“If you liked a man, and he had sex with you, would it be right?” he asked her. “Just because you were willing?”
“She’s more than willing, Ned. She really does love you. Besides, you’re not just romancing her; you’re marrying her.” She paused, glancing at him sidelong. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said heavily. “Yes, I am.” And that was his point of final decision.
“Then maybe you had better go propose to her. A girl likes that.”
That hadn’t occurred to him. “I have no idea what to say!”
Lin assumed a pose. She took his hand and gazed into his eyes. “‘Wildflower, please marry me.’ Then kiss her.”
He had to laugh. But it was serious. That was exactly how he should do it. Except for one thing: “You are confusing popular fancy with Nestorian practice,” he told her. “There is supposed to be no direct contact or conversation between the prospective bride and groom. The families negotiate the financial aspects of the wedding, bride-gift, dowry, and so on. It is a business proposition.”
“I knew that,” Lin said, remembering. “And once it’s all agreed, the father of the bride gives a feast.”
“And a priest or bishop consecrates a ring and gives it to the groom, who arranges to have it delivered to the bride, via a trusted matron who has the confidence of all parties.”
“Yes, it would be too bad if she ran away with the ring!” Lin agreed, giggling.
“And if the bride agrees to the marriage, she puts on the ring as a symbol of their betrothal. From then on the bond between them has all the force of marriage, and any infidelities incur similar punishment, though they still live apart.”
“Yes, isn’t it romantic!” she agreed. “And the wedding festival takes a whole week. The bride looks great in her rich veil, and friends throw raisins and small coins so she’ll be fruitful.” She giggled again. “Fruits to the fruitful. I love that.”
“We all live together in this one house,” Ned said. “So how is any of that to be accomplished here?”
She considered, mildly crestfallen. “Oh.”
“It would be impossible for bride and groom to live apart, even if we had the resources for gifts and all,” he concluded. “And neither bride nor groom has parents to negotiate the deal.”
Then Lin brightened. “So maybe you’ll have to do it my way after all.”
Ned sighed. “I suppose so. Certainly I wouldn’t arrange anything like this for Wildflower unless I was quite sure that she, herself, really wanted it.”
“So ask her, just the way I told you.”
He nodded. He rehearsed it in his mind, so that he wouldn’t flub it.
Then Flo appeared, with Wildflower at her side. She looked meaningfully at Ned. He realized that Flo must have sent Lin to prepare him, and been waiting close by for him to get ready. They had organized this like a military campaign, and he was the target.
He walked across the room and took Wildflower’s hand. “Wildflower, please marry me.”
“Yes!” the girl exclaimed. She flung her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. The funny thing was that it was quite pleasant. She was a sweet creature.
There was polite applause. The other members of the family had quietly arrived and witnessed the exchange.
“We must do it quickly,” Flo said. “I will prepare for the ceremony next week.”
So soon! But Ned knew why; they needed the protection the marriage afforded immediately. They also could not be sure when he would be called back into military service.
They compressed the ritual to make it fit their resources. Sam, speaking in lieu of the groom’s father, talked with Dirk, who spoke in lieu of the bride’s father. The bishop at the church consecrated a ring and gave it to Ned. Ned gave it to Lin, who was absolutely thrilled to play the role of “trusted matron.” She took it to Wildflower, who immediately put it on.
The following week they held the ceremony. It was done without great fanfare, because of the likelihood of persecution, but it was done according to the rites of Nestorian Christianity. Sam and Bry celebrated as companions of the groom, and Dirk and Ittai represented men of the bride’s family. Wildflower was ushered into the church, completely shrouded by her heavy veil and gown. The bishop performed the ceremony, and then they all changed back to street clothing so as to avoid possible mobbing on the streets by Moslems.
Back at the house, Wildflower donned her gown and veil again, and Jes threw raisins at her, and one tiny coin. “Be fruitful and prosperous!” she cried, and the others cheered. Then they scrambled to pick up the raisins, for they were too precious to be wasted as food.
Then, all too soon, they were alone together in their nuptial chamber. Wildflower stood expectantly before him in her wedding robe, quite pretty. She removed her veil, smiling.
Ned hesitated. What should he do now?
“Aren’t you going to undress me?” she asked.
Of course. He went to her and fumbled with her apparel. He didn’t accomplish much.
“Maybe if I do it,” she murmured. She was so young, yet she seemed more competent than he was.
“Yes,” he said, relieved.
Carefully, she dismantled her apparel, and stood at last naked before him. He averted his gaze.
“Don’t you like me?” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said, forcing his eyes to bear on her. “Your body is very nice.”
She looked disappointed, and he realized that he should have been more emphatic. But she rallied. “Aren’t you going to undress yourself?”
Oh. He tried to remove his own clothing, with no better success than he had had with hers. His fingers, normally nimble, seemed not to want to cooperate.
“Maybe if I do it,” she said again.
“Yes.”
She gently stripped him of his clothing, until he stood naked too.
“Would you like to embrace me?” she prompted him.
He took her in his arms.
“And kiss me?”
He kissed her on the cheek.
She lifted her hands, took hold of his head, and brought it down so that his mouth met hers. She kissed him, hard.
He pulled away.
Her eyes brimmed. “Do you hate me so much?”
“No! I—I like you. Love you,” he said without conviction.
“Am I so ugly you can’t take me?” Now her tears were flowing down her face.
“No! You are beautiful.”
“Your limp penis gives you the lie. You have no desire for me at all. I should never have forced you into this.”
“That’s not true. I do desire you. I—my body—just hasn’t caught up.”
“Are you biting your tongue?” she demanded accusingly.
“No!”
“I’m not as good as Wona was. I don’t have the breasts, the hips, the face.” She ran her hands over herself, disparagingly, in much the manner his sister Lin had. That bothered him, for a reason he did not care to explore at the moment.
“There is nothing wrong with your body,” he said quickly. “Wona was voluptuous, you are slender but by no means ill-formed, and to my eyes you are lovelier than she, because you are good. I would much rather embrace you than her.”
“But you did embrace her, and not me.”
He did not quibble with technicalities. He had embraced Wildflower, but not shown desire for her. “I could not resist her. I have been ashamed ever since.”
She organized herself with a visible effort. “What did she do that you could not resist? Tell me, so I can do it too.”
He felt himself flushing. “Please, I would rather not speak of it.”
She shook her head. “You owe me this much, Ned. To let me try to be at least as much to you as she was. What did she do?”
She had a point. Reluctantly, he summoned the memory. “She was my brother’s wife. She wanted my child, to be smart. I said I saw her face, that of my brother’s wife, and cou
ld not do it. She turned away from me, so as to hide her face, and put my hands on her breasts.” Guilt and shame surged with the telling; it was his deepest secret, for all that Flo had somehow found out, and acted to solve the immediate problem by exiling Wona from the family.
Wildflower turned away from him, so close her buttocks touched his thighs, and reached back to capture his hands. She brought them up to rest on her breasts. He knew this was hard for her; her hands were cold, and shaking. “Squeeze,” she told him.
He did, but experienced no reality of sensation. He hated reenacting what he had done with Wona. He hated having decent Wildflower be any part of this association. “There is—there is nothing wrong with them,” he said. “You are not inadequate in any respect.” That was the truth, but not the whole truth.
“I must be deficient, somehow. What else?”
How could he end this, without being unfair to her? He was supposed to be smart, but he couldn’t think of any way. “She bent forward, making me hold her hips so she would not fall.”
She paused, evidently nerving herself again. “Do it.”
“Please, Wildflower—”
“I must be a woman to you. My love is not enough.”
He wanted to flee this travesty, but could not. He transferred his hands to her hips, which were very nicely rounded. Why couldn’t he react to them as he should? She bent forward so that her buttocks pressed tightly against him. He should be wildly excited, but instead was numb in that region. “And?” she prompted.
“And she—she put my—put it inside her—”
She reached around to grasp his member. Her touch was very light and fumbling. There was a pause. “But it must have been ready to go inside her.”
“Yes,” he said, doubly ashamed for his impotence.
She straightened, giving up the futile effort, and faced him. Her tears still flowed. He understood what an effort this had been for her. She had forced herself to most actively seek the instrument that had ravished her, and had failed to find it. Her face was flushed with a shame that mirrored his own. “You just don’t desire me.”
“I do! I just can’t—I don’t “understand why I can’t—”
“It’s that rape!” she flared. “I am unchaste, and you are revolted. I am dirty in your eyes, filthy, forever soiled, a thing of horror!”
She was calamitously wrong. “No! My sister was raped.”
“I’m not your sister!” she screamed.
He flinched. “Yes, you are not.” Now, to his added embarrassment, his own eyes overflowed. “I am sorry, Wild-flower. I wish I could—could—”
“Your sister,” she repeated, coming to an understanding she had resisted. “You still do see me as your sister. And a man does not lust after his sister.”
“Yes.” That was the essence. “I know you are not, but my body doesn’t know.”
“And you do feel for me. I see your tears.”
“Yes.” It was a perverse relief to speak the truth. “Wild-flower, I know you are everything I should want. I have no shame in marrying you. I would—would do anything to please you. I just can’t—this part of it—”
She seemed as relieved as he was. “Come lie with me on the bed, and we’ll talk.”
So they lay, embraced, and talked, and kissed, and agreed not to tell the others of this problem. He found himself quite comfortable with her, now that there was no expectation of sex between them. She seemed more relaxed too, now that she did not have to try to play the part of a seductress. He loved her, in an ironic manner, for that ineptitude.
“I’m glad I understand,” she said. “And of course I don’t mind that you didn’t—I was afraid of it, because of the rape. You could never be like that.”
She was trying to console him. She had shown no fear of sex, just of rejection. Maybe she would have feared sex with another man, but she wanted it with him. Yet indeed, even were her statement about being afraid true, she had nothing to fear from him in that respect. “Oh, Wildflower, give me time. It must change, in time.”
“Of course. Meanwhile, we must say the words, until they become real. I love you, Ned.”
“I love you, Wildflower.” And it was true, to a degree. But she meant it completely, while he fell somewhere short. He loved her without sexual passion.
Then she thought of something else. “What of the time we were naked, washing up, and you had to bite your tongue?”
So she did know of that. “A man does not lust after his sister,” he repeated. “You were—interesting—and I could not afford it.”
“But now you can afford it.”
“Now it is not a guilty peek. Now it is legitimate. That changes it, somehow. I knew, then, that there could be no sex. Now I know there can be, and it prevents me.”
“I don’t understand that. But I believe you. Will you be with me like this every night, so that if you ever are able, we won’t lose the chance?”
“Anything you want,” he agreed.
“I have heard that pretense can become real. Ned, if you care for me at all—”
“I do! There is no pretense.”
“Then hold me and kiss me and speak love to me, for I truly do love you and would do anything for you. Please don’t turn away from me.”
“I will never turn away from you!”
“I fear you will tire of my kisses.”
“I want your kisses.” That, again, was true. He wanted very much to love her in all the ways she desired. He knew her for a fine and lovely person, deserving of everything.
“And I will try not to torment you unduly with my attentions.”
“Stop it, Wildflower! The failure is mine, not yours.” Then he drew her in and kissed her repeatedly, and she responded avidly, and he almost felt a stirring of answering desire.
In due course they slept, and he woke in the night with her arm across his chest and her breast against his side, and started to react, until he remembered her identity.
He woke in the morning before she did, and gazed at her face in repose. She was lovely, and her body was lovely. If only, by some magic, he could forget she was his sister, for all that it was a lie.
He bent his head down and kissed her mouth. Her lips were flaccid in sleep, but then they woke and became firm.
Her eyes opened. “Oh, thank you, Ned! I love you.”
“I love you,” he echoed, glad that he had awakened her in this way.
She caught his hand and brought it to her breast. “Can you—?”
Regretfully, he shook his head.
She brightened. “Maybe if I cover up my face, so you don’t know it’s me?”
“That would be unfaithfulness, at least in spirit. I can at least be faithful to you, Wildflower.”
“That’s the loveliest answer, Ned! I will cherish it forever.”
She should be so easy to love! And he did love her, behind the barrier of his impotence. So he kissed her again, and it was good. At least he was trying.
In due course they got up, cleaned, and dressed. Wild-flower gave him a straight look. “Let’s not speak of this night to others.”
“It is a private matter,” he agreed, once more relieved. She was being so loyal and supportive! Exactly as a good wife should be. “Let them assume what they choose.”
She reconsidered. “I can fool them. But maybe you can’t. So you should refer any questions to me.”
“Yes.” He knew she would not lie, but neither would she let slip the truth. She would protect his privacy in a way others would misunderstand.
The more he reflected on that, the better he liked it. Flo was right: Wildflower was the perfect match for him.
He saw her glancing at him, wondering at his silence. So he spoke. “Wildflower, I want you to know that I am doing this simply because I want to.” Then he embraced her and kissed her several times.
“I thank you for that gift,” she replied. Then she returned the favor.
Soon it was time to go out and meet the others. “Now I
must return to see the khan,” she said.
“The khan? Why?”
“Because you married me to save your family. I must tell the khan we are married, so that the word spreads.”
“But you just visited him, to get permission. Isn’t that all that is necessary?”
“No. I must tell him myself. So he can appoint you to a good position.”
“A good position! I did not marry you for such a commercial reason!”
“I know. But I love you, and I want you to have it.”
“I have just failed you, and you want to reward me?”
She stroked his cheek. “When you love me as I love you, you will understand.”
“I truly do not deserve such love.”
“You truly do deserve it. You are the smartest, nicest, handsomest man I know.”
He didn’t know how to argue with that, so he just stroked her dark hair.
But before Wildflower could travel again, the political situation changed. The news spread rapidly through the city: Urus Khan had been succeeded by his eldest son Tokhta-qiya, but the new khan had died almost immediately, leaving the throne of the White Horde to the surviving son, Malik. This had seemed like easy prey to Toqtamish, who had marched to attack, but once again the Mongols had proved to be superior in battle to the mixed forces of the pretender. Toqtamish had been driven from the territory of the White Horde, and had fled a fourth time for refuge with Timur. And once again Timur showered his vassal with riches and honor.
But Wildflower’s trip had become pointless. However well her cousin was being received by Timur, the fact was that he had proved to be repeatedly inept in battle, and lacked any real power. Timur’s patience must be about exhausted. “I have failed you,” Wildflower said dispiritedly. “You married me for nothing.”
“You have failed in nothing,” Ned told her.
But Bry and Lin did not dare go out in the streets without Sam to guard them. The persecution was back in force.
They endured for several months. Wildflower turned fifteen, but it made no difference to their marriage; Ned could embrace her and kiss her and talk to her, but he could not be potent with her.