The town itself was an uninteresting place also, for the most part peopled by hangers-on of the Court.  So we were not sorry when we crossed the river by a high-pitched bridge, where in days to come I was destined to behold one of the strangest sights ever seen by mortal man, and rode out into the country.  Here all was different, for we found ourselves among the husbandmen, who were the descendants of the original owners of the land and lived upon its produce.  Every available inch of soil seemed to be cultivated by the aid of a wonderful system of irrigation.  Indeed water was lifted to levels where it would not flow naturally, by means of wheels turned with mules, or even in some places carried up by the women, who bore poles on their shoulders to which were balanced buckets.

Leo asked the Khania what happened if there was a bad season.  She replied grimly that famine happened, in which thousands of people perished, and that after the famine came pestilence.  These famines were periodical, and were it not for them, she added, the people would long ago have been driven to kill each other like hungry rats, since having no outlet and increasing so rapidly, the land, large as it was, could not hold them all.

“Will this be a good year?” I asked.

“It is feared not,” she answered, “for the river has not risen well and but few rains have fallen.  Also the light that shone last night on the Fire-mountain is thought a bad omen, which means, they say, that the Spirit of the Mountain is angry and that drought will follow.  Let us hope they will not say also that this is because strangers have visited the land, bringing with them bad luck.”

“If so,” said Leo with a laugh, “we shall have to fly to the Mountain to take refuge there.”

“Do you then wish to take refuge in death?” she asked darkly.  “Of this be sure, my guests, that never while I live shall you be allowed to cross the river which borders the slopes of yonder peak.”

“Why not, Khania?”

“Because, my lord Leo—­that is your name, is it not?—­such is my will, and while I rule here my will is law.  Come, let us turn homewards.”

That night we did not eat in the great hall, but in the room which adjoined our bed-chambers.  We were not left alone, however, for the Khania and her uncle, the Shaman, who always attended her, joined our meal.  When we greeted them wondering, she said briefly that it was arranged thus because she refused to expose us to more insults.  She added that a festival had begun which would last for a week, and that she did not wish us to see how vile were the ways of her people.

That evening and many others which followed it—­we never dined in the central hall again—­passed pleasantly enough, for the Khania made Leo tell her of England where he was born, and of the lands that he had visited, their peoples and customs.  I spoke also of the history of Alexander, whose general Rassen, her far-off forefather, conquered the country of Kaloon, and of the land of Egypt, whence the latter came, and so it went on till midnight, while Atene listened to us greedily, her eyes fixed always on Leo’s face.