Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 68

“And there’s nothing ‘personal’ as you’ve put it, in this letter,” Lida said.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, my dear girl,” Ivan Semenovich said matter-of-factly. “If there’s nothing in this message, there will be in the next one… But let’s get down to business. Take my notebook — here it is, and write, describing everything that’s happened to us since we got separated. There’s enough paper to give all the details, so don’t be stingy.”

Lida did not have to be encouraged in her task. A moment later, she was bent over the pad, filling the pages with her miniscule handwriting, describing everything in great detail. She had managed to squeeze quite a lot indeed into her long message, a little erratic, true, but filled implicitly with tender feelings. The letter ended thus:

I had to pause in writing this letter because, quite unexpectedly, we were visited — who do you think? — by Hartak himself; there were several slave girls with him. Hartak tries his best to look dignified in Skolot’s gold helmet, but he looks as hideous as before. The slaves brought in gold jewelry, beautiful rugs, bowls and richly adorned Scythian garments and put them in front of me. The slaves left, and Hartak pointed to all these things as if to say: this is all for you. Just imagine — that rascal giving me presents!

I was about to give him a piece of my mind, when Ivan Semenovich stopped me, saying peremptorily: ‘Make a show of acceptance, Lida! Make believe that the things spread before you give you joy, that they’re a marvelous sight, that you’re excited to receive such magnificent gifts!’

I did what Ivan Semenovich told me to the best I could. Hartak as he was leaving seemed to be well pleased. Was that abominable! He regards me now as his future wife! The loathsome murderer, parricide, believes I have given my consent to become his wife!

But Ivan Semenovich says that everything is going — the way he sees it — according to plan. He said after Hartak was gone: The firmer is Hartak’s belief that you’ve agreed to be his wife, the less dangerous the situation will be for us. The most important thing for us now is to wait it out, and delay by all available means any decisive actions on their part. In the meantime, Artem and Varkan are sure to come up with something.’

And he is right, isn’t he? You’ll think of some way to set us free, won’t you?

Now, as far as Gerrhus is concerned, I think I heard this word several times when the priests were talking among themselves, but, naturally, before I read your letter I didn’t have the slightest idea what it meant. From what we can tell, the Scythians are going to start on this trip you mentioned soon.

Now that we’ve learnt of the forthcoming uprising you can’t imagine how eager Ivan Semenovich and I are to take part in it, to be free. So, Ivan Semenovich asks you to describe everything that concerns the uprising in great detail, without omitting anything. He says he must analyze the situation and even the smallest details could be of importance. As far as I am concerned, the most important thing for me is to be free! Artem, please help us!

That seems to be all for the moment. Artem, my dearest, do something quick to free us! Don’t procrastinate! I’m in a terrible depression, and there’s no one except you who can help us get us out of here! Lida.

Artem fell silent after he finished reading the letter. Dmitro Borisovich did not say anything either. Lida’s message clarified a number of things. Hartak definitely regarded Lida as his future wife, giving her expensive presents. Dorbatay, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about the captives’ existence for the time being, as he had plenty to keep him busy. Ronis was correct in his estimation of the situation. Dorbatay was not likely to harm the captives for the time being. And Ivan Semenovich had adopted the correct policy: to agree to everything the Scythians wanted them to do. That was all well and good, but what if Hartak wanted to have his wedding before anything could be done to stop it?

This thought made the blood rush to Artem’s head. Hartak! That revolting creature regarded Lida as his rightful property! And the girl was quite defenseless in the hands of those rogues… Ivan Semenovich would not be able to help either — an unarmed prisoner, he needed help himself… Only a decisive battle could resolve this situation, but when would it come, this decisive battle?

There were many Scythians — their number had grown considerably in the last few hours — sitting under the thick trees at the edge of the glade a short distance away from Artem and Dmitro Borisovich. Varkan’s friends kept joining him here in the forest, all of them united by their strong opposition to Dorbatay; all of them had reason to fear his vengefulness. The Scythians were fondling their horses’ harness, singing a gentle song. They were waiting for Varkan who had gone somewhere. Diana was lying at Artem’s feet, occasionally raising her sad eyes as though trying to be sympathetic with his gloomy thoughts and mood. It was very quiet in the forest; only the fire crackled, and carefree birds chirped in the trees.

Artem stared silently into the flames, his fingers breaking a twig he had absentmindedly picked up from the ground. I wish, he thought, that I had here as many reliable friends as the number of little pieces this twig could be broken into!

He raised his head suddenly, listening: the muffled clatter of hooves came from the distance. The Scythians who had been peacefully resting under the trees sprang to their feet. The clatter of hooves, muffled by the soft, spongy ground of the forest floor, was approaching fast. In a few seconds, Varkan, riding a big black stallion that was breathing hard, appeared in the glade. Several young Scythian warriors, armed with bows, swords and spears followed him. In tow were a dozen horses, laden with weapons.

Even before Varkan had time to dismount, Artem shouted from joy:

“Our bags! He’s brought our bags, Dmitro Borisovich!”

In fact, there were two knapsacks on his shoulders. The Scythian had done what he had been asked to do: he had managed to retrieve the bags and brought them to his friends.

“Wasn’t Varkan fast in finding the bags?” Artem said, collecting the precious knapsacks from Varkan. “Isn’t it great! Well done, Varkan! Dmitro Borisovich, ask him, please, how he managed to do it so quickly?”

“Oh, it was very simple,” he said in reply to the archeologist’s question. “As they had been left in the kibitka of the deceased Skolot, I thought nobody would touch them and, in fact, nobody did. I asked some of my boys to look. They did, found the bags and stealthily brought them back to me. But they did not feel like staying in the camp as their relations with Dorbatay were not very good. He knew they were my friends and was not likely to forget it. So, I invited them to join us here. They did. They are skilled warriors and will be of great use to us. And on our way here, we picked out several horses from Dorbatay’s herd, just in case, you know. They are fine horses and we will surely put them to good use. And we also brought a few weapons. They will surely be of good use as well.”

“Great, it’s just great,” Artem murmured to himself, going through the contents of the knapsacks. “Now, there’s the lamp, oh — cans of food… we don’t need these, that’s for sure, there’s food galore. Good, and what’s this? Aha, that’s the primers and safety fuse. Excellent! But where are the dynamite charges? They were in the bags… I remember putting them there very well… at least into mine, for sure… So why aren’t they here in the bag where they’re supposed to be?”

Then he stopped rummaging through the knapsacks, hitting himself with the flat of his hand on the forehead. “Of course! Damn it! Damn it! What the hell did I do that for? Damn it all!”

“What’s the matter, Artem? Have you discovered something terrible?” the archeologist said.

“Ah, no,” Artem said, very much annoyed. “You might say I haven’t ‘discovered’ what I very much hoped I would — the dynamite charges. One of the bags is Lida’s, and there were no charges in it. The other is mine, and the charges were in it, but…”

“But they’re not there now, are they?”

“No, they aren’t. The fact of the matter is that I took them out myself! Just before we went to confront Dorbatay at that pile of faggots, the altar, remember? I took a couple of primers, removed the charges from my bag, and put them into Ivan Semenovich’s, as he told me to do, for reasons of safety, I believe… So, all the charges are now in his knapsack.”

“That’s too bad.”

Artem shook his head.

“Oh yes, too bad. It was our bad luck when Varkan picked these two bags instead of the other two… Incidentally, could you ask him, please, what happened to the other two bags?”

Varkan shrugged his shoulders: Varkan’s friends had discovered only two bags in Skolot’s kibitka, so it was not a matter of choosing; they picked up the two bags and brought them to Varkan; he did not have the slightest idea where the other two could be.

“Isn’t that unfortunate?” Artem said gloomily. “I was pinning so much hope on these charges… they were our only weapons, since we’re not too handy with all those battle axes, swords, and spears, are we? We’ve never been trained to use them, have we? And I don’t know where we can start looking for the other two bags.”