Chapter 9

‘Arabia should be proud of you both!’ he said.

At Mishma’s request, Voldi rode home with him. It had been a long time since he had seen his grandfather in the saddle, and his heart swelled with admiration as he watched the effortless skill with which the old man handled the impatient bay stallion. Mishma’s posture in the saddle was a score of years younger than his deep-lined face. They had little to say until they reached the old Councillor’s gate: there they drew their horses together.

‘Shall we say good-bye, sire?’

‘Presently. Come in.’

Dismounting, they entered the luxurious living-quarters of Mishma’s home. He disappeared into the adjacent bedroom and returned with a newly made money-belt. It was heavy with gold, so heavy that when Voldi took it he nearly dropped it.

‘It is the amount you would have inherited, my boy.’

‘Was it not dangerous, sire, to have so much gold in your possession?’

‘True—but I have not had it many days.’

‘Then—you had prepared it—for me?’

‘I thought, at least a fortnight ago, that you would follow her. It is a great grief to me, Voldi. But I cannot detain you!’

It was a memorable moment. Their voices were low. They were both deeply stirred.

‘I shall not expect to see you again. I am old.’ Mishma’s words were barely audible. He was talking mostly to himself. ‘I had dreamed of you as a Councillor. We must give that up now. Whether you find her or not—we have already lost that opportunity… But—I cannot find it in my heart to rebuke you…As I grow older my ideas of values change. The girl is courageous. Not much wonder if you love her enough to throw your life away for her… You may not find her. I doubt whether you will. If she is lost, do not hurry to return. You will have sufficient funds for a considerable amount of foreign travel…If you find her, you will marry her. Do not bring her back here. You would both be unhappy.’…Mishma rose heavily and laid his hands on Voldi’s shoulders…’Go now, my brave boy, and comfort your mother.’

After the painful scene in his own home, where Kitra, having made a valorous effort to control her feelings, finally gave way to a complete emotional breakdown, Voldi galloped away to pay his final respects to the King and receive his worthless passport.

At the last minute it occurred to him to say farewell to Ione, but the servants couldn’t find her. Mounting his tall black gelding he rode away at a brisk trot toward the trail that descended to the Valley of Aisne.