We stopped as they came up, and she pointed me out to the older man, talking excitedly the while in some strange tongue. He listened gravely for a minute, then he stepped forward and laid both hands on my shoulders, speaking very slowly and distinctly in Greek like Aryenis.
“Sir, my daughter and I thank you. You have given her life, and me the light of my life. Such debts are beyond repayment, but what we can we will do.”
Then he half-drew his sword and thrust the hilt into my hands, a gesture which I learnt later implied that he placed himself, his sword, and all his belongings at my disposal for all time.
“Sir,” said I, not to be outdone, “the fortune is mine that I have been able to help your daughter. But my companions have as much hand in the matter as I,” and I pressed Forsyth forward.
The old man laid his hands on the doctor’s shoulders and greeted him, thanking him for what he had done.
In the meantime Aryenis had pulled up another man, a tall straight young fellow with the most pleasing, open, frank face I have ever seen. A typical lad of the type that you would mark down for your regiment if you could get him.
“This is my brother Stephnos, Harilek,” she said.
He held out his sword to me as the elder man had done, and I placed my hand upon the hilt. Then he thrust it back into its sheath and took both my hands.
“Harilek, as my sister calls you, we owe you my sister’s life. All we have is yours.”
Then the other men with them came up and shook our hands. One and all were fair-skinned men of European type, straight features, grey, blue, and hazel eyes, with hair varying from yellow to dark brown. They were for the most part sun-tanned, but with the unmistakably transparent skin that marks the true white races.