CHAPTER XXVII
ARYENIS AND I FIND SOME THINGS THAT MATTER
The Aornos road rolled behind our horses’ feet as Aryenis and I rode to Paulos’s house in the last evening sunshine of late February. A sky of cloudless blue, glint of sunlit water in the little channels under the silver-barked trees, and in Aryenis’s eyes the light of sunshine clear and unalloyed, as from time to time she looked at me with a little smile of all happiness.
Behind us—a discreet ten horse-lengths away—rode Payindah, with just half a dozen of our own men, sparkle of burnished mail over new-cleaned leather, polished steel cap gay with favours of Aryenis’s own colour. And as we rode through the scattered villages the people flocked about us with handfuls of winter flowers and garlands of the little yellow crocus, first harbinger of the coming spring.
For, as all Blue Sakaeland knew, this was our wedding day, and we were riding from the banquet in Kyrlos’s palace at Miletis to Paulos’s house, or rather to our house, since the previous day it had been formally made over to Aryenis and me, Paulos having taken up his residence at Miletis.
“Since you are leaving Kyrlos, child,” he had said to Aryenis, “it is only right that I should come and live with him, and take up life again as it was when we were both young men and found each other all-sufficient. Life ends mostly as it begins.”
My recollections of the previous few days were blurred and hazy. There were ceremonies unceasing; signings and sealings of crabbed parchments; dinners long and tedious, where endless people monopolized Aryenis to my complete exclusion; hours of business with Paulos and his steward, learning all the details of his lands. Also ceaseless interviews with tailors, these last brightened by Aryenis’s presence, since, in accordance with Sakae custom, my wedding outfit was her gift. Outfit is about the only word, for the Sakae bride-to-be seems to consider it her business to clothe her man for a lifetime, judging by the number and variety of garments that appeared necessary.
Altogether it had been rather a tedious week, and there were times when I envied Alec, who could contrive to get off with Ziné whenever he could spirit her away from Aryenis, since they were not to be married till the spring.
Then yesterday I saw my lady but for a few short moments, and that surrounded by Ziné and half a dozen more girls for a last inspection of her wedding dress.
This morning I had filled the usual puppet part that is allotted to the bridegroom in countries like Sakaeland, where women rather more than hold their own. Alec and Andros—who had insisted on being one of my supporters—took charge of me, dressed me, all but shaved and washed me, never let me out of their sight for an instant, while Andros filled every otherwise unoccupied moment in coaching me as to the part I had to play.
Finally, they had almost lifted me into the saddle when with John, Philos, and a score more friends, and a hundred of my Astara men behind us, we rode down the broad garlanded streets to the dark little church opposite to Kyrlos’s palace, and I was marched up to the cushions in front of the rich altar-veils that concealed the sanctuary. The air was heavy with incense, and the little high windows threw but a faint light into the half-gloom, where the tapers burned before the heavily framed old pictures, and the richly decorated little shrines, where, half-seen, were metal-framed representations of gospel scenes and of saints, like Russian ikons.