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.