Alda looked back up into Roland’s eyes and with a smile and sparkle in her own great pools of azure blue (The radiance in her eyes out-shown the sun’s that day!) she answered, “I do so promise!

“You may place the ring on her finger.” Turpin directed.

Roland took a gold, pounded filigree ring of Celtic origin given him by the Queen-Mother, (his Grandmother) from his Uncle Richard and placed it on the ring-finger of Alda’s left hand. The inside was engraved with Celtic runes that spelled All Eternity.

The Archbishop then concluded. “And so then; by the power vested in me by His Eminence, the Pope and our Holy Church in Rome, I now pronounce you Husband and Wife.”

Cheers erupted throughout the cathedral as hats and flowers flew into the air. Turpin finished with, “Roland; you may now kiss your bride!” but by then, Roland had lifted her cheesecloth veil. The two had already been kissing for several moments.

At last, they broke off their kiss and turned to face their admiring witnesses who continued to shout cheers of encouragement and congratulations. Both waited awhile smiling and waving as the musicians began again to play and the choir to sing. Finally the two stepped down off the alter level and made their way back up the long nave to the apse and out the door en route to the grand mead-hall that was joined as an annex to the Aula Regia Palace.

As they passed by the congregation, the king led a cheer. “Mon joi trois fois for Roland and Alda!” he cried. The audience erupted as more flowers flew over the two newlywed’s heads, thrown by the boy’s choir high above that was singing all the while. “Mon joi! Mon joi! Mon joi!” all the onlookers shouted out after them in unison as if to chase them along. Then they were out the door!

The king’s mead-hall was strictly for huge celebrations. It was the height of a four-story building but there were no secondary floors. It was simply one, gigantic, rectangular room. It had a conical shaped roof with a large hole approximately eighteen inches in diameter at its very peak. In the hall’s exact center was a fire pit. Above it, about two stories up, smoke from the primary bonfire in the center of the hall as well as secondary fires from torch sconces on the walls would collect. The rising heat would carry the smoke out of the hole in the top. Underneath the smoke layer, the air was always clean and warm.

Due to its conical shape, the acoustics were quite remarkable. A low voice from one end followed up and then back down the sloping, angled contour of the sweeping ceiling and thus, could be easily heard and understood by anyone at the furthest reaches of the room. It was ideal for giving speeches and proposing toasts and thus perfectly suited to the present occasion.

Long tables were arranged parallel to one another the length of the hall. At the head was the canopied dining dais of the king and queen. Forward of the dais was an open space for entertainments. The tables upon which all the food was placed served as a border on either side of the entertainment area. As usual, every conceivable kind of meat and pastry was to be found along with all manner of breads, wines, fruits and cheeses. Gracing the center of one of the tables was a six foot high and four foot wide, terraced wedding cake encased in white frosting with a molded, sugar dragon on top.

The hall quickly filled with the wedding party, which had not hesitated to follow after the newly married couple across the town square. The king and queen took their seats on the canopied Royal Dais with Roland and Alda joining them in the seats of honor next to them. Musicians were already playing as the couple had made their entry and, except for occasional interruptions by the king, continued playing non-stop throughout the entire evening.

In the mead-hall, everything was self-serve, buffet-style dining, (except for the king and queen and their guests of honor of course!) so it was a while before all were seated and in the process of partaking of the fancy fare on the Queen’s finest red slip dining ware. It was imported from Carthage. She’d purchased it especially for the occasion from Jewish traders; the only group that could move freely between the two worlds of Islam and Christendom.

Though the wedding guests had to serve themselves, servants were still in attendance replenishing any food items from the palace kitchens that grew scarce on the serving tables. Many others were assigned table sections at which the guests were seated to make sure glasses, cups, tankards and flagons were kept topped off with wine, beer or mead.

During the dining period, a series of entertainments passed in and out of the little open area designated for such activities. Jugglers juggled fire and then ate it to the delight of all watching.

Acrobats flew and flipped across the area bouncing and spinning off one another, drawing applause at several points in their show. The king’s court jester pantomimed a rather bawdy skit about the wedding night using his fool’s bauble, which garnered much laughter and additional applause.

There was a gypsy dance troupe with their own band of musicians. Their instruments were strange and exotic and quite suited to the robust and energetic spinning and twirling of their dancing maidens who came in dressed in ruffled skirts to just below the knee. Whenever their dancing required them to whirl about, their gaily colored skirts lifted naturally high to reveal lithe, beautiful thighs beneath for all to see. The risqué show was a fun-loving delight and all in attendance, who by now were feeling the mildly pleasant effects of the wine, agreed that the whole troupe should be offered a home in Aachen as part of the permanent, palace entertainment cadre. But of course, they would never have accepted, as such a life would simply never be to their liking. It wasn’t their way.

As the meal neared its end, the king stood and pounded the table with his scepter signaling he was about to propose a toast, causing the boisterous assemblage to quiet down and rise to their feet. Not one to drink immodestly because of a spirit-related embarrassment he’d suffered in public at the beginning of his reign, Charlois now imbibed only on special occasions like the one at present and even then, still only sparingly. He commenced his address:

“Six months ago, I didn’t know I had a nephew who would appear and save my life on the field of battle.” He smiled at Roland and then looked to Alda. And this woman seated next to him, but for my daughter, I hardly knew existed. Now this couple, to my mind, represents what is best and most noble about our kingdom!”

The king’s observation generated cries of agreement from the crowd which issued forth quickly and just as quickly subsided. Here, Charlois raised his silver goblet. “To Count Roland of the Briton Marches and his Wife, Countess Alda—by whose example we have all been shown a future France with bright promise!”

“Here! Here!” came the shouted reply from the entire audience who raised their cups and drank eagerly. Afterward, Charlois set his goblet aside and looking to the musicians who had ceased their playing in order for him to speak shouted, “Musicians, play!” Next, he looked to the bride and groom. “Roland and Alda, I want to dance but fear I cannot until the marriage couple takes the floor!” He grinned and motioned the two to lead off the first dance.