by C. L. Roman
“Hah!” Volot returned sourly, “No worse than you, sighing over a certain angel girl all the way there and all the way back. You could have filled three cloud banks with all that wind.”
“So,” Fomor said, “I see you two had a productive trip. Glad to have you back. Shall we see what we have?”
The others were saved from replying by the arrival of Phaella and Adahna who willingly helped unload the cart and distribute the various household goods. This was their dowry so they were given first pick, the remaining items distributed to the other three houses as part of the bride gifts for the other brides.
“What do you suppose it will be like?” Phaella asked. “I’ve never been to a wedding before.”
The others stared back at her, completely at a loss how to answer.
“We’ve none of us been to a wedding before.” Fomor placed a gentle hand on her arm. “But I think we are about to find out.”
From down the path behind them came the sudden sound of singing and laughter. Phaella and Adahna looked at each other in surprise as a group of village women entered the clearing, exclaiming in excitement over the new houses.
“Oh, Danae will love this!”
“Shahara will be so pleased.”
“Just wait until Gwyneth sees her new home.”
“You have done well in so short a time.”
The males of the group wasted no time in leaving their sisters to their fate. They were about to fade into the surrounding forest when a chorus of deeper voices stopped them. Magnus and Zam led a troop of boisterous, already slightly drunken, men into the clearing as the assembled women made loud, if laughing, remarks about the effects of drink on a man’s “personality.”
“Hah!” shouted Magnus, “so long as it doesn’t affect his performance!” The men laughed and the women smothered grins of their own while the men led the grooms off into the forest for some secret pre-wedding ritual of their own.
Phaella looked nervously at the assembled women. “So, now what?”
The women smiled slyly as Danae, Shahara and Gwyneth slipped, giggling, out of the forest to join them.
“Now,” Danae said, “we enjoy our last night as free women!”
***
The following morning dawned bright and cool, just as had every morning in Danae’s memory, but this one was different. The chuppah, or wedding canopy, was being erected near the forest pools. Danae had not seen it, but she could imagine the star-white square of cloth floating gently in the morning breeze, the rich carpet on which they would stand, and the small altar where they would take their vows.
A smile of anticipation lifted her lips as the young bride sniffed, inhaling the mouth-watering aroma of the seudah being prepared for after the ceremony. Every family in the small community would provide food for the feast but that would not be until much later in the day.
“Danae,” the young woman started at her mother’s voice. “Dear one, you should eat something.” Naomi offered her a plate of fruit and bread, but her daughter shook her head.
“I can’t Mother. I’m too excited, too nervous. What if he forgets the ring? Or doesn’t know to bring one? He has agreed to the provisions of the ketubah, but what if he changes his mind?”
Naomi hid her laughter behind her hand and patted her daughter’s shoulder. “I do not think you need to worry about such things. I have never seen a chatan happier to wed. Oh, he keeps a calm face, but I have looked into his eyes.”
Without warning, Shahara rushed in from the adjoining room. “Mother! Have you seen? Anna’s family has arrived, and they have brought gifts!”
Naomi smiled at the younger woman. “Calm down Shahara. Now, how do you know this? Were you not to keep yourself in seclusion in case your chatan should happen to walk through the village? You do not want to bring misfortune on your marriage before it even begins, do you?” She tried to make her voice stern, but she could barely restrain a smile at Shahara’s exuberance.
Shahara’s lips drew down into a pout. “I only saw out the window. Volot is not even in the village.” Her expression became pensive. “I have not even had a chance to speak to him since he returned from his journey. It was cruel of Fomor to send him away so close to the wedding. What if he has changed his mind?”
Sensing a gathering emotional storm, Naomi briskly changed the subject. “I am sure he would have sent word if that were the case. Besides which, you are not supposed to see him, so it makes no difference. Now, what are these gifts Anna’s family has brought? Did you see?”
The volatile young woman was only too willing to allow herself to be distracted. “I do not know. Gwyneth says…” she trailed off, glancing apprehensively at her mother.
Naomi’s gentle features folded themselves into an unaccustomed frown. “What does Gwyneth say and how does she know anything more than you learned from your window?”
Shahara was saved from answering by Gwyneth’s blithe entrance. She sailed in calmly enough, but with eyes dancing. “Don’t fuss, Mother. All is well. I slipped out for only a moment.” As her mother continued to frown, some of the daughter’s ease melted, “Please Mother, don’t be angry. Sarai was there and you know how long it has been since I saw her.”
Naomi huffed in annoyance, but she was not immune to her daughter’s pleading glance. Besides, she had no time for such bridal nonsense.
“Well, see to it that you stay inside now. Quickly, give me the veils. The men will be coming for you any moment and your aunts and I would pray before sending you off.” As Danae moved to bring the veils, Naomi wagged a finger at the three kallahs. “In the meantime, you three stay inside. Ahba does not bless an immodest bride. No one must see you before your veils are in place.”
The young women nodded in obedience, hiding grins with their bowed heads. Naomi was not fooled, but she hid a smile of her own by turning her back to them and leaving the room with the veils.
“What did Sarai tell you?” Danae pounced the moment her mother was out of sight.
Gwyneth pulled a disappointed face. “She wouldn’t tell me. She was very mysterious about it, and, if you ask me, not all together comfortable.”
“What do you mean?” Shahara plopped down on a pillow and added some sticks to the brazier.
“Well,” Gwyneth filled the tea pot from a water jug and placed it on the brazier to heat, “it was almost as if she didn’t fully approve of the gifts.”
“Oh no,” Shahara giggled. “You don’t think it’s one of those hideous cook pots Aunt Mara makes do you?”
“I hope not. They always get broken within a week.” Danae raised wide eyes to her sisters. “I don’t know how it happens.”
The girls broke into fits of laughter that brought tears to their eyes.
Gwyneth was the first to recover herself. “I don’t think that was it. Though, perhaps I am a victim of wishful thinking. But truly, if it were something like that, why cover them?”
“I should think the answer to that was obvious,” Shahara said. “Aunt Mara may think her pots are beautiful but everyone else knows better. Uncle Haran probably just convinced her it added to the mystery and excitement of the gift, while sparing himself the embarrassment.”
Danae slapped her sister lightly on the arm. “Shahara, that is unkind,” she said, choking back laughter. “And, at this point, it matters not. Unless I am very much mistaken, that sound is the men coming for us. We need to finish dressing.”
Their unfinished tea forgotten, the girls scrambled to put the finishing touches to their bridal clothes. Their mother and aunts hurried in a moment later to help settle the veils over their hair, as a mark of modesty and purity in the bride.
On the other side of the village, in the guest tents, a very different conversation was taking place.
“No Mother, I do not think they will like them.”
“What are you talking about? Of course they will like them! Why wouldn’t they like them?”
Sarai shrugged, loath to explain what she could barely
understand herself. “I just don’t think they will. I don’t understand why you insisted on bringing ours with us.”
“Why shouldn’t we?” her mother asked, ticking her reasons off on her fingers. “It is beautiful. It represents our god. We look at it and think of him. It helps us to pray – so,” she tossed her hands into the air, “why not? Besides,” she concluded with a satisfied smile, “no one else has such a thing. We will be the envy of all who see it.”
Sarai stole a hasty glance at the golden figure on its pedestal. Just a statue, just an ornament fashioned in the shape of a sun with human features carved into its face. The round countenance was surrounded by waving rays of gold to represent god’s glory and holiness. On the face, the lips tilted upward in a smile, supposedly to represent the kindness of their god. What could be wrong with that? But the smile looked smug to her, not benign as she had heard it described, and she had to repress a shudder.
“Then we should have brought five instead of only two. There are five couples under the wedding canopy today you know.”
“Hummph. Five! Whoever heard of having two weddings on the same day, let alone five? At least Nephel asked us to bring our family’s wedding canopy with us so that each bride will have her own.”
“Well, there are five today, whatever we think of it. Each bride should have her own gift, especially in this situation. I still say you should give each of the couples one of your pots. That way all is fair, and there is no jealousy.”
Mara brushed the idea aside with chubby fingers. “No, absolutely not. Nephel’s family is too careless – the pots always wind up broken within the first week. This, at least, they cannot destroy,” she concluded, whipping the embroidered covers off of two golden statues.
Their faces grinned at Sarai in malignant good humor. She took an involuntary step back. “Cover them Mother, quick, before someone sees.”
Mara tsked with irritation, but grudgingly covered the idols again. “Perhaps you are right. So much power in one place is a bit overwhelming. And,” she smiled in happy anticipation, “we do not want to spoil the surprise. And it is perfectly fair. One will be set up in the new village, with Danae and her sisters. The other shall be placed in the old village with the foreign brides. And as for individual gifts, what do you think these are for?” She indicated the blanket sized covers which Sarai had thought were only meant to cover the statues. Richly embroidered with creation scenes in a rainbow of colors and textures, they would indeed, make lovely gifts on their own.
“A wise wife makes everything work twice. A blanket has already been placed in each bride’s home except for those of Danae and Shahara, the eldest brides. They shall receive these at the wedding itself.” She paused, obviously giving herself a mental pat on the back. “Now, I must go and greet Naomi. We must pray over the veils that our brides will be happy and fruitful. You finish the meal preparation. We mustn’t disappoint the bridal couples.” The older woman hesitated, “Five marriages,” she tsked. “Such an unlucky number - and to share your wedding day? This cannot end well.” With that dire prediction, Mara waddled out the door.
Half an hour later the brides were ready. Gwyneth smoothed nervous fingers over her long tunic of pale green, the color of new beginnings, embroidered with flowers and wheat sheaves to symbolize beauty and fertility. Danae could hear the prayers of her mother and aunts ending. Then came the songs of the men as they asked for and were given the veils of the Badeken. Finally she heard her father’s strong voice, “Who marries today? Who gives their consent to leave this house and become kallah to her chatan?”
One by one, she and her sisters raised their voices in assent and proceeded, eldest to youngest, into the large meeting room at the front of the house. Here they were met by Naomi and Nephel, who kissed their cheeks and gave each of them a small purse with a single coin to represent their dowries. Danae smiled as she thought of the cooking pots, the linens and other household goods she and her friends had moved into her new home the night before. Fomor had built it well. It would be a beautiful place to begin a new life.
Naomi stepped forward to place a circlet of delicate flowers, small and white and perfect, to symbolize purity and commitment, on the crown of each bride’s head. Now they were ready. Danae saw the joyful tears in her mother’s eyes, heard the cheering of the crowds lining the path from the village to the oasis pools. Family and friends had traveled up to a week to be here to attend this event.
Five weddings, she thought, so many for a single day. Surely this has never happened before? No wonder there are so many guests. I hope the Seudah is sufficient. It would be horribly embarrassing to run short of food at the feast.
Magnus and Zamzummim joined them and now the group was walking along the path. Soon the chuppah would be in view. Please do not let Shahara be disappointed, she prayed. It is her wedding day, she should be happy. As they entered the clearing a gasp escaped her and she shot a glance at her sister. Five chuppahs! Other families must have brought theirs so there could be five. How wonderful. Shahara was crying softly, Mother and Father were smiling with pride. It was good to have such wonderful friends.
Nephel and Naomi moved to Danae’s side, her siblings falling in behind as the remaining family and friends took their places to witness the ceremony. Seated between her parents, Danae looked across the chuppah to where Fomor and his siblings were seated. Naomi stood and crossed to the left edge of the canopy with a small plate in her hand. Adahna rose and walked to meet her. Together they dashed the plate to the ground.
“Let us remember that just as this plate is broken and may never be fully repaired, so too a relationship, once broken, is difficult to mend.” Naomi said.
“Therefore, make your spouse the first relationship in your life after God, that you may keep your marriage whole,” Adahna continued. The two women smiled at one another before returning to their families.
Now Fomor rose with the beautiful veil held tenderly in his hands. He crossed the chuppah and stood before Danae who rose to meet him. Unfurling the veil he lowered it gently over her head. “I see the beauty of your spirit and it eclipses even the loveliness of your face. You are a pure and precious kallah to me. I will provide for you and protect you with every breath I take, so long as Sabaoth gives me life.”
Taking the hands he held out to her she replied, “I see the strength of your spirit and it eclipses even the power of your form. You are a brave and wise chatan to me. I will respect you and care for you with every breath that I take, so long as Ahba gives me life.”
The couple turned together and walked to the center of the canopy where the priest waited near a small table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Woman,” the priest began, “Do you build your home?”
“I do,” was Danae’s soft reply. Releasing Fomor’s hand, she walked seven times around him, her heart rehearsing prayers of thankfulness and joy. After the seventh circle she stopped at Fomor’s right side. The priest reached out and, placing Danae’s hand in Fomor’s, began the betrothal blessing over the glass of wine placed in his hand by an attendant.
Completing the blessing the priest asked, “Where are those who would witness this betrothal?” Shahara and Volot stepped forward.
“We are here.”
The priest offered the wine as Volot placed a hand on Fomor’s shoulder and Shahara lifted Danae’s veil. The wedding couple together held the cup, fingertips touching, palms arched, so that should either of them remove their hand the vessel would fall. They drank, first Fomor, then Danae. Their duty done, Volot and Shahara stepped back as the priest took the cup once again into his hand.
“By what sign do you promise yourself to this woman?” the priest asked Fomor.
Releasing Danae, the groom pulled a ring of pure gold from the smallest finger of his hand and placed it on her right forefinger. “Behold you are wife to me with this ring, according to the law of God.”
“Amen,” said the priest. Reaching into the folds of his robe
, he withdrew the ketubah. He read the contract to the quiet assembly and supervised the signing of it by the young couple and their witnesses. Volot stole a glance at his future wife before the two of them returned to their respective seats.
“And are there those who would bless this chatan and his kallah?” The priest’s voice rang with assurance in the quiet morning air.
“We do,” answered Jotun and Gwyneth as they stepped forward. In voices made solemn by the occasion the couple began as an attendant filled the second glass of wine.
“Blessed are you God, source of the world, who creates the fruit of the vine.” Jotun’s deep voice carried over the crowd.
“Blessed are you God, light of life, who created everything for your glory,” Gwyneth recited in reply.
“Blessed are you God, spirit of all things, creator of the human being, foundation of every life, who fashioned humanity in your likeness, from one generation to the next and for all eternity.”
Together they said, “We celebrate and exult in the coming together of your children. Blessed are you God, who brings joy to your children. Give pleasure to these beloved companions as you did to your creation in the Garden of Eden. Blessed are you God, who makes the hearts of this couple rejoice.”
Tears coursed down Gwyneth’s cheeks as she spoke her final portion of the blessing, “Blessed are you God, source of the universe, who has created each of these two people, their delight and their happiness, their rejoicing and singing and dancing and festivity, love and friendship, peace and pleasure.”
In a voice rough with emotion, Jotun completed the ritual, “Oh God, may the voices of this celebration be heard throughout our villages and the surrounding countryside. May the words of this couple go out with gladness from their wedding canopy, and may the music of their friends and guests surround them. Blessed are you God, who brings joy to the hearts of this couple.”
As Gwyneth and Jotun finished, the attendant gave the glass to the priest who held it out to the bridal couple. As before, the two drank together, each dependent on the other to keep the glass from falling. Now the priest took back the cup and joined their hands once more.
