Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 67

But the interpreter, receiving his instructions from Dorbatay, did not launch into another of his long speeches. He motioned for them to leave the kibitka. Lida was only too glad to do so, as the presence of Hartak, who kept throwing amorous glances at her, now that she had agreed to become his wife, made her quite ill.

They got out of the kibitka, and though they were immediately surrounded by armed priests, they felt great relief at not seeing the faces of the two murderers, who after they had poisoned Skolot, continued their vile scheming.

The swarthy interpreter led the way. Every so often, he turned to the strangers, and said something, still under the delusion that they could understand him. And unexpectedly enough, they could understand at least some of what he was trying to convey not from his words, but from his eloquent gestures which could be interpreted thusly:

“It is not worth trying to escape. You can see for yourself how many armed men are surrounding you. Do not even think of making an attempt, or you will be killed on the spot.”

But the thought of attempting an escape at the moment was very far from the explorers’ minds!

The kibitka to which they came was also well-guarded by priests; only two Scythians entered with Lida and Ivan Semenovich; the Scythians pointed to the rug on the ground as if to say: sit down here! and untied their hands. It was a very welcome gesture!

Massaging his hands to restore the circulation, the geologist said:

“I regard their untying of our hands as the first result of our having accepted Dorbatay’s proposals, the essence of which remains unknown to us.”

“What do you mean ‘unknown’? We know only too well what they wanted,” the girl said with infinite sadness in her voice.

“Don’t make too much of our guesswork, Lida. Concerning what you have in mind, we do not have any independent or reliable proof that we’ve guessed correctly, do we? Later, we’ll be able to see better what’s what, and in the meantime, aren’t we better off now than with our hands bound? With your hands free, you can even think clearer, right?”

The crestfallen girl lowered her head: she couldn’t keep up the conversation any longer.

“And here comes another consequence,” said the geologist cheerfully. “Now we can see that our hosts take care to be hospitable to their guests. Let’s have our supper, Lida,” Ivan Semenovich said, indicating the plates and jars that had been brought in and placed on the rug.

* * *

Lida and Ivan Semenovich slept without being disturbed well into the morning. Only the voices of the guards posted outside were occasional reminders that a close watch was being kept. Dorbatay decided to take no chances this time and made sure the dangerous outlanders were well guarded.

In the morning, Ivan Semenovich, in a very quiet voice as though nothing extraordinary had happened the night before, in a voice, in fact, reserved for the most trivial things, said to Lida:

“Now, my dear Lida, I want you to pay heed to what I am going to say. The main thing now is to relax and behave as though nothing unusual has happened. As a matter of fact, I don’t see that there’s much to complain about: we get very decent meals which I wouldn’t rate lower than what you get in an ordinary restaurant. Also, some pains have been taken to make us comfortable. I should say we’re almost being treated like Dorbatay’s guests of honor.”

Lida looked at the geologist reproachfully:

“Why should you try to make it a joking matter, Ivan Semenovich? To reassure me? I’m not a child and I do undersand why I had to do what you asked me. You don’t really have to go out of our way just to make me smile…”

Ivan Semenovich chuckled.

“Oh, all right, I won’t. I’m sorry. Let’s talk seriously then. Our motto now must be patience and prudence. We must not in any way be the cause of irritation or displeasure for Dorbatay and Hartak. One word from them, and… you understand. They must believe that our wills are so broken, that we’re glad to accept anything they…”

“Anything? Even my becoming Hartak’s wife?” Lida cried out in indignation.

“Yes, if not in actual deed, then in word,” Ivan Semenovich said quietly. “Haven’t we agreed to talk seriously? You must understand, my dear girl, that this line of behavior is the only way to save ourselves from certain death. We’re powerless to do anything else at the moment. I’m sure we’ll get a message from Artem and Dmitro Borisovich. They’ll find the means of getting it to us. And as you well know, neither our friend Artem nor his blood brother Varkan are the kind to remain idle. So cheer up. Things aren’t as bad as they seem. I dare say everything’s fine the way it is. Things could be much worse…”

Later in the day, they were taken to watch some rites at the sacred pyramid of branches — the place of Artem’s victory over Dorbatay. Now the old soothsayer could celebrate his own triumph! He had shown himself a man of nimble wit and great cunning, using the smallest chance to gain his ends. Nobody could deny him that.

Dorbatay got the upper hand in the struggle with Skolot by poisoning him; before doing so, he very craftily accused the chieftain of sacrilege. But now, with Skolot out of the way, Dorbatay thought it wise to adapt the occasion of mourning to his vile purposes by making a show of great deference to the deceased chieftain. Dorbatay had no intention of robbing Skolot of the ceremonious obsequies due him as chieftain; rather the opposite — all the pomp was designed to impress on the Scythians the idea that Dorbatay loved his late brother dearly, as a brother should. And this love, Dorbatay wanted to imply by all his actions, impelled him to bury Skolot in accordance with the sacred customs. Yes, the gods had punished Skolot, but he had been a great chieftain and had every right to be buried with the appropriate pomp; besides, the spectacle would make the Scythians forget the enmity that had existed between the two brothers: were the funeral rites not to be conducted by the high priest Dorbatay who would surely ask the gods to pardon his wayward brother! And this would, without doubt, give him a firmer grip on the Scythians.

That day, in preparation for the funeral, Dorbatay staged the first act of the burial rites: three slaves were sacrificed. Acording to the sacred tradition, human victims had to be sacrificed in honor of the deceased chieftain — so three slaves, chosen as victims, were ceremoniously killed by the priests. The crowd watched the sacrifice in silence. The strangers stood within the group that made up Hart^k’s entourage. Ivan Semenovich put his arms around Lida who stood with her head buried on his chest, nervous tremors passing through her body from time to time.

The sacrifice made her sick: for at least an hour after they returned to their kibitka, she lay motionless, almost unconscious, without answering the geologist’s questions, hardly seeing or hearing anything. Finally, Ivan Semenovich decided it would be better to let her be for a while, and fell silent.

Time proved a better remedy: in an hour or so Lida regained control of herself. She heaved herself up to a sitting position on the rug, her face still deathly pale, her hands still trembling a little. Ivan Semenovich noted with satisfaction that it was possible to communicate with her again; she began reacting to things around her. But what should he talk about to help her get back to normal?

At that moment, the guards stationed outside the kibitka, raised a loud, fearful cry. Lida raised her head to listen. Then in a moment, her eyes were aglitter with joy:

“It’s Diana!” she exclaimed. “Ivan Semenovich, Diana’s coming!”

A moment later the dog’s menacing harking could be heard approaching fast. Diana must have been quite near as the frantic and frightened shouting of the Scythians increased sharply. The next moment the dog burst into the kibitka, still growling. No one had dared to stop her, just as it had happened earlier!

Diana was at Ivan Semenovich and Lida’s side in a single leap, licking their hands in her joy, jumping and trying to lick them in the face, overflowing as she was with the joy of seeing them again. Laughing, with tears in her eyes, Lida hugged the dog, calling it all the pet names she could think of.

Ivan Semenovich searched behind the dog’s collar as though he knew he would find something there, pulled out the folded piece of paper, looked at it, and archly smiling, handed it to Lida.

“Now, my dear girl, I do believe that what I’m giving you will raise your spirits,” he said. “You don’t even ask what it is, because you have already guessed. Aha, aha, it’s a letter from our Artem, isn’t it? And I’m sure it’s addressed to you personally.”

“Why are you so sure?” the girl said, flushing with embarrassment.

“Why he should have done it is beyond my comprehension,” the geologist said, chuckling. “But let’s not waste time on idle talk. Take it and read it. And after you’ve read it, retell at least the general contents to me, because I want to know how our friends are, too. And if there’s anything personal, you’re free, of course, to skip it.”

Lida went red in the face. Without replying to Ivan Semenovich’s taunting, she began reading the letter bearing evidence of haste in its uneven, nervously jumping lines.

“Very good,” Ivan Semenovich said when she had finished reading. “We must get a message to them as fast as we can. They must be reassured that we’re quite all right for the moment.”