Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 49

Still further away were the ordinary Scythians, sitting by the wagons and kibitkas, in compact groups. Those who had shown special valor in recent hunts had places closer to the center. On the very fringes of the gathering far from everyone else sat the Scythian youths who had not distinguished themselves in anything yet but dreamed of feats of valor and fame; they were sitting on horses’ hides or on the bare ground.

The Scythian women were sitting on separate rugs; and not all the women of the tribe were present — only those who wanted to take part in the feast. They watched the strangers with great interest, concentrating mostly on Lida; they were amazed to see Lida wearing no headgear, especially since the rest of her attire was so perplexingly unusual. But the Scythian women were quite at ease in this predominantly male company, talking in loud and cheerful voices, sometimes bursting into laughter, probably at jokes that the explorers could not understand. It was evident that participation in such feasts was quite a habitual thing for them.

“I’m surprised at the behavior of these women,” Artem said to Lida under his breath. “I thought the Scythian women would behave in quite a different manner…”

“You expected them to be cowed down or something?” Lida asked with a challenge.

“No, not cowed down. That’s too strong a word… but, in any case, not so independent as they look. Didn’t the Scythians come from somewhere in the East? And to the best of my knowledge, the Oriental women, since time immemorial have held a submissive position…”

“But these women, as you can well see, behave in a different manner: they’re cracking jokes and laughing. Evidently they’re very relaxed,” Lida said. “They…”

“First of all, they’re not ‘Oriental women,”’ Dmitro Borisovich suddenly broke in. “The Scythians are not purely of Asian descent, but are rather Eurasian. To the best of our knowledge, they formed as an ethnic group in the steppes between the Danube and Yenisey rivers. And how could you speak of the Scythians as Orientals after I’ve told you so much about them — about the matriarchy in the tribes related to the Scythians, about the amazons and warrior- queens. And I don’t think it is justified in any historical or economic sense to link the Scythians to Oriental life styles, because the Orient developed along quite separate, distinct lines, with quite different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. Consequently…”

“I’m sorry, Dmitro Borisovich, but so many people are waiting for us,” Lida interrupted the archeologist rather abruptly just as he was getting up steam, giving Artem a sidelong glance; she knew very well that once Dmitro Borisovich got on his high horse, he could go on indefinitely.

“Yes, of course,” he said, slightly embarrassed as he saw that Lida was right. “We’re standing here talking while people are waiting for us! The big feast is about to begin.” A murmur rippled through the gathering when the Scythians saw Dmitro Borisovich, Lida and Artem, the remarkable young stranger who had emerged a winner in the contest with Dorbatay. The Scythians hurriedly made way for them, and a wide passage opened in the mass of humanity leading straight to the dais. The old chieftain acknowledged the arrival of the three strangers by raising himself a little from his place. He said something in a welcoming tone and gestured to the carpets at his side.

“Skolot invites us to take our seats beside him,” said the archeologist. “It’s a great honor, you know.”

“Oh, it looks as if we’re going to have a real feast,” said Artem, looking around.

“Yes, we are,” Ivan Semenovich said. “And we have to behave appropriately. This concerns you Artem first of all. Don’t forget that hundreds of eyes are watching your every jnovement and certain conclusions will be drawn. So be careful. Some of the Scythians are watching us especially closely,” and the geologist surreptitiously pointed to the wealthy Scythians sitting in a separate group.

As a matter of fact, while the distinguished old warriors and hunters eyed the strangers with curiosity, the wealthy Scythians were much more reserved in their attitude, which bordered on hostility. Their hostility was hardly surprising, since the strangers had acted against Dorbatay, causing resentment among those who supported the crafty and perfidious soothsayer. All the explorers understood this, and consequently took the geologist’s remark very seriously.

“Artem, you’d better not drink any more,” Lida said in a low anxious voice. “It might have a bad effect on you, since you’re unaccustomed to strong drinks.”

“I wasn’t going to, anyway,” Artem replied, also in a low voice. “I feel a little sick in my stomack after all the oksugala 1 had with Varkan. Whichever way you turn it, this oksugala isn’t very good for you… if you have too much of it, that is.”

“I’m of the same opinion,” Lida said.

It was very pleasant and comfortable to be sitting on the thick-piled carpet. Artem stretched out his legs, enjoying himself — it did feel very good to be resting like this! He was almost sober again, his mind practically free from the effect of the drink. If only he could avoid drinking any more oksugala!

Skolot clapped his hands twice. At this signal, servants immediately appeared carrying platters — raised high above their heads — of steaming boiled and roasted meat. The meat was followed by large cauldrons of soup, also steaming. The food was placed on mats in front of the Scythians who had gathered for the feast.

It seemed that all the available space had been already taken by the dishes and cauldrons, but the servants continued bringing them out. The younger Scythians, without waiting for any signal that the feast had officially begun, fell to eating, tearing the meat into manageable pieces with their fingers. But none of the older Scythians, all those distinguished warriors and hunters, the group of wealthy men — all those bearded and mustached scions — began eating. They were obviously waiting for something. The wealthy Scythians did not even seem to notice the food placed before them. They continued talking among themselves in low voices, casting sullen glances at the strangers from time to time.

“Oh, Artem, you have a bandaged leg! What happened? Have you been wounded?” the geologist asked solicitously, not having been informed of what had happened during the hunt.

“Oh, Ivan Semenovich, it’s a very interesting story with a fascinating ending!” Lida put in quickly. “You keep quiet now, Artem. You’ll get confused again and won’t be able to tell anything straight,” she said stopping the young man before he could break into the conversation. “I know what I’m saying. Artem proved himself a hero at the hunt…”

“Lida, cut it out!”

“Artem, keep quiet I tell you! He saved Varkan’s life, that’s what he did, really and truly, putting himself into mortal danger. And then, as a result of everything that happened during the hunt, he became Varkan’s blood brother!”

“Blood brother?”

“Yes, his blood brother, which is more than just being a real brother,” Lida said warming to her subject. “Isn’t that correct, Dmitro Borisovich?”

“Absolutely,” the archeologist said. “Brothers of one family sometimes become bitter enemies, like Skolot and Dorbatay, for example. But a blood brother for a Scythian means more than a brother of the same mother. That’s quite true.”

Artem rubbed his brow pensively:

“That’s what Lida told me too… and yet I can’t quite figure out how that could be.”

“There’s nothing really extraordinary about it. It fits well into the traditions of a tribe that is still at the family group stage of development. Family or clan relations are very important, and when a Scythian becomes your blood brother, he shows by this act that he is your closest, ‘blood’ relative. You see my point?”

“Yes, I do,” Artem said with a sigh.

“There’s one more thing to it,” Dmitro Borisovich said in passing. “You no longer have the right to risk your life.”

“As a matter of fact I wasn’t exactly planning to. But why should you warn me against it in the first place, that’s what I’d like to know?”

“Because, according to the rules of blood brotherhood, when one of the blood brothers dies, the other must die, too. This aspect emphasizes the significance of the ritual.”

“Oh, what a thing I’ve gotten myself into!” Artem said, making a gesture of utter confusion. “So, I don’t even have the right to die when I see fit! I’m in a fine fix!”

“You, Artem, and Varkan are like Siamese twins,” Lida burst out laughing. Artem gave her an angry glare and was about to open his mouth to give her a piece of his mind too — why was she always putting in her unsolicited opinions! — but he was prevented from doing so by Ivan Semenovich.

“Do be quiet! You’ll have plenty of time to exchange opinions later on. You’re attracting attention with your bickering. The servants are bringing in the main course of the feast!”

Four servants brought in the big roast boar, the very boar that had been killed in the forest earlier in that day — but not before it had nearly killed Varkan and Artem. Artem thought he could still recognize the dread shape of the head with its protruding tusks. But all the fearsomeness was gone from the boar; it was now lying with its feet tucked under its body, the head thrust forward — just the way a carcass roasted whole is supposed to look.