Volodimir Vladko - Descendants of the Scythians

“Light the way for me, Artem, give me some light!”

The yellowish envelopes, filled with the dust that had been collected in the cave, were abandoned. Dmitro Bori- sovicli, carrying the chest, stepped on one of them. The heavy trample tore the envelope and scattered the dust. But the archeologist paid no heed, for all his attention was concentrated on the bronze chest. Artem, who noticed all this, smiled to himself. In spite of the great solemnity of the moment, he couldn’t help launching another taunt. As soon as they got through the hole, he looked at the archeologist who was moving majestically, holding the chest in his arms as though it were an object of the greatest value on earth. The elder man was coughing to indicate the significance of the event, and his younger colleague said in a solemn voice, making considerable effort not to burst into laughter:

“I am grieved to inform you, Dmitro Borisovich, that unfortunately you’ll never make a true archeologist…”

“What’s that?”

“I said you’d never make a true archeologist, Dmitro Borisovich. You’re the kind of a person who is interested only in valuable finds. Chests, for example, or something else of that sort…”

“Oh, come off it! What is it you’re driving at?”

“You see, Dmitro Borisovich, archeology is a comprehensive science. It deals with not only occasional finds of artifacts, no matter how valuable, but with what you might call ‘trifles.’ Rather it deals mostly with the tiniest details. It is they, these details, when systematized, that are of greatest value to archeology. Archeology looks for such details everywhere. It examines, studies and systematizes them. It can draw most helpful conclusions from the analysis of, say, dust. True archeologists never discard the collected,samples, much less trample them mercilessly under foot, because they are never overwhelmed by individual finds, no matter how fascinating. That’s something truly dedicated archeologists never do… By the way, Dmitro Borisovich, don’t get too worked up. My ear is out of your reach now, so you’ll have some problems trying to grab it. Besides your Jiands are nicely occupied with the chest, this individual artifact…”

“How dare you! What impertinence!”

“Maybe I’m being cheeky, yes. But I’ll continue since I believe I’ll be able to make some things clear to you. As I’ve said archeology studies even what seems to be the most insignificant things and it is unthinkable for a dedicated archeologist to cast them on the ground and trample them disdainfully… like some archeologists I happen to know personally… Isn’t it so, Dmitro Borisovich, or am I mistaken?”

The archeologist’s reply was, to Artem’s great surprise, unexpectedly mild and placatory:

“You’re after your revenge, my friend? You want to get under my skin, you want to be witty at my expense, eh? My dear boy, you’re free to do as you like. But I have to tell you frankly that at the moment, I really don’t care. I’ll tell you one thing. When you yourself will become an experienced geologist… or maybe an archeologist, who knows?… then you’ll understand that there are moments when even a reserved scholar, burdened with age, knowledge and experience, turns into an over-enthusiastic boy all of a sudden. And when you have understood it, you’ll remember your taunts — and feel ashamed of them. All right, let’s forget about it. Light the way, Artem, I’m in mortal fear of stumbling and somehow damaging our find.”

“Yes, sir.”

Artem did not crack any more jokes. Even now, though he was still a long way from becoming a real scholar, he understood that the “moments” Dmitro Borisovich had been speaking about so earnestly, did in fact occur. If he, Artem, was so excited himself, then what a great effect this remarkable find must have had on the accomplished scholar who realized only too well the importance of this extraordinary discovery!

They were on their way out. The tall archeologist was walking in front of Artem, carefully watching his step, carrying in both hands the mysterious bronze chest that had been lying hidden for many centuries with its secret contents. Dmitro Borisovich said there could be jewels inside or anything else imaginable. Artem was itching to know what in fact it contained. What treasure, what unexpected things did this small chest with half-effaced embossing on the lid contain?

Artem was extremely anxious to get back to the others and show it to them and open it! The romantic youth was already seeing with his mind’s eye the exotic things that they’d be sure to find in the chest. There surely must be something especially precious in it — otherwise why should it have been hidden so thoroughly by the ancient Scythians?…What if it was the… the gold crown of a Scythian chieftain? This thought sent Artem’s heart racing madly. A gold crown!

But did Scythian chieftains wear gold crowns? What a pity he knew so little about Scythians! Well, perhaps it wasn’t a crown but some expensive headgear made of gold and studded with precious stones — it didn’t make too much difference, did it? One way or the other, the chest was sure to contain something extremely rare and valuable, there was absolutely no doubt about it!

But how slowly Dmitro Borisovich was walking! The chieftain’s crown! It would surely make a most worthy contribution to the famed collection of Scythian gold in the Hermitage Museum, the one Dmitro Borisovich had been talking so much about. And who had found it after all? Whose modest person would be for ever linked with the discovery of this extraordinary thing?

Artem couldn’t stand the torture of expectation any longer. His heart was about to burst with impatience. What was inside the mysterious chest, what secret was locked in it?

Lida is nonplussed, the chest is opened and a piece of parchment with writing on it is discovered inside, but it turns to dust upon contact with the air; the testament of Pronis is read and Artem makes another discovery

“It’s a wonderful morning, isn’t it, Diana?”

The dog gave a short but expressive bark in reply and looked quizzically at her companion, so full of joie de vivre. The dog’s short ears were pricked, the muscles of her strong legs taut, ready for jumps and capers. Diana was waiting for the command to start frolicking as it always happened during outings with Lida. But this time the girl was slow to start the fun, standing on a hillock, filling her lungs with fresh, fragrant air.

“Oh, how wonderful!”

She was knee-deep in luxuriant green grass and thistles; the warm rays of the July morning sun were caressing her face, the light wind seemed to be cuddling her, embracing her lithe, supple figure; it was stroking her neck, touching her hair with its invisible fingers. Everything was wonderful indeed! The girl surveyed her surroundings.

Once impenetrable forest thickets had covered the area, or at least that’s what Dmitro Borisovich said. Such a pity they were all gone! It would be so pleasant to wander through them! There must have been a plenty of wild animals living here, and the river must have been wider and deeper… And what now? No forests at all, only occasional small bushes. The river was narrow and the current slow, one could swim across in no time. It meandered like a snake, making a turn every ten meters or so, twisting this way and that, so if one swam for speed, one couldn’t see how far behind the rest were lagging; that was what had happened the day before when Lida challenged Artem. It wasn’t really any fun… Then she realized she had not seen Artem this morning yet.

“Do you know, by any chance, Diana, where our Artem is? He was sulky yesterday, all worked up. For no reason really. What made him boil was my visit to that cave with Dmitro Borisovich. Yes, we went there, so what? But he flew into a temper, he did, he was real mad… Very foolish of him! But where did he go today, so early in the morning? I should have talked to him… But I can’t stand it when somebody’s pouting… Maybe he’s gone swimming. Hey, Diana, let’s race to the river! Who’s faster?”