SHANA’S BREATH came in shallow gasps, hot beneath her veil. Enthroned like a princess, she clung to the arms of the decorated chair, which reeled and pitched on the shoulders of the young men as they led the parade with jubilant shouts and laughter. Behind the translucent fabric, she remained separate from the festivities, which drifted below her in a dreamlike fusion of colour and blurred movement. Only the rattle of tambourines and lively tune of pipes penetrated the film of unreality and brought an overwhelming awareness that this was her wedding day!
A tingle of emotion wet her eyelashes, causing the silk to adhere to her cheeks, and she quickly withdrew again to the place inside herself where she was only a spectator. The maidens, led by her younger sister, Beth, skipped ahead waving scarves that streamed out behind them in blends of mauves, blues and reds. Rafael was a steadier figure beside her, remote beyond her veil but a reassuring presence.
She peeked down at him nervously. Tall and vital, he walked with a springy, certain step, fully engaged with the proceedings and laughing merrily at his friends cavorting around him. He turned to smile up at her – a full, beaming smile of happiness – the way he'd smiled on his thirteenth birthday when his father gave him his first prayer shawl. She remembered the occasion well, how his joy had saddened her because she sensed their childhood friendship receding as he moved on into manhood, and she, still a girl, was left behind.
But now, with a burst of happiness, she reminded herself again of the fact that she was about to become his wife.
The bridal procession surged down the main street with its haphazard rows of houses and shops on either side, where groups had gathered in the doorways to smile and wave. Shana grew hot under the embroidered layers of her gown, and her hair was damp beneath the tiara of plaited reeds which Beth had entwined with white lilies. The chair rocked like a boat on the waves until, by the time they reached Rafael’s home, she felt dizzy and a little nauseous.
Rafael’s leatherworks shop, which faced onto the street in front of his house, was festooned with ribbons, and a trail of petals lay bruised on the cobbles leading into the courtyard behind. A jolt of trepidation contracted Shana’s stomach as they passed through the entrance, and she had to suppress an irrational urge to leap out of the chair, dash under the sea of waving arms, and flee into the mountains. But her heavy wedding robe and the weight of social constraints pinned her down. Besides, she had Rafael to think of now.
She caught sight of her mother, Milcah, seated like an empress in her new robe, her bosom swelling with pride, and longed to run to her and bury her face into the soft creases of her neck, but she took a deep breath and tried to remember what was expected of her. The friends of the bridegroom set the chair down and ushered her and Rafael beneath a flower adorned canopy for the ceremony. A hush fell as the couple stood facing one another, and the rabbi began to pronounce a blessing in solemn, sing-song tones. Shana trembled with emotion and came close to tears. She lifted her eyes to meet Rafael’s and saw in them such gladness, such tenderness, such wild happiness, that her heart lifted and she smiled tremulously. How handsome he looked with his brown muscled chest showing through the silk wedding garment with its wide crimson sash which emphasised the slimness of his hips, and his honest, clean-cut face smiling down at her.
She had witnessed the gradual moulding of that face since his childhood when it was plump and round until the first faint hollowing of the cheeks had developed into attractive lines on either side of his mouth. His once downy brows had darkened and now almost met over his high-bridged nose. But his eyes still retained their boyish candour. Maturity had shaped him into a magnetic combination of strength and gentleness. He was well loved in the community, and the whole village had turned out to rejoice with him. Most of them had grown fond of Shana too, now that they had forgiven her for once breaking Rafael’s heart, and thankfully, Shana’s cousin Haziel had spared them the embarrassment of his presence and was not there to remind everyone of her betrayal. Rafael, at any rate, had clearly put the matter behind him and was not going to allow anything to spoil his happiness.
To Shana’s delight, she noticed that her dear friends Mary and Abigail had arrived from Jerusalem for the occasion and she responded to their beaming faces with a tense smile beneath her veil.
She turned back to Rafael. Holding her gaze, he took her shaking hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, the same ring he had given her almost two and a half years ago when she had first promised to be his wife. That slim band of gold which had once symbolised all she had lost, now represented all that had been restored. There was a moment of reverent silence as Rafael lifted the front of Shana’s veil to uncover her face and gazed at her, aglow with love. They sipped wine from the same cup to signify their union, and then cheers exploded all around them and handfuls of petals were flung into the air, forming a soft, fragrant shower. The music started up again and celebrations began in earnest just as the sun sank in a reddened haze behind the houses, drawing down a dark indigo sky, spangled with stars.
The wine loosened Shana’s taut apprehension and she began to enjoy herself. She saw her sister smiling at her across the square with generous, glistening eyes and blew her a kiss, mouthing “your turn next”. A pang of sorrow stabbed her heart. By rights it should have been Beth’s wedding, not hers. Beloved Beth, who had eagerly anticipated her wedding day ever since she was a child and deserved it so much more, must now watch her sister marry the man she herself had loved. Yet Shana knew there was nothing but goodwill and gladness flowing from her loving heart and was grateful their friend Nathan was with her to make her laugh.
Rafael went to help his father to a bench against the wall. The stooped old man hobbled with halting, cautious steps, his big gnarled hands clutching a bent stick, his face oversized above his diminishing body, but his pride in his only son never faltered. Shana’s own father, too, would have been very well pleased with this union. What a pity he had not lived to bestow one of his rare smiles of approval upon her.
“Shushana, my beauty, you look magnificent,” cried Mary with her usual hyperbole. She swooped upon her, with colourful garments flying out like an exotic bird, and gathered her into her arms. “I’m so happy, I could burst. Praise the Lord for such a glorious day as this!”
“Thank you so much for getting here,” said Shana in a muffled voice from within Mary’s embrace. “I know it was a hard day’s journey for you and Abigail.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world. What a wonderful testimony to the Master’s love. He is certainly here too, of course, celebrating with us all. I can just see his ecstatic face beaming down upon you. All his friends in Jerusalem send greetings. Here comes Abigail now to have a share of you before Rafael whisks you away.”
“Oh Mary, I’m all mixed up,” whispered Shana. “I have known Rafael for so long and I still find it hard to think of him as . . . anything more than my closest friend.”
“Darling, our good Lord gave you unimaginable delights to share with your husband. You just go and enjoy yourself and don’t worry about a thing.”
Mary flitted away as Abigail took her place, a matronly pillar of wisdom and no-nonsense common sense. She took Shana’s hands, steadying her, and said, “You will learn many new things now as a wife, and soon-to-be mother I hope. Some things will be easy and natural and some more difficult in this new phase of life. Always remember that in the kingdom of God, with every hardship there will be joys to more than make up for it. It will be worth every sacrifice you might have to make for your husband’s sake. Live for his blessing and you will be doubly blessed yourself. Our Lord be with you.”
A momentary shadow dimmed Shana’s fragile confidence. Abigail’s words seemed to have a prophetic ring she surely did not intend. Hardships, sacrifice? Hadn’t she had endured enough of those already?
Rafael returned and claimed Shana’s hand. “It’s time, my love,” he said, drawing her away.
Faces everywhere – loving, familiar faces lit up in the blazing torchlight, shining with goodwill – swirled around her as she followed her husband to the bridal chamber, a room set slightly apart from the banquet which Rafael had converted for the occasion. Escorted by the friends of the groom and the maidens, the door was opened and a plethora of gentle hands ushered them in, each bestowing a blessing.
Rafael closed the door behind him, abruptly separating them from the excited clamour just a few feet away, and turned to gaze at his bride with bold admiration. Gone was his former respectful restraint; on the contrary, he seemed so sure of himself that it made her uncomfortable. She backed away and stood against the far wall, glaring at him. The large bed dominating the small room made a blunt statement. She hated that it had to be like this, that the moment you were married you were expected to set about the business of begetting, and it seemed the whole of Israel waited at the door to make sure it was done! She hated being stripped of her spontaneity and volition and expected to submit to what tradition prescribed, while outside the old men made suggestive jokes and the young men laughed.
Suddenly Rafael was no longer a friend but a husband empowered by the iron fist of social order, and with a flutter of panic she realised she had just given him control over her life. He owned her, had even paid for her, and now it was too late, she was his possession.
Rafael smiled across at her, unperturbed. “I have a present for you,” he said. He took something out of his sash and threw it across to her, saying, “Catch!”
It was a small white stone. She stared at it blankly until the memories came rushing back: the two of them as children – she taller than he for a short while – the games they used to play at their secret meeting place, the Big Tree, where they went to escape from the other children. A white stone had been their signal to meet at there.
Rafael laughed and eyed the high rectangular window above the bed. “You go first,” he said.
A rush of wicked glee replaced Shana’s misgivings. She tossed the stone back to him, which signalled agreement, and stepped up onto the bed, waiting for him to hoist her up so that she could flatten herself onto the window ledge and slip through the opening. With a struggle, Rafael wriggled himself through after her, and they crouched together in the shadows behind a spreading shrub from where they could see the activities through the leaves, lit up in a blur of flickering movement. Rafael threw a dark cape around Shana’s shoulders and took her hand as they ran lightly across the field behind the house into the shelter of the forest.
As soon as Shana felt the familiar path beneath her feet and the caress of cool forest air on her cheek, a wild joy took hold of her, and she began to run like a prisoner released. Dark shapes of trees flew past as she ran, as swift as a deer in the dappled moonlight, and once she was a safe distance away, her tinkling laughter escaped on each panting breath. She heard Rafael giving chase close behind her and let out small screams as she weaved between the trees so that he lost the track and fell behind, then caught up with her again.
In full flight, Shana stumbled over a root and pitched to the ground, rolling into the grass in a knotted heap of garments with Rafael sprawled next to her.
“Got you!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet and scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to the outer edge of the forest where the great old oak, the Big Tree, now lay fallen like a toppled monument to the passing of time. She could hear the thumping of his heart against her ear and breathed the sweet, damp smell of his sweat. Brilliant stars spun above her and sparked between the leaves, intoxicating her with a wonderful madness. He set her down on the massive tree trunk, and she threw off the cape and shook out her hair, which fell in dark, gleaming coils over her shoulders. Rafael stepped back to gaze at her and catch his breath. Cool, fragrant air rose from the undergrowth, causing her white garments to shimmer and swirl around her. She stretched her silvery arms to the sky in an attitude of spontaneous praise, dazzled by moonshine, drenched with love. The luminance of his gaze transformed her into a wondrous being, more beautiful than she had ever been before.
He untied the thongs of her sandals and took one little foot in his hands, raised it to his lips and kissed the slender ankle, first one and then the other. He lifted her hands and placed soft kisses on her wrists and along the inside of her arms, sending thrills through her body. With his fingers threaded through her hair, he gently kissed her temples, eyelids, cheeks, and lingered on her lips. He claimed her with kisses, and her essence flowed towards him.
“Come with me,” he whispered, and led her to the shepherd’s hut nearby that belonged to his father’s friend. In the moonlight shafting through the door, she saw that he had prepared a bed of hay, strewn with petals from the rockrose bushes.
His love-making was tender and considerate, she did not know it could be like this; how unlike the violent passion of that one night stolen with her cousin Haziel, which had caused so much heartache.
Later, she lay in her husband’s arms, listening to the throaty rumble of his voice as he drowsily thanked God for his bride and the intimacy they could share, and fell asleep in a stupor of contentment. Gone was the pain of her past, the struggles and mistakes, when she had felt so lost, afraid and rejected, for she was no longer alone and now she was safe under the shelter of her husband’s protection. Life was just how she had always wished it could be, and she was very, very happy.