WE VISIT THE BORDER
We slept late next morning, and I was awakened by the men moving in our
room. Dressing hurriedly, we went into the dining-hall to find Kyrlos
and Stephnos. Aryenis was evidently enjoying to the full the delights
of a real bed in a real house once more.
We made a short meal, for the Sakae live much as do the Southern
Europeans--a light meal of bread and wine, with perhaps eggs the first
thing in the morning, and a large breakfast at noon. I must say I
longed for tea or some other suitable morning drink. Alcohol at that
hour savoured too much of the rum with which we used to lace our cocoa
for dawn battle stunts in the bad frozen frontier days to have any
pleasant memories.
Kyrlos asked us how we had slept, and if we had all we wanted. We
said we were more than comfortable in a good bed--their beds were
good--after many weeks of hard marching. Firoz and Payindah were
feeding with the soldiers, so we told Kyrlos of their prejudices in the
matter of pork, and he said he would give orders on the point.
The Punjabis hit it off very well with the Sakae, whose mode of life
was not unlike their own in many respects. In time they picked up some
of the language with that facility which characterizes the people of
India, accustomed all their lives to meeting men of different races.
Some folk are of the idea that the inhabitants of India are one people,
which may account for a lot of the idealistic rubbish we hear about the
Indian nation. One might as well talk of the European nation. There
is far more difference between the Punjabi and the Tamil than there
is between the Russian and the Englishman, while the French are more
akin to the Scotch than are the Mahrattas to the Sikhs. One meets more
variety of languages, customs, religions, and, most of all, races, in
India than in traversing Europe from Moscow to Dublin.
I asked where all the others had gone, and Kyrlos told me that they had
ridden out to the villages to see the levies, and would be back with
reports in the evening.
He said that he would be riding out himself directly to one of the
border forts that covered an entry into his country, and asked if we
would care to come. Wrexham and I said we should like very much to have
a look at the country, but Forsyth announced that he intended to stop
behind and learn something of the local language from Aryenis. He spent
a very useful day, and when we came back he had long lists of words of
some unknown language written out in Greek characters with the Greek
equivalents.
Aryenis was evidently a good scholar, and Forsyth is a born linguist.
He picked up their language amazingly quickly. As he had thought, it
was not Greek at base, though there were many Greek words interlarded,
especially as spoken by the more educated.
Much of the official written language was Greek, somewhat debased but
comprehensible, and we discovered that a knowledge of the old tongue
was a common possession of the upper classes, much as was Latin in
mediæval Europe. He said the original language was quite unfamiliar to
him, but had many and unmistakable traits pointing to its being some
old Aryan dialect.
After we had finished the morning meal, horses were brought round for
us, little stocky animals of the class of a small heavy-weight polo
pony. The bridles were of deep leather, with single reins and a snaffle
bit. The saddles were merely quilted pads with leather surcingles, and
rather narrow stirrups, but comfortable enough to ride on.
The Sakae gave us the impression of a people to whom horses were
a means of locomotion rather than a form of sport. But later we
introduced polo, which was a _succès fou_ among the young bloods.
As we rode out of the belt of trees surrounding the house and
outbuildings, we had our first real view of the country, which seemed
to consist of a succession of valleys and ridges of hill, some steep
and rocky, others more rolling, and covered with trees and verdure.
To our right lay hills, range after range climbing away to where the
great snow-peaks filled the sky in the north, above the shimmering
blue-grey slopes below. The air was cold and clear under the vivid blue
sky, and a little breeze rustled the autumn foliage, splashes of warm
colour in the bright sunshine. The track we followed sloped steadily
down for a mile or so, and then up again on to a long ridge of hills
higher than the ground we had left.
To our left, beyond a long expanse of more or less open plain, dotted
with fields and cultivation as far as eye could see, were masses of
sharp-toothed hills, clustering higher and higher in the direction we
had seen the gate. Stephnos pointed it out to us as the Shaman country.
I suppose the near edge was thirty miles distant.
The hillsides we rode over were fertile-looking soil, terraced in many
places, like the terraces one sees all along the hills of the Italian
Riviera, sprinkled with stone-walled orchards and vineyards, the
trees now in the copper and bronze of autumn leaf, and dotted among
them little villages, small clusters of grey stone houses, and some
mud-built huts.
The houses were small and primitive-looking, but of a distinctly higher
stamp than one sees in many parts of Middle Asia.
We passed through one hamlet, and as we rode by the women flocked out
of the houses with an old man or two to touch Kyrlos’s bridle and
speak to him. Fine-looking women most of them, typical peasantry of
undoubted white stock. There were none there as dark as a Southern
Italian, and the majority of them had light-coloured hair, while all
had light-coloured eyes. With them a swarm of children, flaxen hair and
red cheeks, that made me homesick for Sussex.
The women were all clad in rough homespun woollen garments, short full
skirts, and bodices with short sleeves ending above the elbows. Some
were barefooted, but the majority had heavy sandals with wooden soles.
For the most part they were bareheaded, their hair coiled in thick
plaits on either side of the head, and some--the more well-to-do--wore
heavy necklaces of silver and turquoise, a favourite stone in the
country. One I noticed had clasps of similar make in her hair.
This woman was, I fancy, the wife of the head man of the village,
because she did most of the talking with Kyrlos.
It was refreshing to see women coming up and talking to men in this way
after years spent in countries where the women sit with half-veiled
faces in the background as you ride by.
They were evidently anxious, from the way they talked--not surprising,
for, as we found a little later, we were but five miles from the border
of the Brown Sakae.
They looked at us curiously, our clothes being obviously unfamiliar.
The head woman asked Kyrlos who we were, and he told her that we were
the people who had brought Aryenis back. They had heard of her return
the evening before, the news having gone through that bit of the
country like wildfire, for Aryenis was beloved of every man, woman, and
child in the place. They took stock of us unabashed thereafter, and, I
think, made remarks on our personal appearances.
I asked Stephnos why there were so few men about, and he told me that
they had been called up to the fort to which we were riding, to guard
the frontier.
As we rode on again between the silver birch trees lining the road, he
explained to me that they had but a small army for police and frontier
work against raiders from other clans. Raids were not infrequent even
in peace-time. Small affairs as a rule, however, which were frequently
stopped for years together by mutual consent. His father’s regular
troops amounted to some two thousand men, including those under his
uncle in the northern part of their country.
But all able-bodied men were liable to military service for fourteen
days in the year, and in case of invasion or threat of invasion for as
long as required. He said we should see the men of this district when
we got to the fort, which lay on the far side of the hill up which we
were riding.
As we came over the crest, riding through fields of lucerne, Stephnos
pointed out to me a big winding river that ran below us in a wide
valley perhaps six miles and more across, and at the foot, some two
miles away, a low, square fort on a small hillock jutting up sheer
above the river.
As we drew nearer, we could see the glint of the sun on the sentries’
caps just above the parapets, and from the top of a little central
tower a blue flag waved in the breeze.
Below the fort was a little village with one or two shops. Most of the
buildings were, however, shut up, clear evidence of prospective war.
Our ponies clattered up the steep winding path to the fort through a
narrow gateway on the edge of a precipitous drop. Two sentries clashed
the iron butts of their short spears to the ground as we entered
(Kyrlos had sent one of our escort ahead to warn them of our approach),
and at the inner gate we found the captain of the fort waiting to greet
us, a tall broad man in close-mail jerkin and steel cap, with a silver
device let in in front. Kyrlos introduced him to us, and he saluted
each of us in turn; but, when he heard that I was the man who had
rescued Aryenis, he offered me the hilt of his sword. I owe a lot of
stout friends to Aryenis, it seems. He was a quiet, determined-looking
man, his natural good looks somewhat marred by an ugly gash across the
forehead, which gave one eyelid rather a droop.
But his mouth was straight and honest, and I think a man’s mouth is the
best index to his character, although his eyes may show more of passing
emotions. I liked him then and there--his square-chinned bronzed face
with the short yellow-brown moustache under the slightly aquiline nose,
his steady blue-grey eyes looking straight out below the dark rim of
his grey steel cap under which his bobbed yellow locks just showed, all
gave one the impression of a leader of men. His name was Henga, and we
learnt that he was the younger son of a big landholder in the district.
Among the Sakae it is customary for the regular troops to be officered
by the sons of the smaller chiefs from whose districts the men are
drawn, forming thus to some extent a professional officer class.
We dismounted from our ponies, and, while Kyrlos was conferring with
Henga, Stephnos showed us round the fort with its high stone walls and
battlements, and the quarters for the garrison and the storerooms all
along the lower part.
He said there was a chain of such forts along the frontier, covering
the most important entries into the country.
Each had its garrison of from fifty to one hundred regulars, and formed
the centre of resistance for the surrounding countryside. When danger
threatened, the officer in charge could call up the men of the district
in such numbers as he required, either to defend the fort, or to hold
the frontier, or to deal with raiders.
Each fort contained food and war stores, arrows and the like, for two
months for twice its normal garrison. When men were called up for
service, they had to join with four days’ food, a bow, a sword, axe or
knife, and a cloak or sleeping-rug.
As we climbed on to the battlements he pointed out below us a company
of men manœuvring, and said these were some of the men called up. The
others, in small bands under the leadership of regulars, were watching
the frontier up to where they linked with the next fort garrison some
ten miles away.
I asked if all the clans had this system of military service, and he
said that all had something like it; but for the last two years his
father and uncle, feeling that war was inevitable, had been perfecting
that of the Blue Sakae.
The regular companies had a very high percentage--in some cases fifty
per cent--of what they call “double-pay men” (what we should call
N.C.O.’s), who were specially trained, and drew double pay for their
efficiency. Most of these were used to command the local levies in
time of emergency. Thus expansion for war was easy with a nucleus of
trained leaders. Living in the same districts, they were in touch with
the civil population, and knew the men whom they would command in war.
Men were not paid when called up for service, their military service
being part return for their lands, all of which belonged in theory to
the chiefs, although, as long as the owner paid his taxes, and--in the
case of able-bodied men--rendered his military service, he could not be
dispossessed. Thus land passed down from generation to generation in
the same family.
In the case of old or disabled men, women, or minor children who held
land, the full tax had to be paid, while in other cases the amount of
tax due was reduced by a proportion for each day of military service
rendered. In the frontier districts, in addition to the normal fourteen
days, each village was collectively responsible for turning out to
repel and pursue raiders. For this no individual reduction of tax was
made, but the whole taxes of the frontier districts were assessed more
lightly.
I did not glean all this on the afternoon I am describing, but I
mention it now so as to give a clearer picture of the country.
I climbed up to the battlements with Stephnos and stood by the sentry,
who, with his long bow beside him, was gazing out over the country in
front. There were other sentries farther along, one to each face of the
fort.
It reminded me very much of a frontier post on the Indian border--the
same loopholes, the same keen-eyed, Greek-profiled sentries, the same
hills in front shimmering in the bright sunlight. But the country was
far richer than anything along the Punjab frontier--more akin, indeed,
to an English countryside than anything I have ever seen in the East.
In front toward the west stretched the plain we had seen from above,
with the broad river winding its slow way through the rich fields into
the fertile valley behind us, and then in the distance the fantastic,
pinnacled, rocky hills of the Shaman country.
Stephnos pointed out a little irrigation canal some three quarters
of a mile away, which he said was the boundary in these parts. I saw
few people moving in the fields, and he explained that nearly all had
withdrawn behind the line of forts.
To northward, beyond the river, lay a row of hills and a mass of
undulating country, well cultivated by the look of it. The country all
round here was in the main watered by the Astara, which, taking its
rise from the high snow, came down first as a fairly fast mountain
stream, and then, as the gradients got less, moved slower and slower,
till it meandered through this part of the country, sluggish as an
English stream in the Midlands.
Stephnos said that this was the richest valley in the country, and
perhaps one of the causes of the jealousy of the enemy. But the Green
Sakae country was almost as fertile; indeed, nowhere was the land
really poor save the part of the Brown Sakae country round the Shamans’
territory, which we found later was in a way industrial, possessing
metal mines which were worked. In consequence the Shamans were well
off, being able to dispose of their metal-work for whatever they needed
in the way of grain and other land produce.
There were other metal-workers in the country and one or two small
mines, but the Shamans were reputed the best craftsmen, and their wares
commanded a high price. They were particularly noted for their weapons
and armour.
Before we left, Henga took us down to see the men drilling below. They
were camped on an open space under the fort, some two hundred men in
all.
They were of the same type as we had seen at Kyrlos’s house, save, of
course, their equipment was somewhat sketchy. But every one had the
long bow, which we discovered to be the national weapon. Most of them
had some form of body protection, either leather jerkins, some covered
with loose metal rings sewn on; some plain, or else thick wadded vests
which might turn a blow. Not a few had steel caps; the remainder had
close-fitting, thick wadded ones. I noticed that these last--although
of harder and stronger material and of different colour--were
practically indistinguishable in shape from the caps worn in the
Punjab Salt Range, slightly peaked, straight round the brow, with low
ear-pieces sweeping round to the back.
Almost every one of these caps was oversewn with either strips of metal
rings or short lengths of iron chain.
It was easy to pick out the regulars, who were more or less uniformly
dressed, all having mail jerkin and steel cap. The N.C.O.’s had small
brass stars fastened to the front of their headgear.
Kyrlos chatted with some of the older men, and one could see that he
was a popular ruler, for, although there was none of the exaggerated
respect so common in the East, it was clear from his people’s bearing
that they looked upon him as their natural leader.
I noticed that he shook hands with all and sundry on meeting them,
and I put down his position as very much that of the patriarch of the
tribe, an impression that later observations confirmed. Every one was
free, and had the right of free speech where he considered himself
aggrieved; but this freedom was tempered with a certain respect for
those in authority, provided they stuck to the laws and--what was even
more important--the customs of the land.
As we rode home, I remarked to Kyrlos that, save for the gathering of
men, it all seemed very peaceful, and he said that that was because
both sides were preparing for war--at least they thought the Shamans
were preparing. For some days yet there would be nothing except minor
raids here and there and perhaps but few of those. It took time to
collect men and form them. His main forces were collecting at Miletis,
where his brother had gone to supervise things.
“To-morrow we shall ride halfway there, some sixteen miles to Aornos,
a fortified town. Then next day we will ride on and meet my brother,
whose army by now will be reaching Miletis.”
As he was speaking, we passed three men--obviously called up for
service--on their way back to the fort, and I noticed that all three
wore something in their caps. One had a tassel of floss silk, another a
little square talisman of turquoise, the third a gay-coloured bunch of
ribbons.
“What are these things in their caps, Kyrlos?” said I.
He looked at them to see what I meant.
“Oh, that is a custom of our land. Whenever there is war and the men
are called out, their wives or their sweethearts give them some favour
to wear.”
“And if a man have neither wife nor sweetheart?”
“Then he must go ask some maid to give him a favour; or sometimes”--he
chuckled--“it has been known, when a young fellow is rather bashful,
that the maid herself will fling him one as he marches away.”
“And is he thereby tied to anything?”
“By no means, though frequently such things lead to more. But it is
good when a wifeless man goes out to fight that he should have some
special maid to think of. He is the more anxious to dispose of the
enemy quickly and so come home again.
“If nothing comes of it when he returns, there is no harm. But if he
return wearing a maiden’s favour and seek her out, he knows that she is
not unwilling if her favour has been bravely borne in battle.
“The thought of a pair of white arms and red lips will make a man fight
better than the thought of all the gold and honours in the land. Is it
not so also in your country?”
“Indeed, I think it is somewhat this way the world over, and will be
while men are men and women are women, though I have heard folk talk as
though such things were dead and gone, and that women preferred gold
and luxury to strong arms and brave hearts.
“Which talk must be untrue, since the thing that every woman desires
in her secret heart more than all else beside is to bring forth
straight-limbed children after the mould of their father: she does not
desire to beget money-bags. Hence unless her nature be warped will she
seek rather a clean-souled, strong-limbed man to father her children.
Therefore I like to see my folk wearing their women’s favours. It is an
omen for the generations to come.”
It was clear that Kyrlos and his kind had a refreshingly primitive
outlook on life. I should like to have put him up to argue with a
pacifist eugenist such as seem to swarm at home just now.
He was silent a space, and then he turned to me again.
“You said last night that you and your friends were wifeless men. It
seems strange to me, for in our country it is uncommon that men of your
years should be unwed. You are all close on thirty, I should say, while
our folk marry mostly at twenty-five or six. Is the custom of your
country other?”
“We marry somewhat later, Kyrlos. In our country it requires money to
support wife and children, and but few young men have it. Further,
since many of us wander much in strange parts, it comes that we marry
later.”
“It seems impolitic that such a matter should depend on gold, for
surely the State must suffer when men like you and your friends remain
single.”
“But perhaps, O Kyrlos, we have not met with such as we would marry, or
perhaps those whom we would marry would not have us! With us it is the
woman who decides rather than the man.”
“With us also. It is not so in all lands?”
“In many it is otherwise, or so they say. Often it is the girl’s
parents, and in some countries the parents of both, who settle these
matters.”
“That is bad, methinks; such things should be for the man and for the
woman. But I should be grieved to think of seeing Stephnos at your
thirty years and still unwed.”
“Thirty-two--O Kyrlos. But, if I had been married, doubtless I should
have remained at home, and then maybe the Lady Aryenis would not be
with you now, so perhaps our customs have some value upon occasion.”
“Doubtless, my friend; all things are well planned could we but see
ahead.”
Then he changed the subject, and for the rest of our ride back talked
of the coming war. I could see that at heart his cares lay heavy upon
him for all his cheerful talk to his people.
After a lazy afternoon spent with Aryenis looking round the grounds
and asking questions about the country, we had an early evening meal,
for Kyrlos had announced that we should start very early the next day.
Aryenis went to bed soon after dinner, and we followed her example,
since Kyrlos was busy hearing the reports of his officers back from the
districts.
Before we went to bed, Payindah and Firoz plied us with questions as to
the exact relationship between the Sakae and Sikandar, and hence with
themselves. We gathered that they had settled down most comfortably,
and Payindah in particular was the hero of the soldiers, since Aryenis
had explained his share in her escape. Like all Punjabis, he was not
devoid of swagger, and his locks were new-curled and oiled, and his
leather new-cleaned, while I remarked that he had obtained a silk
fringe for the end of his _pagri_.
During the afternoon they had accompanied some of the soldiers into the
neighbouring village, where they had been the guests of the day, and
referred with some gusto to the excellent sherbet that had been given
to them. I fear their ignorance of the language misled them in the
matter of the country white wine.
They were full of praise of the rich land they had seen, comparing it
with France. Firoz, in fact, wondered whether it would be possible
to take up a bit of it, and his eyes glistened as he described the
flourishing countryside.
They considered the people as almost as good as their own folk, though
how on earth they managed to converse with them I don’t know. Still
no good fighting man is ever at a loss how to make himself at home,
and these two hard-bitten, war-seasoned, hereditary soldiers were no
exception to the general rule, as I knew from past experience.
Payindah’s handling of a portly French farm-wife and the resultant
delicacies which appeared in my company mess in consequence in the
muddy days of 1914-15 still linger in my memory as bright spots upon
an otherwise murky horizon. So doubtless he had no difficulty in
explaining his meaning to the Sakae, even more akin to the peasant
soldier of the Northern Punjab than were the stalwart peasantry of
Northern France.