The man called Logofet obeyed without demur, much to Danaë’s astonishment, for she had expected nothing better than to trudge alongside holding a stirrup. The guards were Thracian Emathians, she knew by their dress and equipment, and she was prepared to regard them, as Exarchists, as rather worse than ordinary schismatics, but they seemed to treat women better than the staunch Patriarchists to whom she was accustomed. She was just making up her prejudiced little mind that this was due to poorness of spirit, when she was forcibly undeceived. She had never mounted a horse before—there were none in Strio—and when Logofet swung her into the saddle, it was with such unnecessary force that she went over on the other side. Happily his comrade was there, and caught her.
“Fool!” he growled, as he restored her to her place. “If the Prince had seen thee——!”
“The devil fly away with the Prince and the girl too!” snarled Logofet. “If I had known we were to be ruled by women, I would never have joined thee, Gavril.”
“Peace! thou art a wild savage from the hills,” said Gavril contemptuously, “and both the Prince and I can do very well without thee, if the honour of serving him and Glafko is not enough for thee. There! Glafko looks round. Thou hast delayed us both with thy foolishness, and we shall not again be chosen to attend the Prince.”
“So much the better!” muttered Logofet, inciting the horse to a disquieting prance as he led it. “Hold tight, girl! Is it not enough for thee to be taken to Klaustra, where kitchen-wenches must be treated like queens, that thou shouldst try to dismount every step of the way?”
Horribly frightened, and much encumbered by the necessity of holding Janni firmly on her knee, Danaë did her best to obey, but the horse’s movements under Logofet’s leading made her perfectly sick with terror, until she cried out a despairing appeal to be allowed to walk. The Prince and his brother-in-law turned instantly, and Logofet received a sharp rebuke, while Gavril was ordered to lead both horses. Thus relieved, Danaë succeeded in maintaining her position for an hour or more, until, as dusk was falling, they reached a wayside inn, the inner courtyard of which was full of horses and mules and guards and servants. Those of the latter who wore the livery of Prince Romanos were separating themselves and their beasts from the rest, so that there was much confusion.
“No sign of him yet, Wylie,” said the Prince to his companion.
“No, but here is a messenger, I imagine,” as one of the Therma guardsmen swaggered up with a note.
“He says he can’t come—sudden severe personal bereavement,” said the Prince, after reading it.
“Ah, he’s playing us false, as I expected. Well, let us get rid of his fellows, and then I will commend Miss Kalliopé Vlasso to the special care of the landlord’s wife. I mean to keep an eye on that young lady.”