CHAPTER XVII
THE MARRIAGE
I was awakened on my wedding morning by the crash and bellowing of a
great thunderstorm. The lightning flashed fearfully all about us,
killing two oxen quite near to my wagon, and the thunder rolled and
echoed till the very earth seemed to shake. Then came a wail of cold
wind, and after that the swish of torrential rain. Although I was well
accustomed to such natural manifestations, especially at this season of
the year, I confess that these sights and sounds did not tend to raise
my spirits, which were already lower than they should have been on that
eventful day. Hans, however, who arrived to help me put on my best
clothes for the ceremony, was for once consoling.
"Don't look sick, baas," he said, "for if there is storm in the morning,
there is shine at night."
"Yes," I answered, speaking more to myself than to him, "but what will
happen between the storm of the morning and the peace of the night?"
It was arranged that the commission, which, counting the native
after-riders, consisted of over a hundred people, among them several
boys, who were little more than children, was to ride at one hour before
noon. Nobody could get about to make the necessary preparations until
the heavy rain had passed away, which it did a little after eight
o'clock. Therefore when I left the wagon to eat, or try to eat some
breakfast, I found the whole camp in a state of bustle.
Boers were shouting to their servants, horses were being examined, women
were packing the saddle-bags of their husbands and fathers with spare
clothes, the pack-beasts were being laden with biltong and other
provisions, and so forth.
In the midst of all this tumult I began to wonder whether my private
business would not be forgotten, since it seemed unlikely that time
could be found for marriages. However, about ten o'clock when, having
done everything that I had to do, I was sitting disconsolately upon my
wagon box, being too shy to mix with that crowd of busy mockers or to go
to the Prinsloos' camp to make inquiries, the vrouw herself appeared.
"Come on, Allan," she said, "the commandant is waiting and swearing
because you are not there. Also, there is another waiting, and oh! she
looks lovely. When they see her, every man in the camp will want her
for himself, whether he has got a wife or not, for in that matter,
although you mayn't think so just now, they are all the same as the
Kaffirs. Oh! I know them, I know them, a white skin makes no
difference."
While she held forth thus in her usual outspoken fashion, the vrouw was
dragging me along by the hand, just as though I were a naughty little
boy. Nor could I get free from that mighty grip, or, when once her
great bulk was in motion, match my weight against it. Of course, some
of the younger Boers, who, knowing her errand, had followed her, set up
a shout of cheers and laughter, which attracted everybody to the
procession.
"It is too late to hang back now, Englishman." "You must make the best
of a bad business." "If you wanted to change your mind, you should have
done it before," men and women roared and screamed with many other such
bantering words, till at length I felt myself turn the colour of a red
vlei lily.
So we came at last to where Marie stood, the centre of an admiring
circle. She was clothed in a soft white gown made of some simple but
becoming stuff, and she wore upon her dark hair a wreath woven by the
other maidens in the camp, a bevy of whom stood behind her.
Now we were face to face. Our eyes met, and oh! hers were full of love
and trust. They dazzled and bewildered me. Feeling that I ought to
speak, and not knowing what to say, I merely stammered "Good morning,"
whereon everyone broke into a roar of laughter, except Vrouw Prinsloo,
who exclaimed:
"Did any one ever see such a fool?" and even Marie smiled.
Then Piet Retief appeared from somewhere dressed in tall boots and rough
riding clothes, such as the Boers wore in those days. Handing the roer
he was carrying to one of his sons, after much fumbling he produced a
book from his pocket, in which the place was marked with a piece of
grass.
"Now then," he said, "be silent, all, and show respect, for remember I
am not a man just now. I am a parson, which is quite a different thing,
and, being a commandant and a veld cornet and other officers all rolled
into one, by virtue of the law I am about to marry these young people,
so help me God. Don't any of you witnesses ever say afterwards that
they are not rightly and soundly married, because I tell you that they
are, or will be." He paused for breath, and someone said, "Hear, hear,"
or its Dutch equivalent, whereon, having glared the offender into
silence, Retief proceeded:
"Young man and young woman, what are your names?"
"Don't ask silly questions, commandant," broke in Vrouw Prinsloo; "you
know their names well enough."
"Of course I do, aunt," he answered; "but for this purpose I must
pretend not to know them. Are you better acquainted with the law than I
am? But stay, where is the father, Henri Marais?"
Someone thrust Marais forward, and there he stood quite silent, staring
at us with a queer look upon his face and his gun in his hand, for he,
too, was ready to ride.
"Take away that gun," said Retief; "it might go off and cause
disturbance or perhaps accidents," and somebody obeyed. "Now, Henri
Marais, do you give your daughter to be married to this man?"
"No," said Marais softly.
"Very well, that is just like you, but it doesn't matter, for she is of
age and can give herself. Is she not of age, Henri Marais? Don't stand
there like a horse with the staggers, but tell me; is she not of age?"
"I believe so," he answered in the same soft voice.
"Then take notice, people all, that this woman is of age, and gives
herself to be married to this man, don't you, my dear?"
"Yes," answered Marie.
"All right, now for it," and, opening the book, he held it up to the
light, and began to read, or, rather, to stumble, through the marriage
service.
Presently he stuck fast, being, like most Boers of his time, no great
scholar, and exclaimed:
"Here, one of you help me with these hard words."
As nobody volunteered, Retief handed the book to me, for he knew that
Marais would not assist him, saying:
"You are a scholar, Allan, being a clergyman's son. Read on till we
come to the important bits, and I will say the words after you, which
will do just as well and be quite according to law."
So I read, Heaven knows how, for the situation was trying enough, until
I came to the crucial questions, when I gave the book back.
"Ah!" said Retief; "this is quite easy. Now then, Allan, do you take
this woman to be your wife? Answer, putting in your name, which is left
blank in the book."
I replied that I did, and the question was repeated to Marie, who did
likewise.
"Well then, there you are," said Retief, "for I won't trouble you with
all the prayers, which I don't feel myself parson enough to say. Oh!
no, I forgot. Have you a ring?"
I drew one off my finger that had been my mother's--I believe it had
served this same purpose at the wedding of her grandmother--and set the
thin little hoop of gold upon the third finger of Marie's left hand. I
still wear that ring to-day.
"It should have been a new one," muttered Vrouw Prinsloo.
"Be silent, aunt," said Retief; "are there any jewellers' shops here in
the veld? A ring is a ring, even if it came off a horse's bit. There,
I think that is all. No, wait a minute, I am going to say a prayer of
my own over you, not one out of this book, which is so badly printed
that I cannot read it. Kneel down, both of you; the rest may stand, as
the grass is so wet."
Now, bethinking herself of Marie's new dress, the vrouw produced her
vatdoek from a capacious pocket, and doubled up that dingy article for
Marie to kneel on, which she did. Then Pieter Retief, flinging down the
book, clasped his hands and uttered this simple, earnest prayer,
whereof, strangely enough, every word remains fast in my mind. Coming
as it did, not from a printed page, but from his honest and believing
heart, it was very impressive and solemn.
"O God above us, Who sees all and is with us when we are born, when we
are married, when we die, and if we do our duty for all time afterwards
in Heaven, hear our prayer. I pray Thee bless this man and this woman
who appear here before Thee to be wed. Make them love each other truly
all their lives, be these long or short, be they sick or well, be they
happy or in sorrow, be they rich or poor. Give them children to be
reared up in Thy Word, give them an honest name and the respect of all
who know them, and at last give them Thy Salvation through the Blood of
Jesus the Saviour. If they are together, let them rejoice in each
other. If they are apart, let them not forget each other. If one of
them dies and the other lives, let that one who lives look forward to
the day of reunion and bow the head to Thy Will, and keep that one who
dies in Thy holy Hand. O Thou Who knowest all things, guide the lives
of these two according to Thy eternal purpose, and teach them to be sure
that whatever Thou doest, is done for the best. For Thou art a faithful
Creator, Who wishes good to His children and not evil, and at the last
Thou wilt give them that good if they do but trust in Thee through
daylight and through darkness. Now let no man dare to put asunder those
whom Thou hast joined together, O Lord God Almighty, Father of us all.
Amen."
So he prayed, and all the company echoed that Amen from their hearts.
That is all except one, for Henri Marais turned his back on us and
walked away.
"So," said Retief, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat, "you are
the last couple that ever I mean to marry. The work is too hard for a
layman who has bad sight for print. Now kiss each other; it is the
right thing to do."
So we kissed, and the congregation cheered.
"Allan," went on the commandant, pulling out a silver watch like a
turnip, "you have just half an hour before we ride, and the Vrouw
Prinsloo says that she has made you a wedding meal in that tent there,
so you had best go eat it."
To the tent we went accordingly, to find a simple but bounteous feast
prepared, of which we partook, helping each other to food, as is, or
was, the custom with new-wedded folk. Also, many Boers came in and
drank our healths, although the Vrouw Prinsloo told them that it would
have been more decent to leave us alone. But Henri Marais did not come
or drink our healths.
Thus the half-hour went all too swiftly, and not a word did we get
alone. At last in despair, seeing that Hans was already waiting with
the horses, I drew Marie aside, motioning to everyone to stand back.
"Dearest wife," I said in broken words, "this is a strange beginning to
our married life, but you see it can't be helped."
"No, Allan," she answered, "it can't be helped; but oh! I wish my heart
were happier about your journey. I fear Dingaan, and if anything should
chance to you I shall die of grief."
"Why should anything chance, Marie? We are a strong and well-armed
party, and Dingaan looks on us peacefully."
"I don't know, husband, but they say Hernan Pereira is with the Zulus,
and he hates you."
"Then he had better mind his manners, or he will not be here long to
hate anybody," I answered grimly, for my gorge rose at the thought of
this man and his treacheries.
"Vrouw Prinsloo," I called to the old lady, who was near, "be pleased to
come hither and listen. And, Marie, do you listen also. If by chance I
should hear anything affecting your safety, and send you a message by
someone you can trust, such as that you should remove yourselves
elsewhere or hide, promise me that you will obey it without question."
"Of course I will obey you, husband. Have I not just sworn to do so?"
Marie said with a sad smile.
"And so will I, Allan," said the vrouw; "not because I have sworn
anything, but because I know you have a good head on your shoulders, and
so will my man and the others of our party. Though why you should think
you will have any message to send, I can't guess, unless you know
something that is hidden from us," she added shrewdly. "You say you
don't; well, it is not likely you would tell us if you did. Look! They
are calling, you must go. Come on, Marie, let us see them off."
So we went to where the commission was gathered on horseback, just in
time to hear Retief addressing the people, or, rather, the last of his
words.
"Friends," he said, "we go upon an important business, from which I hope
we shall return happily within a very little time. Still, this is a
rough country, and we have to deal with rough people. Therefore my
advice to all you who stay behind is that you should not scatter, but
keep together, so that in case of any trouble the men who are left may
be at hand to defend this camp. For if they are here you have nothing
to fear from all the savages in Africa. And now God be with you, and
good-bye. Come, trek, brothers, trek!"
Then followed a few moments of confusion while men kissed their wives,
children and sisters in farewell, or shook each other by the hand. I,
too, kissed Marie, and, tumbling on to my horse somehow, rode away, my
eyes blind with tears, for this parting was bitter. When I could see
clearly again I pulled up and looked back at the camp, which was now at
some distance. It seemed a peaceful place indeed, for although the
storm of the morning was returning and a pall of dark cloud hung over
it, the sun still shone upon the white wagon caps and the people who
went to and fro among them.
Who could have thought that within a little time it would be but a field
of blood, that those wagons would be riddled with assegais, and that the
women and children who were moving there must most of them lie upon the
veld mutilated corpses dreadful to behold? Alas! the Boers, always
impatient of authority and confident that their own individual judgment
was the best, did not obey their commandant's order to keep together.
They went off this way and that, to shoot the game which was then so
plentiful, leaving their families almost without protection. Thus the
Zulus found and slew them.
Presently as I rode forward a little apart from the others someone
overtook me, and I saw that it was Henri Marais.
"Well, Allan," he said, "so God has given you to me for a son-in-law.
Who would have thought it? You do not look to me like a new-married
man, for that marriage is not natural when the bridegroom rides off and
leaves the bride of an hour. Perhaps you will never be really married
after all, for God, Who gives sons-in-law, can also take them away,
especially when He was not asked for them. Ah!" he went on, lapsing
into French, as was his wont when moved, "qui vivra verra! qui vivra
verra!" Then, shouting this excellent but obvious proverb at the top of
his voice, he struck his horse with the butt of his gun, and galloped
away before I could answer him.
At that moment I hated Henri Marais as I had never hated anyone before,
not even his nephew Hernan. Almost did I ride to the commandant to
complain of him, but reflecting to myself, first that he was undoubtedly
half mad, and therefore not responsible for his actions, and secondly
that he was better here with us than in the same camp with my wife, I
gave up the idea. Yet alas! it is the half-mad who are the most
dangerous of lunatics.
Hans, who had observed this scene and overheard all Marais's talk, and
who also knew the state of the case well enough, sidled his horse
alongside of me, and whispered in a wheedling voice:
"Baas, I think the old baas is kransick and not safe. He looks like one
who is going to harm someone. Now, baas, suppose I let my gun off by
accident; you know we coloured people are very careless with guns! The
Heer Marais would never be troubled with any more fancies, and you and
the Missie Marie and all of us would be safer. Also, _you_ could not be
blamed, nor could I, for who can help an accident? Guns will go off
sometimes, baas, when you don't want them to."
"Get out," I answered. Yet if Hans's gun had chanced to "go off," I
believe it might have saved a multitude of lives!
