AFTER ACCEPTING BINYAMIN’S BRIDE CONTRACT, I began to dream about my wedding. Wrapped in the shades of night, I would see myself working in the kitchen with Miriam, preparing dinner for Mordecai. My fingers trembled as I lowered a loaf of bread to the table because Binyamin had told me to be ready. I didn’t know exactly when he would come, but Miriam and I had spent the day preparing for his arrival. I bathed that morning and then dressed in a new tunic. As a final touch, I put on the traditional bridal headdress trimmed with gold coins.
A bridal chest filled with wedding garments waited by the door.
I carried a platter of fruit and cheese to the table and froze as I heard noise from the street. A great many people were coming, and they were shouting in celebration. This could only be a wedding party.
“Mordecai, Miriam!” Binyamin shouted from outside, his voice stronger and deeper than I had ever heard it. “I have come for my bride!”
Quickly, lest the crowd become boisterous, Miriam helped me with the finishing touches—a pair of new sandals, a finely stitched mantle, a veil of sheer silk. I paused to look in the bronze mirror—had I finally become as beautiful as brides are supposed to be? I saw only a slim figure beneath a veil from which two anxious eyes peered back at me.
Sighing, I took a moment to give Miriam a quick hug, then opened the door to greet my husband. “I am ready.”
I gripped the hand extended to me and walked rapidly through the courtyard and into the street. At the head of the joyful procession, I walked with my betrothed to the home he had prepared. For some inexplicable reason we walked not toward Kidon’s house, but toward the royal fortress. I wondered if Binyamin had taken a job at the King’s Gate. Then we were standing beneath a wedding canopy while the rabbi read the traditional blessing: “Our sister, may you increase to thousands upon thousands, and may your offspring possess the gates of their enemies.”
Someone shouted with joy while my bridegroom tugged on my hand, leading me to a banquet where food had been piled upon groaning tables. I sat beside him and ate and drank and smiled at those who lifted their cups to celebrate my happiness.
Then my groom stood and lifted me, carrying me away from the table and toward the bridal chamber. I trembled in his strong arms, but tried to smile and be brave. When he lowered me to the bridal bed, I finally looked into his face—and screamed.
The face wasn’t Binyamin’s.