Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 74

Hartak stood looking quite at a loss, shifting his gaze from Lida to Ivan Semenovich and then back to Lida. He did not know what to do, whether to use force or wait a bit. In the meantime Lida had regained control of herself and was ready to recite the text, their last hope. She should have thought of it on her own! Artem had written that the text was to be used for exactly such an occasion! Now it was her turn!

Pulling herself together, and taking a deep breath, the young woman stepped forward and looked Hartak straight in the face. Hartak immediately lowered his eyes: he seemed unable to sustain anybody’s direct gaze. Lida heaved a sigh and began. It is extremely difficult to recite something when you don’t understand the individual words but know only the general content! Yet she tried to put as much dignity into what she was saying as she could — both Artem and Ivan Semenovich had advised it.

In fact, it was not only Lida who was ignorant of the meaning of the words in the text — Artem was just as hazy as to what the individual words meant, having transcribed the Greek sounds from Ronis’s dictation. The contents were as follows:

Hartak! I come from a tribe different from your people. We have laws and customs different from yours. According to our laws, the chieftain cannot marry a girl before he has performed a feat of valor in combat, but he must not engage in combat before the deceased chieftain had been buried. I have agreed to become your wife. But our wedding can take place only after you have done what the laws of my people require. Otherwise the gods, my gods, will severely punish both you and me! Now I beg of you to leave and return only after you have done everything to comply with the law!

That was what Lida told Hartak. She was not even sure whether what she pronounced was not garbled beyond comprehension — first in Artem’s transcription and then in her utterance — but she pushed on, mouthing the Greek words with so much stateliness that she surprised herself. It gave her a new impetus and she finished her piece in a loud and solemn voice. As the translation proceeded she saw, first, that what she had said made sense, and, second, that Hartak was taken aback. He had never expected anything of the kind!

Ronis’s plan seemed to be working! Suspecting that Hartak could get Dorbatay to consent to the marriage before the journey was over, Ronis had suggested this little ruse to delay the wedding; the trick was also to give the impression that it was really something that had to be done in accordance with the laws of the people the girl belonged to, not a refusal.

Lida had managed to regain almost complete self-control seeing the effect her words were having. Hartak was definitely discomfitted — and that was a gain already!

Had it been a resolute and bold person in place of Hartak, Ronis’s plan would have fallen through, but Hartak was a milksop, so Ronis’s plan worked. Hartak had evidently been scared by the girl’s mentioning the wrath of some foreign gods. What if they really did punish him if he violated the laws of the people to which these outlanders belonged? Hartak looked around, seeking support, but his companions lowered their eyes; they had not approved of the young chieftain’s marriage taking place before the end of the journey in the first place; in spite of Dorbatay’s consent, they felt the sacred laws were being violated.

A murmur rose among those who stayed outside after they heard the translation of what Lida said. If it was a murmur of approval, it was not at all bad!

Hartak realized that the nobles were not on his side. He turned abruptly and left briskly, saying something which sounded like an order: there was ill-disguised fury in his voice. He was helped onto his horse and in a moment, he was gone. The other Scythians who had come with Hartak also left without saying a single word or casting a glance at the girl or the other stranger who was sitting motionlessly in the corner, staring.

It grew quiet. Lida glanced at Ivan Semenovich: what did he think of her performance? But she did not have to ask as his reaction was manifested all too clearly. The geologist sprang to his feet, rushed to the girl, embraced and kissed her.

“It was just great, my dear girl, excellent!” he cried out, overflowing with emotion. “See the results? Terrific! Lida, you’ve proved your mettle! I’m proud of you!”

This time, Lida, emotionally drained, did not refuse to eat the horse meat, forgetting her disgust toward it. But instead of relaxation, the afternoon brought new tensions.

Every day, Dorbatay staged pompous rites with human sacrifices, and every day he increased the number of victims to increase the Scythians’ fear of the gods and of him, the high priest of the vengeful gods and the mouthpiece of their will. Dorbatay, in all probability, also wanted to awe the captives: they had already been taken to watch the rites twice. This afternoon, there was no need to take them out of their wagon as the rites were to be performed in the center of the semicircle formed by all the wagons.

Though Ivan Semenovich kept the felt cover tightly closed and Lida clasped her hands over her ears, it was impossible to get away from the horrible sounds that filled the air.

The girl had been ennervated enough by her encounter with Hartak even before the rites began, and now she was heading toward nervous collapse. At first, she just trembled when the priests opened the ceremony with the doleful- sounding prayers. But then, after the terrible sacrifices began, Lida broke down in a flood of tears. No matter how hard she pressed her palms over her ears she still could hear the heart-rending sounds coming from outside.

Ivan Semenovich was nervous, too. At first, he hoped Lida would manage to get control of her emotions, as it was not the first time that Lida had burst into tears, and on all the previous occasions, she had been able to regain self-control. He sat silently in his corner not even daring to look in her direction so she wouldn’t think he was watching her. But gradually Lida’s uncontrollable sobbing began to turn into full-fledged hysteria. Ivan Semenovich was at a loss as to what he should do to calm the girl.

Lida went on crying bitterly, her head buried in the cushion. Her shoulders heaved; her face and the cushion were wet with tears. Then she began trembling all over and almost shouted through her flood of tears:

“I can’t stand it any more! I can’t! I can’t! It’s horrible! Nowhere to hide! Hateful murderers! Oh, I can’t stand it! I can’t!”

“Just don’t think about it, Lida,” the geologist said dejectedly. “You’re much too wrought-up. Wrap yourself up in a rug, and try to sleep. That’s the only thing we can do now.”

“You’re making fun of me! Sleep? There are people being tortured… and you are… so merciless… so indifferent… I can’t stand it!”

Her shouting grew louder, mingling with the shouts from outside, with the wailing and death cries of the victims, with the beating of tambourines, and the piercing whistling of the bone fifes — such a terrifying, unnerving din that it could quite literally drive anyone mad.

“Stop it, Lida! You must control yourself, really! We’re powerless to do anything!”

The geologist tried to make his words sound reasonable and convincing, but it did not help: Lida went on hysterically weeping.

All of a sudden the beat of the tambourines grew louder — it seemed that their number had increased twofold; at the same time the high-pitched wailing of the fifes also grew in intensity.

“Oh, how horrible! I can’t stand it! I can’t!”

“Stop it, Lida, stop!”

“No, I can’t, I can’t! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

She raised her head, her glassy eyes staring into nothingness.

“My heart’s breaking. I’ll go out there and stop it. You hear? We have no right to stand aside… No, don’t you touch me! Don’t you stop me!”

As she said it, she sprang to her feet, ready to rush out. The geologist only just managed to intercept her, and had to use force to make her sit down on the rug again. Things were beginning to look really grim.

After a short silence, the geologist began speaking in a very loud, imperative, steeled voice, a voice Lida had never heard the tolerant, genial and reserved geologist use before!

“Gut it out! You hear, stop this immediately! You can’t help these people, and neither can I! We’ll just ruin our chances of rescue. Shut up! Enough of your hysterics! You hear? Stop it or I’ll…”

He firmly grabbed Lida by the shoulder, making her grimace with pain! His other hand flew into the air — clenched in a fist! She winced in his grasp — she had never seen him in such a fury! His jaw set tight, his eyes under the frowning brows flashing! Deep wrinkles furrowing the cheek with moving knots of muscle! The hand poised in the air, ready to strike!

“Oh, Ivan Semenovich, don’t! You scare me… I…”

“Shut up!”

Biting her lips to draw blood, Lida cowered, silenced. She was so badly frightened she could not have uttered a single sound, even if she wanted to: she just swallowed sobs and shuddered from time to time; tears kept pouring from her eyes — she could not keep them back, hard as she tried.

She could still hear the frenzied shouts of the priests and heart-rending wails mingled with the beat of the tambourines and shrieking of the fifes. It seemed she was seeing the face of Ivan Semenovich, twisted with fury, looming above her. She could not get rid of the image of this face and the clenched fist raised high. She had never felt such dejection, loneliness, and hurt.