Chapter XV: We Speak with an Envoy and Ride to Aornos

Next morning we found the whole place astir, horses outside ready saddled, and pack-animals waiting to be loaded. Aryenis was dressed in riding-clothes, a sort of long coat like the first appearance of the divided skirt before women took to the simple breeches and coat they wear so much nowadays, when nearly all ride astride.

Payindah and Firoz had packed most of our stuff overnight, and what little was left they finished while we breakfasted. As we came out, I noticed how shabby the two Punjabis’ travel-worn kit looked compared to the clothing of the men around, though these were in their war-gear, and I said to Aryenis that I hoped we should be able to refit soon, as we were all pretty disreputable.

“When we get to Miletis you will find clothes all right, Harilek; but you will have to wear those of our people, I think, unless you desire especially that your own should be copied.”

We got to horse and started down the same track we had followed the previous day. As we set out, I saw Firoz and Payindah riding two stout ponies, with their rifles slung, and carrying ours at the saddle bow. Forsyth’s rifle was borne by one of the soldiers, who was displaying the wonderful weapon to his friends, very proud of the trust reposed in him.

I noticed, hanging on Payindah’s saddle, the steel cap Wrexham had recovered from the man I killed at the gate, and took it from him to look at it again, for it was of curious workmanship, and more ornate than the usual type. Evidently the late owner was a person of quality among the Shamans.

We had ridden perhaps a mile--I was talking to Aryenis--when from up the path in front of us dashed a man on a small pony, a regular soldier by his dress. He pulled up his beast, and, saluting Kyrlos, handed him a paper which Kyrlos read and then called to me.

“Harilek, I hear from Henga, whom you met yesterday, that there is an envoy from the Shamans arrived at his fort. The manner of his letter puts me in some doubt, and I would ride there and speak with the man. If your friends will accompany Aryenis to Aornos, we will take a few men and push on.”

I could see that the others would have liked to come, too, but, since Kyrlos did not suggest it, they said nothing.

“We shall meet you at Aornos in the afternoon when I have heard what the Shamans have to say,” said Kyrlos to them. Then to me: “I think it would be well to bring that man of yours with us. He was with you in the gate, and perhaps he will be useful.”

So I beckoned up Payindah, telling him to ride with us.

Six of Kyrlos’s mounted bowmen accompanied us, and, waving to the rest of the party, we trotted on down the path. For a time Kyrlos said nothing. He seemed to be thinking.

Then, when we pulled our horses to a walk as we crossed the valley and breasted the hill in front, he turned to me and said:

“It seems that perchance the Shamans do not know of Aryenis’s return, nor that I know how the old chief was killed, for Henga writes that this envoy comes from the Shamans to express their sorrow at my daughter’s death at the hands of the Brown Sakae, and to invite me to their country to see justice done on the murderers. Therefore, he has said nothing to them about her escape.

“There is clearly some plot, though as yet I cannot see what is intended. But since they say that Aryenis is dead, we will say naught at first and let them speak.”

“Do you think they wish to throw the blame on others so as to patch up peace?”

“Not merely to patch up peace, for I know they have sought war this long time. But I think they hope to kill me and others of our chiefs, so that our people, being as sheep without a shepherd, may fall the easier into their hands. But we shall know more when we hear what they have to say. Come, we have a long ride to-day.” He kicked his horse to a canter as the slope became less steep.

Half an hour later saw us in sight of the fort, and presently, riding through the little village, we found Henga with a strong guard behind him waiting for us below the fort gate.

“The Shaman envoy is out on the open space,” he said as he greeted us. “I fear treachery, and all my men above are at their stations. But I know not what the plan may be, for the envoy has but a dozen men, though all well horsed.”

“Is he alone?” asked Kyrlos, as we dismounted.

“No. Besides the envoy there is Atana, the chief Shaman’s nephew, whom you remember at the last council when I commanded your escort, sir: one against whom I have a score to pay; an evil-looking man of bad repute even among the Shamans. The envoy I know not.”

Kyrlos looked at me.

“Those clothes of yours are noticeable, Harilek. I think we will change them. Henga, send a man for a spare set of yours and a mail shirt from the armoury.”

Within ten minutes or so I was arrayed in a suit of Henga’s clothes, which, barring being a shade loose, for he was a broader man than I, fitted me well. The mail jerkin he gave me was light and comfortable, while the steel cap fitted reasonably, and was lighter than the battle bowler one wore in old days.

I told Payindah to conceal his rifle in his _poshtin_, and to keep among Henga’s men out of sight of the Shamans. Just as we were starting, Kyrlos seemed to remember something, and told me to bring the steel helmet we had taken in the gate, but to keep it hidden for the present.

We passed through the camp below the fort, and on the far side of the open space beyond it saw a dozen men standing by their horses. From the cut of their clothing it was clear to me that these must be the envoy’s party. In the centre of the parade-ground a willow branch was set up, which I discovered later was the sign that there was truce for four hundred paces around. This was the custom when envoys came in time of war.

Kyrlos, Henga, and I walked out to the willow branch, and then Henga called upon the Shaman envoy to deliver his message.

From the group opposite three men advanced, two of them the most sinister-looking fellows it had been my fortune to meet for some time.

The first was the envoy himself, a dark man clad in a short black surcoat and black steel cap. He appeared to be unarmed, and carried an unshod white arrow in his hand.

Behind him walked two others, both mail-clad with the same black steel caps, but armed. The custom of Sakae truce meetings is that each man carries his sword, but that bows may not be brought within arrow-shot of the speaking place.

Also, unless peace is made, the visiting party rides straight away after the conference. This I mention, because, the moment the three came over, I saw the rest girthing up their mounts, and asked Kyrlos the meaning. As he told me, he said, “Do not speak any more at present. I wish them to think you one of my officers.”

They halted three paces from us.

Then Kyrlos, speaking in Greek, asked their mission. Some of the more formal speech was in Greek, which I was able to follow. The rest was in their own language, which Kyrlos translated to me later. There was a certain difference between the Shaman dialect and that of the Blue Sakae, and it was therefore customary, if either party so desired, to carry out conversations of this sort in the old tongue, and I think Kyrlos opened in Greek in order that I might be able to understand.

I will give the drift of the envoy’s speech.

“Lord Kyrlos! The chief Shaman, speaking by my mouth, sends greetings and great sorrow at the death of your daughter at the hands of certain evilly disposed men of the Brown Sakae. When the south section of the Green Sakae rose against their chief, he and your daughter, by great misfortune, came into the hands of Brown Sakae robbers, who slew them while they sought refuge on our border. And having slain them, they burnt the bodies lest their deed should be discovered. My master, the chief Shaman, was full of grief when he received the news, and forthwith sent men, of whom Atana was one, to capture the murderers, so that they might pass into the gate after judgment had been executed in your presence.

“But, alas! certain equally evil ones reported to you that our people were concerned in this foul deed, so that next we heard that you had taken up arms and were preparing for war.

“Therefore my master sent me in haste to speak with you, exposing the true state of affairs, and praying you come with us that you might see with your own eyes that fit punishment was duly inflicted upon the murderers.

“For my master seeks not war, but peace. He desires the liberty and happiness of all men, and it grieves him much that, while the other clans have joined with him, you alone with your brother remain away from the council, where he plans the well-being of all the Sakae, and instead prepare your people for war, which war, indeed, can lead to naught but your destruction, for we are many and you are but the one clan.

“Therefore he prays you cease these warlike preparations, and ride with us to see justice done, bringing, if you desire, as proof of our good faith, a company of your own men, and letting the rest of your folk return to their homes.

“Of his great regret he will speak more anon. Words are idle things in the face of such sorrow as yours, but my master hopes that, when you speak with him face to face, he will better be able to express the grief that has come upon him at your great misfortune.”

The envoy ceased, and I must say I gasped at the cool effrontery of it all.

But Kyrlos stood silent, smoothing his chin reflectively, a trick he has when thinking deeply.

“This is grievous news ye bring, though I feared, indeed, that my daughter and her host were dead. And, as you say, it was reported to me that certain of your people had slain them. Atana, you say, went out to bring in the murderers?”

Atana stepped forward. He was the taller of the two who accompanied the envoy. His face seemed to me slightly Mongolian in type, though fair-skinned. There was a certain upward trend in the eyes that gave me the impression. And his mouth was one of the cruellest I have ever seen in a man.

“Yes, Lord Kyrlos. Taking certain of my men, I rode out into the hills, and we came upon the evildoers in the act of dividing your daughter’s things. As they resisted us, some were slain on the spot, others we took; and after the chief Shaman had questioned them, as is his wont, we put them aside for judgment until you should come.”

“And the bodies of the old chief and of my daughter were burnt, you say?”

“It grieves me greatly to have to say this thing, but so it was, Lord Kyrlos. I examined the place myself, and we found the charred remains of a man and a woman, and there were certain pieces of garments which we brought with us in case there was any doubt.”

From a small bag he produced some charred fragments of cloth, which he handed to Kyrlos.

Kyrlos examined them closely. “Undoubtedly,” said he slowly and sadly. “That piece of embroidery I remember well on my daughter’s dress.”

I think the Shaman envoy thought he had carried the day.

“Therefore will I certainly ride into your country and see justice done upon the murderers, even as your master suggests.

“But first there is a small matter I would speak of. There came to me a certain man, who said that the old chief and my daughter were seen near your master’s fortress--nay, even that they were seen at the Gate of Death. The man went further, and said that he saw the old chief slain there, even as those guilty of great crimes and sentenced by the whole council are put to death.”

“He lied,” said the envoy. “Have we not proven to you how the real facts are?”

“But stay; he went even further, and said that my daughter was seen there, bound also in shameful fashion.”

“He lies again, doubtless desiring to stir up strife between you and my master. No man has ever been in sight of the gate save those who die and those of my master’s guards who slay.”

“So I thought, but he said that, after the old chief had been killed, a certain strange man rushed in and carried away my daughter, and while so doing slew some of your folk in strange fashion with a noise.”

I saw the envoy’s jaw drop, and I wondered if he had been at the loopholes when Payindah was sniping them. He collected himself, and was about to reply, when Kyrlos stopped him and went on:

“And to convince me he brought proof, firstly bringing my daughter alive and well.”

That really stupefied them. Like the Sakae, they had no knowledge of any way into their country except the gate, and thought that, if we were men and not evil spirits, we must have carried off Aryenis into the desert. The last thing they ever imagined was that she had been brought back to her own people. And so doubtless they hoped to put the blame on to raiders, and then, by inducing Kyrlos to cease his preparations, to fall upon him unawares, even if they were not able to inveigle him into their country, where they would murder him and his men.

Before the envoy could speak again, Kyrlos took the helmet from my hand, unwrapped it, and threw it down at their feet, saying:

“And there is the helmet of one of the murderers, with upon it the device of the chief Shaman’s guard, brought by the man who slew him, he who stands here now”--and he indicated me.

Then he went on. “Therefore will I ride before long into your country to do justice. But I will not ride with a company of my men. I will ride with all my people; and when I come to the Shaman fortress, I will gorge the vultures in the gate, and their last and fittest meal shall be your master’s heart.” He pointed to the nearly leafless trees. “Tell him that sent you that I swear by God, that, before the spring buds show, he and his friends shall lie out in the Gate of Death and the land be purged of the Shaman curse that we have suffered these late years.

“Go. You have my leave to depart.”

But, as the envoy turned to go, Atana, whose face was convulsed with rage, spoke up.

“Your message shall be delivered, and, as you say, the vultures shall be gorged before spring. But we will feed you to them slowly, so that you may see how white-skinned Aryenis likes living with me and my archers in the gate. We rejoice that she is not dead, for the kept women there lack variety, and it went to my heart when my uncle bade me put her out of the gate so soon, and waste such pleasing charms ere we had tasted them a space.”

I wonder Kyrlos did not kill him then, but apparently it was a crime beyond all words to touch an envoy or his party.

But Henga stepped up to him, and, looking into his face, said slowly:

“For that, and for other things you know of, I, Henga, when next I meet you, will kill you with these two hands. Now, go quickly, lest I kill you here.”

Atana looked at him, apparently recognizing him for the first time, then spat on the ground:

“So ’tis Henga, the cousin of the sweet and easy lady my brother fancied so. ’Tis sad she died so young.”

And, with a mocking laugh, he turned to follow the others.

Then occurred a thing unparalleled in the history of the Sakae, who consider an envoy’s truce most sacred. Suddenly turning, Atana flung his dagger straight at Kyrlos’s throat, and then fled for his life to the horses. It missed its mark by a bare inch, tearing through the leather collar of Kyrlos’s under-jerkin, just over the mail, ripping a long, though luckily not deep, gash at the base of his neck.

The thing was clearly premeditated, for his men were in the saddle as he did it, and two of them dashed forward with his horse. Before the bowmen above us could loose string, the whole lot of the Shamans, bending low in their saddles, were out of arrow-shot away across country as hard as they could go.

But they had reckoned without Payindah. As Kyrlos staggered back against me, Payindah whipped his rifle from under his _poshtin_ and opened fire. He brought down three of them before they were out of range, and the second was Atana, who was pitched out of the saddle, as his horse went down, with a smashed shoulder.

He picked himself up and ran shouting after his men, though I doubt if these would have faced Payindah’s lead. But Henga was after him, running like a deer. Atana saw him, and, seeing him gaining, drew his sword and turned, and a minute later they were at it.

The fight did not last two minutes. Seeing Kyrlos was not badly hurt, I, with several of the men, had followed Henga, and, as we got there, we saw Atana’s sword slip from his grip as Henga’s steel ploughed up his wrist under the mail. I thought Henga would give him the point in the throat then and there.

But instead he dropped his weapon, sprang on Atana, and hurled him on his face on the ground, kneeling above him, and with his knees pinning his arms to his side. Atana fought and writhed to get his arms free as Henga seized him with both hands under the chin, twisting the man’s head up and back till he could look down into his face.

Then he said slowly and distinctly:

“You miscalled the Lady Aryenis just now, and said you would bring her to shame even as you and your brother did my cousin. For these things I promised to kill you with my two hands.

“When I send your brother to join you in hell, remember to tell him that I kept my word.”

And with that he twisted Atana’s head very slowly round and back, looking down into his face the while, the man’s eyes starting from his head, and his legs threshing the ground till suddenly something seemed to give; he straightened out slowly, gave a spasmodic jerk and a long shiver, and lay still.

Henga waited an instant before he loosed his grip. Then he got slowly to his feet, and, picking up his sword, wiped it on the dead man’s cape. He rolled over the body with his foot, the limp head grotesquely twisted back, and looked at it thoughtfully.

Spitting on the ground, he turned to me:

“The world is somewhat cleaner now. That is a useful trick, which I have practised long against the day when Atana or his brother and I should meet.”

“It is,” I said. “I envy you that piece of work, which I would have liked to do myself, but it seems that you have the greater right.”

My blood boiled as I thought of those cruel leering eyes looking at Aryenis in the gate.

Payindah had come running up just at the end, and, as Henga got up and wiped his sword, he said to him in Punjabi:

“’Twas well thrown that, and you held the son of an evil father down cleverly ere you sent him to his own place. I would like to wrestle with you one day, for I also am a wrestler of note.”

I translated this to Henga, and he smiled.

“Tell your man I thank him for his words, and will gladly wrestle with him later. There are ten silver pieces for the first soldier who throws me, but none have earned them yet, though all the stout lads try.”

The Shamans had disappeared by now, and Henga’s men came up, bearing the other two men whom Payindah had hit. One was stone dead, a bullet between the shoulders; the other still breathed, though he looked as if he had not long to go, for the bullet had caught him just over the groin, and his face was drawn and sweaty, and his lips were blue.

The men said something to Henga, who turned to me.

“They ask if they shall kill. He has broken the truce, and has no right to life. But he is your man’s man.”

“No,” said I, “we do not kill wounded men without reason. This man is but a soldier who followed his leader. Let him live, though I think it will not be for long.”

He turned and spoke to the soldiers, who looked surprised, but they said nothing, and, picking up the wounded man, carried him up to the fort.

Then we rejoined Kyrlos, who was sitting down, while one of his men tied up his neck.

“’Tis but a scratch,” he said. “But such a thing has never been known before that blood should flow at an envoy’s truce. It was clearly meant if I refused their terms, for, see you, they were in the saddle before Atana joined them. Well, they have failed, and now we shall have war, real war, till one or other of us goes down. That is a fine weapon you have, that kills a man at three times a fair bowshot with naught but a little noise. To us it savours of magic, but you and your friends are no magicians: you are far too simple in your ways.”

And he smiled a little in his grave way.

Then he turned to Henga. “I am glad you had your chance of paying your debt to that hell-hound. When we ride to their country, you shall come with us and settle your account with his brother.

“And now,” said he to me, “we will drink a bowl of wine and then ride on to Aornos to catch the rest after you have changed your clothes.”

I went and changed into my own clothes, after which Henga’s men brought us bowls of wine, and I noticed that, before Henga drank, he poured a little on the ground as though he were performing some rite.

Then we mounted, and with our escort set our faces north for Aornos, crossing the Astara by a narrow bridge of boats.

It was a wide stream, nearly one hundred and fifty yards across, and deep by the look of it. In many places the bank was fringed by willow trees and covered with turf, while downstream from us fat cattle were grazing in the lush meadow grass. As Stephnos had said the day before, it was a fertile country.

I asked Kyrlos if there was any special significance in Henga’s pouring out some of his wine, and he said that it was a custom, after battle, to thank the gods for good fortune.

“An old pagan custom, but you still see it among some of our people who follow the truth. ’Tis strange how old customs linger, especially such semi-religious ones. And, speaking of pagans, tell me, Harilek, in your land are there no followers of many gods?”

“Not in my own country, though there be in some of the countries we rule, for we rule many. In the land where I served as a soldier, and where the men I command came from, there are many such, followers of strange gods, each district worshipping their own, and others there be like the two soldiers with me, who believe in one God only, but not in Christ.”

“Jews, perchance, of whom we read.”

“No, not Jews, though like them in some ways, eating not pork, and preparing animals for food by cutting their throats, and following other Jewish customs. But these follow their own prophet Mohammed. Have you heard of him?”

“No. We read of false teachers, but of this one I have not heard. But I am not learned in the matter. You must speak with our priests when you have leisure. Perchance they may know of him.”

“And those among you who are not Christians, what gods do they worship?” I asked.

“Many. Some harmless, some evil. But the most part follow gods of simple kind. Tolerant, and, save that they teach nothing but what is human, and in no way lift up man, harmless for good or evil. Their priests have sometimes given trouble, fearing lest the people desert them and their shrines be left without offerings, but in our clan they also are generally well disposed, content with such gifts as the people bring them, sober, well living, ignorant men.

“But among the Brown Sakae they are more evil, and it is said that they sometimes bring the people back even to the human sacrifices of old days of prisoners and such, and certainly they are magicians given to dark practices, even as the Shamans.”

“And Henga? What is he?”

“Henga’s folk are one of the few families of standing among the Blue Sakae who hold to the old gods. Many times I hoped his father, a most upright and worthy man, would change. He was a firm friend of mine, and when he lay dying I rode to see him. Even upon his deathbed he said to me that he knew the old gods could not be real, and he hoped soon to know the truth, but nowise could he see that my belief was any more right than his. His eldest son, who now holds his lands, follows his belief, a strong, faithful man, whom you will meet at Aornos. I hope some day both he and Henga will be persuaded to the truth.”

“What is the story of Henga, and that matter of Atana and his brother? From what he said, ’twas clear Atana’s brother or Atana had done some wrong to one of his folk. He is sad-looking, too.”

“Yes. He has cause to be sad. It was a cousin of his named Thais, a beautiful girl and of sweet temper, but headstrong. We thought they would marry one day. I remember Thais stayed with us awhile the previous summer when Henga was with my guard. But he is slow of speech, and some women think him dull, seeing not his worth.

“Then, in an evil day, while visiting friends among the Green Sakae--there was peace in the land two years ago, peace of a sort--she met Atana’s brother Atros, who is an even worse fiend than was Atana.

“He feigned to love her, and with false promises induced her to fly with him, for she knew her father would never consent to marriage, hating the Shamans as we do.

“But marriage came not, and after a while he tired of her. Finally, wearying of her importunity--her time was drawing near--he said if she would she might return to her own folk, or else he would send her to the gate among the archers’ women next day.

“Broken with shame, she came that night to one of my men then in the Shamans’ city, and gave him a letter for Henga, whom she remembered in her trouble. My man, alas! knew not all her story, or he might have saved her then. And that night she killed herself.

“But, when Henga got her letter, he took oath, as she had asked him, that he would kill Atros and Atana, who had helped him. Among our people, even among the Christians, the blood feud still remains. But among those who believe in the old gods, more, perhaps, among Shamans and the Brown Sakae, it runs from father to son, and Henga swore he would act to them in their own fashion.

“He took leave and went up disguised into their country, and all but succeeded in slaying Atros. But the guards came up in time, and Henga only escaped with his life after he got that sword-gash on his forehead that maybe you noticed. Since then he has waited his time, and to-day, as you saw, part of his oath was fulfilled. But presently I hope the rest will also be lifted from him when we go up against the Shamans.

“’Tis true, doubtless, that God punishes those who spoil His handiwork, but it is well that men should sometimes do His justice, lest, from its slowness, others forget its certainty and take to evil ways.”

I felt sorry for Henga. No wonder he looked so sad. I hoped that in the fullness of time he would meet Atros, and also, I hoped, I should be there to see it. Perhaps I have some streak of savage madness in me, but, although I do not think I am cruel, and though I hate killing for killing’s sake, there are certain times when I feel I could gladly sit by and see a man die slowly, when I hear of things like this, for instance, or when I saw Aryenis bound in the gate.

We had ridden over the broad valley and reached the hills beyond. Kyrlos pointed and said:

“There is Aornos--see, among the pines up there. ’Tis the second largest town in our Blue Sakae country. With your wonder-glass you will be able to see the houses.”

I think of all our belongings, after our rifles, the things that most impressed the Sakae were our field-glasses and the telescope.

I checked my pony, and, looking through the glasses at the faint blur that Kyrlos indicated, saw the town, a long stone-walled mass of houses, with a high tower in the centre. It nestled among orchards and terraced fields with many scattered pine woods, on one side of a long hill with wooded top.

In three quarters of an hour more we were following a broad road that ran up to the city. There was a lot of traffic on it, big slow-moving bullock-carts piled with household gear, chattering troops of women with babies and little staring children, a few bodies of half-armed men, evidently levies assembling. Kyrlos said these were the people from the frontier villages, many of whom in time of war fled back to safer refuge behind the frontier forts.

A quarter of an hour later saw us riding in under the big gate, amid a clatter of arms, as the guard turned out and clashed their spears on the stone paving.

It was a fine gate with high stone towers on either side, in the crenellated tops of which one saw the glitter of steel as the sentries paced to and fro. On either side of the gate a long solid wall of grey granite, some forty feet high, slid away to girdle the city, with below it a dry ditch spiked and palisaded. Aornos would be a tough proposition to take without artillery. Above the big gate, with the drawbridge over which we rode, and the massive timber doors nearly a foot thick covered with iron plates, were two great beams like cranes, which, to my joy, I later discovered to be a form of a catapult hurling blocks of stone and nets of smaller stones. We had got back to the Middle Ages, all right.

We rode up the main street at a footpace, the people saluting Kyrlos as he passed. The road was broad and clean, paved with irregular-shaped blocks of stone, and guttered on either side, while the buildings, if not exactly mansions, were for the most part of stone, well built, and cleanly kept.

They were mostly shops here, with an open storey below and balconies above. At night the lower part was closed by big wooden doors, with iron bars and large clumsy padlocks. But now all were open, and the shopkeepers sat there vending their goods and chaffering with the passers-by.

They seemed rather to group by trades. I noticed a series of cloth shops, then several dealers in earthenware, then a few metal shops with copper and brass bowls and iron cooking-utensils displayed. Then a corner devoted to sellers of leather gear, followed by several shops whose stock-in-trade seemed to be rope and hemp stuff of all types.

I suppose it facilitates marketing, or else the shopkeepers can keep prices more or less level by mutual arrangement. It was nice to see again most of the marketing being done by women with baskets, rather than by men, as is usually the case in the East:

Strapping country women, passing in groups from shop to shop, bareheaded in the sunlight, with their tight cloth bodices and short full skirts; town dwellers with finer clothes; here a lady in the simpler, straighter dress such as Aryenis wore, with a servant behind her; there a couple of soldiers in steel caps, bows slung behind them, chaffing good-naturedly a buxom matron with an unruly donkey.

And over all a vivid blue sky, and beyond, the great snow-peaks of Saghar Mor--blue shadowed white--that seemed to fill the northern sky.

We turned into a winding street that ran slightly uphill, and at the end came to the entrance of the big tower I had seen. It was built in the centre of a high stone-walled enclosure, which formed the citadel of the town, and inside the walls were soldiers’ barracks, some dwelling-houses, and the big stone house of Torka, Henga’s brother, who was chief of the sub-clan of the Blue Sakae of these parts.

As we rode up to the gate, he came out to meet us, a tall, well-built man, not unlike Henga, but clean-shaven, an uncommon thing among the Sakae. He had a pleasant, very intellectual face, grave and keen. I learnt later that he was versed in the law, and after the custom of the Sakae administered law and justice through his district, subject always to the right of appeal to the chief of the clan.

As we entered the great hall, Aryenis ran down the stairs to greet us and ask anxiously what news her father brought, and whether all had gone well. She was very disturbed when she saw the bloodstained bandage round his neck, and it took a good deal to reassure her that it was indeed--as Kyrlos said--only a deep scratch. She insisted on Forsyth coming to see it at once, and bandaging it properly then and there.

After we had brushed off the traces of our journey a bit, we had a late breakfast, at which Kyrlos announced his intention of riding round the town in the afternoon and inspecting the troops and defences. Forsyth asked if he might accompany them, and Kyrlos said he would be very pleased if he did.

Stephnos and Wrexham had breakfasted before we came, and then ridden straight on to visit the fort at Takos, some ten miles north near the border. There had been some Shaman activity reported there, and Stephnos, in his capacity of A.D.C. to his father, had gone to get a report from the local commander. Wrexham, anxious to see all he could, had ridden with him, taking Firoz along, too.

I was pleased to get a chance of being alone with Aryenis for the first time in the last three days. I asked her what she was going to do, and whether she was tired after the morning’s ride, at which she laughed, saying it was but a matter of fifteen miles, and she had often ridden twenty-five and thirty with her father when he was visiting the districts. The Blue Sakae chiefs are great believers in the personal touch and are always going round the country, a fact which I think goes far to enhance their popularity, and ensures that the minor officials keep up to their work, and that all and sundry have frequent opportunities of voicing personally to their chiefs any grievances they may have.

“Would you like to ride with me this afternoon, Harilek? I go to see an old man who is a friend of my father’s and very good to me always. He is rather an invalid, being partly paralyzed from a wound, and so cannot come and see us. His house is about four miles out.”

“I should like to very much, Aryenis. Does he also talk the old Greek?”

“Yes. Most of the educated people do, so you will not have to sit dumb, or use me as an interpreter, which is always unpleasant. I will order the horses, and if you meet me here in half an hour we will ride out. You will be able to see the rest of the city on the way.”

I went over to the quarters that had been allotted to us, and put a new bandage on my face. It was healing up fast now; luckily the arrows were evidently clean, but, as Forsyth had said, it was going to leave a useful mark.

I found Payindah there cleaning up the rifles, and he asked me for some money. I inquired what he wanted it for, so he said he was going out into the city with Temra, the old N.C.O.--a sort of sergeant-major--of Kyrlos’s guard, who had ridden with us in the morning.

As I gave him the money, I asked if he thought they would take it, whereat he laughed, saying he had never yet found a place where good silver would not pass, and, anyway, Temra would be with him.

“How do you talk with Temra, seeing neither of you know the other’s language?” I asked.

“How did I talk with the people in France?” he replied. “Besides, I know some words of Temra’s language. Some of it is like bad Pashtu, and I talk Pashtu a little.”

I noted that for Forsyth’s information. The mystery of these people was growing. First the upper classes talking Greek, then there being many Christians among them, and now Payindah informing me that some of the words were like bad Pashtu. Evidently we had struck a real ethnological puzzle.

I put on my least frayed khaki coat, and beautified myself with my old regimental tie, which Aryenis had returned. It did not look too bad with a very faded shirt that had once been khaki, but was now a sort of apricot.

“Where do you go?” asked Payindah, as he polished up my _chaplis_.

“Riding with the princess to see a friend of hers.” Payindah and Firoz had christened Aryenis the “Shahzadi” (the princess) from the day we met her father, and discovered that she was a person of some note in the country.

“It is time you wedded a wife,” said Payindah, handing me my _chaplis_. “Otherwise there will be no Lake sahibs in the regiment later on when my nephew becomes a subadar. Such a one as the Shahzadi, whose eyes are steady when they look on death, and who climbs like a markhor, and is, moreover, good-looking in the manner of the sahibs, would be a fitting mother of sons.”

“Don’t be a blithering ass, Payindah!” said I, putting on the _chaplis_. “Go away with Temra and swagger in the bazaar.”

I could see that he had taken some pains to make himself as smart as he could. Doubtless it was pleasant to him to observe the women frankly admiring him, and telling of his part in saving Aryenis.

“Why do the sahibs always get angry when one speaks to them on marriage, pretending they have never thought of any such things? Now, among _my_ people of the Punjab--”

But I was out of the door by then, and did not hear the rest. Typical talk of an old sepoy, who considered it his business to tell his sahib what he ought or ought not to do. All the same, I reflected, Aryenis’s eyes were very steady when they looked on death. Moreover, they were exceedingly beautiful--in fact, quite in keeping with the rest of her. And with that reflection I entered the great hall.