To Love Again - Bertrice Small [48]
“The ceremony would begin at my father’s villa,” Cailin told him. “The house would be decorated with flowers, if there were any, and boughs of greenery, finely spun colored wool, and tapestries. The omens would be taken in the hour of the false dawn, and being auspicious, the guests would begin arriving even before the sunrise. They would come from all the neighboring villas, and from the town of Corinium, too.
“The bride and the groom would come to the atrium, and the ceremony would begin. We would be brought together by a happily married matron who would be our pronuba. She would join our hands before ten formal witnesses, although actually all our guests would be present.”
“Why ten?” he asked her.
“Ten for the ten original patrician families of Rome,” she answered him, and then continued, “I would then say the ancient words of my consent to our marriage. ‘When—and where—you are Gaius, I then—and there—am Gaia.’ We would then move to the left of the family altar and face it, sitting on stools covered with the skin of sheep sacrificed for the occasion. My father would then offer a cake of spelt to Jupiter. We would eat the cake, while my father prayed aloud to Juno, who is Goddess of Marriage. He would pray to Nodens, and to other gods of the land, both Roman and Celtic. Afterward we would be considered truly wed. There are other forms of the marriage ceremony, but this was the one always used by my family.
“My parents would then host a great feast which would last the entire day. At the end of it pieces of our wedding cake would be distributed to our guests for luck. Then I would be formally escorted to my husband’s home. You would seize me from the shelter of my mother’s arms, and I would take my place in the procession. We would be led by torch bearers, and musicians, and anyone along the way might join in the parade. Indeed, this procession was considered the final stamp of validity to a marriage in the old days.
“It is customary for a bride to be attended by three young boys whose parents are both living. Two would walk next to me and hold my hands, while the third would go before me carrying a branch of hawthorn. Behind me would be carried a spindle and distaff. I would have three coins of silver; one I would offer to the gods of the Crossroads, the second I would give to you, representing my dowry, and the third I would offer to your household gods.”
“And would I do nothing except stride proudly along?” he said.
“Oh, no,” Cailin told him. “You would scatter sesame cakes, nuts, and other sweetmeats among the bystanders. When we reached your house, I would decorate the door posts with colored wool, and anoint the door with precious oils. Then you would lift me up and carry me across the threshold. It is considered bad luck if a bride’s foot should slip while entering her new home.”
“I would not let you slip,” he promised, and lifting his head up, he kissed her lips. “Is that all?”
“No,” Cailin said with a little laugh. “There is more. As you carried me into the house, I would repeat the same words I had said to you at our marriage ceremony. Then the door would be closed to the crowds outside.”
“And we would be alone at last!” Wulf Ironfist said.
“No,” Cailin answered, giggling. “We would have certain invited guests with us. You would put me upon my feet and offer me fire and water as a token of the life we would share, and as symbols of my duty in our home. There would be wood and kindling already set in the hearth, which I would light with the marriage torch. Then I would toss the torch among our guests. It is considered very lucky to gain possession of a marriage torch.”
“Then our guests would go home, and we would finally be alone,” he said. “Am I right, Cailin Drusus?”
She chuckled. “No.”
“No?” he said in exaggerated tones of outrage.
“I would have to recite a prayer first,” she said.
“A long prayer?” He pretended to look aggrieved.
“Not too long,” she replied, “and afterward the pronuba would lead me to our marriage couch, which would be placed in the center of the atrium on the