He smiled.
“You do not know our people well yet. Even in our oldest books you can read that our women marry none but those they choose. Suppose, as you say, such a one as you were to do what you have said, and let us imagine that Aryenis were willing, then none would say you nay. Also, but for you Aryenis would not be here at all now.”
I rose to my feet.
“Thank you, Paulos. I came here to-day because I felt that I could talk to you straightly if so inclined. But it seems that you knew my mind before ever I opened my mouth. In a week we ride past here to the war, and I will come and see you again. I must be going now, for it gets late, and it is some way to Miletis.”
“I shall look forward to seeing you whenever you come, lad. I like to see my old mail in use again, and I confess to a liking for him who wears it. I shall look to hear more news of Aryenis and of Andros. But one thing I would have you remember.”
“And what is that?”
“When Aryenis was much younger I told her that my mail was waiting for her husband. That was many years ago, and, girl-like, she replied very hotly that she would never marry any one at all, and was going to look after Kyrlos and me when we were old.”
He paused and looked at me, but I was silent, and presently he went on again:
“Have you ever known Aryenis forget anything in the time you have known her?”
“No,” said I truthfully. “She seems to have the most wonderful memory.”