The church was thronged with folk in bravery of silk and brocade, heavily embroidered tunics and fur-tipped cloaks, lightened by the rich sheen of satin, the cold glitter of silver and warm sparkle of gold from hair ornament and bangle, from belt-buckle and sword-hilt.
When I had been shepherded through the frankly staring crowd to stand in my place, supported by Andros and Alec on either side, my sole consolation was that presently Aryenis would be kneeling beside me on the richly worked cushion a yard away on the tesselated floor. I sought refuge from the hum and buzz of whispered conversation behind me in concentrating on that cushion with its curious gold thread-work, until I think I knew the pattern by heart.
Presently—ages it seemed to be—there was the clatter of hoofs outside, sound of trumpets, and thereafter I felt less self-conscious, for I knew that all the crowd behind me would have eyes but for two things—the men for Aryenis, and the women for her clothes. Andros and Alec closed in upon me. Then footsteps behind, the rustle of talk died away for an instant, and from the corner of my eye I caught the first glimpse of my lady in flowing drapery of silk, filmy veil of flower-wreathed white over the thick coils of her red-gold hair, glint of gold from ring and bracelet, as on Kyrlos’s arm she took her place by the cushion on my left, long-lashed hazel eyes fixed resolutely on the sanctuary curtains in front, lips of warm coral against the unwonted pallor of her face.
Followed the old, old ceremonies, the music of Greek of the earliest centuries, the readings, the prayers, the promises. Then Aryenis and I alone before the white-locked priest with the ascetic face, who seemed to have stepped straight out of some old stained-glass window, as I slipped the flat heavy gold bangle over her elbow to show that we were one for so long as life should last, and kissed her two hands in Sakae fashion in token of all loyalty. Thereafter she kissed me once upon the forehead, and we turned to walk down the aisle under an arch of blades.
Then the slow ride back to the palace, the banquet, the toasts, the greetings, until well on in the afternoon we rode out of the south gate—thronged with all our friends, and, it seemed to me, with half the city as well to see us go—and took the Aornos road.
“Content, sweetheart?” said I, as the last glimpse of Miletis vanished in the trees.
“All content, fairy prince,” said she slowly. “And you? Have you found the things that really matter?”
“All of them, Shahzadi, since I’ve found you, and with you go all the rest.”
“And you are quite sure what they are?” asked my lady, with questioning eyes.
“Quite sure. Your companionship, your friendship, you when I’m tired or lonely, you at the end of every day, you and I just absolutely one person, and all the real intimacy and happiness that go with that, the only foundation for wedded life.”