Lindsey Davis - Graveyard of the Hesperides

Tiberius strode up behind me, moved me aside, stuck his head out: “And no cheek!” The old man nervously added the requested prophecy. We made our formal appearance to polite clapping.

Julia Junilla was mistress of ceremonies, reading out from a list. “We call upon the gods to be present: Janus, for thresholds, openings and closings, Juno Pronuba for matrimony, Jupiter, the father god, Tellus, the earth mother, and Hymen Hymenaeus, god of marriage.” My mother quipped oh dear, we hadn’t bought in enough food for so many. “Our bride will now be handed over by a matron who has only been married once and her husband is still living.”

“There will be appropriate words of advice,” added Favonia, deceptively satirical.

Helena approached me. Suddenly her brother, my uncle Camillus Justinus, cried loudly, “You’re ignoring the rules, Sis!” Well, that was Mother. “Stop the wedding! Helena Justina has been married twice! Doesn’t anyone remember-before Falco, she had that ass who plotted.”

Mother glared at Justinus but stepped back. Someone hissed, “Don’t mention the plots!” Too late. Everyone who didn’t know was now asking.

In our family we do not lack independent women. Claudia Rufina beat off all comers, volunteering herself as substitute. She was wife to Justinus, though their marriage was rocky; Claudia loved weddings, where she tended to lock herself in a room, weeping copiously, while Uncle Quintus pleaded in whispers at the door. “I am a one-man woman,” she declared. “We foreign brides must stick together, Albia!”

Claudia Rufina then gave me away with such practiced panache I wondered whether she and my uncle had conspired. She seized us and joined our right hands, which the augur tied together with wool. This is how I know Staberius smelled. At least Claudia was shedding a fine mist of something aromatic, no doubt a gift after some furious quarrel with Justinus.

Julia announced: “Tiberius Manlius and Flavia Albia have elected to give their promises in the ancient way of silence.” It was news to us, but had worked for my parents, so I gazed into his gray eyes, making certain secret promises, while he gazed back, seeming more serious, though I knew how to take that.

Tiberius then said steadily: “By Jupiter, Juno and all the gods, I, Tiberius Manlius Faustus, declare that I do willingly consent to take this woman to be my wife.”

I pretended to have second thoughts, before I quietly agreed: “By Jupiter, Juno and all the gods and goddesses, I, Flavia Albia, swear that I willingly give my consent to take this man to be my husband.”

We exchanged rings. We kissed. My mother, Claudia and the bridesmaids kissed me. And him. I dragged them off him.

We could not escape gobbledygook. Staberius produced a set of scales with a small weight in one pan; Tiberius placed coins in the other pan until he tipped the scales. I said I hoped that was to show he would be a just husband. My father presented him with one copper coin as a token dowry. Like many fathers at this point, Falco took huge delight in the low-value singleton coin, as if we had better not hope for any more. Instructed by Julia, Pa nevertheless handed me one further coin to hold in my hand, a second in a purse, and placed a third into my right shoe, making sure he tickled me. I remarked that this was like what he used to give us, his daughters, if we were going out to an evening party-a rather mean fare home.

Joking that this time I’d better not come home, Falco then made an offering on the altar in front of some household gods, placing a sample toy alongside. I had never seen that toy before; I noticed a small nephew starting to cry. Mother dramatically produced a spindle and distaff, which she handed to me (emblems of domestic life-though not in Mother’s house, or mine). Again, borrowed. Ditto the slightly disreputable household gods. This Lar and his mismatched Penates, dancing with their cornucopiae, looked as if they had been bent in a violent robbery.

Claudia’s words of advice were: “Your dowry belongs to you, don’t let him start ‘administering’ it; when children come, always insist he is home every day for their bathtime; be a center of calm in the whirlwind of the home.”

Someone asked what wise words would be offered to the bridegroom, so my pa ordered Tiberius to treat me well or he would have his head knocked off. This was Falco’s first formal wedding of a daughter; he was very emotional.

Next came the dinner.

Tiberius and I were bullied into our seats of honor, two chairs covered by a single sheepskin; skins being smelly, Julia and Favonia had provided a woolly rug. More guests arrived, lured through the storm by the promise of a banquet. Bearing gifts, some not even secondhand, they came up and greeted us. There were more aunts and uncles than I could place on our family tree, some with offspring I had never seen before. If a baby cried, crowds of women vied at jiggling it to sleep.

Tiberius’ sister and family had arrived, with Uncle Tullius behaving well; he had decided to treat this like a business meeting where he needed to be pragmatic and clever to secure some tricky deal. Soon the three nephews had found branches from the decorations to use as spears and were running around, hunting down the three-year-old flower girls. After rather too much screaming, the little girls were sick down themselves, so the boys were scolded, which ended in bitter tears. For unconnected reasons, Fania and Antistius took no part in that though they could be heard having a violent row; then they disappeared separately, until Fania reappeared sobbing to Tiberius that she was desperately unhappy and wanted to leave her husband. Women swooped to drag her off for consolation. Only Aunt Maia ordered, “If you want to leave him, just get on with it, woman-don’t spoil your brother’s day!”

Men sensibly discussed with each other how to pace themselves with food and drink-before they began sampling amphorae much too fast. The little flower girls were now scampering about naked while their clothes were washed and dried. Aunt Valeria announced three times that she was going for a lie-down, failing to interest anyone.

I had an unexpected encounter with Camillus Aelianus, Mother’s other brother. Years before, I had had a severe crush on Aulus, which had ended in heartbreak; we had rarely spoken since. He and Hosidia Meline had divorced, each since marrying other people, yet it was Meline he brought along today.

I could see now that Aulus Camillus was a difficult, truculent, broody man; life with him would have been a disaster, not to mention that since he was my uncle, it was illegal. He had behaved like a bastard to a very young girl who needed security, but since this was my wedding, I unbent. Every bride wants other women to suffer her fate. “Aulus Camillus, you and Meline are better and closer than ever before. Her interfering father’s dead-” The booze-fueled Minas of Karystos had failed to drown himself in drink, but fell off a ladder one Saturnalia. We all reckoned he lost his balance being sober for the first time ever. “Why don’t you and Meline remarry?”

Aulus was one of the cleverest lawyers to grace the basilica, yet had not thought of that. I left him pondering. Mother would be proud of me.

The food, which was delectable, kept coming. We had to make this feast last all day, so the wedding procession would be after dark. Since the fashionable cook, Genius, did not exert himself in the kitchen, he wandered out looking important, surveying how much all the guests were enjoying his under-chefs’ wondrous achievements. I went up to thank him for his expertise. Supervising is hard work.

“Can I ask you a food question, Genius?”

“You are the bride, ask anything.”

“Egyptian lentils-best in the world?”