Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.
Wedding traditions forever use all sorts of imaginable metaphors to plot that moment when the newly married are surprised by something very sweet that feels so wonderfully good when fully revealed — opening gifts — being flung in the air by well-wishers — doused in wine — smeared in cake — so many ways to tease out the not-so-secret purpose of wedding. The seeing fingers of this blind bride lead Gaia and Brandell right into that place plotted as a gift to the bride by the husband.
She touches the thatch of the walls, then the wood jamb and door. Brandell takes her finding fingers in his hand and opens the door.
“Brandell, what is this? Did you know the string I set was torn apart, and here is this thing?”
“Yes, Gaia. As soon as you had your woolen yarn spread all around the clearing, I just came out here and cut it apart and tied it to the beams that make this doorway. Papa did the thatching so it is perfect.”
She lays her hand on the thatched wall. “What is it? Is it a roof?”
I should explain, “No, this is a wall. I don’t suppose they make whole houses in Greece from thatch, and even here in Gaul we’ve been using more dob and wattle, but it is traditional for ancient tribes and some people, even today, make whole houses from thatch.”
“Oh! So, we could use this thatch and someday we could make a house? Thank you, Papa; it seems to be very well made.” She studies the tightly tucked reeds with her fingertips.
Brandell now has to explain it, which kind of makes an underwhelming response to discovering a whole house as a gift.
“Gaia, this is the door.” He guides her into the door as the guests crowd around the outside getting glimpses into the little house. Gaia moves slowly touching each little gift – the bench — the table — the bed — the weave of wool for a blanket — the linen sheet gifted by the monks — pillows and pad stuffed with goose down — a gift from the garden ganders…
With all of us crowded at the windows and door Gaia sits on the bed touching each layer of finery,
“Brandell, this is a fine featherbed. It’s fun to imagine something like this – a little house of thatch with a table and a bench and a fine feather bed. Someday we could live in a house, Brandell.”
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 