Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 76

Artem looked at him in surprise:

“Why? I don’t follow.”

“I will explain,” Ronis said. “Remember, I once told you that this journey would weaken the forces of Dorbatay and the chiefs? What I have in mind is this: before the journey began, the most important Scythians and their soldiers kept close together, and now, with the fatigue of the journey and the procession stretched out the way it is now, everything is confused — the established order of wagons of the chiefs and their soldiers has broken down. Their wagons are scattered now, which greatly diminishes the effectiveness of their forces. On the other hand, our forces are growing. We aren’t losing time; we’re becoming more unified as more and more men join us. Yes, since the time when our first uprising was put down, we have learnt a lot!”

Ronis, showing an agitation quite out of character, struck the nearby tree with his clenched fist:

“I assure you, the chiefs are in for a much tougher fight this time! The blood of my ill-fated brothers, murdered and tortured to death by Dorbatay, will be avenged! We remember the crimes of the priests and chiefs only too well and we will avenge them!”

Varkan said judiciously:

“Ronis, you’re not being reasonable. You have allowed your vengeful feelings speak for you…”

“I am a man of flesh and blood and I am subject to all human emotions. You seem to forget that, Varkan,” Ronis said tartly.

“Oh yes, I remember it. And I also remember that the desire for vengeance leads to no good. Is it only vengeance that we are seeking, Ronis? No, not only that, and you know it as well as I do. So why do you put vengeance foremost?”

For the first time since they had met, Artem saw Ronis lower his head and admit that he had been wrong. Then he said:

“You are right, my friend. The blood of my slain brothers clouded my eyes…”

Everybody was silent, impressed with the way this firm and intelligent man admitted to having been wrong. After a short silence Varkan spoke again, tactfully changing the subject:

“As a matter of fact there’s one important thing I wanted to draw your attention to. I am not sure you have thought about it.”

“What?” Ronis said, raising his head, his eyes calm again.

“If Dorbatay and the chiefs suspected anything, they wouldn’t be treating the hunters and herdsmen the way they are. For the last few days, Dorbatay has been playing into our hands, turning the hunters and herdsmen against him. I think he has been blinded by his power. He and the chiefs are treating the hunters and herdsmen the way they usually treat the slaves. This is what those who join us, tell us. And there are quite a few newcomers… unfortunately.”

“And what’s so bad about that?” Artem could not help exclaiming.

“It’s bad because Dorbatay may be alerted by the disappearance of men,” Varkan explained. “We’d rather have the old soothsayer remain convinced that he possesses the ultimate power. That’s why I’ve decided not to allow any more men to join our group. It’s already big enough, and I think it would serve our cause better if all those who have grown indignant at the injustices done them by Dorbatay and the chiefs stay where they are. They will be able to influence others and help us from within, so to say, when the right time comes. And that time is drawing near, and very quickly at that.”

Artem was excited to hear Varkan say that the time of the decisive battle was near! A few more days, and the uprising would break out! And then… then all their problems would be solved!

* * *

Varkan’s group kept following the funeral procession. Almost all the young warriors who had once formed the most reliable and strongest part of the troops of the dead chieftain had joined Varkan’s group. Soon after Skolot’s death, these young soldiers had found that Dorbatay and his henchmen would not forgive the retainers of the late Skolot whom they considered — with good reason — to be their enemies.

With Skolot dead, his retinue had lost the support it had enjoyed, and all those who had been in favor with Skolot were regarded with suspicion by Dorbatay. Those who had dropped some disapproving remarks about the priests or haughty chiefs found themselves in a much worse situation — they faced almost certain death.

The merciless and vengeful Dorbatay would remember all their snubs, and his keen, boring eyes seemed to be gazing at the long line of people to be punished or simply put out of the way on the slightest suspicion of disloyalty.

Every day, the old soothsayer solemnly pronounced imprecations against those whom he suspected of disloyalty, and that was the end of them. These people were stripped of all their possessions, no matter how worthless, and at best, they were turned into slaves. No one dared to help those who bore the curse of the gods, since it would immediately bring a curse on the helper.

Seizure of property was only one of the intimidation procedures Dorbatay was employing to keep the people fearful and obedient. He managed to achieve his purpose quite well.

Three young hunters, all of them Varkan’s friends, had already been put to death. These three hunters had, on several occasions, poked fun at the priests; neither had they held the chiefs in high regard. Dorbatay had meted out punishment to them with his characteristic cruelty.

One of them was accused of disrespect for the sacred traditions and ridicule of the priests. He, disarmed and bound, was brought before Hartak. The new chieftain was sitting on a dais richly decorated with red cloth. Dorbatay stood beside him, grim and relentless, wearing the ceremonial vestments of the high priest. The chiefs sat in a circle around the dais. A little further away the Scythians stood in a crowd. They spoke in undertone, casting sympathetic glances at the young hunter who, everybody realized, was doomed. The hunter probably realized this, too, but he stood firm.

Hartak raised his hand, giving the signal for the trial to begin. Then, in his croaking, rasping, dead voice, he asked the young man in the silence that had fallen:

“Do you plead guilty? Do you admit to having violated the sacred laws? Do you admit to having offended the holy priests?”

The hunter raised his head proudly and said boldly:

“No, I do not admit to having done anything wrong. I deny the charges. I have never violated the sacred laws. I have never offended the holy priests. I only stood up for an orphan girl who was wronged by a priest. He took away all her cattle, depriving her of all means of livelihood. She would have died of hunger. The priest said he was doing it in obedience to the will of the gods. But could just gods really have ordered this? The priest slaughtered the horse he took from the girl, for food. After doing that, can he be called a ‘holy’ priest? So, I gave him a piece of my mind, that’s all. How can that be considered an offense and violation of the sacred laws?”

He said this, looking Dorbatay straight in the eye. The crowd burst into a loud murmur, as quite a few people knew that everything he had said was true. Hartak was somewhat at a loss as to what to do next. Not so Dorbatay — the soothsayer knew perfectly well what to do! Raising his hand threateningly, he said in a loud, brazen voice:

“The priest did what the gods willed, otherwise the gods would have punished him! And they have not! And you, recreant, are being tried! You have offended a priest — a holy priest! — and thus provoked the ire of the just but severe gods whose will the priest obeyed. Be quiet! I will not have your arguments now! We will ask the great gods and they will tell us the whole truth. And we will do with you as the gods will advise us. Call the diviners! Let them consult the gods!”

Three priests, who in fact, looked very feminine, approached the dais with thick bundles of rods in their hands. They put the bundles on the ground, sank to their knees, raised their hands in the air, and began to sing a hymn in rasping voices. The priests asked the gods to hear their prayers and reply. The hunter stood waiting quietly. Everyone else waited eagerly for the sign from the gods.

When they finished praying, the priests spread the rods in front of them, bent low over them, and looked for patterns, murmuring sacred words. The crowd stood in glum silence. The artless hunter shrugged his shoulders as if to say: what could these rods reveal when all the people know that the priests robbed the girl?

The diviners straightened up at last. The elder diviner got to his feet, took a step forward and said:

“o great and wise chieftain, Hartak! o wise and holy servant of the gods, Dorbatay! The gods have made their reply. They have told us what it is to be done, and everyone of us has received the same answer. We have heard their thunderous voices. This man is guilty! He has insulted a priest and offended the gods. The gods are wrathful! This man has violated our sacred laws, and not for the first time!”

The hunter paled at the new accusation: he knew he would be sentenced to death. But when Dorbatay asked him again whether he pleaded guilty, the hunter said firmly, with great courage:

“No! I have done nothing wrong! These priests are lying! The gods could not have said anything of the kind, because they know I am innocent!”

“Bring other diviners here!” Dorbatay said calmly. “We shall do everything in compliance with our sacred laws!”

The number of diviners was now six — double what it was the first time. This was what the sacred traditions required if the accused refused to accept the verdict of the first three diviners.