Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

Konrad laughed. "That was exactly what your father suggested on our very first meeting:
‘Alexandra should teach you Georgian.’ I feel that he has not only been your accomplice for a
long time, but he knew all along that you had set your eyes on me! And I, in those long-gone
days, did not have the nerve to ask you to teach me Georgian. I would love to learn some
poetry from you."
With a mischievous sparkle in her eyes that reminded Konrad of her just alluded to
Mingrelian genes, she said. "I have another idea. Father indicated that you should visit him
soon. You will have to ask formally for the hand of his daughter. If you could learn those words
in Georgian, it would be a complete surprise for both my parents. Maybe this would be the first
phrase I should teach you."
Konrad reigned in his horse and kissed her hand and said laughing. "Dearest Lady
Alexandra, may I first formally ask you for your hand in marriage? I promise to be a good
husband, a doting father to your children, and the quiet spirit in your tempestuous life."
Alexandra blushed deeply and, a little awkwardly, leaned from horse to horse and kissed him.
They had arrived at a clearing in the woods. At their feet lay, surrounded by an apple
orchard, lay the church of Betania. A narrow bridle path led down into the valley, and in another
fifteen minutes they reached the church.
Whenever it did not rain in October and November, Alexandra took Konrad on everlonger
excursions. High on the pleasure of riding, they spent whole days in the vast steppe
southeast of Tiflis, far from the prying eyes, the gossip, convention, and bustle of town.
They left very early one morning when the air was still crisp and frosty. As soon as the
squalor of the busy streets lay behind them, they let their horses fly. Except for a few
shepherds and their flocks, no villages interrupted the expanse of this landscape.
South of the road to Kakheti the grassy plain stretched for miles towards the hills of
Garedshi on the Azerbeidjani border. They rode along a barely visible track straight into the
noon sun.
"Let’s see who wins!" she shouted and gave her horse free rein.
Konrad bent down on the neck of his mare, stirring her to give all she had. They flew
over the empty plain like arrows. For the first time Konrad felt truly at one with his horse. Very
slowly he gained a nose, then half a head, and finally half a length on Alexandra’s stallion.
"I give up," shouted Alexandra raising her arms. "This time you win."
She reined in her panting horse, jumped off, and threw herself full-length into a sandy
depression laughing and gasping for breath. He knelt next to his high-spirited Amazon and
kissed her tenderly.
The low sun threw long shadows of the two lonely riders over the yellow grass, when
they reached the seemingly bewitched rock formations of David Garedja. In an amphitheater
surrounded by rock walls pocked with caves they came upon the Lavra, the dilapidated center
of the monasteries of Udabno.
An Azeri shepherd family and their flock occupied the ground floor in the only intact
building. The shepherds spoke a heavily Farsi-inflected Georgian, which Alexandra could
barely understand. They offered them an empty room on the second floor, once a monk’s cell,
and for a small amount of money promised to provide for the horses.
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