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BARSOOMIAN COLONISTS loved the Renaissance. However, they tended to pick and choose which customs to imitate when setting up their new colony. They wanted to keep the ‘romance’ of the culture without stepping back technologically or getting bogged down in time wasting customs such as the day long church service accompanying Renaissance weddings.
Randal spent the evening before his wedding at a bachelor party thrown by Devon and Ailwin. Carlos was invited, but he declined the invitation in favor of a family dinner with only himself, Ava and their two daughters at the new French restaurant, les Amis Elementaire.
Francisca eyed the menu suspiciously. “Dad what is Escargot?”
“Don’t try it,” Tommasa advised. “It’s snails. I watched the cook at the De’Riccis prepare it once. Yuck.”
“What are you going to have?” Francisca challenged.
“Soupe a L’oignon followed by The Ratatouille; it’s a kind of stir-fried stew. No snails.”
“Ava?” Carlos asked.
“The Beouf Bourguingnon with Lyonnaise potatoes, I think.”
“That sounds excellent,” Carlos said. He gave the order to the waiter, adding, “Ava and I will share a bottle of your best Burgundy. The young ladies are allowed one glass, then switch them to Iced Tea.”
“Is this what it will be like if you two get married?” Francisca asked.
“Well, we won’t be going out to dinner every night,” Ava said. “I expect the family will eat most meals in. However, I’m sure the Chef-bot can be programed with some French recipes.”
“But not snails, please,” Tommasa shuddered.
Ava chuckled, “I don’t like them either,” she agreed.
The conversation might have segued into a discussion of culinary likes and dislikes, but Francisca had an agenda which she wasn’t to be diverted from.
“That means Daddy will be home for it, doesn’t it? No more working overtime,” she said with satisfaction.
All of them looked at Carlos. He realized he was trapped. “I will do my best to be home in the evenings.”
“No,” his daughter said. “You have to promise to be there.”
“Do my best is a trifle vague,” Ava pointed out.
He met her eyes ruefully. “Very well, I promise to be home in the evenings. Will that do?”
“Yes, I think so, don’t you girls?” Ava asked.
“You’re awesome at the negotiating table,” Tommasa told Francisca, who grinned back at her.
Carlos cleared his throat. “I realize this is quite sudden,” he said, getting up from his chair and coming to get down on one knee in front of Ava, who had swiveled her chair to face him when she realized he was coming around to face her.
Carlos produced an ornately carved small box and held it out to her. “Ava, will you and Tommasa marry us?”
It took a lot to throw Ava, but she felt her face heat up, she glanced over at Tommasa, who nodded energetically
“Yes,” she stammered. “I will be honored to be your wife.”
The box contained a Firey emerald sandwiched between two brilliant stones, one blue and one yellow.
“It’s beautiful, Carlos.” She said, holding it up for the girls to see.
“I got your ring size from your mother,” Carlos said, taking it from her and slipping it on her finger. He kissed her hand and got up from the floor.
The waitstaff at les Amis Elementaire prided themselves on keeping an eye on their customers. At a signal from the Concierge, the waiter brought over a chilled bottle of sparkling wine.
When Carlos and Francisca took them home, Francisca stayed in the sled while he walked Ava and Tommasa to the door. Ava unlocked it, and he took Tommasa by the shoulders and ushered her inside, closing the door behind her, saying “Inside, brat, Ava and I want a little privacy.”
When he kissed her, the kiss began gently, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck, it quickly changed to passionate and demanding.
“Goodnight,” when he raised his head, his voice was a little thick.
“Goodnight,” her own voice was breathless.
“When she went inside, she found her family waiting expectantly.
“Big mouth,” she told Tommasa
“I told them,” Tommasa said, grinning.
“Let’s see the ring,” Judith and Aunt Carmen demanded.
The bachelor party lasted a lot longer than the family dinner. About one in the morning, Devon found Randal making a pot of coffee.
“Not drinking?” Devon asked Randal, who had switched from the highly spiced alcoholic Mead being served most of the guests, to coffee.
“I’d rather not be hung over at my wedding,” Randal replied.
“I thought the drunken bridegroom was the custom at Renaissance weddings.” Devon remarked grinning.
Randal shrugged. “Sometimes it is, but it’s not essential. We kind of pick and choose which customs we practice.”
“Really?” Devon was interested.” Which ones did you keep? Besides Code Duello, I mean.”
“Well, we are skipping the one about spending the day in church hearing mass. We do say our vows on the church steps, then the guests follow us back to a fourteen-course banquet. We’ll be opening gifts in between some courses and watching some mimes and tumblers exhibit their skill. There will also be dancing. The entire affair takes about five hours.”
“Wow!” Devon said, taking a swallow of his tea. “Remind me not to agree if Tash takes a notion for a Renaissance ceremony when we get married.”
“Planning that any time soon?”
“Tash’s sister Joyce is planning it. Probably going to take place during the Spring Equinox Festival in Laughing Mountain.”
One of the wedding customs kept by the colonists was the gathering of special women guests to dress at the bride’s home, so they could admire her dress and each other’s.
Carlos managed a few words with Ava when he dropped Francisca off to dress with the rest of the family.
“How soon do you think we’ll be doing this?” he asked.
“In a hurry?” Ava asked archly.
“Yes,” he admitted ruefully.
“Give Mom time to catch her breath,” Ava said, giving him a kiss. “I doubt if it will be very long—she’s been itching to marry me off for years.” She said with a chuckle.
Judith’s wedding dress was a light cream, trimmed in gold, with a square, low-cut neckline. An attached hood which could be lifted in case it rained during the outdoor ceremony draped over her shoulders. The sleeves were tight to the elbow with gold braid circling her upper arms. Long, loose chiffon sleeves descended to cover her hands. The waist was cinched under her breasts with gold ribbon, to show off her Rubenesque figure.
The guests wore Renaissance gowns of the same style, most of them in vibrant shades of blue, green, yellow and red trimmed in contrasting shades of color. Many of the gowns had a slit for easy reach of a poniard sheath on a woman’s thigh.
For Tommasa and Francisca, this was the first time either of them had worn such an elaborate gown.
Aunt Carmen busied herself teaching the girls how to reach the weapon, and how to move in the long dresses so their legs wouldn’t get tangled in it and trip them up.
“Very good, Francisca,” she said. “Now you try it Tommasa.”
On her mettle to get it right the first time, Tommasa reached into the slit and drew the knife, at the same time aiming a kick at an imaginary opponent.
“Good,” Carmen praised. “Now remember girls, never draw the knife without being willing to use it.”
“I’d be willing,” Tommasa said. “I just wish I’d had it when Redglove’s men grabbed me.”
Instead of a walking procession to the church, the wedding party were ferried there in gondolas. The robot gondoliers sang a selection of Renaissance wedding songs, Frescobaldi's Bergamasca, Dulcissime and Rondeau to accompany the water procession.
As befitting the bride’s family, Ava and the others gathered at the base of the church steps to hear and see the marriage vows.
It was a lovely ceremony, Judith and Randal stared dreamily into each other’s eyes as they said their vows. For them, no one else existed at that moment.
Ava met Carlos’s eyes and smiled. Just over his shoulder, she caught the glint of metal on a plasma bolt rifle.
“Down! Get down! He’s got a gun!” she yelled, dragging the two girls down with her. Everyone in the crowd, including Judith and Randal hit the ground as the plasma bolt sizzled by overhead. Carlos, Agustin, Timothy Langston and several others drew pistols and fired at the area the shot came from.
“Keep them down!” Carlos ordered, crouching in front of Ava and the girls to protect them as he returned fire. Ava caught a glimpse of the body armor he wore under his celebration clothes. Obviously he was taking no chances the Red Conclave might retaliate after his capture of Redglove; otherwise, why had he worn body armor and a pistol to a wedding?
The bevy of shots aimed at the sniper’s former position blew a hole in a building across from the church.
Unlike the others, Carlos had been expecting the sniper to move; his shots were aimed at both sides of Tudor’s position forcing the sniper to run.
The client had said Santana was not to be harmed; that might not be possible. Tudor had accepted money for the assassination, despite the earlier failed attempt, he had to keep trying.
One of the shots hit Tobias; his personal shield bubble was efficient if he wasn’t moving; it was less so if he needed to run, and it slowed him down. Even though no pulse bullets could penetrate it, the surface of the shield didn’t absorb the kinetic energy it generated. To block the penetrating force of the bullet, the shield would harden and thicken where a shot hit it. Being hit by a great many at once meant the hardened area increased in size and weight. Although the last shot didn’t penetrate his shield, it numbed his hands, and he dropped the rifle. It clattered to the building dock below him before bouncing into the water. He swore as the guests centered their fire where the rifle would have fallen from.
Repeated pulse hits on the shield knocked him off his perch on the building, and he too fell. He hit the deck hard, knocking himself out when his head smacked his shield as he hit the ground.
Timothy Langston and Agustin ran over to the fallen sniper.
“Take the girls back to the house and stay there with them,” Carlos ordered before he went to join the two fathers.
“Randal, I might have known you couldn’t get married without something like this happening,” Devon groused, levering himself up from the plasticrete deck and holding out a hand to assist Tash, who was hampered by her long skirts.
“Who do you think it is?” Tash asked brushing at her crumpled skirt.
“A hired gun, probably,” Ava said. She snagged Francisca’s hand when the girl would have followed her father. “No, stay here, Francisca. You heard your father say to wait for him back at the house.”
“If we weren’t here, would you obey that order?” Francisca challenged.
Ava sighed. Being a parent was hard. She wanted to go and get in on the action as much as Francisca did. “You are here, so it’s a moot point young lady. Stay with me.”
Francisca’s lip trembled. “What if he hurts him?”
“Don’t waste that on me, kid. I’m not an actress like Aunt Carmen but I can tell when tears are real just well as she can.”
“Dammit!” Francisca stamped her foot. Tommasa patted her on the shoulder in consolation.
Aunt Carmen had summoned her Flamingo pink sled. She herded her family and Randal’s into it.
Randal deposited his bride at the sled door, telling Judith he would come as soon as he found out what was going on.
They managed to beat most of the wedding guests to the banquet hall the Langston’s had rented for the reception.
“I bet I’m the only bride in history who had an uninvited sniper crash the wedding and then had to celebrate her bridal feast without the groom!” Judith said acidly as she sat down.
“At least they caught him.” Carmen said. “If Ava’s right though, and he’s just a hired gun he might not tell them who hired him.”
“It has to be someone from the Red Conclave,” Tamara said. “Who else could it be?”
“I thought that broke up when Carlos killed the leader,” Allison Langston protested.
Tamara made a face. “Agustin told me the thing was like a hydra—cut off a head and two more would grow in its place. Maybe the new leader is flexing his power by trying to kill the man who killed their leader?”
“Daddy!” Francisca gasped in fright.
“Shut up Mom,” Ava said gesturing to the girl’s white face.
“Your dad was wearing body armor, Francisca, he should be okay,” she said, giving the girl a comforting hug. Francisca turned her face into Ava and burst into frightened tears. Ava patted her soothingly, glaring at the group.
Since none of them wanted to scare the child, they all looked embarrassed and contrite. Judith signaled the performers to start, hoping to take Francisca’s mind off her fear for her father. She was only partially successful; Francisca tensed every time a door opened.
The entertainers were doing a lively skit on the perils of marriage when the men arrived back.
Carlos came over to his new family. “We caught him, but he refused to talk.”
“Does that mean someone else will try again?” Ava asked, she was holding hands with the two girls, and she felt both girls tense when she asked the question.
“It’s always possible,” Carlos said, “But from a few things he said under the influence of the Black Templar’s interrogation drugs, I think whoever hired him was acting on his or her own.”
“Her?” Ava asked. “Do you think it was his wife?”
“I don’t know,” Carlos admitted, “He had a poison tooth—when he realized he was talking under the drug’s influence, he broke it. He’s dead. We’ll just have to be careful. The Conclave was already gunning for me before I took out Redglove.”
“Okay,” Francisca agreed.
“We need more lessons from Aunt Carmen,” Tommasa said.
“Yes,” Francisca agreed.
