Christopher Nuttall - Barbarians at the Gates

“When dinosaurs ruled the Earth?” Tiffany asked sweetly. “I’ll see you at the reception, Granny.”

She gave Marius a wink and walked out the door, followed rapidly by Granny Sampson. Marius consulted his internal chronometer and sighed. The wedding was about to begin, which meant…in an hour, he would be a husband. He shook his head. He’d never imagined, in his worst nightmares, that his own wedding would be such a farce.

The Great Hall was large enough to accommodate thousands of people, enough to allow all of High Society to attend without crowding. As Marius and his best man—chosen from among the bride’s family, a distant cousin of his wife—walked up to the altar, he was acutely aware of the gazes fixed on him. He’d chosen to wear his dress uniform—though it had been the only choice he’d been allowed to make—and he could sense the collective shock and astonishment running through High Society. Marius found it hard to care. If they’d arranged the marriage to bind him to them, they might at least know what they were clasping to their collective bosom.

He had to admit, despite himself, that the Great Hall was impressive. The first Federation President had been inaugurated within its walls and all successive presidents, no matter how weak the office had become, had followed in his footsteps. It was lit by the glow of thousands of candles and decorated in a fashion that harkened back to the days of old, long before mankind had mastered space travel and gone out to create the Federation. He caught sight of the statues lining the walls and smiled grimly. Each of the statues represented an alien race that had been brought—willingly or otherwise—into the Federation. A couple of the statues had outlasted the races they were supposed to represent.

There were no live aliens at the wedding, of course. Aliens were banned from Earth and most of the Core Worlds, although there were some very small alien communities on a handful of them. It wasn’t unknown for some aliens to be allowed to travel without supervision, although they tended to have a hard time at customs. The crowd was all human—at least for a certain value of human—and High Society. Marius hadn’t been allowed to invite any of his family, even the ones living on Mars, let alone his friends. The cluster of admirals and generals at the rear of the room were all from High Society.

He sucked in his breath as the music began to play. Courage , he told himself. You’ve endured a thousand battles with humans and aliens. You can endure your own wedding .

Yes , his thoughts rattled on, but you’re not allowed to blow up your own wedding, are you? Regulations can be such a nuisance …

His best man caught his arm as Tiffany advanced into the chamber wearing a long, white dress and carrying a bunch of flowers. She looked as if she was trying hard to be demure, but Marius could tell that she was nervous. Her bridesmaids, suitable young woman chosen from among her family, seemed to be laughing at her. Marius wondered, with a sudden flash of anger he refused to show on his face, if they were married themselves. Or, perhaps, if they knew that they wouldn’t be married off to a complete stranger. He wondered, just for a moment, how many deals had been struck behind the scenes to arrange his marriage.

Tiffany stopped beside him, her head bowed, and didn’t look up.

“Dearly beloved,” the Speaker said, “we are gathered here today to bind together two of our children, who have chosen to give their lives to one another in matrimony.”

Marius shuddered inwardly. Neither of them had chosen their partners.

“If there is anyone who can show just reason as to why they should not marry, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

There was a long, nerve-wracking pause.

“No one has spoken,” the Speaker said. He looked down at Marius and Tiffany. “You may join hands.”

Marius reached for Tiffany’s hand and held it gently.

“Both hands,” the Speaker prompted.

A thin ripple of amusement echoed around the room. Marius turned to face Tiffany and took her other hand.

A moment later, the Speaker wrapped a thin golden cord around their hands, binding them together. “Admiral Marius Drake, do you take Tiffany as your lawful bride, to have and to hold, to cherish and protect, until death do you part?”

A farce , part of Marius’s mind echoed bitterly. The divorce rates in High Society were astronomical. He wondered, in a moment of black humor, if that explained why the murder rates were so low.

“I do,” he said. Tiffany looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with dark amusement, and they shared a smile.

“Lady Tiffany, do you take Marius as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, to cherish and protect, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Tiffany said. She caught Marius’s eyes again and they almost started giggling.

“I therefore pronounce you man and wife,” the Speaker said with a smile. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Marius hesitated, before Tiffany leaned up and pressed her lips against his. She felt warm and soft to the touch. He prolonged the kiss, long enough to make the Speaker clear his throat in irritation.

She’d had the same thought, he realized as they separated. If nothing else, they could annoy the Speaker and the people who had arranged the marriage.

“Together, you will start on a long journey,” the Speaker intoned. He carefully undid the cord binding them together, speaking all the while about how they would be bound together by love and mutual respect. Marius had to look away from his bride, for fear that they would both start giggling again. “We wish you all the best in the future.”

And the entire crowd applauded as they walked out the door.

The reception was, in its own way, just as much of a farce as the wedding itself.

Marius had heard that a wedding reception was meant to be for the bride, but it was clear after only a few moments that it was really for the guests. Senators mingled with their political enemies, men they would never speak to in a civil tone in the Senate, making deals and swapping inside information. The bride’s family seemed to be the focus of attention, apart from the Senators, although Marius couldn’t tell if their visitors were congratulating her relatives or commiserating with them. It didn’t take long for him to realize that many of the younger men and women were shunning Tiffany, although he couldn’t tell if it bothered his bride or not. He felt an odd surge of protectiveness and thought wistfully of the sword on his belt. Traditionally, it should have been a harmless one, but he’d ordered a real sword.

None of these people seemed to know the difference.

“Allow me to extend my most fulsome congratulations,” a voice said. He turned to see Grand Senator Rupert McGillivray standing behind him, holding an empty glass. “I think that the two of you will be good together.”

He caught Marius’s arm and pulled him into a corner. “Take care of her,” he added. “She’s probably the smartest person in the room.”

“Including you?” Marius smiled.

“Oh, definitely,” McGillivray assured him. He changed the topic as he saw Granny Sampson walking over to join them. “What news of the war?”

“Well, I have hopes that we can break through the Asimov Point and knock Admiral Justinian for six,” Marius informed him. He wasn’t going to go into detail, not here. “And then we can put an end to the remaining warlords and restore the Federation.”

“Good,” McGillivray said. He slapped him on the back. “Oh, look; the speeches are about to begin.”