Broken Vessels (volume 2 of Jars of Clay) Read Online Free Page A

he was
with that right now. He was about to eat. Perhaps he should thank the gods
after all.

 
     
    Chapter Six
    HELENA
     
    Helena’s world was about to split in two as she walked, as in a
dense fog, from one into the other. Her father’s house was an uproar of
activity—slaves and servants arranging flowers, setting a banquet table,
lighting oil lamps—all a declaration of joy and celebration that she herself
did not feel. Sadness and trepidation tightened steadily around her heart.
    Helena was aware that she did not struggle with this dichotomy
alone. Her mother’s eyes were hollow, not filled with laughter, unlike the eyes
of the guests who had already imbibed deeply in the wine.
    She was certain her father felt he had done what was best for
her. She understood he was reluctant to see her leave his house, which is why
he allowed the betrothal to last as long as it did. But the marriage could not
be put off forever. Brutus smiled widely for the sake of the wedding guests,
and most importantly, for the groom and his family.
    They were a respectable lot, and Vincentius had agreed to his
terms. Their marriage would not be an irrevocable confarreatio contract, nor
would his daughter become the responsibility of the groom, in manu, but as had
become increasingly common, the contract would be sine manu, whereas his
daughter would remain the responsibility of the father, even while married.
Vincentius and Helena would produce heirs for both families and Brutus would be
favored in business by Vincentius’s family in Gaul.
    And most importantly, Vincentius would not take her from
Carthage. He had purchased a villa only a few short miles away.
    In the light of what could have been, Helena acknowledged that
she had done well. She hoped that she could come to admire certain qualities in
Vincintius that she now quite honestly found repulsive. She prayed to the god
of fertility, Liber, that she would conceive quickly. The thought of Vincintius
touching her later that evening made her ill.
    How impertinent the thoughts of one so soon to be married!
Helena chided herself. Soon she would be led to the courtyard and given to her
groom with many guests, friends and family members watching. They would
exchange far, the wedding cake of grain, and their marriage would be sealed.
    “Felicity, pour me a cup of water,” she said, “I feel faint.”
    Felicity, who had been working on her mistress’s attire and
hair throughout the morning, stopped her activities and did as she was
requested.
    “I’m sorry you do not feel well and on such a day as this,” she
said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
    “No, I am fine. You may go and get yourself ready.”
    “You are sure you want to be by yourself? I could call someone
to sit with you.”
    “No, don’t do that. I desire this time to be alone.”
    “Of course,” Felicity said, and then quietly slipped away.
    Helena’s thoughts returned to the approaching ceremony. Who
would be there to witness their coming together, this act of sacrifice, in
which Vincentius was the god, and she the blood offering?
    Her father and mother would be present, of course, and her
brothers: Gordian, who had returned from Severus’s service for the occasion,
and Cassius who, she acknowledged, had decidedly changed. He was different
somehow, more peaceable and contented. There was evidence of this in his
demeanor and even his stance and gate.
    Tatiana would undoubtedly be present, along with her new
husband and her rounded stomach. She had lost her sparkle and bounce of late,
and her eyes were beginning to remind Helena of Virina’s. Surely this world
that belonged to the wives and mothers of Rome was not so lost, not so
despairing. Gordian had jested when he had heard of Tatiana’s union, that it
would not last five years. In fact, Tatiana was not the first or even the
second wife of her elderly husband. Gordian might indeed be correct in his
prediction.
    Lucius would not be present, of