Volodimir Vladko - Descendants of the Scythians

“Sounds very poetic, doesn’t it?” Artem whispered to Lida who nearly burst out laughing. But Dmitro Borisovich, carried away by his historical observations, oblivious of anything around him, went on:

“So, as I was saying, I believe it’s the oksugala of the ancients, that is, fermented mare’s milk. The tribes of nomadic Scythians had great herds of horses. Incidentally, we’ve already seen such a herd… The nomadic Scythians ate horse flesh and drank mare’s milk. They made cheese of mare’s milk, too, and prepared various beverages and drinks from it — oksugala, for example.” Then he added: “Of course, horses were not the only domesticated animals the Scythians had. They also had oxen, hornless, by the way…”

“Pollards,” Artem broke in, eager to show that he knew the technical term.

“Yes, that’s the correct term. According to the ancients, the local breed of oxen did not grow horns as it was too cold for them. As I was saying, the Scythians had domesticated sheep, swine, and goats. We know — note this — that the Scythians did have dogs, so it’s not quite clear why our hosts should be so afraid of Diana. Maybe here, under these… er… specific conditions, all the dogs died out long ago. I would not risk expounding on this subject…” Dmitro Borisovich had another mouthful of oksugala .

Artem cleared his throat and said:

“Dmitro Borisovich, when speaking about the soothsayer garbed in that ridiculous woman’s dress, you used the strange word ‘androgyne’ or something like that. What does it mean?”

“Oh, it means ‘a human being that combines the features of both sexes.’ You see, according to the ancients, the Scythian priesthood was mostly made up of women, not men…”

“Like the ones we saw?” Lida asked. Artem even put down his cup.

“Yes. Herodotus says that if some men did happen to become priests, they were only ‘androgynes,’ effeminate persons wearing women clothes.”

“But you couldn’t call our soothsayer ‘effeminate’ — he’s so bony and has a long gray beard. Only his dress looked like a woman’s,” Ivan Semenovich protested.

“It’s difficult to say now what he looked many years ago. Who knows, maybe when he was young, he was very effeminate. Besides, I want to remind you of the priestesses who, on his orders, seized the three captives. They were women, were they not?”

“Well, yes, they were,” Artem drawled in reluctant agreement. “But those women could give hell to any man…

Incidentally, did these Scythians have a matriarchy or what?”

“That could very well have been the case, my friend,” Dmitro Borisovich said pensively. “You see, in this general area, the neighboring tribe of the Scythians was that of the Sauromathae who were known to have a matriarchy in its classical form — the head of the tribe was a woman. No doubt, it had some impact on the attitude to women among the Scythians as well. Further east, and in Central Asia, some other tribes related to the Scythians — the Sacae and Massagetae — even had warrior queens…”

“Oh, really?” Lida said in amazement.

“Yes, of course,” Dmitro Borisovich said emphatically. “For example, Queen Zarina inflicted a shuttering defeat on the Persian King Cyrus, captured him and had him decapitated; his head was then put into a bag and filled with the blood of many Persians… The Scythian women were excellent riders, took part in military campaigns and showed themselves worthy warriors, not at all inferior to men, and in many cases superior. We found evidence supporting this in the Scythian and Sauromathian barrows where women were buried with their weapons. I think that the Scythian custom of having female priesthood dates back to those very early matriarchal times. And our soothsayer must have looked androgynous when young. His effeminacy has worn off with the passage of time, but he has kept his lady’s dress. But we’ll probably learn about all these things in more detail later on… Incidentally, the oksugala is excellent, upon my word it is! How do you find it, Ivan Semenovich?” the archeologist said at the end of his improvised lecture.

“Yes, I find your oksugala quite palatable,” Ivan Semenovich said, wiping his lips with the inside of his hand. “Only be careful, my friends! Don’t get carried away! It’s very intoxicating!”

Agitated voices, filled with menace, came from outside. The chieftain raised his head, and Varkan rushed out. He returned almost immediately and reported something to the chieftain. Dmitro Borisovich turned to his friends, his face grave.

“Varkan says that the soothsayer is up to something else,” the archeologist explained. “He’s uttering imprecations on us. Varkan will go find out what he wants now. Skolot asks us not to worry.”

The explorers exchanged glances. The situation boded ill. Varkan put on his helmet and went out. Artem looked after him and shook his head. It’d be nice to find out what’s going on , he thought.

Choosing a moment when no one was looking in his direction, Artem stealthily crept out from the kibitka, hoping nobody would stop him. Nobody did.

The old soothsayer pronounces his imprecations and incantations to the accompaniment of a subterranean thunderstorm and in the end gets what he wants; the explorers are taken to a black kibitka where Lida is at first disgusted by the fresh schemings of the misshapen Scythian and then pleasantly surprised by the unexpected reappearance of Varkan .

Varkan leapt onto a horse tethered by the kibitka and galloped away with a handful of other warriors. As Artem was following him with his eyes, he thought: Looks that the old troublemaker has come up with something more serious this time. Otherwise Varkan would not be in such a hurry. And it probably concerns us… So what should I do?

The decision had come to him at once — he must learn the intentions of the old soothsayer. Varkan had galloped away in the direction from which the explorers had been brought to the chieftain’s. This much was clear to Artem who had a good very sense of direction.

So, I’ll follow Varkan. It’d naturally be much faster to get there on horseback, but I don’t have a mount, and there’s nothing to be done about it so I’ll have to go on foot … How quickly dusk has fallen! And the clouds have become much darker. Is the local night approaching at last?

A great black cloud was sailing across the sky, looming heavily over the forest, making the low sky seem even lower. Apparently, it was this cloud that was the cause of the premature dusk. Now the cloud had covered the sky almost entirely. The pinky-yellowish coloring of the plants had changed perceptibly, acquiring a purplish tint. Everything seemed fantastic, unreal, and artificial in this mysterious glow. Was it a thunderstorm approaching? Was it a clap of thunder he had just heard in the distance?… A subterranean thunderstorm? How could that be possible?

Artem quickened his pace. He decided it was no good wasting time trying to solve the puzzle he and his friends had had to face during the course of a single extraordinary day; there were so many inexplicable things they had encountered that it was really better to take them as they were, matter-of-factly, without trying to rationalize them. Anyway, neither Ivan Semenovich nor Dmitro Borisovich could provide any plausible explanations. In such a situation, it was advisable to deal only with those developments that concerned the four of them at any given moment. The time would come to ponder the rest of the puzzles.

So, the first thing on Artem’s mind was to find out what kind of scheme the old soothsayer had cooked up now, and to what extent it concerned him and his friends. As Artem thought about it, the fierce bony face, the piercing cold eyes of the soothsayer loomed large in his mind. It was, indeed, the face of a cruel man, a werewolf, who would not stop short of murder if somebody interfered with his plans.