Barbarians at the Gates

Chapter Thirty-Three

Earth, Sol System, 4095

“You must be Marius,” the girl said. She sounded oddly reluctant to talk. “I am Tiffany.”

“Yes,” Marius said. His mouth felt dry. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It would have been nicer if Daddy Dearest had given me more than a day’s warning,” she said, eyes flashing. “I could probably have bypassed the lock-outs and escaped to the Rim before you reached Earth.”

Marius found himself, again, at a loss for words.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said seriously. “You didn’t choose me and I didn’t choose you.” She stepped back and gave him a frank inspection. “At least you’re not as ugly as Senator Montgomery. Seventy years old if he’s a day, and he looks five hundred. He needs to spend more money on improving his appearance.”

“I think it’s part of his charm,” Marius said, and snorted.

Senator Montgomery was thrifty and utterly impossible to shift from the Senate, mainly because he knew where all of the bodies were buried. It took a very special person to make the Conservative Faction look like a bunch of raving progressives, but Montgomery managed it, somehow. Any change at all was anathema to him and his enemies had been heard to joke that the only reason he wasn’t richer was because he was determined not to change his finances.

His wife-to-be snorted too. “What charm?”

“Precisely my point,” Marius said. “Look, I didn’t ask for this…”

“I know.” Tiffany winked at him. “I’m sure you would have chosen someone much prettier if you had a free choice.”

She made a show of spinning around in front of him. Marius had to admire her, for there was nothing artificial about her looks. She was young. He knew that it wasn’t uncommon for Senators to have vast age differences between them and their brides, but Tiffany was nearly sixty years younger than him. Her long red hair set off her white dress nicely, while the dress itself pinched her body in all the right places. If they’d met while he’d been on leave, without his responsibilities to worry about, he might have tried to pick her up.

“You’re beautiful,” he said truthfully. Her face wasn’t as inhumanly perfect as some of the joy-girls he’d known as a younger officer, but the few defects added character. Tiffany might grow up into a very strong woman if her family didn’t cut her down first, or High Society show its traditional resentment of anyone trying to rise above their station, but he didn’t know how to say that to her. “I think…we might do well after all.”

He cringed, feeling like a young officer again. That had sounded lame.

Tiffany sobered quickly.

“I know that this wasn’t your choice,” she said, holding out a hand. “Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”

“Why not?” Marius took her hand.

He felt strange, holding the hand of his arranged bride, yet he also felt oddly comfortable in her presence. She was showing a remarkable amount of calm. If he’d been told that he had to marry a complete stranger—and a stranger so much older than himself—he would have been throwing himself at the walls.

“Just know that I’ll do my best for you,” Marius said, not sure why he cared all of a sudden. “But—if you want children—”

“I think,” Tiffany said cynically, “that they don’t really care about your performance in the bedchamber.” Her face fell for a second. “If you have someone…special…already in your life, I won’t complain if you spend time with her instead of me.”

“I don’t,” Marius said. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “And do you have someone special?”

“Not at the moment,” Tiffany admitted. “I thought that there would be enough time to find someone. Instead…” She shrugged expressively. “I’ll do my duty, admiral, and as long as you do yours, your superiors will be happy.”

There was something in her voice that broke Marius’s heart.

“I’ve never been a husband before,” he said, “but I’ll do my best.”

“I saw that in your file.” Tiffany smiled. “You never chose to marry before now?”

“My first serious lover didn’t want to spend her life following a young officer around the Rim, while the second didn’t want to leave Mars or spend long months apart from her husband,” Marius admitted. “After that, I gave up and decided to focus on my career. The Navy was my bride.”

“I think you’d have difficulty taking a superdreadnaught to bed,” Tiffany said archly. “Which missile tube would you use…”

Marius found himself chuckling as she giggled.

There was a knock at the door. It opened without waiting for any answer. Granny Sampson, one of Tiffany’s oldest relations through a complex network of family ties Marius hadn’t been able to fathom, bustled through the door and winked at them. Unlike most of the older members of High Society, she didn’t bother to hide her age and grey hair topped her very aristocratic head. Marius had only met her briefly, but he’d seen enough to discern that she was very influential behind the scenes and was most likely one of the people who had helped arrange his marriage. He had wondered, at first, what she got out of it, before realizing that the old woman wanted nothing more than influence and the chance to shape the future.

“Not very active, are you?” she asked, as she closed the door behind her. “Good heavens; when I was a girl, the entire world was shocked to discover the happy couple pressed against the wall, getting a sneak preview of the honeymoon. Mind you, everyone was shocked because they hadn’t thought the guy had it in him. He was a bit of a weed and a wet, and no one even thought he could get it up in a joy-house with nine joy-girls devoting themselves to his pleasure…”

“Granny,” Tiffany protested, blushing furiously. “What are you doing here?”

Granny Sampson made a show of checking her watch.

“Why, the ceremony is about to start, my dear,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to be late for your first wedding. First times are always special…”

“She’s been married to nine husbands and outlived them all,” Tiffany explained to Marius.

“Cheeky brat,” Granny Sampson said. She didn’t sound offended in the slightest. “I haven’t forgotten the shocking story of a man who showed up late to his wedding because he was too busy getting it on with the best man. Everyone in High Society will be talking about this wedding—I mean, you actually met before the wedding. That’s no good, is it? You might have run away in horror.”

She gave Marius a wink. “Don’t worry about a thing,” she assured him. “The ceremony itself is very simple, afterward you just have to endure the reception and then you can rush off and enjoy yourself.”

Tiffany let go of his hand—Marius had somehow never realized that she was still holding onto him—and rolled her eyes when Granny Sampson looked away.

“All you young folk are all the same,” Granny Sampson said without turning back. “You think of tradition as an impediment. It wasn’t like that in my day.”

“When dinosaurs ruled the Earth?” Tiffany asked sweetly. “I’ll see you at the reception, Granny.”

She gave Marius a wink and walked out the door, followed rapidly by Granny Sampson. Marius consulted his internal chronometer and sighed. The wedding was about to begin, which meant…in an hour, he would be a husband. He shook his head. He’d never imagined, in his worst nightmares, that his own wedding would be such a farce.

The Great Hall was large enough to accommodate thousands of people, enough to allow all of High Society to attend without crowding. As Marius and his best man—chosen from among the bride’s family, a distant cousin of his wife—walked up to the altar, he was acutely aware of the gazes fixed on him. He’d chosen to wear his dress uniform—though it had been the only choice he’d been allowed to make—and he could sense the collective shock and astonishment running through High Society. Marius found it hard to care. If they’d arranged the marriage to bind him to them, they might at least know what they were clasping to their collective bosom.

He had to admit, despite himself, that the Great Hall was impressive. The first Federation President had been inaugurated within its walls and all successive presidents, no matter how weak the office had become, had followed in his footsteps. It was lit by the glow of thousands of candles and decorated in a fashion that harkened back to the days of old, long before mankind had mastered space travel and gone out to create the Federation. He caught sight of the statues lining the walls and smiled grimly. Each of the statues represented an alien race that had been brought—willingly or otherwise—into the Federation. A couple of the statues had outlasted the races they were supposed to represent.

There were no live aliens at the wedding, of course. Aliens were banned from Earth and most of the Core Worlds, although there were some very small alien communities on a handful of them. It wasn’t unknown for some aliens to be allowed to travel without supervision, although they tended to have a hard time at customs. The crowd was all human—at least for a certain value of human—and High Society. Marius hadn’t been allowed to invite any of his family, even the ones living on Mars, let alone his friends. The cluster of admirals and generals at the rear of the room were all from High Society.

He sucked in his breath as the music began to play. Courage, he told himself. You’ve endured a thousand battles with humans and aliens. You can endure your own wedding.

Yes, his thoughts rattled on, but you’re not allowed to blow up your own wedding, are you? Regulations can be such a nuisance…

His best man caught his arm as Tiffany advanced into the chamber wearing a long, white dress and carrying a bunch of flowers. She looked as if she was trying hard to be demure, but Marius could tell that she was nervous. Her bridesmaids, suitable young woman chosen from among her family, seemed to be laughing at her. Marius wondered, with a sudden flash of anger he refused to show on his face, if they were married themselves. Or, perhaps, if they knew that they wouldn’t be married off to a complete stranger. He wondered, just for a moment, how many deals had been struck behind the scenes to arrange his marriage.

Tiffany stopped beside him, her head bowed, and didn’t look up.

“Dearly beloved,” the Speaker said, “we are gathered here today to bind together two of our children, who have chosen to give their lives to one another in matrimony.”

Marius shuddered inwardly. Neither of them had chosen their partners.

“If there is anyone who can show just reason as to why they should not marry, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

There was a long, nerve-wracking pause.

“No one has spoken,” the Speaker said. He looked down at Marius and Tiffany. “You may join hands.”

Marius reached for Tiffany’s hand and held it gently.

“Both hands,” the Speaker prompted.

A thin ripple of amusement echoed around the room. Marius turned to face Tiffany and took her other hand.

A moment later, the Speaker wrapped a thin golden cord around their hands, binding them together. “Admiral Marius Drake, do you take Tiffany as your lawful bride, to have and to hold, to cherish and protect, until death do you part?”

A farce, part of Marius’s mind echoed bitterly. The divorce rates in High Society were astronomical. He wondered, in a moment of black humor, if that explained why the murder rates were so low.

“I do,” he said. Tiffany looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling with dark amusement, and they shared a smile.

“Lady Tiffany, do you take Marius as your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, to cherish and protect, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Tiffany said. She caught Marius’s eyes again and they almost started giggling.

“I therefore pronounce you man and wife,” the Speaker said with a smile. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Marius hesitated, before Tiffany leaned up and pressed her lips against his. She felt warm and soft to the touch. He prolonged the kiss, long enough to make the Speaker clear his throat in irritation.

She’d had the same thought, he realized as they separated. If nothing else, they could annoy the Speaker and the people who had arranged the marriage.

“Together, you will start on a long journey,” the Speaker intoned. He carefully undid the cord binding them together, speaking all the while about how they would be bound together by love and mutual respect. Marius had to look away from his bride, for fear that they would both start giggling again. “We wish you all the best in the future.”

And the entire crowd applauded as they walked out the door.

The reception was, in its own way, just as much of a farce as the wedding itself.

Marius had heard that a wedding reception was meant to be for the bride, but it was clear after only a few moments that it was really for the guests. Senators mingled with their political enemies, men they would never speak to in a civil tone in the Senate, making deals and swapping inside information. The bride’s family seemed to be the focus of attention, apart from the Senators, although Marius couldn’t tell if their visitors were congratulating her relatives or commiserating with them. It didn’t take long for him to realize that many of the younger men and women were shunning Tiffany, although he couldn’t tell if it bothered his bride or not. He felt an odd surge of protectiveness and thought wistfully of the sword on his belt. Traditionally, it should have been a harmless one, but he’d ordered a real sword.

None of these people seemed to know the difference.

“Allow me to extend my most fulsome congratulations,” a voice said. He turned to see Grand Senator Rupert McGillivray standing behind him, holding an empty glass. “I think that the two of you will be good together.”

He caught Marius’s arm and pulled him into a corner. “Take care of her,” he added. “She’s probably the smartest person in the room.”

“Including you?” Marius smiled.

“Oh, definitely,” McGillivray assured him. He changed the topic as he saw Granny Sampson walking over to join them. “What news of the war?”

“Well, I have hopes that we can break through the Asimov Point and knock Admiral Justinian for six,” Marius informed him. He wasn’t going to go into detail, not here. “And then we can put an end to the remaining warlords and restore the Federation.”

“Good,” McGillivray said. He slapped him on the back. “Oh, look; the speeches are about to begin.”

Tiffany joined him for the speeches. Very few of them, Marius noted, had anything to do with either Tiffany or himself. The speakers seemed more determined to offer florid tributes to themselves and the great wisdom of the Senate in dealing with rebels, traitors and domestic enemies. Their prattling was giving him a headache by the time the speaking was finally over and they were allowed to leave.

Tiffany pulled him into a black aircar, festooned with bunting, and ordered the autopilot to take them to the Grand Hotel.

Marius stared at his bride, feeling—again—the odd surge of protectiveness. Tiffany’s eyes were bright, too bright. He recognized the symptoms of tiredness and stress and wondered how many of them he was showing. He’d once commanded during a battle that had lasted for two days, but that had been years ago, when he’d been a younger man.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it.

“Don’t be,” Tiffany said. She reached for him and placed her hand on his heart. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She snorted then and started to undo her dress. “I think someone designed this purposely to be uncomfortable so we’d want to get out of them quickly.”

Marius stopped her. “You don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do,” Tiffany said. Her eyes narrowed. “The wedding has to be consummated, doesn’t it?”

Marius hesitated, unsure of what to say. In an aircar, of all places?

“Besides, everyone was cheerfully predicting that the marriage would fall apart within a week. I thought we might try to make it last ten days.”

“Oh,” Marius said, and then realized that he was being teased. “Should we try for a month, or is that too ambitious?”

Tiffany laughed and reached for him. By the time the aircar reached the Grand Hotel’s honeymoon suite and landed outside the private entrance, they were too occupied to notice until the aircar’s autopilot hooted at them. Marius picked Tiffany up and carried her into the honeymoon suite, laying her down on the bed. A moment later, as the aircar departed into the night, he started kissing her again.

Afterwards, they toasted each other with champagne before returning to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, holding her in his arms, Marius allowed himself one final thought.

Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all.