Wrexham and I announced our intention of going to the meeting, and so Forsyth went off with the two girls. They told us they were going to meet Milos’s wife, who would be arriving about midday. I watched them ride out of the gate, Forsyth very smart for the occasion, for, if there is one thing under the sun Forsyth prefers to one pretty girl, it’s two. Under the moon, however, he seems to find one sufficient. The council meeting was at ten-thirty, and shortly before that Stephnos fetched us.
The council, which met in a big room in the palace, consisted of some thirty men, heads of clan sections, and officials of different kinds. Wrexham pointed out to me the old chief who had settled with the prisoners after the raid the day before. He must have been tough for his years to have ridden in all that way and still look fresh as paint with his youthful colouring under his snow-white locks. But the Sakae are a hard crowd, and age slowly. He bowed to Wrexham as Stephnos gave us seats on carved benches ranged round three sides of the room. At the fourth was a raised dais, presently occupied by Kyrlos and his brother and two older men. On their right was seated an old man in long black robes armed with writing materials, whose business it seemed to be to take down important points during the meeting.
The chiefs around us were of varying ages, from men like Wrexham’s friend to youths no older than Stephnos. Most of them were clad in ordinary everyday garments, the pleated smock-like tunics and cross-gartered leg-wear, though others were in mail. All, however, whether in mail or not, wore the short straight Sakae sword. The Sakae men are not given to much in the way of personal adornment, though here and there I sometimes notice men wearing silver bracelets, but these are the exception rather than the rule. The most common male ornament is big silver signet rings. Illiteracy among the upper classes is uncommon, but in spite of that the seal is considered as good, if not even better, than a signature. The seal engravers must be a remarkably honest folk. We were, of course, unable to follow either the opening speech which Kyrlos made or the ones that followed; but, from the hurried translations that Stephnos gave us, it appeared that Kyrlos had given a résumé of the Shaman aims, an account of their misdeeds, and emphasized the necessity of taking quick action before the Blue Sakae were overrun even as the Red and Green clans had been. Milos seconded him, and then others rose and spoke in turn.
It was clear that feeling was pretty high, judging from the guttural exclamations which greeted various passages. At last Wrexham’s old chief got up and made what seemed to be a very telling speech. Apparently he was describing the raid of the day before. It was many years since there had been a raid on such a scale with a whole village practically wiped out, and the audience was obviously moved by the story.
Finally, Kyrlos spoke again, and Stephnos told us he was asking for the chiefs’ opinions as to whether they were in favour of immediate war or not. There was a brief silence when he had done, and then Wrexham’s chief drew his short sword and held it out point downward, and in another moment every blade in the room was bare. I could see a look of relief pass over Kyrlos’s face as he drew his own weapon, and then understood that he had carried his council with him, and the war was settled.
The rest of the meeting was a discussion as to the procedure, and finally it broke up with the understanding that on that day four weeks all the fighting men of the whole clan would be assembled at Aornos and march under Kyrlos’s own command into the Shaman country. Milos would remain at Miletis to carry on the affairs at home, and superintend the defence of the northern border if there were any attempts from the Red Sakae side.
Forsyth and the two girls came back at midday escorting Milos’s wife Annais, a very stately-looking middle-aged woman. Her thick brown hair was streaked with grey, but she had kept a girl’s complexion, and her chiselled features and young blue eyes, together with her beautiful figure and elastic walk, made it hard to believe that she was, indeed, as Aryenis told me, well on the wrong side of forty. She spoke to me very graciously, thanking me for helping her niece.
“We felt as if she had been given back to us from the dead when we got my brother-in-law’s letter. I thank God every day that she found some brave good men to help her in her danger. I hope your face is nearly healed now, Sir Harilek?”
“The bandage comes off to-morrow, lady,” said I, thanking her for her kind words.
Then Andros came up and kissed her on both cheeks, calling her “mother.” I guessed then that, as indeed I found later, he was looked upon by Milos and Annais as a son, and had it been possible to dislike him I should have hated him thoroughly. But one could not dislike such a typical preux chevalier as Andros, courteous in speech, thoughtful in deed and manner, and as unselfishly brave as any soldier I have ever met, though six years’ war has given me the acquaintance of many brave and unselfish men, such as Wrexham, for instance.