Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) (24 page)

We all sat for the scripture readings.

“A reading from the Song of Songs.” Sister Eunice was reading. Bane actually relaxed enough to grin at me. We’d unanimously chosen this reading.

“I hear my Beloved.

See how he comes

leaping on the mountains,

bounding over the hills.

My Beloved is like a gazelle,

like a young stag.

See where he stands

behind our wall.

He looks in at the window,

he peers through the lattice.

My Beloved lifts up his voice,

he says to me,

‘Come then, my love,

my lovely one, come.

My dove, hiding in the clefts of the rock.

In the coverts of the cliff,

show me your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet

and your face is beautiful.’

My beloved is mine and I am his.

Set me like a seal on your heart,

like a seal on your arm.

For love is strong as Death,

jealousy relentless as Sheol.

The flash of it is a flash of fire,

a flame of the Lord himself.

Love no flood can quench,

no torrents drown.”

Birds and walls and lattices... too perfect! Of course, Song of Songs was the only book of Scripture Bane had read all the way through. ‘It’s got, like, breasts and everything,’ I’d overheard him confiding to an amused Father Mark, some years ago.

Oops, Sister Eunice was reading the psalm. I struggled to pay attention. Bane liked this one, because it finished, ‘he will see the downfall of his foes.’

Now the epistle. Another mutual choice.

“If I have all the eloquence of men or of angels,” Sister Eunice read, “but speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing...”

Bane hadn’t let go of my hand – rather distracting...

“...If I give away all that I possess, piece by piece, and if I even let them take my body to burn it, but am without love, it will do me no good whatever.

“Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offence, and is not resentful.

“Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.

“Love does not come to an end.”

Possibly the most famous description of love ever written...

We stood and Pope Cornelius came forward to read the gospel. This one at Bane’s insistence. The last part was rather embarrassing, ‘cause I
knew
he was thinking of the success of the blog and everything.

Oh yes, here it was...

“...You are the light of the world. A city built on a hilltop cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp to put it under a tub; they put it on the lamp-stand where it shines for everyone in the house. In the same way your light must shine in the sight of men, so that, seeing your good works, they may give the praise to your Father in heaven.”

A little voice in my head was saying, ‘just the homily now, just the homily and then you’re getting married...’ I tried to quiet it and listen – with limited success. I clutched Bane’s hand even tighter as we sat down.

Pope Cornelius smoothed out a couple of sheets of paper and smiled around at everyone, but there was a touch of sadness in it.

“When Sister Eunice was clearing out Father Mark’s room she found this on his desk.” My heart clenched as he held up the pages. “It says at the top, B&M homily. It is probably not in its finished form, but it’s as good as anything I could have come up with – so I will read it today.”

Bane’s forehead was rucked up with pain, but he managed a smile. Pope Cornelius smoothed the pages again and began.

“My dear friends: You must forgive me if I draw heavily on the traditional ‘Exhortation before Marriage.’ Bane may well laugh at the name, but it says it better than I can. So. You are both about to enter upon a union that is extremely sacred and extremely serious. Sacred because since God is its initiator, marriage is of its very nature holy, requiring a complete and whole-hearted giving of self.

“It is serious, because it will bind you together so intimately that it will profoundly influence your whole future. That future, with its hopes and disappointments, its successes and failures, its pleasures and pains, its joys and sorrows, is hidden from you. And not knowing what is before you, you take each other for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death.

“It is a beautiful tribute to your faith in each other, that recognising the full magnitude of your words, you are, all the same, so willing to pronounce them. At this stage in a wedding homily, I would normally suggest to you that friendship is a far more key ingredient to a successful marriage than desire. Both are good, but beyond a certain point, only one is indispensable.

“But you two have the advantage over many couples in that your wedded life will be built on the foundation of a near-lifelong friendship. You already know how to get on. You know how to make up. You know how to support one another through good and bad. And I think there’s no shortage of desire either!”

I blushed and Bane’s cheeks went slightly red, but I brushed a tear away as well. It was like Father Mark was speaking to us from beyond the grave...

“Building on this sound foundation, I urge you to rest the security of your wedded life upon the great principle of self-sacrifice. Not a fashionable notion outside of Underground circles, but before you curl your lip at me, Bane, let me observe that you already seem remarkably proficient in this virtue. Think back over the last year, and further back still, and consider how often you have put your own needs and desires after those of the young woman who is about to become your wife. Consider how often she has done the same for you.

“This voluntary and complete surrender of your individual lives is made in the interest of that deeper life which you are to have together. After today, you will belong entirely to each other; you will be one in mind, one in heart, and one in love.

“Whatever sacrifices you may need to make to preserve this mutual life, always make them generously. Sacrifice is usually difficult and irksome. Only love can make it easy, and we are generally willing to give in proportion to our love. When love is perfect, the sacrifice is complete: ‘A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends...’

“If true love and the unselfish spirit of perfect sacrifice guide your every action, you can expect the greatest measure of earthly happiness that may be allotted in this vale of tears. The rest is in the hands of the Lord. Nor will He leave you unaided; He promises His life-long support.

“So, my dear friends, with no further ado, let us see you united.

“I second our dear departed friend,” concluded Pope Cornelius. “With no further ado, let us see the two of you united.”

He came forward to the edge of the sanctuary and began the preparatory remarks for the marriage rite – I mopped my eyes frantically and tried to get myself together.

“Bane and Margaret, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?”

“I have.” Bane sounded like he’d something stuck in his throat.

“I have.” Also trying to keep my voice steady.

“Will you love and honour each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

“I will.” Bane’s voice was a little stronger.

“I will.”

“Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?”

“I will.”

“I will.” My voice was coming back under my control as well.

Pope Cornelius smiled at us, and my mouth went dry again. This was it...

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.”

Bane swallowed – a slightly panicked look entered his eyes, then was pushed away by a determined frown. Carefully he took my right hand.

“I, Bane... er,
Blake
...” He trailed off. Upset? Oh... trying not to laugh! “Uh, I, Blake
BLANK~BLANK
...” He paused again, more dissatisfied than amused now. “Oh, for pity’s sake! I, Bane Mitchell~Marsden, officially Blake BLANK~BLANK, take you, Margaret Elisabeth Anysia Vaux~Verrall, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

He gave a firm nod, clearly happy he’d satisfied both law and his own sense of identity. And watched me rather breathlessly.

I knew the words, Bane had just said them.

This was it...

***+***

22

YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDEGROOM

“I, Margaret Elisabeth Anysia Vaux~Verrall, take you, Bane Mitchell~Marsden, officially Blake BLANK~BLANK, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Done.

Pope Cornelius beamed at us both.

“You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with His blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.”

I stared at my husband, holding tight to his hand – Jon produced the rings from his pocket and Pope Cornelius sprinkled both them and us with Holy Water.

“Lord, bless and consecrate Bane and Margaret in their love for each other. May these rings be a symbol of true faith in each other, and always remind them of their love...”

Then Bane was fumbling with the smaller ring, trying to pick it up with fingers not quite as steady as usual.

“Margaret, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity...”

The ring slid into place, cool and bright around my finger. My turn...

I didn’t do much better picking the ring up, but I managed to get it over the end of Bane’s finger on the second attempt.

“Bane, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity...”

Done! The choir was singing. I felt like a piece of jelly and leant against Bane – my husband! He slipped a discreet arm around my waist, tucking me close, and we stood like that throughout the general prayers that followed.

Prayers over, the Communion rite was beginning... I knelt, Bane – my husband! – kneeling beside me. My head was ringing – or maybe singing. Pure happiness?

Time for the nuptial blessing – getting to our feet again.

“...May your abundant blessing, Lord, come down upon this bride, Margaret, and upon Bane, her companion for life, and may the power of your Holy Spirit set their hearts aflame from on high...”

Bane was beaming at me like the happiest and proudest guy on earth. I beamed back, until Pope Cornelius said, “Let us offer each other the sign of peace.” He looked at me, winked and said, under his breath, “You may
now
kiss the bridegroom.”

I laughed at the Hollywood (near) quote, but blushed as well.

Then embarrassment – everything – was forgotten, as Bane’s arms encircled me, hands resting at the small of my back. I looked up into his eyes – every delicate hue and shade of brown radiating out through his irises like the brush-strokes of the Creator...

Finally I stretched and he bent and our lips came together, feather-light touch, in the chastest kiss we’d ever exchanged. A small electronic sound –
Brother Marcel
– wasn’t important.
Lord, thank you for my husband
...

Someone hovered at my side... Kyle. Oh. We were
all
supposed to be exchanging the sign of peace. Feeling like I was leaving reality for a dream, I detached myself from Bane. From the amount of giggling and whispering, Bane and I had caused a bit of a distraction. Oops.
Sorry, Lord
.

I hugged a lot of people and shook hands with even more and soon Bane and I were kneeling again, and I received Our Lord whilst Pope Cornelius laid a hand on Bane’s head and gave him a particularly special blessing. So nice to have him kneeling there beside me, yet that small separation hurt, today more than ever before...

Lord, sooner or later, please let my husband choose to become part of your flock... I don’t think he doubts so very much, now, he’s just stubborn... and the way his parents have treated him makes it
so
hard for him to trust your love
...

And we were standing for the final blessing – then the mighty organ over the door was playing and the recessional procession formed up and we were married, married, married! Sarah handed me my bouquet and happily gathered up my ‘train’ again, then Bane and I were walking down the aisle arm in arm, together, united.

Eduardo waited at the back of the church, directing the procession, with little apologetic grimaces, through the internal door instead of the external one – the Eye of Sauron must be back. I drew Bane gently out of the procession, to a side altar.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” I told my bridesmaids, “I’m just going to pray for a minute.”

“That’s okay,” said Caroline, “we can look around, then follow you out properly.”

All three of them were gazing around the cathedral in awe.

“Pretty,” said Sarah, and Caroline and Harriet nodded their agreement.

My other two bridesmaids left them to their gazing and knelt at the altar as well – anyone who hadn’t had to process out was saying their post-communion prayers. Bane knelt uncomplainingly beside me, and became lost in the happiness of the moment – or perhaps one of his argumentative conversations with the Almighty.

After a few photos, the wedding breakfast – more accurately termed ‘lunch’ – went uneventfully, though I heaved a slight sigh of relief once the speeches were over. Jon was merciful to Bane, telling nothing worse than the story of the broken arm and nose, which, violence notwithstanding, was well received by pretty much everyone. I’d known that was coming, ‘cause he’d checked some details with me. Sarah burst into tears and clapped so hard you’d think it’d happened this morning!

Kyle showed similar restraint, though he couldn’t resist trotting out the hammer and nail story. I hid behind my napkin as I saw it coming.

“So there’s little Margo and Bane in the playpen, and Margo’s got this toy hammer and Bane’s sat there with this look of complete resignation on his baby face as she whacks him on the head with it, tap, tap, tap. He was playing the role of the nail, y’see!”

“There’s no way you actually remember that,” I grumbled, as he sat down to applause and great hilarity.

“Maybe not,” he smirked, “but Mum and Dad told the story often enough, and they had the picture to prove it.”

Wouldn’t mind if that photo was one of the things I never saw again!

“Well, Margo’s dumped this on me,” Bane began the couple’s speech, “’cause she says everyone hears quite enough of what she thinks!” That got a laugh.

Then he went on to make me cry with love and happiness. I would’ve been more annoyed if he hadn’t been so clearly teetering on the verge of tears himself.

Still, nice to have all that done with. I tried to savour the meal, ‘cause I knew how hard the cooks had worked on it. But it was difficult. I was too busy looking at Bane to notice what I was eating. My husband. Mr Verrall.

“That’s going to take some getting used to...” I muttered.

“Huh? Oh, Mr and Mrs Verrall, right?”

I couldn’t help pulling a slight face as I nodded. It sounded so weird.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“But... you used your real... uh... old... um, well, anyway, you used Mitchell~Marsden in the vows, so, am I really Mrs known-as-Mitchell~Marsden-officially-BLANK~BLANK?”

“Forget that! Let’s just stick with Verrall, even if it takes a while to get used to it, hmm?”

“Fine by me, I was just wondering.”

“Well, I doubt we’ll ever be registering it with the EuroGov, so who cares.”

“True.”

The lunch went on for literally several hours, then everyone dispersed to sneak in a little more work whilst an army of eager helpers moved the tables and set up the canteen for the evening party. Bane and I were chased away at our first tentative offer to help, so we went up to my room with Caroline, Harriet and Sarah, who would have to leave at nine o’clock.

“I’m stuffed,” moaned Bane, flopping backwards onto the bed. “I kept eating whatever was on my plate and they kept refilling it and I was so busy looking at the new Mrs Verrall I didn’t even
notice
. No dancing from me tonight, waddling only.”

“You can’t
waddle
!” exclaimed Caroline, “it’s your
wedding
!”

“You’ll look like a duck!” Harriet was equally aghast.

Bane laughed, then rolled onto his stomach so he could see me where I sat on the window seat with Sarah. Clearly deducing I wanted to snatch a little time with my friends while they were here, he gave an exaggerated yawn.

“Perhaps I’d better try and sleep it off, then.” He settled his chin on his arms.

“So how’s Africa?” I asked Sarah.

She brightened at once.

“Africa great place. Sarah has hamster now.”

“A hamster? Really?”

“It’s not a hamster,” put in Harriet, “that’s just what we call it. It’s really a desert... um... what’s it called, Caroline?”

“Desert Jerboa,” said Caroline. “Like a hamster only it’s got big legs and jumps like a Kangeroo. It likes Sarah, though. If she puts it down it’ll come right back to her.”

“That’s ‘cause she feeds it sugar lumps,” said Harriet.

“Sue like sugar,” said Sarah firmly.

“Sue?” I asked. “That’s its name?”

Harriet and Caroline put their heads together and broke into giggles.

“Sue has long legs. Look like Sue... other Sue,” said Sarah.

“Face like a fox,” said Caroline – she and Harriet sniggered again – so did Bane. They must’ve read ‘I Am Margaret’ now and know Sue tried to steal my short story.

“So what do you do there? Where do you live?”

“Kanju,” said Sarah, “Sarah like Kanju.”

“It’s a free town,” said Harriet. “Self-governing.”

“The state Kanju’s
in
does toady to the EuroGov a bit, so they say,” said Caroline, “but I expect y’know what it’s like with towns with FreeCharters over there, they’re just untouchable.”

I nodded.

“I know.”

“Yeah, so Kanju’s free. ‘Parently it doesn’t
actually
count as an Underground town, ‘cause it’s got a...” Caroline paused to get the word right, “it’s got a
representative
government, but most everyone there
is
Underground. We live in one of the communal houses. There’s lots of jobs to do there, I mean, it’s a whole
town
.”

“Yeah, but we all work in the weaving workshops,” said Harriet. “We’re not very good yet, we just make mats from recycled stuff – when we get better we’ll be able to make fabric for clothes on the big looms.” She gave Caroline a significant look, but Sarah had already jumped up and practically dived under the bed, pulling out a large colourful bag.

All three of them gathered around it and took out some long rolled up things.

“Were you thinking we’d forgotten your wedding present?” giggled Harriet. “Bet you were!”

“I honestly hadn’t thought about it,” I said – honestly.

“Well, here we are,” said Caroline. “Bane, are you awake?”

“Yep,” yawned Bane. “The sight of Mrs Verrall is keeping my eyes open better than caffeine.”

Blushing, I exchanged a rather soppy grin with him.

“I made this one, Harriet made this one,” Caroline unrolled three colourful mats, “and Sarah made this one.”

“They’re for your house,” said Harriet eagerly. “Um... when you have one.”

“For
floor
.” Sarah took the top one and laid it out in the space beside the bed.

“They’re lovely.” I meant it. Sarah’s usual taste in colour matching ran directly contrary to that of pretty much the entire of the rest of the world’s population, but for once the result was attractive rather than blinding. The purple, orange and green just looked cheerful.

Bane reached down a hand to examine the rugs.

“That’s great.” Genuinely pleased. “We’ve got, like, household goods now! And all these rooms here have wooden floors.”

Bane and I took a moment to arrange the rugs, though we were actually moving to a single, larger double room later.

“So how are the hours?” We settled down again with mugs of hot chocolate Jon had appeared at the door with. “Is it hard work? How’s the heat?”

“Oh, it’s very hot,” said Caroline, “but it’s fine in the weaving sheds and most of the houses. They’ve all got waterCool roofs. D’you know what they are?”

“Um, sort of flat water tanks all over the roof. The water runs through them and heats up in the sun, keeping the heat from the buildings, and flows on into hot water tanks, right?”

“That’s right. Seems to work really well, and you never have to heat water any other way.”

“They have this service – bit like earlier – every morning at eight,” chimed in Harriet. “Then when that finishes at eight thirty, it’s breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s the same as here,” I remarked.

“Then at nine we go to the sheds to work,” Caroline took over. “We get half an hour with tea and biscuits in the morning and afternoon, and an hour off for lunch. Then we finish at five. And there’s two days off together each week, called the ‘weekend’.”