Another Union

Do we have to do this again? A thought I would never speak out loud, but one I couldn’t keep from thinking. I attended the last two weddings after missing one; it seemed unnecessary to keep going to every ceremony. I was sure I’d see my uncle married at least twice more, by his own admission. I shook my head. Weddings are supposed to be fun. There was always feasting and dancing and those things didn’t get old. Auntie would make her three pork dishes that were famous in all the nearby villages. Uncle would make a complaint about his new bride, while reminiscing fondly about the previous one, who he’d had nothing good to say about during that union. I’d always admired his ability to move on after the death of his relationships. He must have known, even before his first marriage, how it would end.

That first wedding was a favorite memory. It was twelve years ago, just before planting season. His bride was younger, but not so much so that she was more nervous than Uncle had been. In fact, I remembered her approaching the wedding with as with as much stoicism as possible, while Uncle was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. We compared him with the traditional sacrifice, and the resemblance was uncanny. It had all worked out. The ceremony was beautiful, the feast was wonderful, and it was the first time I recall dancing with a boy with any kind of deliberate dance steps. I felt so grown-up in that moment, much more so than the five years I’d actually lived.

The memory helped, but the climb continued. Uncle’s next wedding had to be on the mountain, and I wasn’t in the wedding party. No horse drawn carts up for me. Thankfully, the day was overcast, so I wasn’t climbing in sweltering heat. Auntie said she would try to get me into the next wedding, though one of my older cousins would have to get married first. Ideally, there would be a few years between this wedding and the next of Uncle’s. The ceremony I’d missed had only been two years ago, and Uncle seemed to be moving more quickly through the women wanting to marry him. He was a religious leader, well respected and highly powerful in our community. As he had moved up the hierarchy, the women started asking for him as their groom, preferring him to the then much older, less handsome High Priest. This was the first marriage after the death of the previous elder, and Uncle’s first as the High Priest. He was nowhere near as nervous now as that first wedding, but I hadn’t seen him in quite this state since then. Maybe once before, at the wedding I’d missed.

That binding was going to save our people. Uncle was a priest of the inner circle and was highly sought after for the upcoming marriage. The priest had stated he would take no more brides, being unable to fulfill the requirements of a wedding night. I’d only just learned what that entailed and wished that I hadn’t. This made Uncle the best choice for eligible women. Without fail they came to the temple, begging him to deign marriage to one of them. It took many pleadings, but finally he chose the woman who had been most persistent in her pursuits. Her devotion won her the marriage ceremony every woman in our village dreamed of, and Uncle was excited as well. This meant he was likely to become the next High Priest, as none others in the inner circle were receiving half the interest, nor would their ceremonies be nearly as lavish. I missed the wedding itself, being relegated to my mandatory watch over the sacred flames that were burning lower and lower as an unprecedented drought stretched on. Everything seemed to go well, but nothing changed after the marriage was official. The flames didn’t flare suddenly, as they’re supposed to when a priest is married. This renews the land, readying the next phase of our agriculture. It took two more days after the marriage for the wind to blow through the temple and ignite the fire, and it was the last time I had seen Uncle actually worry. He needn’t anymore, he was the High Priest now, and would be until the end of his life.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Almost to the top, I paused for a breath, letting others stream around me on the way up the mountain. My parents trusted me to make it myself, without being forced to attend, and I was happy to do so. I loved my uncle, and really hoped this marriage would cement his place as religious elder. Others in the inner circle had demanded this marriage after Uncle became High Priest, to prove that he was chosen to lead. All too happy to oblige, Uncle planned this to be the grandest ceremony of all his marriages. I continued to the top of the mountain.

Reaching the plateau as more thunder pealed, I found a spot near, but not next to, my parents. Keeping distance to show how adult I was, ready, almost, for my own chance to marry. Perhaps not a priest, as too many of my family members filled those roles and I was too familiar with those unrelated that it would still be uncomfortable. I’d find a trader or craftsman and suggest subtly all the improvements I could make to his life. I wasn’t sure on the exact details, mother said it would come almost as naturally as breathing, and that men weren’t a complicated enough creature to understand good from bad when women were so close to them. I listened carefully through the ceremony, and respectfully bowed my head as the spirit of the Sky God took over Uncle’s body. We could not look upon him. There were no mirrors in the tent where Uncle’s possessed form took his new bride. Uncle emerged a short time later, and we all could raise our eyes to him again. Two other priests checked on his bride, ensuring the binding was complete. They didn’t have to, the Sky God sent rains almost immediately upon Uncle’s exit from the tent. My understanding of the consummation was fairly simple. The priests carrying the body of the girl through the rain never seemed bothered, so I wasn’t either. It was exactly as my mother taught me; one quick thrust and it’s over. The rains came, the sun shone, the crops grew. That’s all the details I needed.