Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 73

The procession pushed on and on, always in near-perfect order, the self-assured Dorbatay in his scarlet cloak and helmet-like headgear preserving his solemn and dignified appearance.

The innumerable gold decorations sewn onto his cloak and headdress jungled every time the wagon he was riding in, heaved over bumps and holes. Dorbatay’s eyes were fixed on some invisible spot beyond the gray horizon; he seemed completely submerged in prayers for his beloved brother, the dead chieftain, not hearing or seeing anyone around. The simple-hearted Scythians, taken in by this performance, glanced at him with great respect.

Hartak also tried to preserve a solemn and dignified appearance, sitting straight on his horse, putting his hand on his hip in a carefree fashion, looking around, his eyes shifting, searching for a mocking glance, as he knew well that he did not command much respect with the warriors. In a short time, his head would bend under the weight of the big golden helmet. His hands nervously picked at the reins. Hartak looked very unsure of his equestrian abilities, and it was an effort for him to keep from tumbling off his horse.

“What a freak!” Lida could not help exclaiming as she caught sight of him.

Hartak must have heard her voice in spite of the considerable distance separating them. He looked back quickly, fixing his eyes on her. Lida froze in fear for a moment, but then she realized the freak could not have understood her anyway. In fact, Hartak smiled, evidently trying to make his smile a sweet one. It even seemed to Lida that Hartak had the impudence to wink at her! That was too much to bear, and she turned away quickly.

She dared to raise her eyes only after the bier had passed, followed by the rasping wagon in which the chieftain’s widow was riding. Only after Hartak’s wagons passed did the one carrying the captive strangers move on. Their wagon was followed by those with the slaves, servants and wives of the new chieftain.

Ivan Semenovich, taking a look around him, said:

“Do you see that big wagon over there, my dear girl? The one with the women in tall headdresses shooting glances at you. I’m sure, they’re Hartak’s wives, and they seem eager to have a look at the new bride who’s captured their husband’s heart…”

“Oh, you shouldn’t say that, Ivan Semenovich!” Lida said, much annoyed. “You know perfectly well how hateful the very thought of that is to me…”

But the geologist continued, unabashed:

“Believe me, Lida, I wish I didn’t have to mention it, but… I think it’s better to keep it in mind all the time so you’ll stay on the alert and not be taken unawares. I admit I drew your attention to that wagon on purpose to remind you… to behave properly. I want to caution you against irresponsible conduct.”

“Have I done something wrong?..”

“Well, yes, you have. You forget that it is in our vital interests to keep Hartak and Dorbatay assured that you have given your consent to marry the young chieftain. And don’t make such a wry face! We have no option here! It would be even better if you could make them believe that you desire it! Remember what happened just a few minutes ago! Hartak smiled at you, and what did you do in return? Anyone observing your disgusted reaction would understand something was wrong! You’re lucky that Hartak, overwhelmed as he seems to be with… errr… feelings toward you, did not notice your grimace. Don’t do anything else like that, Lida! You’re endangering our chances of being rescued!”

What could Lida reply to all that? She could only promise she would watch her step very carefully in the future.

…It was already the fourth day of the journey. For the fourth consecutive day the wagons had been moving toward the mysterious country of Gerrhus. Her letters to Artem, and his replies were the only things that alleviated the tedium. The messages from Artem were also evidence that their fate was the main concern of their friends. Lida had done what Artem had asked — a rather unexpected and mystifying thing — in one of his letters: to learn by heart a text of considerable length in Greek Artem had transcribed, listening to what Ronis slowly and distinctly told him. Lida knew the general content of the text but not the meaning of the words she had had to memorize. This text was later to play a significant, it not decisive role in her life.

The procession stopped for lunch; cauldrons were set up over the campfires. The air was again permeated with the sweetish smell of horse meat being boiled; not only Lida but even Ivan Semenovich, a man of great tolerance, had developed an aversion toward the meat. But there was nothing else to eat. Truth to tell, Lida ate it only when Ivan Semenovich insisted. This morning the girl had felt she couldn’t force herself to swallow even the tiniest piece.

“It makes me sick just to look at it, Ivan Semenovich! I’d better just have some milk!”

“No, that won’t do, Lida. If the sight of it makes you sick, don’t look at it. Just close your eyes and swallow.”

“I can’t! I can’t put it in my mouth even with my eyes closed. It smells of horse sweat.”

“Then hold your nose and eat it.”

“It has such a pungent taste that…”

“Then put your tongue out of the way, and swallow it whole. I’m not joking, Lida. I’m quite serious. I insist that you eat. We must eat this meat to keep strong. You must realize clearly that a day will come when we’ll need all our strength and deftness. We must prepare ourselves for it. And I’m not taking any of your remonstrations, my dear girl. You’d better think of what Artem would say if he saw you refusing food and condemning yourself to feebleness?” Lida stopped resisting and began eating, color mounting in her cheeks. Well, if she must, she must…

Presently, some animated voices could be heard approaching their wagon. Was it a message from Artem being brought by the slaves? This thought even reconciled Lida somewhat to the loathsome boiled horse meat she was trying to swallow and keep down. She peeped out, and what she saw gave her the shock of her life: Hartak and the three nobles who always accompanied him as part of the young chieftain’s entourage, were standing right by the wagon. Two slaves were putting a pair of steps covered with a red rug up to the wagon for the chieftain to ascend with all appropriate dignity and solemnity. And Hartak looked more dignified than he ever had before.

“Ivan Semenovich, Hartak’s on his way here!” Lida said in a frightened whisper. “By the looks of him, something important is on his mind!”

“Please remember, Lida,” the geologist replied with a frown, “control yourself! The main thing is to control yourself!”

“What about the text Artem’s passed on to me?”

“Oh, yes, I think the time to use it has come!”

Saying this, Ivan Semenovich moved into the corner and watched the felt cover rise and the stoop-shouldered Hartak, accompanied by the nobles, make his entrance, smile to the girl and even bow to her awkwardly — all to show how favorably he was disposed to her.

Lida leaned back to support herself against the side of the wagon and waited to see what would happen next.

Hartak began speaking, his rasping voice sounding especially irritating now. But he must have been saying something he thought should be welcomed as the most exciting news because he smiled a couple of times, baring his sharp, carnivorous teeth. He tried to make his voice sound gentle, evidently — judging from his gestures — inviting the girl to go with him.

When he finished speaking, making an expansive gesture, as if showing Lida the way, and as the translation of his address into the Greek language began, Lida suddenly realized that Hartak had come because Dorbatay had given his consent for the wedding to be held before the end of the journey and before the burial of Skolot! There could be no other reason for him to come to her with his entourage but to take her away and make her his wife! Lida was numbed with the unspeakable horror of the situation.

Hartak kept his hand extended to the exit while his words were being translated; his smile was still glued to his face. Lida could neither say anything nor make a slightest move; she was petrified. Her legs and arms felt like dead weights; blood drained from her face. Then Hartak made a step toward her, took hold of her shoulder — seemingly oblivious to the state she was in — and gently pushed her toward the exit opening in the felt cover. Lida, quite forgetting of the geologist’s stern warnings, jerked her shoulder away from the Scythian’s grasp, and cried out:

“Never, never!”

Panting hard, she looked around, her eyes wild with fear. She had to do something, but what? Then she caught the expressive gaze of Ivan Semenovich, staring at her from the corner. Hartak was taken aback by her violent reaction. Ivan Semenovich began speaking, very distinctly, spacing his words carefully, and sounding very persuasive:

“Lida, my dear girl, try to control yourself. Calm down, think! You’re ruining our chances! Lida!”

Little by little, Lida began regaining control of herself. Yes, there was something she could do, and Ivan Semenovich knew what, and he would tell her, he would save her.

“Tell me what to do, Ivan Semenovich, please,” she said feeling very faint.

“He wants you to go with him, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, what else?”

“It means he’s gotten Dorbatay’s consent for the marriage… Oh, stop it, Lida,” the geologist added hastily seeing the girl go rigid again at the mention of ‘marriage.’ “You remember the text Artem’s sent you? Go ahead, and recite it, look serious, thoughtful, and convincing while you’re doing it! Control yourself! Good. Now begin, but remember you must neither look nor sound hostile. Begin!”