Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 71

“I understand it is not very complicated,” Ronis said.

“So you know something about it? Do tell me about it, Ronis! And in as much detail as possible, please! It is of great interest to me!” the archeologist said with such passion that the Greek smiled, knowing that his smile could not be seen in the dark.

“All right, I will tell you what I know, but I don’t know much,” Ronis said. “I am not a priest, you know… The priests rub the body with wax, make an incision in the abdomen and take out all the entrails. Then they put in chopped herbs, frankincense, anise… and something else. They sew the abdomen up again, and put the corpse on a bier. That’s about all I know.”

“That’s all? Oh, I wish you knew more,” Dmitro Borisovich exclaimed, sounding very disappointed.

“Yes, that is all. I do not know anything else as far as this matter is concerned… Now, that the body is embalmed, the Scythians can start on their journey.”

“Nothing else to detain them?”

“No, I din’t think there is anything to delay them. Most of the kibitkas and wagons have already been prepared for the journey. In fact, Dorbatay is rather in a hurry.”

“Why should he be?” Artem asked.

“Because, according to law, Hartak can become a full- fledged chieftain only after the burial of his predecessor. There is a belief that while Skolot’s soul is in the camp, no one else can be considered chieftain. Dorbatay, no doubt, wants to secure his victory by getting Hartak to assume full rights as chieftain. Besides, Hartak too would like to dispose of the body as soon as possible, for its continuing presence is a constant reminder of his participation in the murder of his father.”

“Are there any other reasons for them to be in a hurry?” Artem asked, secretly entertaining a hope that there were not.

Ronis shot a quick glance at him.

“Well, yes, there is another reason for them to be in a hurry. Hartak, as you already know, wants very much to marry your girl…”

“Oh, damn him!” Artem could not help exclaiming.

“One way or another, he would not mind committing another crime if it would help to speed things up. At the moment, he cannot marry the girl — the same law forbids marriage before the deceased chieftain is buried… But there is one thing that cannot be overlooked. Here, it is Dorbatay who is free to establish and abolish laws. He is the one who interprets the commandments of the gods, and who knows what they will tell him next. What if they allow Hartak to marry without waiting until after the burial? It is not impossible.”

“In that case, we must do something immediately to set Lida free… and Ivan Semenovich too, of course. That’s what I’ve urged the whole time!”

Ronis, sensing the urgency in Artem’s voice, glanced at him, waiting for the translation from Dmitro Borisovich.

“Yes, we must give it some very serious consideration,” Ronis said after a pause. “If Dorbatay gives his consent, the marriage can take place even during the funeral journey. The slaves who serve Hartak told me there was nothing on his mind but this marriage. And — I am sorry to say it but I must — it seems to me that Hartak… will manage to receive via Dorbatay the permission of the gods to go ahead with his marriage. Both Dorbatay and Hartak are vitally interested in keeping their relations friendly. So this marriage is a possibility… I felt I should warn you!” Dmitro Borisovich must have been loath to translate this to Artem: he made frequent stops and pauses — which was quite unusual for him — as though choosing the right words with difficulty. As he finished he burst out in indignation: “It’s preposterous! What if Dorbatay really does give his consent for Hartak to take Lida in marriage before the burial? What then? We can’t allow…”

He cut himself short. “Can’t allow it to happen…” But did they have any means of stopping the marriage?

Artem was silent. Wild thoughts raced through his head. Lida was in the hands of Dorbatay and Hartak, two scoundrels who would not stop at anything in trying to achieve their ends, no matter how foul and sinful. What could Artem and Dmitro Borisovich really do to thwart the malefactors’ evil schemes? Could Artem and the archeologist do anything at all? They themselves had to hide in the woods to avoid being seized and murdered by Dorbatay’s men! They had to attempt to get Lida away from there, but was this kidnapping possible? Ronis had said that the captives were kept under a very heavy guard. Lida, in her message, also wrote of vigilant watch being kept at their kibitka round the clock.

They could launch a desperate attack at night. But would Varkan and his friends wish to take part in such a doomed venture? What chance would they have against the multitude of the armed priests and Dorbatay’s soldiers, no matter how dauntlessly courageous the attackers were? Plus, there was another thing, the most important of all.

Ronis said it was safer for Dorbatay to have the strangers dead rather than have them alive and loose. That meant the old buzzard had surely given an order that the captives be killed if they attempted to escape! He could not have failed to foresee the possibility of Artem and Dmitro Borisovich making such an attempt. The thought made Artem shudder. No, they could not risk Lida’s life by an action that had so little chance of succeeding! If it were a question of his own life, he would not have hesitated. But Lida and Ivan Semenovich were helpless — completely at the mercy of the enemy.

This train of thought led Artem to melancholy and depressing conclusions. There seemed to be no solution…

Ronis, riding close, could not help noticing the gloom into which the strangers had been cast. He said to Dmitro Borisovich:

“I understand Hartak’s intentions to marry this girl is a cause of concern for you. And you are afraid Dorbatay will give his consent for Hartak to marry?”

“You have put your finger on it, Ronis,” the archeologist replied sullenly. “What makes it especially hard is that we are powerless to do anything to stop it. What can we really do? Nothing that could be of any help… And this thought makes us…”

Ronis cut him short, his voice sounding confidential and convincing:*

“I understand. Now listen to what I am going to say. I’ve got an idea. It seems to me there is a way to help your friends, the girl in particular. Even if Dorbatay gives his consent, there is still a chance of thwarting Hartak’s intentions, or, at least delaying the marriage for some time which will allow us to get ready for our final move. By that time we should have enough forces to…”

Leaning over, still closer to Dmitro Borisovich, the Greek continued to expound his new ideas in a barely audible whisper.

CHAPTER FOUR

Artem discovers some peculiarities in the path the Scythians have taken, and Lida receives messages from Artem; she finds herself being proposed to and uses the ruse suggested in one of Artem’s messages to delay the marriage; she eventually breaks down and Ivan Semenovich has a hard time trying to get her out of her slump; the geologist plunges into reverie and then talks of beautiful clouds, and another letter arrives in which Artem mentions some “personal affairs”.

The heavily loaded wagons swayed and creaked as they lumbered along, their wheels rolling in the ruts left in the soft earth by the wagons that had already passed. The line seemed endless, stretching as far as the eye could see. It took six or even eight horses to pull each wagon. But the load was so heavy that even the sturdy Scythian horses had to stop on the inclines to rest. The Scythians mercilessly whipped the snorting horses, covered with lather. Sometimes the horses managed to pull the wagons up the hills, and sometimes they had to be helped. Groups of exhausted, sweating slaves ran from wagon to wagon, pushing at the wheels, breathing heavily. The whips flashed through* the air falling on the horses’ backs and occasionally scourging the naked flesh of those slaves who were not too zealous at their toil.

The Scythians had been on the move for three days now. No one, except Dorbatay and a handful of priests, knew the way, the secret of which they carefully kept to themselves, giving directions only for the next leg of the journey. What the Scythians were allowed to know was that their destina- lion was the sacred land of Gerrhus and that it was the gods themselves who gave instructions as to how to get there, and then only to the high priest, Dorbatay, who rode in his big wagon, wrapped in his ceremonial scarlet cloak. He was silent and grim as he listened to the gods and told the men the directions to Gerrhus where the lavish funeral of Skolot was to take place. Woe to anyone who bothered Dorbatay or disobeyed his orders which came directly from the gods! No one could save the miscreant from being immediately destroyed by the wrath of the gods, which would strike them down via the weapons of the priests who unswervingly fulfilled the will of the gods voiced by the lips of the merciless Dorbatay.

The Scythians were on the move.

They stopped only for lunch and for the night, cooking their modest meals over camp fires. Horse flesh was boiled with spices in huge bronze cauldrons. The sweetish smell of cooking food hung in the still air, making the mouths of the Scythians water. After the evening meal was over, the Scythians quickly fell into a deep sleep; only those who kept watch moved about the camp, every so often checking on the vigilance — as they were ordered to do by Dorbatay — of the special guard mounted around several wagons and kibitkas in the center of the camp. There, in the center was the profusely decorated bier with the body of Skolot, the wagons with all Dorbatay’s treasures, and the kibitka with the captive outlanders, next to the bier.