wants now. Skolot asks us not to worry.”

The explorers exchanged glances. The situation boded ill. Varkan put on his helmet and went out. Artem looked after him and shook his head. It’d be nice to find out what’s going on, he thought.

Choosing a moment when no one was looking in his direction, Artem stealthily crept out from the kibitka, hoping nobody would stop him. Nobody did.

CHAPTER TWO

The old soothsayer pronounces his imprecations and incantations to the accompaniment of a subterranean thunderstorm and in the end gets what he wants; the explorers are taken to a black kibitka where Lida is at first disgusted by the fresh schemings of the misshapen Scythian and then pleasantly surprised by the unexpected reappearance of Varkan.

Varkan leapt onto a horse tethered by the kibitka and galloped away with a handful of other warriors. As Artem was following him with his eyes, he thought: Looks that the old troublemaker has come up with something more serious this time. Otherwise Varkan would not be in such a hurry. And it probably concerns us… So what should I do?

The decision had come to him at once — he must learn the intentions of the old soothsayer. Varkan had galloped away in the direction from which the explorers had been brought to the chieftain’s. This much was clear to Artem who had a good very sense of direction.

So, I’ll follow Varkan. It’d naturally be much faster to get there on horseback, but I don’t have a mount, and there’s nothing to be done about it so I’ll have to go on foot… How quickly dusk has fallen! And the clouds have become much darker. Is the local night approaching at last?

A great black cloud was sailing across the sky, looming heavily over the forest, making the low sky seem even lower. Apparently, it was this cloud that was the cause of the premature dusk. Now the cloud had covered the sky almost entirely. The pinky-yellowish coloring of the plants had changed perceptibly, acquiring a purplish tint. Everything seemed fantastic, unreal, and artificial in this mysterious glow. Was it a thunderstorm approaching? Was it a clap of thunder he had just heard in the distance?… A subterranean thunderstorm? How could that be possible?

Artem quickened his pace. He decided it was no good wasting time trying to solve the puzzle he and his friends had had to face during the course of a single extraordinary day; there were so many inexplicable things they had encountered that it was really better to take them as they were, matter-of-factly, without trying to rationalize them. Anyway, neither Ivan Semenovich nor Dmitro Borisovich could provide any plausible explanations. In such a situation, it was advisable to deal only with those developments that concerned the four of them at any given moment. The time would come to ponder the rest of the puzzles.

So, the first thing on Artem’s mind was to find out what kind of scheme the old soothsayer had cooked up now, and to what extent it concerned him and his friends. As Artem thought about it, the fierce bony face, the piercing cold eyes of the soothsayer loomed large in his mind. It was, indeed, the face of a cruel man, a werewolf, who would not stop short of murder if somebody interfered with his plans.

At that moment, he saw a big crowd at the next bend in the road and stopped. He also heard shouts and general agitated murmur coming from the people. They’re headed for the chieftain’s kibitka! the thought crossed Artem’s mind. There were several horsemen riding back and forth in front of the crowd. They gradually retreated as the mass of bodies pressed forward. The riders seemed to be trying to halt the progress of the crowd, urging their horses to push the people back with their chests, but the crowd was too much excited to be turned away, and pressed inexorably forward, step by step. The horses reared and pranced; one of the riders was almost knocked out of the saddle.

The riders must be Varkan and his warriors! Artem thought.

The riders were now in full retreat. Artem caught sight of a rather short figure in a hectic movement between the retreating riders and the crowd, his hands raised threateningly high into the air. Artem recognized the old soothsayer who was advancing on the riders, shouting, losing his breath in the process, and uttering imprecations in his unpleasant voice. He pointed to the sky, to the big cloud that loomed so low as to touch the people’s heads, and waved his arms wildly.

He must be scaring them with something, damn the old geezer! Artem thought.

Varkan rode toward the soothsayer, but other riders lagged behind, leaving Varkan alone to face the soothsayer. The old man took advantage of this chance and raised his arms even higher, shouting something in a frenzy. In response to this howling, the front rows surged forward and rushed at Varkan. Another moment, and he would be thrown from his horse, but Varkan had not lost his nerve: he jerked the reins, making the horse leap to the side and rear. Then the horse turned and bore the brave Scythian to the rest of the warriors. Without halting, Varkan shouted a few short words to the riders who galloped away all together, probably headed for the chieftain’s kibitka.

The crowd rushed after the riders, shouting triumphantly. The old soothsayer ran in front of it, several Scythians close by his side. One could only wonder at the old man’s agility and vigor. And it was probably this agility that impressed the Scythians, who followed him, running and shouting hostile words.

“Ah, I don’t like the way the things are developing,” Artem grumbled. “If they catch sight of me, I’ll be in big trouble… and there’s nowhere to hide…”

The situation was indeed growing desperate, all the more so since more Scythians began appearing from nearby kibitkas evidently attracted by the shouts of the crowd. There was nowhere for the young man to hide; he could be seized either by those Scythians who were running after the riders or by those who were pouring out of their kibitkas. At that moment, Artem saw that the riders were already quite near him.

“Varkan!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Varkan, help!’’

The Scythian, seeing Artem, uttered a cry of surprise. He reined in his horse abruptly. Varkan reached his hand to Artem and pulled the youth up behind him. The moment Artem was firmly installed, Varkan galloped away, catching up with the rest of the riders. Artem was sitting on the horse’s croup, holding on to the Scythian’s shoulders with his hands. A new wave of shouting came from the infuriated crowd. Artem turned his head to look back and saw the crowd, much swelled in size, rolling after them, the soothsayer at its head as before.

It looks as if it’s us they’re after, Artem thought, and this very disturbing idea made his flesh creep. But soon everything would become clear. In a few moments, the riders stopped at the red tent of the chieftain.

Artem leapt down from the horse and rushed in, impatient to break the news to his friends. If the old soothsayer was, in fact, stirring up animosity toward the strangers, Artem and his friends had to get ready to defend themselves, to do something about it… But what, Artem could not say. Seeing the disturbed, questioning expressions on the faces of his friends, who turned to him as he burst in, he cried out:

“A great crowd is on its way here! The soothsayer’s leading them! They’ll be here any moment now!”

Lida went pale, Ivan Semenovich clenched his teeth, and Dmitro Borisovich began to rise. The old chieftain had, naturally, understood nothing of what Artem had said, and only looked at him questioningly.

“And what is it they want?” Ivan Semenovich asked at last.