Wil had tied his long locks behind his neck and allowed Maria to fuss over him. The girl had picked all the brambles from his black leggings and brushed a journey’s worth of debris off his tunic. She placed a single red poppy in his collar and insisted he borrow Karl’s cross to place in his belt. The young man stood handsome and strong. His angular features were even and pleasing, now chiseled into a face matured by the harsh winds of struggle. Finally deemed ready by Maria, Wil turned his blazing blue eyes toward his bride.
Little Heinz spoke up. “We ought to hold hands round them!” With the exception of Tomas, the others agreed, and an effort was made to do just that. Of course, the idea had been offered without consideration of either Heinrich or Maria! It was an immediate source of friendly laughter.
The ring of fellows quieted, and Pieter joined the starstruck couple in the center, where he laid his hands on their shoulders. He closed his eyes, then lifted his face to the bright blue sky of June. “O God, King of heaven and earth, may it please You this day to order and to hallow, and to govern our hearts and our bodies, our thoughts, our words, and our works according to Your Law and in the doing of Your commandments….”
Pieter turned a kindly face to the pair and reached into his satchel. He retrieved his precious parchment and held it at arm’s length to read. “Oh, blessed family of mine, ‘twas in this very place these words were once read. I shall read them again with a heart now as happy as it once was sad. It is only God who can join such sorrow and joy together in the place of love.” He swallowed hard against the lump filling his throat. He cast a glance in the direction of Georg’s grave, then returned his attention to the bride and groom.
“‘If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal…. If I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.’”
When finished, he folded the valuable parchment carefully and raised his hands in a prayer of mercy and of protection. “And may the womb of this woman be blessed richly with a bounty of God’s children.”
Trembling with joy, he then turned to Wil. “Wilhelm of Weyer, son of Heinrich of Weyer, do you take this woman to be your precious wife under God and before these witnesses? And do you promise to keep her and her only?”
Wil set his jaw hard and lifted his face proudly. “I do so swear.”
Pieter turned to Frieda. “Frieda of Westphalia, daughter of… of…”
“Manfred of Chapelle,” the bride whispered.
“Daughter of Manfred of Chapelle, do you take this man to be your blessed husband under God and before these witnesses? And do you promise to obey him and to give yourself to him only?”
Frieda’s brown eyes filled with tears. She turned happily toward Wil and declared, “I so swear by heaven, by the saints and the Holy Mother, and by all things sacred.”
Pieter turned to Heinrich. “Heinrich of Weyer, father of Wilhelm, do you honor and witness these vows?”
“With gladness, I do.”
The old priest took the trembling hands of bride and groom and clasped them within his own. “Then with all the joy my heart can share and with all the wonder of the goodness around us, I do so declare you to be man and wife, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti!”
A rousing cheer rose up from the jubilant ring, and the merrymakers began to dance round and round the smiling couple. Wil took his foot and set it lightly upon his bride’s as the symbol of his taking her into his life. Then the two kissed.
Benedetto, nearly intoxicated with the happiness of the moment, leapt upon a boulder and strummed his lute. “Now, listen first, dear Wil and Frieda. Then sing to one another your wedding song!”
Take the roses from the gardens,
Take the fishes from the seas,
Take the starlight from the heavens,
But ne’er take her far from me.
Chase the snowflakes from the winter,
Drive the raindrops far and wide,
Move the sheep herds fro and hinter,
Only leave him by my side.
Though the world may fall asunder,
Though the grapes yield no more wine,
Though the storm clouds lose their thunder,
I’ll be his … and she’ll be mine.