Volodimir Vladko - Descendants of the Scythians

“And why this stone and not some other?”

“Do it first and we can talk later. Have you done it?”

“Yes.”

“Now use the pick as a lever and push the stone upward. Careful! Good. And I’ll get it from my end. Good. Careful! Push harder!”

The stone in fact yielded to their effort rather easily. Dmitro Borisovich must have examined the joints very thoroughly indeed…

“Now, don’t push too hard. Let’s lower it softly to the ground.”

They did it. A black hole opened in the wall. Dmitro Borisovich brought the lamp closer and looked in.

“See, Artem, there’s a hollow place behind it. There must be something just waiting for us to investigate it. Aha, I see you’re impatient to crawl through. That’s exactly what I was trying to warn you against. Not yet, wait. Let’s get another stone out. This one here.”

The second stone proved much harder to budge. The mortar had gotten so hard it made the stone impossible to move. The archeologist had to begin chipping the mortar with frequent well-aimed blows of his pick. At last, the second stone was placed beside the first one on the soft ground. Now the opening was wide enough to allow a man to crawl through.

“It’s not a very convenient entrance. But we’ll have to use it anyway. Here we go.”

In a trice, Dmitro Borisovich disappeared through the opening, holding the lamp out in front of him. Artem who was watching the archeologist’s movements with some apprehension, was very envious: the older man would be the first to see what was behind the mysterious wall. But the young man did not have to wait too long, for in a few seconds, from behind the wall came somewhat muffled voice of the archeologist:

“Artem, climb in, quick.”

Artem found himself in a low, shallow cave. He could easily reach the ceiling with his hand. A wall of roughly hewn stones separated it from the blind alley leading from the main cave. In all likelihood, the wall had been built by ancient people hundreds of years ago! But why there?

The wall sealed off the little cave from which, by the looks of it, there was no way to get any further. No openings, obvious or potential, were discovered. Could it be a sort of a burial vault? But again, nothing to support this theory was found. Nothing, except for a layer of century-old fine dust on the floor and protruding parts of the wall…

Dmitro Borisovich and Artem then began thoroughly examining all the walls of the cave in hope of finding some clue. There were carvings on the walls in other passages, weren’t there? So there was probably a chance of finding something similar here. But no, even a very thorough search failed to produce any carvings, pictures or other signs of human activity.

“No doubt we have here a natural recess walled off from the rest of the passage,” said the archeologist in a low voice. “It is absolutely clear this has been done for some specific purpose. So far so good. But what was the purpose? A storage place? Most unlikely, with all that dust here and nothing else.”

“Maybe someone was here before us and took everything there was to take away with him?” Artem put forward another theory.

“No, that’s absolutely out of the question. I’ve examined the stone wall very carefully and found no traces of it’s ever having been tampered with. Absolutely no signs or traces to suggest an earlier visit. Besides, would the robber take such great pains to put the stones back and mortar them? I don’t think your theory holds in view of this implausibility. Anyway, it’s inconceivable… Why should this empty hollow have been sealed off by a wall?…”

Dmitro Borisovich was lost in thought. Actem was looking at him, still entertaining some hopes that the archeologist would find a solution any minute now, would do something decisive about it. And they would return to inform the rest of a remarkable find. Lida would raise her eyebrows in envious surprise… She did it so charmingly… It was worth painting a picture of… But wait, what did Lida have to do with all this? It was much more important to evoke the interest of Ivan Semenovich! Then he would stop objecting to their archeological pursuits… Or, in the words of Dmitro Borisovich, to “the archeological line” of their work… Those eyebrows… they arched such perfectly straight lines above Lida’s green eyes… And my, how they sparkled! Again Lida was on his mind! There were serious matters awaiting his attention… Maybe they were on the verge of some extraordinary discovery, so why he should be thinking about Lida all the time?… Soon Dmitro Borisovich would come up with a solution, and then… and then…

But Artem’s hopes fell. Dmitro Borisovich put his lamp on the ground with an abrupt gesture of resignation.

“I don’t know,” he said with a sign. “I’ve never come across anything of the kind before and have never heard of anything like this being encountered by other archeologists. We need to think it over, discuss it, and avoid unnecessary haste. That’s probably the most important thing in such situations, Artem — avoid haste! Yes, that’s the thing. Now, young man, we’ll start back,” he said with determination. “Take this envelope. Collect samples of dust, first, at this wall, then at that one. I’ll take samples in the center.”

“And what purpose can that dust serve?”

Artem’s voice was brimming with bitter disappointment. It had all begun so promisingly — only to end so miserably! Dust indeed! A very valuable find, a lot to be proud about on coming back…

“Ah, young man,” said Dmitro Borisovich with a condescending smile, “you’ll never make a true, committed archeologist, no, no way. You’re after treasures, gold and valuables, aren’t you? Your mood would be much improved if you chanced upon any, correct? My young friend, dust can also be of great help to an archeologist. Don’t you understand how? Go ahead, collect it, and while you’re doing it I’ll prove the point, and you’ll have more respect for this modest gray dust. Back in the lab, we’ll examine this dust minutely, we’ll subject it to analysis. Maybe this analysis will reveal that the dust is partly composed of, say, rotten pieces of clothing, grain, bread or something else. And then it’ll be quite easy to answer the question which now seems so complicated: that will mean the mysterious walled-off recess was used by the ancients as a storing place for clothing or as a granary. Everything will fall nicely into place and explanations will be easily available. Do you understand now of what significance this despicable gray- dust can be?”

“Oh, yes, it’s quite thrilling,” Artem muttered, disconcerted. “If it is as you say, it wasn’t worth the trouble of getting in here. We’ve just dirtied our clothes for nothing. And the lecture you’ve given me I could’ve listened to in comfort at home.”

“What you’ve said is, my friend, first, discourteous and second, balderdash if you ask me. Science needs all possible kinds of evidence. Every little bit of new knowledge is important. Archeology, by the way, is based almost entirely on such tiny bits of evidence. All you have to do is look hard and see what you can see, examine whatever you find, and systematize. The abilities and qualities of a true archeologist are revealed through his attitude to such tiny bits of knowledge. Yes, my friend, in his attitude, and not in vociferous enthusiasm, not in clamorous interjections over an ancient artifact, even a very valuable one!”

Artem listened to this spontaneous lecture and methodically collected dust into envelopes. No matter what Dmitro Borisovich said about these bits of knowledge, it would be so much more exciting to find a pottery shard or even a bronze vessel, not to mention the crown of some Scythian tribal chief… Oh, that would be really terrific!