The Wedding

This month we again feature a chapter from my newly published second novel, Destiny of Souls, available NOW at: https://troubador.co.uk/bookshop/fantasy-and-horror/destiny-of-souls

Ebook at: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Destiny-Souls-Book-2-ebook/dp/B0DVCBR4N3/


Susan let herself in and walked down the hall. She was pleased with the new house, although she missed her old flat. Still, it made sense to get a bigger place now they were living together, especially as Ben needed a base for work. It was good to have more privacy as well, their enquiries into Mortimer often led to some unusual visitors who might have aroused unwelcome curiosity back at the flat.

“I’m home, Ben,” she shouted.

There was no reply, but she knew he was in, something was cooking in the kitchen. She shrugged, he was probably in the shower. She could hear soft music coming from the dining room, so she walked through to take a look. She stopped and smiled. Ben had really gone to town. The main lights were off and the room was lit by more than a dozen candles. The table was laid ready for dinner and a huge bouquet of red roses, her favourite flowers, sat in the centre. She heard a noise behind her and turned around to see Ben kneeling in front of her, holding out a jeweller’s box, with a diamond ring inside.

“Doctor Susan Carpenter, Samaira Khurana, Sarah O’Shaughnessy, Sebastian Barnes, and all the other loves of all my lives, will you marry me?”

She looked down at him and laughed, “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

“My divorce came through, Suze, I’m a free man: except I’m not really free, because I belong to you. After twelve thousand years, it’s time we made it official.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea, it’s always ended badly when we’ve tried before.”

“Yeah, but that was Mortimer, he’s gone now. Let’s do it properly, while we have the chance, I’d like to be married to you for more than five minutes this time.”

“I don’t know, Ben, I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” he stood up and put the ring down on the table.

“I’m sure about us, Ben, of course I am. We belong together. I’m just not sure about getting married.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“Well, it’s just that… well, I have some bad memories, not just that time in the trench, there was another time…”

“Suze,” he reached out and pulled her into a hug, “we’re nearly twelve thousand years old, we’re bound to have some bad memories about everything, we can’t let that stop us living. What happened anyway, it’s obviously something I haven’t seen yet?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know, it was… uuughh, look I just don’t think I can cope with another wedding ceremony.”

“How bad can it be? Come on, show me,” he pulled back and looked into her eyes, “if we share it, I’ll be able to help you get over it.”

“No, Ben, I don’t think…”

“Please, Suze, I want to see,” he took her hand and placed it on his forehead. She tried to resist but, somehow, he seemed to pull it out of her.

*

Barak smiled at Sachi as he held her hands firmly in his own. Staring deep into her eyes, he listened to the teacher reciting the seven blessings. He could scarcely believe this wonderful day had come, it seemed like a miracle.

It had all begun one fateful day a few months ago. He was on his way home, walking over the hill outside the town walls, and stopped for a while, lost in thought. He often paused there when he remembered the time at Passover the Romans had nailed three men to their crosses, and waited for them to die. One of the men had been the leader of a local sect. After he died, the strangest stories began to circulate around the town, stories about the man rising again, returning to life. That was ten years ago, when Barak was just a boy, but the stories had never gone away. He had never been sure whether to believe them or not. They sounded ridiculous, yet the man had seemed special somehow. Perhaps...

He shrugged to himself. Such speculation was not only pointless, it was dangerous. The Pharisees had declared the man a false Messiah, challenging their verdict was heresy. That was a public flogging at best: worse if the Romans got involved. Best to just keep quiet about it. Whatever the man had been, he didn’t want to end up the same way.

*

Sachi sat in the back of the carriage, fuming with anger. How dare her father try to trade her like a donkey? She didn’t believe him for an instant when he said he only wanted to find a good match for her. He wanted to take the credit for himself, that’s what he wanted. Why else would he try to set her up with that horrible creep?

She was on her way home from a meeting with her prospective husband, the deputy governor, Maximus Daeranius, which her father had arranged. She’d had to sit in silence for hours while the two men bargained over her, as if she was a piece of cloth at the market. She hated every moment of it. Eventually, her father had called for his servants, “My daughter tires, and the governor and I still have much to discuss. Take her back to the villa at once.”

So, she was sent away, while the men continued haggling over what she was worth. Listening to them had been bad enough, but having them discuss her behind her back was worse. She was furious.

The carriage trundled along with Sachi riding inside alone. The servants walked alongside, leading the horses. It was only two miles to her father’s villa, it should have been a routine journey.

*

The snake was dying, it would expire soon. For now, though, it was still hanging on to life, albeit becoming delirious. In its delirium, it had forgotten what it learned long ago: to keep away from the road. It slithered into the path of the horses and, mistaking them for prey, raised itself up, ready to strike.

When the horses saw the snake, they reared up in terror. The servant leading them lost his grip on the reins and they bolted, rushing headlong down the road. Sachi hung on desperately inside the carriage, screaming as it bumped and lurched out of control, knowing it would topple over any moment, and she would be grievously injured, or even killed.

*

Barak had snapped out of his reverie and was about to move on when he heard a commotion in the distance. Listening carefully, he thought he could hear a girl screaming. The sound was getting closer. He ran towards it, swiftly narrowing the distance between him and the source. Coming over the top of the hill, he spotted the bolting horses, recognising the fast-moving carriage: the screaming girl must be Yaakov ben Davian’s daughter.

Ben Davian was a wealthy merchant, one of the richest men in Judaea. Barak had seen his daughter in the market. He’d found her enchanting, elegant, and graceful, but she was a long way out of his reach.

None of that mattered now, she was in danger. Thinking quickly, he ran to the top of a small rise next to the road and waited for the carriage to reach him. He watched in horror as the carriage hit a bump and, for an anxious moment, looked as if it was about to topple over sideways into the rough ground at the side of the road. Luckily, the horses swerved and the carriage crashed back onto four wheels. The screaming girl’s terrifying ride carried on, but it would not be long before disaster struck.

The horses straightened up, kept coming towards him. He crouched at the top of the rise, waiting for his moment. Timing his jump was critical. If he jumped too soon, he would be trampled beneath the horses’ hooves; jump too late and he would hit the wooden carriage. He had to get this right for both his sake and the girl’s.

He tensed as the horses drew near, waiting… waiting... and jumped. He was almost too late, he landed on the horse’s pumping hindquarters and immediately began to slip off, sliding towards the spinning wheels of the heavy carriage, ready to crush him beneath their rims.

Frantically scrambling on the horse’s back, he edged his way forward. Once he was stable, he reached for the reins, pulling on them for dear life. It took a few moments for the frightened animals to respond but, eventually, he managed to get them under control, slowing them to a canter, then a walk, and finally bringing them to a halt.

He jumped down and ran back to the carriage. The girl was lying on the floor, giggling hysterically.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes ...” she laughed.

“What is so funny?”

Stifling her mirth, she smiled up at him, “Forgive me, kind sir, it is just it struck me the idea I might have perished in a runaway carriage while those two odious men bargain over what I am worth is hilarious. But I am quite unharmed, save a few bruises, I am glad to say. I must thank you for my narrow escape, your bravery has saved me from a worse fate.”

“It was nothing,” he demurred.

“Oh well, that is just fine then, if it was nothing...”

“Well, it was not exactly nothing, my lady. I mean... er, you know... it was something, but I, er...”

She laughed again, “Very well, good sir, I am sure such a brave deed deserves a reward of some kind. Perhaps you might come for lunch at our villa?”

“Er, er... yes, I would love to come to lunch, my lady.”

“Please, call me Sachi. And you are?”

“Er, Barak, Barak ben Efraim.”

“Good, next Saturday then, Barak.”

By this time, the servants had caught up with the runaway carriage and started to take it away. Soon, Sachi was gone, leaving him standing alone, still trembling with excitement. Not the excitement of catching the runaway horses, that was nothing. No, the excitement filling his veins was the thrill of actually speaking to Sachi. ‘She is so beautiful, my heart will surely burst with love,’ he thought. Even so, despite the drama of their first meeting, he knew she remained far beyond his reach.

*

As arranged, Barak and Sachi had lunch at her father’s villa the following week. Almost immediately, they found they had a natural affinity for each other. She asked him to call again, and so it continued, every Saturday. Their friendship deepened, growing more intimate with each passing week. In time, it turned to something more.

In spite of these developments, Sachi’s father persisted in his negotiations with Maximus Daeranius. Eight weeks after the runaway carriage ride, he called her to his salon and informed her he had agreed terms with the deputy governor. She was to marry him in two weeks’ time.

“But, Father, that cannot be, I love Barak, you know how much he means to me.”

“Nonsense child, you will marry Daeranius. That is my final decision on the matter.”

“You are not listening, Father, I love Barak.”

“Love, huh! When you grow up, you will realise love is nothing more than a trick of the light. You could be the governor’s wife in a few years, putting me in a highly respected position. I will not give that up for some nonsense about love that will swiftly pass as surely as time will soon etch itself upon your pretty face.”

“Fine, you old goat, it is clear you care not about love, but I know you care about honour. Barak saved my life, you are honour-bound to accept him as your son by law. You have no choice. Refuse us and I will make sure everyone knows you have betrayed your honour.”

She stood defiantly in front of him, watching him digest her ultimatum. His face was red with anger, he did not speak for forty heartbeats. But, eventually, he capitulated, “Aaagh, have it your way, foolish child, marry this worthless wretch if you must. I will even give him a dowry so he might provide for you, as I have always done. But, mark my words, you will come to regret this day.”

Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek, “Do not be so dramatic, Father, you too will come to love Barak in time. He will make a fine son by law, you will see.” She turned and left the salon, eager to get a message to Barak.

*

Barak was delighted, “I cannot believe it, I never thought he would agree.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Sachi pointed out.

“Hmmm, yes, I can see. That is something I will have to watch out for,” he laughed. She laughed too, and soon they were hugging and kissing, thrilled by the prospect of their impending marriage.

The next few weeks passed in a whirl of excited anticipation as the wedding rapidly approached. The afternoon before the ceremony, ben Davian called Barak to his salon. “I suppose Sachi will have told you I did not initially approve of this match,” the merchant said.

“Well, er, I can understand that, sir. I am sure you only want what is best for her. But I promise you, I will take care of her always, you can be sure of it. I will never...”

Ben Davian held up a hand and Barak fell silent. “I know, I know, you have no need to convince me further,” the merchant clicked his fingers and, within moments, a servant appeared with a tray of leather bags. Ben Davian took the smallest bag from the tray and handed it to Barak, “This is a little down-payment.”

Barak gazed down at the bag then back at the merchant.

“Go ahead, open it,” ben Davian suggested.

Pulling the string, Barak stared at the silver coins filling the bag. He looked up again, speechless.

Ben Davian indicated the larger bags on the tray, “You will get the rest after the wedding, but I thought you might appreciate a small advance to help you enjoy your last night of freedom. I understand you are planning an evening in the tavern?”

“Er, yes, sir, it is traditional. Just a modest affair, a few drinks with Benjamin and Isaac, my closest friends.”

"Excellent, I hope you have a merry time. Might I ask one small favour though, as your future father by law?”

“Please, yes, tell me what I can do for you.”

Ben Davian clapped his hands and a young man entered. The newcomer did not so much walk as sidle across the floor. His hair was long and greasy, almost hiding a pair of shifty eyes, a long scar across one cheek. Barak did not like the look of him at all.

“This is my nephew, Ebenezer,” said ben Davian, “he does not get out much. I would be most grateful if you could take him with you this evening.”

Barak looked at the bag of silver in his hand. How could he refuse such a reasonable request in the face of such generosity? “Of course, I would be delighted.”

*

At first, Barak resented Ebenezer’s presence at his celebration. He was a strange, awkward youth, who seemed to find it difficult to hold a normal conversation. But, as the drinks began to flow, Barak started to warm to him, and they all relaxed, getting into the swing of the festivities. The little bag of silver slowly emptied, while the group filled their bellies, and heads, with the sweetest wine the innkeeper could provide.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Ebenezer raised the topic of the man who’d died on the cross ten years before, “So, what do you guys think, do you believe he was genuinely the Messiah, was he truly divine?”

Barak looked around, this was a forbidden subject, they could get into a lot of trouble just talking about it. But, before he could warn his companions, Benjamin, rapidly making a name for himself as one of the new ‘Christians’, had taken the bait.

“Everyone knows he rose again. It is beyond doubt, he is the Messiah.”

“Tha’s rubbish,” Isaac responded, “an you needs to sshhut up ‘bout it ‘cause you’ll get us all flogged, or maybes worses.”

“Fine, yes, suppress the truth, just like the Pharisees and the Romans, but he was the true Messiah, I tell you,” Benjamin was getting louder, he’d clearly had too much wine and was throwing caution to the wind.

Ebenezer laughed, “Well, it is one each way for the Messiah then. What do you think, Barak? You have the deciding vote.”

“I don’t know,” Barak hissed, glancing around nervously. Half the men in the tavern were staring at them. They needed to leave before they got into serious trouble. He stood up and grabbed Isaac by the arm, “Come on, I think we need to get you home, you’ve had enough.”

“All rights,” Isaac slurred, letting his friend pull him to his feet, “I’s comes with yous. All tha’ Messiah talk’s a loads o’ shits enways.” Squinting at Barak, his eyes struggling to focus, he added, “Haven’ you gotta be a weddings tomorros?”

“Yes, Isaac, I have,” Barak smiled. “Look guys,” he turned to the others, “I think we should call it a night. I will take Isaac home and I will see you at the ceremony.”

“Aaagh, fine, no-one ever wants to know the truth,” Benjamin threw his hands in the air.

“Yes, all right,” Ebenezer jumped to his feet in front of Barak, blocking his path, “but, come on, before you go, tell us what you think about this Messiah, I want to know.”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Barak tried to push past, but it was difficult holding Isaac, his friend was practically unconscious, almost a dead weight in his arms.

“Come on, tell us,” Ebenezer insisted.

Barak was losing his temper, he couldn’t hold Isaac up much longer. “All right,” he snapped in exasperation, “maybe, yes, it could be true. Now, will you let me get past?”

“Thank you,” Ebenezer smiled, finally stepping to the side, “that was all I needed to hear.”

Barak half walked, half carried, Isaac to his house, then went back to his own. He lay down feeling disappointed his night of celebration had been usurped by an interloper and turned into something he had hoped to avoid. Never mind, in a few hours, he would be with Sachi, as man and wife. Nothing else mattered.

In the morning, he rose early and dressed in the fine new robe Sachi had bought him for the ceremony. Filled with joy, he felt privileged to be marrying the girl he loved despite the barriers between them. He promised himself he would work hard to prove his worth to Sachi and, in time, her father too. Nothing would stand in the way of their happiness.

When he saw her, looking stunning in her fabulous wedding costume, he felt, once again, he would simply burst with love. Now, as he stood holding her hands, staring into her eyes while they listened to the seven blessings, he knew he was the luckiest man in the world.

The teacher finished the recital and offered him the traditional cup of wine. As he took the cup, he spotted Isaac slipping out of the courtyard, his hand to his mouth. He smiled; his friend was obviously suffering the effects of last night’s excesses.

He drank deeply then passed the cup to Sachi, who drained the rest and passed it back. Placing the empty vessel on the ground, he raised his foot, ready to smash it. Pausing, he gazed into Sachi’s eyes once more, silently mouthing, ‘I love you.’

Before he could bring his foot down, five Roman soldiers, led by a centurion, marched into the courtyard, their swords drawn. Behind them followed Ebenezer. “We are here to keep the peace on the orders of deputy governor Maximus Daeranius,” the centurion announced; “there have been reports of heresy in the tavern last night.” Turning to Ebenezer, he asked, “Who spoke of the false Messiah?”

Ebenezer pointed at Barak then Benjamin, “Him and him.”

“You said there were three?”

“The other is not here,” Ebenezer shrugged.

“No matter, seize the heretics,” the centurion ordered.

Two of the soldiers pushed their way through the crowd to Benjamin and hauled him away. Another two approached Barak.

“No,” shouted Sachi, jumping in front of him, “please, you cannot do this, it is our wedding, we are to be married.”

“Out of the way,” one of the soldiers ordered. When Sachi refused to budge, he pushed her roughly to the side. She fell to the ground, ripping her wedding costume. “Father,” she begged, looking up at ben Davian, “do something, please.”

“I told you that you would come to regret the day you refused to marry Daeranius,” he said, as the soldiers dragged Barak away.