A BRITISH WEDDING
Oh my goodness, it is beautiful,” Annabelle gasped when she saw the dress that Lola had found for Enola in the costume house. It was the most gorgeous white lace gown that Annabelle had ever seen; fit for a princess. It had jewels encrusted on it, and Lola had even found her a tiara, woven under her cathedral-length veil. “It is certainly a British wedding.”
“It has to be,” Enola said. “The stories must reach for my people, to make them believe I have chosen this man, this life.”
“I would tell stories about that gown forever,” she answered, trying to keep things light. She knew that both the bride and groom had mixed feelings about this wedding; even though they seemed to get along with each other fairly well. Annabelle knew that while her father was alive, she had run the risk of a marriage of convenience. She considered herself so lucky to have fallen in love and married her soulmate rather than a high ranking noble she could not care less for.
Enola smiled briefly in the mirror, letting Lola continue to dress her. “Good,” she said. “We want everyone to think I am in love with him.”
“You seem to like him well enough,” Lola replied as she laced the back of her gown.
“Your marriage was a love match also?” Enola asked, and Lola glanced at Annabelle in the mirror.
“It...was a dream,” she said. “I think I was in love with the idea of such a mismatched marriage. Love could conquer all, or at least that was the idea I had been brought up with on stage.”
“Lola,” Annabelle said softly. “Do not say that. You two could mend it, you do not know.”
“Today isn't about me,” Lola answered. “It is about Enola and Patrick and how they are going to forge an alliance to end this war. And also live happily ever after.”
“Uh,” Enola replied. “I am not sure about the second part. But the first part, we can try.”
“Good,” Lola said, as she stood. “All done.”
It was just in time, as a knock came at the door. They both looked up to see Jacob, standing there in his dress uniform.
“How long does it take you to get dressed, exactly?” he said, as he glanced her. “Are you ready?”
“I'll have you know it takes the average woman an hour to get into a gown like this,” Lola said. “And I did it in half an hour.”
“Good for you,” Jacob said. “Everyone is here who is going to be here. Enola?”
“Are you in a rush?” she asked as he held out his arm.
“No,” he said, as she drew closer. He ducked down to her ear, and he thought that he was going to wish her well. Instead, he whispered other words, ones that sent shivers down your spine. “Your cousin is here.”
“What?” She pulled back to look at him in shock. “Ter'an?”
“He is standing outside the church, and he will not come in,” Jacob said. “But I suspect he is here to witness.”
“Of course he will not come in,” Enola said. “This is not his religion.”
“It is not yours, either,” Jacob said. “I am worried that you are betraying too much of your own cause. And while I cannot thank you enough, I want you to be true to yourself.”
“I am,” Enola assured him. “If Ter'an is waiting outside, let's make this look like a real wedding.”
“Alright,” he said as the girls brushed past her, acting as brides' matrons. “We might as well try to smile. It seems half the congregation isn't.”
“It has seemed rather...chilly of late, hasn't it?” she asked him. “Do you know what is happening?”
“As far as I can work out, no one is really speaking to each other, except the women. And even that seems strained. ” Jacob sighed. “Which, to be honest, I am surprised they speak to each other at all, given the situation they described the other night.”
“No truer love hath a man, than he who laid down his life for a friend,” Enola said and he smiled at the quote.
“Well, at least you remember something from my literary ramblings. Still, I hope it is not going to be a problem. Going into battle with an internal war is a certain death sentence.”
“If I can marry a man I hardly know, in a ceremony I am halfheartedly against, then surely they can pretend to be friendly to each other.”
He glanced at Enola as they waited at the back of the church. “Are you sure you are alright?”
“I do wish my father could be here,” she said as the organ began to play. “That is all.”
“There will be a real one,” Jacob said. “It will not look like this. It will be in a forest, with stunning views, and all your gods blessing you as the wind blows.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot. I want you at that wedding too.”
“I would not miss it for the world,” he said, as it was finally their turn to walk down the aisle.
Holde was in his dress uniform, standing at the front with his sergeant; his hands tucked behind his back. He turned to look at Enola as she walked, and his jaw fell open.
Whether or not his true romantic heart was in this wedding did not matter in this moment. She looked beautiful, stunning, as she practically floated down the aisle.
“The things we do for the army,” Percy said to him, but he barely heard him as Enola came to his arms.
He and Ella had not had a wedding like this. It was in a dark church, in stained clothes in the middle of the night. They were so sure they were in love that they did not want to wait another moment. It had been three years of bliss; three years of happiness. He was grateful that this wedding did not look anything like that dark romantic night. This felt theatrical; showy. After all, that was the point, was it not? He expected nothing less from a wedding arranged by an actress.
With shaking hands, he lifted her veil, revealing her tanned, beautiful face. She was not quite smiling, but she did look happy to see him. He pulled her hands into his, kissing them gently.
The church was nowhere near full; with only a handful of guests in the giant cathedral. But it was enough to witness the ceremony that was about to take place.
Holde nodded to the priest, who cleared his throat, and opened the book. “Dearly beloved, we have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by His presence and first miracle at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and His Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people. The union of husband and wife is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given each other in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore, marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.”
Enola felt her soul bristle a bit at the mention of a single God. However, she told herself that it was not real; it was for the war effort.
“Into this union Enola and Patrick Holde now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not be lawfully wed, speak now, or else forever hold your peace.”
She half wondered if Ter'an was going to burst in and say something. He could not speak English, so that thought was silly, but she would not put it past her strong willed and vengeful cousin.
Luckily, no one said anything. Enola breathed a sigh of relief, glancing at Holde, who raised an eyebrow.
“Were you expecting someone?” he asked quietly, but she shook her head.
“Just hoping everyone would behave.”
“Of course they would,” Holde said. “They would not dare say a word.”
“Because you are an officer?” she asked.
“Because you are a princess,” he said. “And I am undeserving to be marrying you.”
She blushed at that, looking down at her shoes. “Thank you,” she said, and the priest cleared his throat, reminding them that he was still there.
“I charge you both, here in the presence of God and the witness of this company, that if either of you know any reason why you may not be married lawfully and in accordance with God's Word, do now confess it?”
There were about ten thousand reasons why, and Enola could start and not be done until next week at this rate. She could imagine all those who protested this marriage fighting to come forward in her head. However, she also knew the main reason was to gain peace, to save lives, so she held her head high.
“No,” she said loudly. "There is absolutely no reason why we should not be married."
The priest turned to Holde next, and she could see his chin quiver, albeit slightly. She had slight doubts about whether he would make it through at all. She had doubts about whether she could make it through, if she was being honest with herself.
“No,” he said clearly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "There is absolutely no reason why we should not be married."
He met her eyes and she knew that he was thinking the same thing as her. Still, she squeezed his hand, reminding him that they would get through it together.
“Enola,” the priest turned to her.
“Will you have this man to be your husband, to live together with him in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she replied, knowing that she meant most of it. She was a caring soul, and she would never forsake someone simply because he was ill, injured, or without money. She would also never go behind his back. As long as they were married, this marriage would be true.
“Patrick Holde, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together with her in the covenant of marriage? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto her as long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” he said, his blue eyes looking deeply into her brown ones. She was beautiful, he could not deny it. She was not his Ella- she was not his soulmate. However, maybe, just maybe, she could help heal a bit of his broken soul.
“Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in your power to uphold these two persons in their marriage?”
“We will,” came the small chorus that surrounded them, most of them standing up as members of the wedding party.
“Bless, O Lord, these rings as a symbol of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Enola tensed at this line. She knew it was coming; Jacob had warned her. It was part of the reason why she did not feel as bound by this marriage as she would by one in her culture. This was not one of her gods; she was not in traditional dress, she did not have the blessings of the elders. This marriage was not real; at least not by her terms.
Holde went first, taking the ring from Percy, who stood by his side. It was a simple gold band. Enola had not expected one at all, and she certainly would not have worn one had it not been a British wedding. Jewelry like that was seen as lavish and impractical. In her tribe, everyone knew who was married to whom; they would not wear such obvious signals. There were other ways, of course, hair, clothing, paint, but a ring that had to be purchased seemed extravagant.
“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he said, meeting her eyes as he pushed it over her knuckle.
Annabelle handed her the ring that was meant for Holde and she struggled to remember the words. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,”
She felt like a fraud saying it, but she kept reminding herself that it was not real; it did not mean anything.
The priest turned between the two of them, and looked past them into the pews.
“Now that Enola and Patrick Holde have given themselves to each other by solemn vows, with the joining of hands and the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce that they are husband and wife, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Those whom God has joined together, let no one put asunder.”
Enola planted her feet, knowing that a prayer was coming next. Jacob had warned her of how it would go, and while she may not share the beliefs, she was willing to be respectful.
“Let us stand and pray together the words our Savior taught us,” the priest said, and everyone bowed their heads.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone echoed.
Enola could not seem to get the words past her lips.
“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve and keep you; the Lord mercifully with His favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace. That you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting. Amen. The peace of the Lord be with you always," the priest said as he looked between them.
“And also with you,” everyone echoed.
“Enola and Patrick Holde, having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife. Patrick Holde, you may kiss the bride.”
She had not planned this part, and she looked up to see his eyes closed. Hurriedly, she closed her own eyes. She had not mentioned to anyone that she had never been kissed.
He leaned down, and it was not at all what she’d pictured. Chaste and sweet; it sent a tingle down her spine as he gently took her arms, pulling her in close. She did not want that moment to end; her chest heaving against his.
Eventually, he pulled back, opening his eyes. “We'll be alright, will we not?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, breathlessly, as they turned toward the crowd. There were a few people there that she did not recognize: A few privates who wanted a day off, the riflemen from Holde's company, and a few peasants looking for shelter. She did not mind, for it was about spreading the word that they had a real marriage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest looked down at the titles that had been scribbled, and raised his eyebrow as he read. “I present to you, Major....Prince Patrick Holde and his bride, Princess Enola of the....” He mangled her tribe name so badly that she did not even bother to correct him, for she did not know where to start.
“Blimey,” Holde said as the applause half drowned them. “Really?”
“It is not what you think,” she said. “It is just the easiest translation. But...sort of.”
“Lord, what have I gotten myself into?” he asked as she they slowly walked down the aisle. He was only half joking, and she chose not to acknowledge it, as someone pushed open the church doors.
There was a crowd gathered, which surprised her. However, she supposed the wedding of a Native girl to a British Major was something to talk about, and any wedding was worth celebrating. She was blinded by the sunlight and the cheers, as Holde held onto her arm.
Patrick; she supposed she should call him Patrick.
She only made it down a step or two before she spotted Ter'an. He was standing at the bottom, in traditional dress and paint. He looked like he was going to war, which she supposed, he was, in a way.
“Taapway?” he asked. Ter'an was a man of few words, and today was no different.
“Wii,” she replied, meeting his eyes. How many years had it been since they had seen each other? Two? Three? How much had changed? What news did he have?
His eyes were more lined; his mouth harder. He had grown a few inches, a man now. His jaw hardened at the words, and he held her gaze.
“Enola?” Patrick asked, picking up on her tensed shoulders.
She said nothing, watching her cousin. She felt Jacob at her back, ready to spring into action if Ter'an's temper flared.
However, Ter'an had no choice, as she knew that he would not.
Ter'an sank to his knees, dipping his head low.
“What is he doing?” Holde asked, confused.
“He is bowing to you,” Enola said. “You outrank him now; you are a prince. And unless something has changed in the past few years, you are now the male heir to my father, before him.”
“What?” Holde asked, and she squeezed his hand.
“It is not like the British. We are equal, men and women, and we often inherit through the mother's side. I am my father's heir....but you are higher ranking than Ter'an right now.”
“I never want to take anyone's place,” he said, and she tried to smile.
“For the war,” she said, and he fell silent.
For the war? But what war, exactly, had he gotten himself into?