Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 52

“King Darius and his counselors pondered over the meaning of the gifts for a long time, and his opinion was as follows: ‘The Skolots intended to give themselves up to me along with their lands, waters, and herds of horses. For a mouse is bred in the earth and subsists on the same food as a man; a frog lives in the water, without which neither man nor beast can live; a bird in flight is like a horse; and the arrows the Skolots have delivered mean that they give over all their military forces to me, all-powerful King Darius, and my army.’

“But this time the counselors risked disagreement with the dread King Darius and conjectured that the gifts intimated: Unless, o Persians, yon become birds and fly into the air, or become mice and hide yourselves beneath the earth, or become frogs and leap into the lakes, you shall never return home again, but will be smitten by these arrows.

“King Darius grew even more wrathful at this interpretation, since he saw that the Persians were not disposed to continue pursuing the Skolots and were apprehensive of the future.

“In the meantime, it was reported to the king that his illusive enemies had ceased their flight at last and had stopped in the steppe some distance away. King Darius, forgetting his great wrath, went to the top of the hill to have a look himself and saw that the Skolots had indeed drawn themselves up opposite the Persian camp as if they intended to engage in battle. The Skolots brandished their weapons as though challenging the Persians to do battle. King Darius resolved to accept the challenge immediately, as his army was still rather strong and large. But as he was about to issue battle orders, he saw a commotion rising among the Skolots. King Darius, quite bewildered, asked the meaning of the uproar in the enemy’s ranks and was told that they were pursuing a hare. The Skolots seemed to have forgotten about the Persians and the battle that was about to start, engaged, as they were, in the boisterous pursuit of the hare.

“When he heard this, the dread and all-powerful King Darius felt a dark foreboding creep into his heart, and he convened all his counselors and commanders and, filled with trepidation, told them the following: ‘Now I am convinced that you spoke rightly concerning the Skolots* gifts. We must return home in haste. The Skolots treat us with great contempt, since they are so sure of themselves that they have broken ranks and are ignoring us to pursue a single small animal in full view of our forces. If they are so sure of victory, should we really try to fight them? Let us return home as fast as we can to avoid any further disgrace!’

“Thus spoke the all-powerful and dread Persian King Darius. And when the night came, the Persian army, without engaging the Skolots in battle, broke camp and marched away, leaving behind the sick and wounded, the weak and maimed so as not to be hampered in their hasty retreat…

“O listen to me, listen to old Ormad, listen! Thus, in inglorious flight ended the march into the Skolot lands of the great and dread King Darius who — master of most of the known world — was then in such great haste to return home so as to avoid utter ruin with the remnants of his army, an army which not long before had been considered invincible and made the earth tremble, which had struck terror into the quick and dead alike… And now this dread army was fleeing from the Skolots without once engaging them in a major battle, something they had sought so persistently for so long; they were fleeing, chased by the fear that had been struck into all their hearts, even the heart of the all-powerful King Darius! So, the Persians were fleeing like the frightened hare that was pursued by the Skolots in view of the entire Persian camp. King Darius had been forced to relinquish and abandon all his glory and much of what he had carried with him across the wide Skolot steppes. The Skolots took much booty and won great glory for chasing away the dread King Darius, master of most of the known world. Glory to the gallant Skolot warriors, glory! Glory to the wise Skolot chieftains, glory!”

* * *

After old Ormad finished his tale, he kept nodding his head tiredly and moving his lips silently as cheers and excited shouting rose from all sides, the din enhanced by the ringing of weapons that some of the Scythians began brandishing. The Scythians freely expressed their great enthusiasm for the heroic tale recited by old Ormad. The bowls were again filled with oksugala and tambourines and bone fifes were played again.

Skolot filled a gold cup with his own hands and handed it solemnly to Ormad. The old man ceremoniously accepted the cup, managing to preserve his dignified appearance in spite of his fumbling movements, and raised it to his lips. His hands trembled — as is often the case with people of extreme old age — spilling some of the oksugala, but he drank to the dregs without stopping. Then he lowered his head, burying his chin in his chest, as though in complete exhaustion, leaned sideways, and fell asleep, oblivious of the din around him.

Dmitro Borisovich, no less thrilled than the Scythians, said to his friends: “Now I know that old Herodotus was quite correct in what he said in his history about the invasion of the Persians! His version differs only in some insignificant details. It’s most extraordinary what we’ve just heard! Artem! Lida! Do you hear? Everything’s clear now! Ah, you don’t give a damn! You don’t understand the importance of it!”

“We do, we honestly do, Dmitro Borisovich,” Artem protested, trying to show by his voice that they really did care. But the archeologist’s mind was already occupied with something else. He turned again to Varkan, eagerly asked something and then listened to what the Scythian said with the greatest attention.

Ivan Semenovich was probably the only one who remained aloof from the festive mood of the gathering. Some vague foreboding was gnawing at his heart. He could not put his finger on it, but his rich life experience had taught him to feel impending danger with some sixth sense, and his sixth sense was sending signals that made him apprehensive. But what direction could this unidentified danger come from?

The explorers’ position seemed to have been established firmly enough; they had won considerable respect after the victory over Dorbatay at the altar. The crafty and treacherous Dorbatay must have lost much of his influence over the credulous Scythians as a soothsayer; he had even failed to turn up at the feast. Skolot appeared to display cordial feelings toward the strangers, either because he genuinely liked them or because of their triumph over the old soothsayer, his enemy. So, that left as a potential source of danger Hartak and the group of elders and the wealthy Scythians who probably supported the old soothsayer.

Ivan Semenovich took surreptitious glances at Skolot’s son, and discovered very soon that even at the feast, Hartak behaved differently from the rest of the Scythians. He hardly ate anything, had only a small cup of oksugala — and the small amount of drink he had had brought some color to his gray face and made his eyes even shiftier. Hartak seemed to be looking for someone, but evidently, that someone was not to be seen anywhere around. Still, Hartak continued searching the crowd with his eyes.

Hartak was restless even during Ormad’s recital. Once his darting eyes met the geologist’s and were immediately lowered; Hartak bent his head, pretending to be listening very attentively to Ormad. In a few moments, though, he shot the strangers a furtive glance which Ivan Semenovich intercepted: there was malevolence in his eyes, only slightly veiled by an attempt at a crooked smile.

He’s an enemy, and a very dangerous one, Ivan Semenovich thought. But would he dare to attempt anything here at the feast? Aren’t we his guests of honor?

Ivan Semenovich was now assailed with doubts and suspicions, but none of them was definite enough to call for immediate action. Besides he was somewhat distracted by the explosion of Scythian music — the tambourines and fifes again. But this time it was a cheerful, dancing tune played at a fast tempo and accompanied by the ringing of swords. The Scythians who had been sitting closest to the dais moved hastily aside to make room in front for three lithe girls who ran up to the dais and began dancing.

The dancers seemed to be competing among themselves for the best performance. They alternated between light, barely touching the rugs with the toes of their little schoes, then leaping into the air and leaning low to the ground. The air was filled with the sounds of the tambourines and music of the fifes and encouraging shouts from the audience who were beating time by striking bowl against bowl or sword against sword.

Lida, who was fond of dancing, enjoyed the performance of the slender Scythian girls immensely, as, evidently, did all other guests.

Dmitro Borisovich, completely absorbed by the rare sight, murmured to himself: “Right… there’s a picture on one of the Kul-Obsk gold plates, dating back to the Scythian times… the same movements are depicted… easily recognized here… they must be typical movements of the Scythian dancing… like this one, for instance — with the hands and arms thrown back… and now…”

The music stopped abruptly. The dancers froze, rooted to the spot, achieving a remarkable effect: a sudden, almost stone-like immobility after a tempestuous dance with so many quick movements. Skolot made a sign and bowls, filled with oksugala, were brought for the dancers. The young Scythian girls, still short of breath, bowed to the chieftain, emptied the bowls unfalteringly, and ran away, accompanied by thunderous applause.