Daisy in the Fringe

Dear Diary,

Finally, after all that stuff about showers and betrothals and stuff, Domina Moratus is talking about the wedding day!

The RSVP’s have been tallied, the gown is hanging in your closet, and you’ve slept your last night in your childhood bed.  The big day is finally here, so all you have to do is get up, get dressed, and get married.  Simple, right?

Alas, Domina Moratus wishes that she could agree, even though such simplicity would be at the expense of her profession, for all weddings would then be perfect, and propriety is much more important than the fate of an etiquette maven.  But as it happens, the wedding day is when the true complications arise.  And few parts of the wedding day contain more complications than the time before the groom has appeared on the scene.

Strictly speaking, these preparations start the night before.  After the guests have departed the wedding eve feast, it is time to make sacrifice to Artemis, to thank her for guiding you through your girlhood.  The traditional sacrifice consists of burning the treasures of your youth: your favorite toys, your childhood dresses, and the other things that were important to you when you were a girl.

Domina Moratus understands that surrendering these things can cause great anguish to a young bride.  But that, after all, is why it is called a sacrifice.  If you do not care about the things that you offer, then neither will the Goddess.

I reckon that means I got to give up Bubbles.  I, well, I don’t know what to think about that.  I slept with Bubbles every night of my life.  I didn’t figure that I’d be able to sleep with him after the wedding, not when I’ll be with Geoffry and all, but I didn’t know I’d have to burn him up.  Seems like a hard thing to do to a fish, even a stuffed one.

I wonder what else I gotta give up.  Should I burn you, dear diary?  This is gonna take a lot of thinking – I’m gotta have a talk with a priestess on this.

The wedding day starts before the sun rises.  At that time, the augur selected by your family reads the auspices of the day.  If they are favorable, all may proceed.  If not, then alas, my dear, today is not to be your day after all: a postponement is required.

Sadly, there is little that you can do to influence the gods beyond a generous sacrifice.  (Domina Moratus trusts that you have made a sacrifice asking for good fortune on this day.  If not, perhaps you will remember to do so next time.)  But happily, reading the auspices is one of the few wedding-day events that do not require a bride’s presence, and so Domina Moratus recommends that you take this chance to rest, difficult though that might be, for by the end of the day you will certainly be regretting any missed opportunities for sleep, especially if the feast and sacrifices ran late the night before.

Assuming that the auspices are good, you should plan on rising soon after sunrise. It is now time for the ceremonial bath.  Your bridal attendants and any other ladies who can be persuaded to assist will gather water from the nearest sacred spring, pool, or stream, returning to you carrying water in a special two-handled vase.  They shall use this water to fill a tub in which you will bathe, symbolically washing away your childhood.

While you will be the only one bathing, the bath is nevertheless a social occasion, attended as it is by your mother, your attendants and close friends, and even the ladies of the groom’s household, including your soon-to-be mother-in-law.  With all of these ladies present, Domina Moratus recommends that you be on your best behavior.  Splashing in the tub and similar types of clowning are quite inappropriate: do remember that this morning your bath is a sacred ritual and an important part of your coming of age.

Domina Moratus also recommends that you come to the bath already clean.  After all, your mother-in-law will be using this occasion to inspect you more closely than she has thus far been able, so you do not want to appear dirty in her eyes.  Domina Moratus has known several wedding days that did not outlast a bath in which the groom’s mother detected something worthy of disapproval in the bride’s demeanor or decorum, and she would not wish you to suffer a similar disappointment.

As you rise from the bath, you leave behind the world of Artemis and prepare to join the ranks of Aphrodite.  This requires a sacrifice.  There are many possibilities, but the most common is the sacrifice of a small animal such as a dove or rabbit, typically of pure white, combined with a generous offering to the goddess.  Domina Moratus suggests you consult with a priest or priestess on this and all other ceremonial matters regarding this day.

It is now time for you to prepare your hair.  Domina Moratus recommends the use of a haircare professional as the traditional bridal hairstyle (known as a tutulus) is not a simple one.  First the hair is divided into six locks using a bent spearhead.  (Admittedly, it has long been acceptable to use a spear-shaped comb, but Domina Moratus finds the image of a bride parting her hair with a spear to be irresistible.)  The locks are then coiled upward into a conical shape.  This will be the only time in your life that you will wear this hairstyle, unless you should happen to become a Vestal Virgin.  And as this is your wedding day, that seems unlikely.

Once your hair is complete, your mother will help you don your wedding dress.  Traditionally a white tunic made on an old-fashioned loom, today many brides insist upon demonstrating their originality by replacing the tunic with an elaborate wedding gown.  While Domina Moratus cannot approve of this variation, she can understand how an elegant wedding dress may appeal to a young bride’s vanity.  Whatever her choice in gowns, the bride should wear a woolen sash tied at the waist with the Knot of Hercules, a knot that only your husband will be allowed to untie.  The knot should not be an easy one, but it should not be impossible either.  The reason for this shall be revealed in a subsequent section.

In her hair, the well-dressed bride wears a wreath of flowers and plants that she has gathered herself, though many lazy brides may enlist a florist for this task.  Over all of this you will wear a red veil that covers your hair, your gown, and your face.

In all of this, you may notice that Domina Moratus has not mentioned anything to be done by the groom.  That is because on this day he is required to do three things: get up, get dressed, and get married.  (Admittedly, he has a fourth task, though one that a typical groom considers more privilege than penalty.  But further discussion on this matter will be left to a later section.)  This is why Domina Moratus is addressing the bride – a groom’s guide to a wedding would make for a much shorter scroll.

Wow – that sure is complicated.  I never realized there was so much to getting hitched.  And that’s just the preparation – gods know what the rest of the wedding must be like!  I don’t expect I’ll ever be able to remember everything I’m supposed to do that day.

Hold on a minute: here’s something on that.

Domina Moratus realizes that this is a lot for a young bride to remember, especially on a day when she is likely to be rather preoccupied.  Happily, you are not alone.  You have your mother and female relatives, of course.  But you also have someone whose task it is to guide and assist you through the day in any way that she can.  This, of course, is the pronuba.

Traditionally the pronuba, or matron of honor, is a married woman whose first and only husband is still living.  As such, she is a symbol of the marital happiness that one hopes you will soon be experiencing.  She should also be someone you are close to, someone whom you trust.  She will help you get through the wedding day, standing by you, reminding you of what to do when, and performing various minor tasks that you will need done.  She will also be available to advise you on married life, including the expectations that your husband may have once the sun has set.  All in all, she is one of the most valuable members of your wedding circle: having a good pronuba can make the difference between a happy bride gliding through a smoothly run wedding and a frazzled girl struggling to survive a day of chaos.

I wanted Dusty to be my maid of honor.  But she ain’t married!  Wait…

Dear Domina Moratus, I have a dear friend who has been close to me since before I started schooling.  But she’s not married.  Can she be my pronuba?  Y.

Dear Y, While it is traditional for a pronuba to be a married woman, Domina Moratus is not one to stand in the way of true friendship.  In point of fact, Domina Moratus has seen many varieties of pronuba, including several maidens who served quite well.  (The Domina only draws the line at having a man serve as pronuba.  There are several important tasks performed by a pronuba, such as assisting in the bathing, that would be quite inappropriate for a man, though a eunuch may do in a pinch.)  But do realize that your friend will have no experience in being a bride herself, and thus may be unable to offer all the sorts of guidance that a married woman may provide.  Happily, a new bride rarely finds it difficult to find sources of advice, and so you may have your friend as pronuba without needing to feel concern over this matter.

Phew!  That’s a relief!  And I’m sure Dusty knows everything she’ll need to know to help me through my day anyway.

Dear Diary,

When we got to the ship where we had to rescue the charioteer, there was a tree growing out of it.  That looked mighty strange, a tree growing in space, but what was important to us was that it kept us from going in the front door where it was growing.  Because of it, Captain Olo had to dock the Iron Falcon to the cargo door on the lower deck even though that would mean we’d probably have to do more walking through the ship.

When we got on board, all was quiet and strange.  There was yellow fog rolling around at knee level, it was all dark cept for one flickering bulb, and the only sound was a lonely heehaw coming from a mule stabled in a cargo cubby.  Right in front of us was a pile of boxes mostly blocking our way, leaving only a skinny passage that we had to go down single file.

We was just taking all this in when that smelly Apollo priest started mumbling a little louder.  Then suddenly with no warning he burst into flame.  Dusty tried to beat him out, but just got her hands fried while he kept on burning.  Hank grabbed this red thing sitting on the wall and used it to spray foam all over the flames, but the priest kept blazing like a solstice bonfire.  We was scratching our heads trying to figure what to do when Dutch said, “He is not burning.”  Sure enough, there was Prometheus, looking cool and calm in the heart of the furnace roar, like burst into flame was something he did every day, so we figured that this was just something strange that Apollo does for his priests, seeing as he’s the Sun God and all.  I sure am glad I was touched by his sister and not him!  I wouldn’t much care to burst into flames like that, let alone the smell – I don’t think my Geoffry would care to cuddle half so much if I smelled like a rotten egg.  And if I did have the habit of bursting into flames regularly, I’d at least warn people about it!  It weren’t too nice, letting Dusty get all burnt up  just trying to do him a good turn.  Good thing my Geoffry was there to fix her up!

After we got the pyro priest sorted out, we started down the row beside the boxes.  Hank went first cause Prometheus didn’t have the guts to, though he insisted on going second which at least gave the rest of us some light to see by.

When we was nearing the end, I heard shouting and shooting up ahead.  After a long muddle of everyone moving forward bit by bit, I got to where I could see these white things that looked like the mating of a dog and a crab, only bigger than both put together.  Hank had his sword out swinging at them, and Dusty was poking at one with her knife.  I never knew Dusty was so good with a knife, but she must a been, cause she took down about a half dozen of them things with just a little stab each.

I didn’t get to do much, being behind everyone and all, though I did manage to swing my sword past Dutch and cut one up.  I’m not sure how I managed that, cause afterwards my sword looked too short to reach that far, but somehow I did it.

When all them crabdogs was down, we found a big sack looking like a giant cocoon stuck to the rear of the ship.  Geoffry and Dusty took a close look at it, then they cut it open and out popped this naked feller.  I looked away, cause I figured I shouldn’t be looking at no naked fellers, seeing as I’m promised to Geoffry.  But they found him something to wear and he told us he was part of the ship’s crew and they had been attacked by some nasty fellers, though he didn’t know much useful about them.

We started our way up some stairs to the higher part of the ship.  Once up there, we was attacked by a great big troll and another pack of crabdogs.  The troll was a big feller, half again the size of any of us, and he was swinging a great big iron club.  He was kinda clumsy though – he couldn’t hardly hit anything with that club, and anytime he came close to me I just ducked under the swing or blocked it with my sword.  But he sure was tough – Hank kept hacking at him over and over, and I kept slicing away at his neck, and though he was bleeding a bit, it didn’t seem to slow him down none.

That Prometheus feller didn’t have a sword or a gun, but he sure showed us what a priest of Apollo could do, which was shooting great huge bolts of fire straight from his hands at that troll.  But he may have done justice to Apollo the Sun God, but he didn’t get much of a gift from Apollo the Archer, seeing as he mostly missed the troll and hit the wall instead, melting big chunks out of it.

After a few of them misses, there was a big whump and a hissing and a red light came on in my helmet.  The lady that fitted us for the spacesuits said that the red light meant there ain’t no air out there, so I was awfully glad to be suited up.  But a little thing like no air don’t bother a troll: he just picked up a crabdog and stuck it in the hole, then he took a big swing at Prometheus and knocked him to the ground.  He was lifting up his club for another swing, and it looked like we was gonna see priest-brains for sure, but Hank and me hit him right then from both sides and laid him out right next to the burning priest.

After that, Geoffry tended to the banged-up Prometheus while the rest of us went exploring.  We found the charioteer feller up near the front of the ship.  He was all crazy-like, saying insane things, and then he did something and the ship said it was gonna blow up real soon.  Someone got on the radio and told Captain Olo, and he said that ships don’t got no self-destruct bombs in them so there weren’t no worry, but we decided better safe then sorry,  so we skedaddled back to the Iron Falcon with the charioteer and crewman and all, though we left the mule behind.

Anyway, that was my adventure in the big ship.  Lots of fighting and stuff, and some awfully weird things including a big space troll.  But I kinda reckon that the weirdest, and probably the most dangerous, was that Prometheus feller.  Just look at how much he hurt Dusty, and all she was doing was trying to put him out when he was on fire!

And oh – I didn’t get to fly the ship.  I was kinda disappointed in that, but I reckon it was probably for the best.

I always reckoned there’s be a good feed put on for my wedding.  What I didn’t know is just how many feeds there’d be.  But I know now, thanks to Domina Moratus.

If there is one thing that Domina Moratus enjoys, it is a well-planned feast.  She hopes that every bride and groom feel the same way, for a well planned wedding consists of three major meals.

The first of these takes place the evening before the wedding ceremony.  Once the sun has gone down on the bride’s last full day as a single girl, the families of the bride and the groom, together with special friends, gather for the prenuptial feast.  This is hosted by the bride’s family to celebrate their daughter’s passing childhood and to provide a formal welcome to the groom’s family.

There is no set plan or menu for this dinner, although it is typically lavish. The theme of the evening is the passing of youth, and nostalgic reminiscences are in order as the parents of bride and groom share embarrassing stories of the couple’s childhood.

On the day of the wedding itself and immediately following the ceremony, there is a lavish breakfast or dinner served at the home of the bride’s family.  Unusually, the groom pays for this meal, even though it is held at the bride’s home.  This symbolizes the fact that providing for the bride is now his responsibility: not only does he provide her food on this occasion, he also provides it for all of the wedding guests.  This meal always include sesame cakes to symbolize the fertility expected and hoped for of the new couple.  A traditional entertainment at this meal is the toasting contest, in which guests take turns toasting the new couple, led by the best man and the pronuba (or matron of honor).

Finally, on the day after the wedding the groom’s family hosts a lavish dinner for the bride, groom, their families and friends, and their patrons and followers.  The purpose of this meal is to welcome the bride into her new family.  On this occasion it is traditional to include varied forms of entertainment, everything from dancers to musicians to gladiatorial combats, mixed with generous amounts of alcohol.  There is also dancing, with traditional dances including only the men or only the women, as well as more modern variations in which men and women may actually dance together.  Guests are also expected to give gifts to the new couple.

After all of this feasting, Domina Moratus can only suspect that the new couple will not need to eat for a week!

Wow.  That there is a lot of eating.  Sure sounds expensive too – wait a minute, looks like the Domina addresses that here.

Dear Domina Moratus, I have read your guide to the perfect wedding, and I am going to do my best to make mine proper.  But my man and I are on a budget, and our families are not in any position to help provide much in the way of help.  Have you any suggestions?  L.

Dear L, Domina Moratus would not want any couple to start their marriage deep in debt due to the wedding.  While the listed feasts are the traditional fare for a formal wedding, it is quite acceptable, and often rather charming, to make variances.  For example, it is acceptable to have the pre-wedding supper be limited to immediate family and attendants.  The wedding breakfast need not be anything more than token sesame cakes served to those participating in the ceremony.  Even the day-after feast can be limited, and while lavish and expensive foods are in order, they are not required.

I guess I’ll have to talk to Geoffry about what his parents can do for their part of things.  I doubt Momma will be able to scratch up much for the pre-wedding feast, though maybe I can chip in, though it will be more money taken out of my dowry.  I sure do hope Geoffry don’t mind.

Dear Diary,

Bet you can’t guess where I am!

I’m sitting here writing this in the lounge on the Iron Falcon.  That’s right, the first spaceship I ever rode in.  Heck, the first powered anything I ever rode in, and here I am, up in it once more!

Captain Olo even let me fly it again – this time in space!  Flying in space is all different than in air, all swoopy and the ground not pulling on you or nothing.  I did a couple of loops, and it was grand to see good old Arcadia spinning all around us.  Flying in space is even more fun than flying through the air.

But I’m starting the story at the end, so I’m gonna back up a bit.

When we got to Antioch, we headed straight to the spaceport to catch our ride up to the ship where we’re gonna rescue the charioteer.  The spaceport looked awfully familiar, and that ain’t no surprise since it’s the same place where we landed in the Iron Falcon back when we was taking Tacita to safety.

Sure enough, when we came over the hill, there was the Iron Falcon, standing proudly on the landing field!  She’s the ship they hired to take us up into space.  I got so excited when I saw it I was practically hopping, and when the door slid open and Captain Olo came out, I dashed right over and gave him a great big hug. He sure looked surprised, and then I showed him my ring and told him Geoffry was the feller that gave it to me.  He gave us his congratulations and welcomed us back on board.  He sure seemed happy to see us.  Even Herman was smiling, at least as near as I can tell under all that hair.

We was standing there getting all caught up when the space guild folks came on by.  They brought us special suits that you gotta wear in space because there ain’t no air to breathe.  Dusty and me went off with this woman who fitted us for special girl suits.  They even got plumbing in them in case you gotta go in space, and they was hooking the guys up to the tubes.  But the tubes they got for women are awfully uncomfortable, so since we was only gonna be on a short mission, she just gave us diapers to wear.  That seemed a mite wrong and I was gonna ask to be hooked up to the pipes, but after she showed me what they used and explained how they did it, I figured that if I can’t hold it, I can make do with a diaper.

While we was getting suited up, this other feller showed up.  His name is Prometheus and he says he’s a fighting priest of Apollo.  He sure looks like a warrior: he’s taller than anyone I ever seen, a good foot taller than anyone else riding up with us cept for Herman, and he’s got bright orange hair that looks kind of like the sun.  He’s always muttering to himself, or maybe it’s singing, cause there’s a rhythm to it, and he smells awful ripe, like a henhouse in summer when the eggs have all gone bad.  I suppose it’s good to have a priest with us, but Dusty said that she wished that he’d spend a little less time worshiping the Sun God and a little more time worshiping the Bath God.

Anyway, it’s good to be back in the Falcon, even if things don’t smell as good with the new guy around, and to see old friends.  I think I’m gonna invite them all to my wedding, just as soon as I got it planned.

Dear Diary,

I never realized how much there was to a wedding!  Why, I’m already in the third section of the wedding chapter and ain’t even got to the wedding day yet.  And we’re already getting close to Antioch – I’m gonna have to put this away soon.

But maybe there’s time to copy out one more section, this one on the shower.

As Domina Moratus is well aware, several young brides are fortunate enough to have close girlfriends who wish to help her bid farewell to the joys of youth.  Further, a bride will often have older women friends and family ready to welcome her to the matrimonial life.  To satisfy both of these groups, the shower was invented.

The shower is a relatively recent innovation.  There is no record of such a thing being held in the days of the ancients.  Normally, Domina Moratus finds innovation to be suspect, but in this case, she is willing to make an exception for what has become a charming part of the wedding preparations.

The first rule of a shower is that the bride must never organize it for herself.  It is always inappropriate to host a party in honor of oneself, and the shower is no exception.  It should be left to friends who, eager to help celebrate your special event, spontaneously gather together.

There really are not many other rules.  Typically, the shower involves young friends of the bride sharing reminiscences of childhood pleasures, and older friends and family of the bride offering advice about marital life.  There are often gifts, usually minor household items, though occasionally of a more suspect nature.  Domina Moratus can only recommend accepting all in the spirit in which they are intended, and to recall that a bride’s looks and reputation are rarely damaged by a decorous blush.

Occasionally, a bride will find herself blushing more at the conversation than at the gifts, especially when the elderly are present.  There is nothing that a widow enjoys more than to revisit past intimate joys through ribald speculation about an upcoming honeymoon, even though this will often provoke shock in a bride-to-be who thereby gains her first intimation of the broad variety of duties that will soon befall her.  Domina Moratus can only urge that you reflect that Priapus is an important part of any wedding party, and to contemplate the day when you too becomes a woman of a certain age cherishing memories of your upcoming ordeal.

The most important thing to remember concerning the shower is to promptly write thank-you notes to all involved.  Of course, this is also the most important thing to remember concerning all elements of the wedding.  The groom is practically the only person involved in a wedding who is not due a written thank-you note from the bride.  (If a bride wishes to learn how to adequately express gratitude to the groom, Domina Moratus suggests consultation with an elderly guest at the shower: this should provide ample education for you, and even more entertainment for the other guests.)

I reckon I don’t know what to make of all that.  I know there’s lots of stuff I’m gonna have to do once I’m a married woman, stuff to keep my Geoffry happy and all, and that some of it might be distasteful.  I’m okay with that, I guess.  And I’m sure Asaki-san was only teasing me when she went on about them things men like, cause I can’t imagine any decent woman doing some of that stuff, nor a decent man wanting it.

But I mean to be a good wife to my Geoffry, so I’ll do what it takes to keep him happy, if I can figure out what that is.  I guess I’ll have to ask someone who knows.  Maybe I’ll ask Dorothy, cause she seems to know all about that kind of thing.  Or I’ll ask some older married woman about it, though I don’t recollect ever hearing one talk about anything like that, even the one time I went to a wedding shower.

Wait, here’s a question about the parties that men have:

Dear Domina Moratus,  I am getting married in one month.  All my best friends are giving me a shower, and I do appreciate that.  My Tommy who I am marrying says that since I’m going to go out for a shower, he’s going to have a bachelor’s party with his friends.  But he won’t tell me what they’re gonna be doing.  I am hoping that you can tell me.  Signed, P.

Dear P, While Domina Moratus is fully aware of the kinds of things that go on at bachelor parties, her editor feels that it would be best to avoid addressing those kinds of details in a family newsletter.  Suffice to say that while both gatherings involve joining together with one’s closest friends, and both often include the presence of young women, in all other regards a bachelor party bears little similarity to the shower that your friends will be holding for you.  Beyond that, Domina Moratus suspects that a proper young bride like yourself will wish to know as little about the details of this gathering as possible, the better to preserve your good opinion of your husband-to-be.

Dear Domina, I just got named best man for a buddy whose getting hitched sometime soon.  I ain’t never been a “Best Man” befores.  Could you explain all the details of the ritual of the “Batchelor Party”, Heh-heh.

Dear H, Domina Moratus suspects that you have written to the wrong advice columnist.  Certainly she is not used to letters signed “Heh-heh” – is that your name, or some sort of barbarian valediction?  And she certainly has no suggestions to make about the traditional barbarian debauch known as the bachelor’s party.  Except to note that it is not an act of friendship to do anything that makes the groom late for the nuptials, and that a social disease is never a welcome wedding gift.

Well, shucks.  I guess I know men are men.  I may not like to think of what kind of things Geoffry might want to do when he’s out on the town with the fellers, but I know he’s entitled if he wants.  Even after we’re married, I suppose, though I’m gonna do my best so he’ll want to stay home with me instead.

Though I do hope Hank don’t get him into too much trouble.  I reckon that Hank can come up with a corker of a bachelor party if he sets his mind to it, though I suppose Geoffry can just cure himself of anything he picks up from one of Hank’s dirty girls.  But as long as Geoffry shows up on the wedding day without missing any important parts, I’ll be happy.

Dear Diary,

Mr Dutch finally got the call he was waiting on, the call about us going to rescue that charioteer up on a lost spaceship.  We’re gonna be heading off to space soon to do it.  There’s probably gonna be some fighting, which ain’t never much fun.  But we should make some money off it, and I could sure use more in my wedding and dowry fund.

Best part, we’re gonna be taking off from Antioch, a big city that’s not too far from here.  And we’re going to take the train to get there.  I ain’t never been on a train before!  I’m really looking forward to it!

Later…

Being on a train don’t disappoint.  I’m riding in it now and it sure moves awfully fast – I ain’t never been on something so fast that didn’t fly before.  But it’s real smooth – not like being in a carriage.  You hardly know you’re moving, unless you look out the window and watch the countryside zipping on past.  Why, I’m writing this entry and my hand ain’t jiggling at all!

Geoffry is napping in the seat next to me.  He’s still a mite tired after being out all night with me.  (Dusty says that’s cause he’s so old, but she’s just being foolish again.)  That’s okay, cause all of a sudden I got tons of stuff that needs doing.

First off, I gotta work on a betrothal present for Geoffry.  Fellers got it easy – all they got to do is go to a store and slap down money to buy a ring. But Domina Moratus says girls gotta make something nice that shows off their domestic abilities, and I want to show mine at their best.  So I’m trying to sneak in a little time working on a gift while Geoffry’s asleep – I picked up all the supplies for it back in Menelaida – though it ain’t easy to get something like this started in a train, not without waking Geoffry with the clacking of the scissors and all.

After that I’m gonna look through my wedding scroll.  I’m sure there’s a lot more things I need to do, things I ain’t even thought of yet, and I really need to find out what all that is.  I’m gonna be writing it up soon, and maybe start me a checklist.

I never realized how much work it would be accepting a proposal!  Maybe I can get Dusty to help some, and I sure do wish Momma was here, though I reckon there’s still a lot that I’d just have to do myself.  But I’m gonna need a whole lot of time – I’m beginning to wish this train didn’t move so darn fast!

Dear Diary,

I hadn’t even thought about a betrothal, but Domina Moratus’s got this to say on it:

Few young brides give much thought to their betrothal ceremony, and in fact many skip this step entirely.  This is a sign of the degeneration of our civilization, for not only does a well-run betrothal party produce fond memories and a good impression on in-laws-to-be, but the understandings reached at this time can form a solid foundation for both the wedding and the subsequent marriage.

A proper betrothal consists of four main elements: social, romantic, ceremonial, and commercial. As the bride, you need not concern yourself with the last of these.  This is a matter for your pater familias, who will be negotiating your dowry and other terms with your groom and his family.  You need only be aware that during any discussion of these matters you should sit quietly, look decorative, and smile.

The social element consists of a small dinner party including your two families and possibly a few close friends.  This may be your first opportunity to meet your future mother-in-law, so by all means, be on your best behavior.  If you do not know what that means, Domina Moratus can only suggest that you peruse the chapters of this scroll involved in matters other than matrimonial.

(In the days of Domina Moratus’s youth, the betrothal was often the first meeting of the bride and the groom.  That lent itself to a separate set of considerations for the bride-to-be, considerations that will not be discussed in this volume.  That was a cleaner era in many ways.  And in many ways, not.)

At some point during the evening, usually at the time when the slaves have finished clearing away the dishes, the ceremonial elements commence.  The first of these sets the seal on the betrothal contract.  This may be a formal written contract or may involve only a verbal agreement between your father and groom.  In either event, your father will stand and announce the size of your dowry, there will be a slight murmuring around the table as each person gossips with a couchmate on either the generosity or paucity thereof, and the groom, declaring that he is satisfied (whether he is or not is immaterial: we deal here with etiquette, not truth), takes your father’s hand in agreement and friendship.

After this, you will exchange gifts with the groom.  You should give him a trinket of some sort (for the young bride herself is considered the primary gift that the groom will receive), though if you can present him with a handmade object that demonstrates your domestic skills to your prospective in-laws, that is all to the good.  He, of course, will present you with a betrothal ring.  In ancient times, this was typically a ring of iron that you would accept to signal your agreement to his proposal.  Nowadays, gold and diamonds are the rule, evidence that not all change is for the worse.

Finally, the two of you will hold each others’ hands and share a kiss.  For a proper couple, this will be your first kiss, and the last one you share until the wedding day.  That, alas, is rarely the case with today’s couples, evidence that not all change is for the better.  But whether your first kiss or no, do remember that you have an audience, and maintain your maidenly decorum, whatever the true facts of the matter may be.

Except for a final exchange of good wishes, the betrothal is now complete.

That all seems plain enough, and sounds like a right nice party.  Though I got a few questions… wait, there’s a section of em here…

Dear Domina Moratus, My family has come upon hard times, and so we cannot afford a lavish betrothal.  But my prospective husband’s family is doing quite well in the olive trade.  Would it be appropriate to allow him to pay for the betrothal dinner? C

My dear C, the betrothal is one of the few elements of a wedding where the issue of hosting is undetermined.  Often the bride’s family will serve as hosts, paying all costs, but equally often the groom’s family pays, or they share the burden of hospitality.  (Domina Moratus has even known several charming betrothals hosted by the couples themselves, though she cannot recommend this innovation.)

Dear Domina, I often hear you speak of the role of the father in the betrothal or marriage ceremony.  But what if one’s father is no longer with us? Z

Dear Z, My condolences, my dear.  But there is surely some male relative who serves the role of your pater familias.  It is wholly appropriate for him to fill any role normally filled by your father in the course of the wedding.

I reckon I can get Uncle Bill or someone to stand in.  Though I sure do miss Daddy, and wish he coulda met my Geoffry and been there on my big day.

Dear Diary,

I do love my sister, but sometimes she gets me really riled up.

Just take the way she’s been talking today.  She just won’t let up about where to hold my wedding.  Captain Crispin said we could hold it up on the Minerva, cause that would make it easy to let Tacita come and still be safe with all them soldiers around.  I don’t much like that idea, but now Dusty just can’t let it go.  Every time we talk, she’s going on about how great it would be to have the wedding up on a spaceship, about what a treat it would be for everybody, about blah blah blah.  I’m getting sick and tired of hearing it, but Dusty just won’t shut up on it.  If she wants a wedding up in space, why don’t she go and get a feller of her own to marry!

Though I gotta admit, I ain’t told her all my reasons for not wanting to get married up there.  Oh, what I told her is true – I want to get married back in my home town, out in a field in the sun with all my family and friends around, just like I always dreamed it.  But I got other reasons too.

See, them days we spent on the Minerva was a really confusing time for me.  And that ain’t what I want going through my head on my wedding day.  After all, where’s there a space big enough on that ship to hold a wedding?  In the shuttle bay, where I first met Jugotaisama?  In the garden, where Posca and me was alone on our date?  In the saloon in soldier country, where Dusty and me went with Phoebus and Fiero?   In the lounge where we was staying, where I had dinner with Posca and Phoebus at the same time?  Surely not in the shooting range!

Fact is, I feel kind of guilty about some of the things I did up there, and just about any place on that ship would remind me of some feller or other.  And my Geoffry deserves to be the only man in my head on our wedding day.  So there ain’t no way I’d ever get married up there – it just wouldn’t feel right.

I’m hoping Dusty will shut up on that.  But she probably won’t.  If there’s any way of shutting her up on a subject, I ain’t figured it out.  After all, she’s still talking about fixing me up with different fellers, and I’m promised to Geoffry now.

(Okay, so we ain’t had a formal betrothal ceremony yet.  But that’s gonna happen soon, and I give him my word and took his ring and all, and that’s what counts most with me, no matter what Dusty says.)

Dear Diary,

Domina Moratus starts out the chapter on wedding by saying this about brides:

Domina Moratus often hears complaints from brides-to-be that their grooms don’t seem to care about the wedding.  “He just doesn’t care about the floral centerpieces,” they grumble, or “I just can’t get him to be enthusiastic about wearing a lime-green toga, and my color scheme demands it.”  And while Domina Moratus is sympathetic to brides suffering from some manifestations of Disinterested Groom Syndrome (for example, the groom should certainly help writing thank you notes with minimal prodding), she cannot help but point out to brides that they should be more understanding about the groom’s apathy, and indeed grateful for it.

The cause for gratitude is obvious.  My dears, would you really want a fellow whose idea of fashion is wearing a plaid toga over his checked golf shorts lending you advice on what to wear on your big day?  A man who knows his place and who is willing to let his wife rule in the domestic arena is a gem, and there is no better predictor of this desirous trait than a decorous lack of interest in seating charts and cake frosting color schemes.

But a little reflection will show the thoughtful bride that a certain amount of apathy on the groom’s part is understandable as well as desirable.  After all, this is the most important day of your life, but not necessarily of his.

Consider what the wedding means for you.  Not only are you leaving your father’s protection to become mistress of your husband’s home, you are also trading the playful life of a young Artemis for the mysteries you shall encounter as an avatar of Aphrodite.  It is more than marriage that you are entering: it is adulthood.

This is not the case for your groom who, older and established in the world of men, will already have made the transition to manhood.  After all, your father would never have agreed to this match if it were not so.  Most likely, he will even have some experience in the arts of love – another thing to make one grateful, for while there is something charming about a young woman first stumbling down the paths of Eros, there is nothing to be cherished about a clumsy man.

So be happy, young bride, that your groom shows less interest than you in the matters discussed herein.  The wedding will be your day, not his.  On your wedding day, you shall arise a girl, and return to sleep a woman.  But he will be a man throughout.

I gotta admit: I never thought of it like that.  I reckon I’d like to have Geoffry help plan, but maybe I shouldn’t mind if he don’t.  After all, he’s a man of the world and all, but I ain’t gonna be a real woman until I become one in his arms.

Dear Diary,

After showing off my ring to everybody at breakfast, Dusty and me decided to go out to look at wedding dresses and such.  There’s a lot of stuff we’re gonna need for a wedding – dresses for me, for my bridesmaids, flower arrangements, and all sorts of other things – so we decided to see what was out there.  After all, planning a wedding sounds like a big thing to do, so we figured on getting started.

Only problem was, we don’t really know nothing about wedding planning.  I mean, I went to a few weddings back at home, even threw some walnuts at a couple of processions, but I was never part of the planning.  So after looking at a few dresses that the shops said would work, Dusty and me decided that the first step was to learn what we could about weddings.

Dusty said the best thing would be if we had an expert wedding planner to help us.  She reckoned that maybe the gods would send someone.  (She was joking that he ought to be around seven feet tall and bright blue, though I don’t know what put that idea in her head.  Dusty’s getting a lot of strange ideas about this wedding lately.)  But since we didn’t have any such person, the next best thing would be finding a good scroll.

Turns out they got a shop in this town selling nothing but scrolls, and in that store they sell something called Domina Moratus’s Guide to Perfectly Proper Rituals.  We thumbed through a copy and, sure enough, they had a couple chapters on weddings.  So I bought it and have started studying up.

I’m gonna make a bunch of notes here on what I read, with some ideas of my own.  I want my wedding to be plumb perfect, and that’s gonna take a heap of planning.  But with Domina Moratus’s help, and some of Dusty’s too, I reckon I should be up to it, even if there ain’t no big blue fella around to give us a hand.