The first night of the bride

This is a story of an innocent bride Katherine and the night. Katherine lay trembling in the dark tent. She had no idea when the men would disband and her terror would begin. Three days ago she had been safe and sound in her bed with her sisters when her mother had come and taken her, her few belongings, and placed them into a cart, kissing her daughter and wishing her peace.

Katherine would never see her family again. Today she had been married off to a stranger in a strange land and now awaited his completion of the contract.

She had known it was a possibility, but somehow never believed her father would do it to her. It happened among her people with some frequency. A traveling trader or craftsman would come through their village and contract for an unmarried woman to take as his wife, or sometimes for a son or nephew, and she would disappear, never to be seen again.

After travelling in a small, covered cart for more than a day, Katherine had heard the sounds of village life filter through the rough canvas walls. Not long after, two women had roughly pulled her from the cart and rushed her into a women’s tent where they proceeded to scrub her from tip to toe, then bathe her in scented oils and torture her hair into a tight knot on top of her head.

They gowned her in a fitted robe that never would have been allowed in her own village, veiled her face and head so that she could only see the vague outlines of things, then paraded her to a gathering of men where they left her seated on a stool raised up on some kind of small stage.

The men then came and gawked at her, pointing and commenting in a language similar to her own, but just enough different that she only understood part of what they were saying. It seemed they were discussing her merits as a wife, whether she would breed well, how enjoyable owning her might be, and, as the night drew late and the men became drunk, what her attributes in the bedroom might be. Katherine was horrified by all of this, but terrified to move, to try to escape. No one touched her at least.

When the room finally became quiet and Katherine was practically sliding from the stool in exhaustion, someone led her out of the men’s tent and back to the women who disrobed her and placed her on a mat in their midst. There she was watched constantly up until this morning when she was robed in a flowing red gown and veil and taken to another gathering of men where she was married.

She was never asked a thing, never spoke a word, never saw her husband. Now she lay waiting for him to commit the act her mother and aunt had told her about just a few months earlier.

She shivered, even though the night was warm, the tent stuffy. Her mother had tried to soften the blow of learning what would be expected of her as a wife, while her aunt had been full of dire warnings. While mother had come to love father, and found their joinings not entirely unpleasant, Aunt Rashon found the act abhorrent.

Katherine thought her mother soon regretted letting her aunt join them for that talk, when her aunt insisted on explaining just how painful the first time was, and how men enjoyed it so much, they attempted to make it painful always. Mother disagreed, but her gentle manner prevented her arguing with her sister.

Katherine would soon form her own opinion. The sounds of merriment were decreasing, and she shivered again in trepidation. The tent was dark but for one small lamp on the hook near the door. Katherine wished there was somewhere to hide, but the tent was bare except for that one lamp and the animal skins on which she lay. She had not even been given anything but a single length of sheer fabric with which to cover her body.

Men were approaching. Their voices were low, the tone joking. A deep rumble came from just outside the door, saying thanks, and wishing the others peace. After a pause, the flap raised and a bear of a man entered quickly, snuffing the lantern as he passed.

Katherine held her breath as he appeared to remove his outer robes in the darkness. She found herself scooting up the skins, pressing back against the canvas wall. The man suddenly sat at the end of the skin bed.

“Wife?” he asked, voice deep and low, with perhaps just a hint of insecurity.

Katherine didn’t know what to do. If he reached out a hand, he would find her, cringing up the bed. “Yes,” she squeaked out in a tiny voice.

“I am Davis,” he replied, more confident, but still quiet, barely more than a growl.

She didn’t speak. He would know her name already, and she really had nothing to say to him.

Davis moved toward her, and she cringed. He must have felt her movement, because he stopped, lowering his reaching hand to his side.

“I do not mean you harm, wife. I wish only to hold your hand, with your permission,” he explained.

Before she knew what she was saying, Katherine responded, “I do not think that is the only thing required this night.”

She bit her tongue the moment it was said. Such a bold thing had never before crossed her lips to any male. She would not be surprised if he struck her for it.

After a moment of silence, a deep rumbling laugh emanated from the man. “Aye, you are right there, my wife. But I do not feel the need to rush you. I thought we could take some time to become acquainted. Would you come a little closer?”

Katherine moved a few inches closer. “Why did you extinguish the light?”

“I thought you might be more comfortable in the dark. Would you prefer it back on?”

Katherine was surprised he had been concerned with her comfort. “Yes please. I would like to see with whom it is I speak,” she felt silly speaking so formally, but she wanted to be understood, and her dialect was enough different from his that it made her nervous, changing her speech patterns.

He laughed again, but lit the lantern and placed it near the head of the bed. She looked at him as he went about this little task, noticing his solid build, dark hair and skin, and tall stature.

“Is that more to your liking?” he asked, smiling at her.

She gasped! He was very handsome, smiling, eyes glittering in the lantern light. He waited, and she remembered he had asked her a question.

“Yes. Thank you…Davis,” she said his name shyly. She had never spoken to a man outside her family before, and never referred to one by his first name.

“You are quite beautiful, Katherine,” he said, reaching his hand out toward hers.

She let him lay his hand over hers, then lift her hand and wrap his around it. His hand was so large and warm. She felt a tingle at the base of her neck.

He was still smiling at her, and she didn’t know what to say or do. She had not expected to sit and talk with her new husband, and had no clue how to talk to a man.

“I am sorry my father purchased you so abruptly from your family. I had asked that he approach your family for an engagement, but he did not wish to return in a month to collect you, preferring to bring you here immediately.”

The first night of the bride will continue in the next page.

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