Christ the Lord - Anne Rice [47]
Aunt Esther brought the parchment, several loose sheets, and the ink and the pen.
“Write it up, write it all up,” said Hananel airily. “Write up that everything pertaining to her inheritance from her mother is hers, according to every record public, private, written, and unwritten, known to tradition and unrecorded except by common consent, or according to the girl's own avowal, and in spite of the denials of her father. Write it up.”
“My lord,” my mother said. “This is all we have to offer you, I fear, only a little pottage but the bread is fresh and just warmed.”
“It's a banquet, my child,” he said, bowing his head gravely. “I knew your father and loved him. This is good bread.” He beamed up at her, and then glared at James. “And what are you writing?”
“Why, I'm writing just exactly what you said.”
And so it began.
It lasted an hour.
They talked, back and forth, of all the usual conditions and proprieties. James haggled mercilessly over every single point. The girl's property was hers in perpetuity and should her husband ever, no matter what anyone said, put her aside, her property would be returned to her and with such damages as her kinsmen would demand, and so forth and so on, as it was always done, back and forth, back and forth. Yet James drove every point home. Now and then Cleopas gave him a nod, or held up a cautious finger, but in general it was James who saw to it, until it was written out. And signed.
“Now, I beg you, my lords, to allow this bride to be married immediately,” declared Hananel with a weary shrug. His voice was slurred now from the wine, and he pinched his nose as if his eyes ached. “In view of what the child has suffered, in view of the disposition of her father, let this happen at once. In three days' time or sooner, I insist, for the girl's sake. I will immediately seek to prepare my house.”
“No, my lord,” I said. “That won't do.”
James gave me a sharp look, full of apprehension and distrust. But not a single woman in the room looked at me. It was plain enough to them what I meant when I spoke.
“In several months' time,” I said, “at Purim, Avigail will be ready for the bridegroom to come for her at this threshold, properly arrayed for her new husband and beneath the canopy, with all our kinsmen to salute you and sing for you, and proceed with you and dance with you, and she will then be yours.”
James stared at me wrathfully. My uncle raised his eyebrows but didn't speak. Joseph watched in quiet.
But my mother nodded. The other women nodded.
“That's over three months' time,” Reuben said with a sigh.
“Yes, my lord,” I said. “And right after Purim, after we've all heard the Scroll of Esther, as we should.”
Hananel studied me, and then nodded. “This is good. We are agreed.”
“But now, if I might,” asked Reuben. “If I might for just a moment see the girl, speak to her, present to her this gift.”
“What is this gift?” demanded James.
I motioned for him to back off. Everybody knew the betrothal wouldn't be final until Avigail had received Reuben's gift.
James stared at Reuben sullenly.
Reuben produced the gift dutifully, opening the silken wrapping. It was a gold necklace, very delicate and very beautifully made. It shone with gems. I'd seldom seen such a thing. It might have come from Babylon or from Rome.
“Let me see if the girl is well and able to speak to you,” said my mother. “My lord, drink your wine, and give me leave to talk to her. I'll be back as soon as I can.”
There were muffled noises from the room next to us. Several of the women came in. Reuben rose and so did James. I was already standing.
Hananel looked up expectantly, the light very bright on his slightly scornful and bored face.
Avigail was brought in the door.
She was dressed in a simple bleached woolen tunic and robe, and her hair was beautifully combed.
The women urged her gently forward. Reuben stood before her.
He whispered her name. He