“So you did choose my clothes, after all, Aryenis, being grown up! Thank you,” said I as I entered the room.
The servant, a hatchet-faced old archer who had followed Paulos, helped me put on the new clothes that were laid out, and very comfortable I found them. The under-garments were of softest linen, and over those were a wadded vest and fleece-lined leather jerkin, with long loose trousers gartered from ankle to knee with plaited leather straps.
When I had put them on, with the new sandals, not unlike chaplis, but more elaborate, I went back to the hall, where I found Aryenis and Paulos looking over a set of mail and weapons which had not been there when I left.
Aryenis examined me with a critical eye. “They fit nicely, Harilek; do they not?”
I admitted they did.
“That is the advantage of having a woman to choose them for you, you see. Had you got them yourself, you would not have looked so well.”
Paulos examined the clothes carefully.
“You have a good eye, child. They fit well. But that sleeve is not right; the under-sleeve is tucked up, I think.”
Aryenis looked at it. “Yes. I will put it right. Hold out your hand, Harilek.”
I held out my arm, and undoing the wrist she pushed back the leather to pull the fleece under-sleeve into place. Then she stood staring at my arm.