We rode up the hillside among the fields and fruit trees and the scattered villages, and every now and then women and children and men at the roadside would wave to Aryenis with cries of joy.
“Look, there are people riding down the road,” she said, as we came round a bend under the mulberries. “I believe—yes, it is—it’s Ziné come to meet me.”
She put her mare into a canter and then into a gallop, and went off like an arrow.
Coming down toward us was a little group of people on horseback. There was a girl in front riding with a tall man on a big roan—big, that is, as the Sakae horses go. Behind them were other mounted men, grooms, and archers.
The girl had evidently recognized Aryenis about the same time, and swept down on her. The two pulled up as they met, and as we reached them they were off their horses—which we caught just in time—laughing and crying in each other’s arms.
The tall man dismounted, and flung his reins to one of his escort. Then, holding out both hands to Aryenis, he drew her to him when he had disentangled her from the other girl, and kissed her on the forehead. All three were talking rapidly and excitedly in their own language. I stood holding my pony’s reins in the background, and I think none of them thought of me for a couple of minutes at least. Then the elderly man noticed me, and said something to Aryenis, who turned round and called me. Speaking in Greek, she introduced him to me as her uncle, Kyrlos’s brother, Milos.
He knew all about us, for Kyrlos had sent off a letter by a swift mount the afternoon Aryenis had returned, and another with more detail next day. He thanked me in much the same way as Kyrlos had done, and asked after my wound. I explained that it was practically healed, and that the bandage would be off in a day or two. Then Aryenis presented me to Ziné, a pretty girl with dark-brown hair. The picture we had found had not been too flattering.
We mounted again and rode on up to the city, the two girls talking hard in front, and Milos and I behind them. He asked me details of our adventures as we rode along, speaking slowly in Greek. I could see he was looking at my dress curiously from time to time, and at last he asked me whence I got it, so I told him.
“I thought I knew the helmet,” he said, “though it is years since I have seen it. So Paulos sends you to war in his mail, does he? You could not carry a better man’s arms if you searched the whole land. One of the bravest, and there be many brave men in our country. And from what I have heard you also have some claim to be counted in their number. Kyrlos wrote me a full account.”
The Sakae had a very straightforward manner of talking, and seemed to say exactly what they thought. It was clear that their long residence in Asia had not tinged them with Asiatic indirectness of speech.