Against such, mere empty words were but as the ring of
brass or a sounding cymbal, dumb bells all, and the clink of the
condemned slave's heavy chains. Too often, the ring of a sword was the
only proper answer.
The world was a place of much beauty, but even greater evil.
Si'Wren prayed oft in her bed at night, that she might one day be given
in marriage to some strong and decent man. Was it not supposed to be
one man and one wife, as had once been that great and mythical
Patriarch Adam and his helpmeet, Eve? Eve first bore Cain, then Abel,
and then after the sons of Cain were already abroad upon the land even
unto the sixth generation, Eve bore Seth. Adam and Eve were, then, one
husband and one wife in the beginning. Yet now, after fewer generations
than the fingers on one's hands, men stole, bought, and murdered for as
many wives and female slaves as cunning, sword, and gold could get.
A good husband, if Si'Wren should one day become so blessed as to find,
could be both protector and benefactor to her. She was young, and still
had her whole life ahead of her. A wise woman must overlook her man's
faults, and stand beside him, even help lift him up when he might
otherwise perish, and Si'Wren believed in the promise of the proverb
that a faithful woman who served well might hope to find such a man,
together with riches, happiness, and a houseful of many offspring.
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