Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 58

Dmitro Borisovich, in spite of his forebodings concerning the future and his realization that after the murder of Skolot their own lives were in jeopardy, could not allow his archeological enthusiasm to be dampened by his worries. The archeologist took in and catalogued in his brain everything he saw, every little detail: The Scythians offering up their prayer! Fascinating! No archeologist or historian had ever seen such an exciting scene before; no scholar had ever eyewitnessed the ceremony of the proclamation of a new Scythian chieftain! And there was Skolot’s funeral to observe as yet! Ah, the archeologist wished he had more than one pair of eyes and more than one pair of ears!

“Keep your eyes open, young man, take a good look!” Dmitro Borisovich said in an agitated whisper. “You’ll never see anything like it again in your life!”

“I probably won’t… because I’m not sure how long I’m going to live… or you either, for that matter,” Artem muttered in irritation; he was annoyed at the professional enthusiasm of the archeologist who seemed oblivious to the grave danger hanging over them.

Ivan Semenovich was intently watching everything happening around them to assess the situation and draw some conclusions. The explorers, with Varkan standing close by, were surrounded by the soothsayer’s henchmen and chief Scythians, their daggers and swords unsheathed, evidently to forestall any attempt on the part of the explorers at escape. The warriors, who had obviously been swayed by the soothsayer to change allegiance to him, positioned themselves so that they separated the strangers from the rest of the crowd. If earlier an attempt at escape was not entirely unthinkable, now it was absolutely out of the question. There was no one to turn to for help either. Dorbatay had firmly re-established his influence over the Scythians; he seemed to have taken all the necessary steps to foil the strangers’ attempts to escape. At the slightest suspicious movement, all the warriors and hunters would rush at the strangers with their swords and spears.

Ivan Semenovich was racking his brain for a solution: what could they do under the circumstances? Who would help them? Only one thing gave him some hope: weren’t they supposed to be the guests of Hartak, too? But the chance that he would honor their status as guests was dismally small: Dorbatay would surely do something about that…

“Artem, do you happen to have any primers with you?”

“No, I don’t, Ivan Semenovich.”

“What a pity!”

“I used some of them at the altar…”

“Yes, I know, but not all of them.”

“No, the rest are in the knapsack. I didn’t think they would be of any use at this feast. How was I to know…”

The geologist did not say anything else; the young man was not, of course, to blame for negligence — if Ivan Semenovich himself had not foreseen such a turn of events, how could he expect Artem to have done so?

* * *

The prayer ended. Now Dorbatay could rest assured that none of the warriors or hunters would dare express any disapproval over Hartak’s elevation to the chieftaincy. The soothsayer had surely known what he was doing when he began the prayer. When it was over, Hartak was firmly established in the eyes of the god-fearing Scythians as chieftain with full rights.

There was only one thing for Dorbatay to settle now: what to do with the strangers? Dorbatay seemed ready to tackle this problem as well. The soothsayer was not likely to have them killed right then and there — especially the young magician who had publicly disgraced him. It would not be in keeping with the inspired and very effective performance he had just put on. They were surely to die, these conceited strangers who had halfwittedly rejected his most superb conditions! But they were to die in a manner that would consolidate his power. Lida should probably be spared, as she could be useful in manipulating Hartak.

Dorbatay now looked quite self-assured; in a very loud voice, so loud in fact that it carried to the outer fringes of the crowd, he said to Hartak, bowing to him and assuming a very deferential air:

“Now, illustrious Hartak, wise and mighty chieftain of the Skolots…”

He made a pause, a short but well-timed pause imbued with irony, which was only emphasized by the solemnity of the address. This miserable puppet who was eager to do anything to please him, Dorbatay called a “wise and mighty chieftain”! It did sound like thinly veiled mockery.

“Now, illustrious Hartak, wise and mighty chieftain of the Skolots,” Dorbatay repeated, “we must fulfill the will of the gods. On behalf of the gods, o Hartak, demand that the cursed strangers be delivered into my hands. Do you agree to give them to the gods?”

Dorbatay had hardly had time to finish when Hartak obediently said:

“Yes, I agree!”

“But let us not forget that they are still your guests of honor,” Dorbatay continued, an implacable smile playing on his lips. “In accordance with our sacred customs we must be hospitable to our guests as long as they are our guests. We shall not deviate from this tradition. Not a single hair of their heads will be touched as long as they remain our guests. But on the other hand we cannot let them go free as they, magicians that they are, can envoke help of their gods and do us harm. So, they must be bound hand and foot and put in a safe place! And tomorrow, when they will not be considered your guests any longer, o Hartak — since they are your guests only for tonight — we shall decide their fate. Do you, warriors and hunters, give your approval of this?”

Loud and chaotic approval was instantaneously given; the voices of the nobles were the loudest.

“Yes, yes, that’s what should be done, Dorbatay!”

The soothsayer turned to his henchmen:

“Bind them!”

The henchmen, evidently still in great fear of the strangers, stepped forward reluctantly, watching for any suspicious movement: didn’t the strangers have the power to cause fire and thunder to leap from the ground and strike any offender down? And didn’t they have the dreaded poskina hidden somewhere to come to their aid at any moment?

But unfortunately Diana could not come to the explorers’ aid, as Artem had tied her to the kibitka even before they had gone on their tour of the Scythian camp in the morning, deciding that the dog would cause unnecessary complications, and then they had had no time to go back to the kibitka and fetch her along when they went to the feast.

The soothsayer’s henchmen were slowly but inexorably closing in on the strangers, encouraged by the cheering of the elders; they held the ropes ready, the points of their swords and daggers forward.

The strangers huddled closer together; they were quite defenseless.

Artem looked at Dorbatay to see a malicious smile playing on his wicked face.

The soothsayer could celebrate a victory!

PART THREE

CHAPTER ONE

Varkan disappears at a very crucial moment, the explorers walk through a corridor of spears, Artem leaps onto a horse and is ordered to make an escape; he and Dmitro Borisovich ride off at break-neck speed and are almost overtaken by their pursuers; Artem remembers an unusual weapon in the nick of time.

The soothsayer’s henchmen raised their weapons, apparently ready to use them against the explorers if need be. Lida, who found herself standing closest to their tightening circle, stepped back. But there was not much space left for retreating, as the wall of gleaming daggers and swords drew steadily forward on all sides.

“Oh, what’s to be done? What’s to be done?” Lida said, looking around desperately.

One of the younger priests tried to grab Lida’s hand but she recoiled sharply, avoiding the grasp. Artem leaped forward placing himself between the priest and the girl. A moment later he felt someone join him. It was the archeologist, trembling with the eagerness to do battle that had suddenly flared up in him. Artem heard his strained voice:

“We’ll defend ourselves to the end! I’m with you, Artem!”

But no resistance was really possible: what, in fact, could three unarmed men and a girl do in the face of dozens of well-armed enemies?

The priests stopped nevertheless, evidently taken aback by the strangers’ obvious readiness to resist. Some of them looked back at Dorbatay, waiting for further instructions, and Artem used the moment to put two fingers to his mouth and whistle as loud as he could. Artem realized that whistling for the dog that was tied up to the pole by the kibitka from such a distance was futile, but there was no harm in trying.

Dorbatay said something sharp and imperative. He must have given the order to seize the strangers no matter what. The swords were again raised in the air, this time poised to strike if any further resistance was encountered. There seemed to be only one thing left: give themselves up. Any further resistance might prove fatal.

Now two more Scythians appeared on the scene, carrying no arms but equipped with lassos. Any moment now the explorers would be ignominiously bound… It was then that Artem heard a familiar sound, distant but approaching quickly. It was she, it was she, Diana with her unmistakable barking!