"Can you imagine, Mother, me, as a bride?" I asked dreamily, clasping my hand over my heart. We couldn't afford a proper seamstress to come up with a decent wedding dress or dowry, but Mother would do.
"Stop fidgeting," she ordered, sticking a pin into the folds of my dress that I was wearing, and then consulting the effect. I sighed happily and touched the cinched pink muslin that draped over my figure.
Of course, when I was little, I'd always pictured myself in a stunning white gown, like the princesses and wealthy had when they got married. But white cloth was expensive, and I still needed at least two or three nice dresses for my dowry.
I'd spent all morning washing and ironing the extra sheets and lace that Mother had saved and packed them carefully away into my marriage trunk to take with me when I arrived at my husband's new home. Surely, my new husband wouldn't mind if they were a little threadbare, right?
I sighed as I took a look around the main room of our small house, with dust swirling in the corners and bits of old lace peaking out from cracked vases. I'd spent my whole life in this little location, and I was going to miss it dearly.
"Turn this way Anneka," Mother mumbled, surveying the effect of the pink cloth. I obliged and struck a pose to amuse her.
Mother, however, was not amused. "Anneka!" she said reproachfully, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. "I honestly. . . I have no idea what to do with you, girl."
"Ah, don't you worry Mother," I said, remembering only too late that Mother hated how I used contractions in my speech. "I'll be out of your hair, soon!"
"Not soon enough," I heard her mutter as she unpinned the fabric from me. "You are free to go, Anneka. Do not get yourself into too much trouble."
"Okay," I half-promised, flying out of the room and retreating on my straw pallet, lying down and staring up at the ceiling. This was the place where I let loose all of my flights of fancy.
I crossed my ankles in a very unlady-like way and sighed, thinking about this man that the matchmaker had picked out for me. Was he handsome? Did he have golden hair? Or perhaps auburn?
Was he a strong sort of person? Or would he be more bookish, like my own father? I grinned. If that was so, than we'd have much in common. I'd often sneaked out a book or two from my father's shelf and read it under the moonlight.
Would he have a good mind? I hoped so. I wanted to have long, lengthy conversations with him. Not about silly things, though. Deep conversations with meaning.
Was he nice and kind? Was he a man of laughter, who would make me smile in mirth every time he opened his mouth? I pictured a tall, faceless stranger with a smile on his face.
I wondered what married life was like. Surely, my husband would work and I would keep the house, like all women in my village did. Except for the matchmaker.
And that made me think of what the old woman had said earlier. She'd made me a promise. She'd said "You'll be happy if---"
If what? I wondered what she could have said, filling in her unfinished sentence with all sorts of ideas that came out of my head. What was that condition that I had to satisfy, in order to be happy?
Of course I wanted to be happy! What person alive didn't? I wanted to be a wonderful, doting wife with a kind husband and a huge lot of lovely little babies.
I wondered if the matchmaker made a sort of promise to all of the girls and men that she'd married off. I wondered how she knew how to pair two people up for eternal bliss. I wondered what that powdery stuff was that she'd poured into her mixing bowl. . . . I wondered. . . . .wondered. . . . . . . . . .
"Anneka? Anneka! Get up!"
My eyes flew open and I sat up abruptly. "What?"
Isabella rolled her eyes. "How long have you been dozing off, little sister?"
"Just for a few minutes," I said hastily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Why?"
"Come to the market with me," Isabella ordered, hands on her hips like Mother.
"Why? What if I don't want to?" I eyed my sister suspiciously. She was only a couple of years older than me, but we were never that close.
"Please." There was something pleading in her tone.
"Alright, alright," I grumbled, yawning and throwing on a heavy shawl again. "If it makes you happy."
"It does," Isabella said softly as we set off outside the house together.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Isabella was acting odd---she was usually too crabby or too tired to treat me civilly.
"What's wrong, Isabella?" I asked as the cold air took our breath away again. "Something bothering you?"
"No," she answered brusquely, and then sighed. "yes."
"What's wrong? You're never like this," I pointed out. Isabella was like Florencia and Mother. All strong and proper women. And apparently, 'proper' women didn't show their emotions in public.
"You're getting married," she said pointedly, not meeting my curious gaze. This was something utterly new for me---all the women I knew never lost their head in emotions. Except me.
"I am," I said slowly, not sure that I understood what she was driving at. "In two day's time."
Isabella turned to face me and I was shocked at the expression on her face. She was sad. Because I was getting married and leaving her house.
"Anneka, I'll miss you," she said softly, looking down at her feet. "It'll be boring here without you."
"I'll come and visit," I said frantically, wrapping my arms around her. "Like Florencia always does."
"But I'll still miss you," she said, her voice catching a little. "It won't be the same at home without you."
"Oh, Isabella," I sniffed, starting to feel a little tearful myself, too. All the way up until right now, I hadn't really thought about what I'd be leaving behind. I'd been too busy looking forward so eagerly that looking back hadn't occurred to me once.
We must have looked like complete lunatics, standing in the middle of a snowy street and holding each other, crying freely. Mother would have been scandalized.
It was the first moment in a long, long time that I'd been this close to Isabella. She'd always been in league with Florencia, and I was the youngest girl who was always criticized, always picked on.
"I'll invite you over to my new home for parties everyday," I consoled my older sister, untucking an old handkerchief and mopping up her tears. "Don't worry, Isabella."
"I can't help it," she snuffled, blowing her nose loudly. "You're always at home to make things so. . . interesting. It'll be so boring when you're gone."
"Isabella! Are you saying that you actually don't think I'm that annoying?" I laughed feebly as we held each other tightly.
"Maybe I am," she giggled and hiccupped slightly. "Oh, look at us, we're being stupid. I'm being stupid. We'll still see each other, of course!"
"Definitely," I assured her, giving her another hug.
I've heard of wedding ceremonies where a bride and groom pay gold coins to use a chapel or some sort of large public area for the ceremony. They invited a hundred people who spend more money getting to the location and watching it.
I've heard that brides prize their wedding day above anything and worry about color matching napkins and flowers. I've heard they buy dresses for their closest friends to wear at the wedding ceremony.
I've heard that the man courts the lady for months before marriage, and then pays loads of gold for a little ring to give to the girl, and asks for nothing back.
Absurd. Completely absurd.
Who on earth could be that wealthy?
Weddings, scarce as they are, are quite practical in my village, compared to those ludicrous myths I've heard of before.
Even though. . . sometimes, If eel as if it would be wonderful to have such a romantic fairy-tale day for a wedding. But of course, with my family's status, it was completely out of the question.
In my new rosy colored dress, I sat proudly in the carriage father had hired for me. It was a tradition, and referred often as "a father's last favor", which I thought sounded very romantic.
Isabella, Florencia, and Mother sat next to me, my marriage trunk in the back. I'd annoyed all of them so much this morning about my new husband until Mother told me to be quiet.
But I still couldn't help but wonder, though. What was this man like? Would he love me? Would I love him? Suddenly I doubted my faith in the matchmaker, Madam Hassan. How could she know how to make two people happy by putting them with each other?
Was it even possible?
"We're here, madam," the carriage driver said politely, hopping off of his front seat and helping me down. We were at the home of the intimidating reverend, who lorded over all weddings.
"Look, your new husband's already here," Isabella said, clutching my hand and pointing at a handsome white carriage and its driver. My heart thudded in excitement. "Looks like he's pretty well off, doesn't he?"
"Money doesn't matter," I said quietly so that only Isabella could here. "I just hope he's a good man."
The Reverend greeted us on the steps of his home, shaking my hand and mothers'. "Young Anneka, you look lovely," he said, puffing himself up importantly.
I dropped a curtsy and smiled. "Thank you Reverend."
"Come inside, we're all ready."
We stepped into his house. A piece of clothesline string had been hung from one end of the house to the other, dividing the room in half, long ways. Blankets and quilts were draped the string so that it looked like a patterned wall that divided the room.
The whole idea with a blanket divider in a house during a marriage was quite simple. It symbolized the joining of two people into one union. Once the vows were spoken, it was the job of the families to remove the blankets and quilts so they could properly see each other, thus becoming a new "One" family.
"The bride and her family will be on the left side," the reverend directed as we shuffled to the left. I could see the black shoes on the other side under the blanket and frowned. My groom did not seem to have much of a family.
The Reverend led me to the front of the room, facing his fireplace. The blanket wall separated me and the groom still, but I could see his boots and a bit of his trousers.
The Reverend opened his worn copy of the Bible and began to read loudly. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this day in the sign of God-and in the face of this company-to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men. . . . . "
I listened closely, for once, to every word that the reverend uttered, despite his monotone voice. This was important, after all!
"We are here today before God because marriage is one of His most sacred wishes to witness the joining in marriage of Solomon Joseph Vanguard and Anneka Marcela Strauss."
I frowned slightly. Something about the man's name stirred my memories ut I shrugged the feeling off soon. It was soon to be of no matter, I was sure.
"This occasion marks the celebration of love and commitment with which this man and this woman begin their life together. And now through me He joins you together in one of the holiest bonds. Who gives this woman in marriage to this man?"
I couldn't help but look behind me as my father stood up proudly.
"Her family and friends gathered here today do."
The reverend plowed on and I didn't listen as closely. It meant the world to me that my family was here, to see this glorious day that I would surely remember forever.
"Do you Solomon Vanguard, Anneka Strauss to be your wife to live together after Gods ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your hearts deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?
I blinked, almost dizzily. That was quite a big request.
"I do," said my soon-to-be husband, and I noted that his voice was rich and young-sounding.
His name was Solomon. What a wonderful, wise name to choose. Surely, he was feeling as excited as I was, right now.
The reverend turned to me, still reading loudly from his Bible. "Do you Anneka, take Solomon to be your husband to live together after Gods ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your hearts deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?"
this was it. This was it. I was going to become a wife!
"I do," I said as calmly as I could, feeling a rush of happiness, wondering if the matchmaker was watching right now.
There were no rings to be shared---that was for the incredibly wealthy folk. For the people of our village, the vows were good enough. They just had to be.
"You have pronounced yourselves husband and wife but remember to always be each others best companion. What therefore God has joined together let no man put asunder."
I nodded and couldn't help but try to sneak a glance at my groom again, but the curtain-like wall of blankets prevented me.
The reverend excitedly reached the end of his speech with a booming tone. "And so, by the power vested in me by the Almighty God, I now pronounce you man and wife and may your days be good and long upon the earth." He turned broadly to face me, and the curtain between me and my husband was yanked away. "You may kiss the bride."
I turned on the spot, ready to face my husband with excitement, but I didn't get a glimpse of him before a pair of cold lips pecked mine timidly. And then we pulled apart.
My face crumpled.
He was nothing like I had imagined. My mother screamed.
The reverend looked around confusingly and looked at my family, who was all yelling and shouting, in shock.
Rooted to the spot, I gazed in horror at the man I'd just been married too.
He was cruel-looking, with dark hair that hung haughtily around his pale face. Before I could take in his fearful looking features anymore, my arm was suddenly being dragged backwards.
"How dare you?" Mother was screaming at someone that I couldn't see. "How dare you match my daughter up with the village freak?"
Freak? There was only one freak in our village, but he didn't live with us. He lived in a manor, and his name was. . .
I felt my heart lurch. No wonder I'd recognized his name.
"There is a legend," Isabella said in hushed tones and I propped myself up eagerly on the bed. Isabella was 9, and I was 7.
"Tell me Isabella, tell me," I begged. "I want to know."
"It might be too scary for you," she warned, her eyes glinting in candle light.
"No, it won't. I promise I'll be good," I begged. "I want to hear the legend, Isabella."
"Alright, alright. Shush." Isabella grinned and consulted the flickering candle for a moment, watching the shadows dancing on the wall. "Just a few years ago, maybe 10 or maybe less, a baby appeared on the steps of the matchmaker's home."
"Oooh," I breathed, shivering with delight. "Tell me more."
"Madam Hassan sent him to the orphanage right away. Even then, she was too old to raise a child."
"But we don't have an orphanage, Isabella."
"I know that. There was one in a town not too far from here."
"And then what?"
"He came back."
I felt shivery again. "How old was he?"
"I don't know. Mother wouldn't tell me." Isabella's eyes glinted. "He built a manor for himself, just on the outskirts of the village. No one knows how he came by so much gold."
"the outskirts. . . wait, he lives there!?!?" My eyes widened. Everyone had told me that the old manor was deserted, and not a sign of life had been seen from it for years and years.
"Yes. His heart, cold as ice and cruel like a hawk. Handsome like a prince. He lives there by himself, day after day after day."
"He sounds lonely. Why doesn't anyone visit him?"
"Because Anneka," Isabella said impatiently. "They're all afraid of him."
"Why?"
Isabella's voice became even more hushed. "They say, in the orphanage, he turned funny. They say he never spoke a single word until he was seven years old."
"Seven? But. . . that's the mark of a---"
"Of a freak, I know," Isabella nodded knowingly. "They said there was always something odd about the boy. He'd go out to play with a stray cat or dog, and when they would find him again, and the animal would be dead."
I gasped aloud that time. "Dead? Dead animals? But surely, he couldn't have---"
"No one could prove that he'd killed the small, innocent animals. He was never found with a weapon, Anneka. They believe. . . .they believe that. . . "
"What? What do they believe?"
"He's the son of an enchantress."
"What's his name, Issy?"
"Solomon Vanguard."
Solomon.
Solomon Joseph Vanguard.
My new husband.
"How could you?" Mother was screaming in anguish now, and I turned around to meet the gaze of Madam Hassan, who was looking quite offended.
"I dont' want my daughter married to that man!" Father yelled, pointing at the groom, who was looking quite calm during all of this. I couldn't believe that he'd kissed me. I felt like I wanted to be sick.
Everything was chaotic and I wanted to cry. Nothing was like it was supposed to be. At this time, I should have been in the white carriage, going to the home of my husband's!
"We want out! We don't want this marriage!" Mother was sobbing now, clutching to reverend like a life line. "Please. Undo it."
"I can't," the reverend blustered, trying to hold Mother off. Divorces were another taboo in our village---it was simply scandalous and unaccepted. "I've done it. They're married."
Mother wailed and threw herself next to Madam Hassan, who looked pityingly down at her.
"Undo it, please, please," Mother begged her. "I won't have my daughter married to him! He's a fright! He's an enchantress' child!"
Timidly, I looked at Solomon, who was quite indifferent to all of the noise. His dark, sharp eyes scanned me quickly and I looked away, feeling a cold shiver. He smirked.
"What are you smirking at?" I snapped. "You find it amusing that I will be married to a monster?"
"Such bad manners," he said coldly, sneering at me.
"Please," mother was pleading to the matchmaker. "I beg of you."
"No, no, no, Anneka will be happy, you'll see," the matchmaker repeated, patting my mother's head sympathetically. "She'll be happy. Very happy. You'll see."
"Anything," Mother sobbed. "Gold. More money. You can have it. I want my daughter back from this man!"
My family surrounded the matchmaker, begging and pleading for me to let go. I was pretty panicked myself, too, but I couldn't do anything but stand there numbly, feeling as if I was in a nightmare.
From all the screaming and the shrieking and hysterical wails, I could barely understand what was going on, besides the fact that I couldn't undo the marriage. I was already legally bound to Solomon Vanguard.
Rest in Results!
Mother was hysterical. Father was on the verge of killing someone. Florencia and Isabella were crying.
"There's nothing we can do then?" Father asked the reverend as we stood outside his home. Solomon stood next to me, unmoving. Unfeeling.
The reverend shook his head gravely. "Deepest sympathies, but Anneka and Solomon are married. There is nothing we can do."
Mother burst into a fresh wave of tears and I bit my lip, trying hard not to cry. I wanted to be strong for her.
"Well. Then it is settled," Father said, giving me one last hug. He and Mother had tried everything to get me back. It hadn't worked. "Take care of yourself, Anneka."
I nodded bravely and saw that he was crying too. I turned to Mother next, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be good, Mother. I'll visit." My mother shook her head, disbelieving and numb.
My sisters gave me huge, bone-crushing hugs that I savored the feeling of, being surrounded by people that I loved.
And last to say good-bye was, ironically enough, the matchmaker.
"Good bye Madam Hassan," I said, keeping my voice calm. "Thank you for everything." I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of what I said to the matchmaker. But I had to be polite.
Madam Hassan smiled kindly at me, and I resisted the urge to fling myself at her and attack her.
"Do not forget my promise, Anneka," she said in a hushed voice. "I promised that you would be happy if---"
"Anneka, you really need to leave now," Father said gently, reaching for me. I felt a rush of disappointment. I had wanted to find out what the matchmaker's promise had been.
"Bye," I said wistfully as I climbed up on the white carriage and turned to my family, saving the image of them into my memory.
Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!
< !-- BEGIN CBOX - www.cbox.ws -->
< !-- END CBOX -->
