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.

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.”

“In fact, just you and me, to put it shortly,” said Aryenis laughing happily.

“Yes, Shahzadi, just that. And you will show me that you want that--and me?”

“Must I show you?”

“Always. It isn’t only women that want to be told and shown the things they know. Men also sometimes. You see a man may come--probably will come--to disbelieve the things he knows, or thought he knew, unless he’s shown them clearly and repeatedly.”

“And then, O Harilek?”

“And then, Shahzadi, good-bye to happiness. Will you say good-bye to it?”

“Never!” said Aryenis, decisively. “I shall always show you the things you know. I shall just keep your eyes and ears, your mind and your every sense, so full of them that you’ll never have an instant to think of anything or any one except them and me. That please you, man of mine?”

“Yes, lady mine. That sketches heaven as in your song, ‘Just a man and a woman, all in all.’ One can’t want more than that.”

Then we rode in silence a space up the lane to Paulos’s house, where Aryenis had first talked of the things that matter, and of that greatest of gifts that man or woman might give if they had the right marks. The sun sank behind the western hills, leaving the eastern wall that ringed round Sakaeland one vivid glow of crimson snow above the long purple and lilac shadows under the cloudless sky.

I helped Aryenis from her mare, and we went up the grey stone steps to the open door with the firelight gleaming in the hall. She checked on the threshold, and I remembered just in time that it is ill fortune for a bride to cross the doorway of her home for the first time on foot. I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the hall, and as I put her down our lips met in the first kiss in our own home, in the firelit hall with the carved timbers, the half-seen trophies, the gleaming wood of floor and chair and settle.

After dinner we sat on the couch by the fire in silent content at being one at last--just realizing to the full the bliss of being together, of really belonging each to each. Just such another evening of flickering firelight playing across Aryenis’s hair and face, across the white slimness of neck and arm, as recalled those evenings of the past--the dragon evenings at Aornos, the ribbon evening in this same hall of ours.

“I want you to say really nice things to me to-night, please, Harilek.”

“What shall I say, sweetheart? Tell you that your frock is pretty, or that you are looking your very nicest?”

“No; not things like that.”

I looked down into Aryenis’s eyes, upturned in the half-light, gleam of white below the luminous wide circle of the iris, and on the soft curves of her parted lips.

“Tell you that I love you, then?”

I felt her arm draw tighter round me.

“Tell you that I love you with every little bit of me? ’cause that’s true, you know. I just worship you, sweetheart.”

Aryenis’s arms were very tight as she strained against me, drawing my lips down to hers, pausing to whisper ere they met:

“And, man of mine, I love you--always--with everything that’s in me.”

And in that long dear kiss I could feel the rhythm of her measured words, and all the depth of feeling that prompted them--words that moved me more than any I have ever heard in all my life; and in the silences that followed as we sat in the firelight glow I could almost hear the echo of her words ringing down the long avenue of years in front, like the music of the stars above--unchanging, undying rhythm down the trackless vaults of time.

At last Aryenis stood up, smoothing the ruffled coils of the burnished copper of her hair, slim arms outlined against the dark wood panelling. I was going to get up, too, when she bent over and kissed me, whispering as she pushed me back on to my seat:

“I want you to look for pictures in the fire just a little while, Harilek. All the things you’ve seen since you came to Sakaeland, and then come and tell me what you’ve found.”

And with another kiss she was gone.

So for a while I sat still in front of the glowing logs, and picture after picture came up into my mind: Aryenis of that morning, Aryenis of the mauve ribbons, Aryenis of the desert days, and through and with them all Aryenis of the sunlit Aornos road--the dearest best companion that ever man could have--until finally I went up the dark wood stairs to the big dressing-room next to our bedroom, where the lamplight glittered on my mail and weapons and on the carved presses round the walls.

Still with my fireside pictures fresh in my mind, I blew out the little silver lamp and passed into our room--with the dancing firelight playing on the warm hangings, and throwing long shadows on the rug-strewn floor.

And then--all my pictures faded and merged into one, now crystallized from vision into warm living reality.

“How very, very beautiful you are, Shahzadi!” I whispered, awe-struck.

“I want you to say that to me every day of my life--husband,” said Aryenis.

THE END

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Water-skins.

[2] Fur-lined skin coat.

[3] British East India Company.

[4] Mule trunk.

[5] Pronounced Er-yennis.

[6] British Government.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.