The Bishop and the priests met and received them at the porch, and they entered the great basilica; it was crowded. Bishop Leo himself was to give the benediction, and the rank of the betrothed, the romance of the foreign, far-off origin of Ethne and Baithene, the story of their sorrows and their joys, had gathered a great company together, touched with a sympathy unusually real and deep.
The white and purple veil was folded by the Bishop himself around the bride; at the close of the ceremony he solemnly joined the hands of bride and bridegroom, laid his own hands on their heads, and then through the vast spaces of Constantine’s basilica, in his grave, deep tones sounded the benediction—“O God, Who by Thy mighty power hast made all things out of nothing, Who, after other things set in order, didst appoint that out of man created in Thine own image and similitude woman should take her beginning, teaching that it should never be lawful to put asunder those whom Thou hadst pleased should be created out of one! O God, Who hast consecrated the state of matrimony to such an excellent mystery (or sacrament), that in it Thou didst typify the sacrament (or mystery) of Christ and the Church! O God, by Whom woman is joined to man, and so blessed a union was instituted at the beginning, as not to be destroyed even by the judgment of the Flood, look mercifully upon this Thy servant now to be joined in wedlock, who seeks to be defended by Thy protection. May there be on her the yoke of love and peace; may she be a faithful and chaste wife in Christ, and may she continue a follower of holy women; may she be lovable to her husband as Rachel, wise as Rebecca, long-lived and faithful as Sarah. May she strengthen her weakness by the help of discipline; may she be modest, grave, bashful, and instructed in godly learning; and may she see her sons’ sons to the third and fourth generation; and may she reach the rest of the blessed in the Kingdom of Heaven.”
As the last act of the ceremonial, the Bishop placed on the head of Ethne a golden crown, of Greek workmanship, and on that of Lucia a golden diadem, delicately wrought with fine Celtic art. Ethne would rather have chosen a crown of flowers, but the gold was considered an honour due to her birth, as for Lucia it was a token of the rank Baithene was able to offer her.
And so with pomp and music the bridal company were conducted to the old palace on the Aventine. When they were alone together, Damaris blessed her son and Baithene according to the old Greek form of her people—“The servant of the Lord is crowned for the sake of the handmaid of the Lord, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
And afterwards to her daughter and Ethne she said—“The handmaid of the Lord is crowned for the sake of the servant of the Lord.” Then embracing them with tears, she said the ancient words—“With glory and honour didst Thou crown them, Thou hast placed a crown of precious stones upon their heads;” and she added in her own words with a radiant smile—“These golden crowns, beloved, will be offered in a few days on the altar in the church, but ye shall be a crown of joy to each other for ever.”
Afterwards she gave a little sealed packet to Ethne. It contained a precious jewelled clasp of oriental workmanship from Miriam, with the words from the old Hebrew marriage ritual written in Latin folded round it—“Make these two to rejoice with joy according to the joyousness which Thou gavest to the work of Thy hands in the Garden of Eden of old.”
Before long Ethne and Marius went away to the country house, now so dear and familiar to her, amongst the Sabine hills; whilst Baithene and Lucia remained to be the son and daughter of Fabricius and Damaris in the old palace on the Aventine.
